#it's still quite cold and grey here so having such bright colours in my town makes me happy~

[77bears]

happy cherry blossom season! to celebrate, how about another pocket camp pro design?

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (30) || atz

You follow them along the side of the street.

The night is cold and your steps echo in the silence of the town. There’s barely a soul out and about at this time of the dark, and you shiver a little in your thin mission clothes. Even though he’s walking in front of you, he seems to be able to sense something intuitively and turns around to glance at you.

“Cold?”

You blow on your hands in an attempt to warm them up slightly.

“A little.”

Wooyoung ignores your words, taking your hand in his warmer one and puts it in his pocket. You smile at him gratefully but he isn’t looking at you, instead eyeing Seonghwa walking silently in front of tow of you, head bowed in thought as he leads the two of you through the town.

He squeezes the hand nestled in his pocket lightly.

Now should we talk to him?

You take his pinky finger and wave it back and forth.

No. I think we’d better let him absorb what he’s just heard.

The pad of his thumb traces small circles on the inside of your wrist.

But shouldn’t we comfort him or something?

You pinch his finger and a small yelp leaves his mouth.

Let’s not rush him. Give him some time.

You glance up just in time to see Wooyoung puff out his cheeks a little, obviously wanting to comfort his friend but knowing that he needs time to himself as well. In an attempt to reassure him, you intertwine your fingers with his and squeeze a little.

I’m sure he’ll be fine.

Wooyoung gives you a weak smile.

I hope so.

You leave the paved roads of the town behind you, moving into a beach dotted with sparse patches of grass. Your boots crunch a little on sand and it’s hard to keep your footing, but Wooyoung guides you over the dunes with easy grace that makes you almost envious.

The three of you walk in silence along the stretch of beach, the sounds of waves lapping against the beach soothing your soul. You gaze out to the ocean, there’s something beautiful about it tonight that you can’t quite place. Then you feel Wooyoung come to a stop beside you and you look up to see where you’re at.

It’s a craggy outcrop of rocks outlined against the sea, perfect for fishing and prawning. You can imagine a man with Seonghwa’s nose and jawline, holding a young boy’s hand as he teaches him how to tie a hook to the rod, as a woman with his soft grey eyes smiles fondly at them while patting the head of a girl in her lap. A younger Seonghwa runs up to them, a fish wriggling about at the end of his hook, and his father ruffles his hair proudly, telling him how he’s going to be the greatest fisherman in the future-

There’s a grave marker in the sand.

Seonghwa stares at the tombstone for a moment.

“Can you two… give me a moment?”

Wooyoung frowns in concern and open his mouth to protest against leaving him alone, but you pinch the inside of his wrist and he yelps.

“Of course.” You tell him and he gives you a grateful nod, before you pull Wooyoung with you to the side as Seonghwa turns to face the weathered grave marker alone.

The two of you sit at the side, staring at the sea.

“Do you think…” Wooyoung begins hesitantly, without really looking at you, but then he trails off before he can say anything else. You frown, turning to stare at him.

“Do I think? Yes, I do. Why?”

His eyes shift a little edgily, trying to make up his mind. A little confused, you tug at his sleeve, and he finally meets your gaze, soft green staring into yours. A part of you really loves the colour of his eyes, but another thought invades your mind.

Not as green as his.

You’re shocked for a moment, but the thought fades like smoke before you can catch it.

“You don’t have your memories, don’t you? Do you think… that you could be suppressing your memories like hyung did?”

Fear spikes through you for a moment. You don’t have your memories. Seonghwa had heard the words of the town official for sure but had somehow forced his mind to forget that single fact, how, you didn’t understand.

You don’t know. You really don’t know if you’re suppressing your memories or if they are well and truly removed. What you do know is that every time you close your eyes and try to remember, you see that same beach with waves crashing against it, the night sky sprinkled with diamonds. Besides the one with the green eyes, you have no memories of your past in the least.

Green eyes.

Ever since your near fatal attempt at healing Yeosang, you’d seen the same pair of green eyes in your sleep every night, haunting your dreams. A phantom pain throbs in your chest for a moment, right above your heart, before it vanishes.

Your fingers reach up to brush it subconsciously.

The knife.

But there is no scar there. When you had woken from the week long coma, you had immediately checked your chest for any signs of any physical harm, but you had found absolutely nothing at all, leading you to believe that it had been nothing more than a dream rather than a memory.

The green eyes still lingered at the back of your mind.

The words that he had whispered in your ears.

I will be with you every step of the way.

The words etched in your necklace.

The necklace that had been a vial.

The vial containing the liquid that you had drunk.

You groan and bury your face in your arms, utterly lost at trying to put your shredded memories back together. Wooyoung glances at you a little worriedly. “I have no idea-”

There’s crunching of footsteps in the sand and you look up to see Seonghwa trudging his way back to you, now with a gentle, content smile on his face. You and Wooyoung rise to your feet to meet him, and he calls to the two of you.

“Can you two join me here for a second?”

A little confused, Wooyoung turns to look at you, but you shrug and make your way over to Seonghwa’s family grave marker, slipping and sliding your way across the sand. The two of you come to a stop before the tombstone, where you can see clearly the words engraved into the cool marble.

Here lies Park Seongho, Eun Jung, Hyunjung and Ha Rin.

“Did you need us for something, hyung?” Wooyoung asks, staring at the grave marker just like you. Seonghwa nods.

“I wanted the two of you to be here when I said something to my family.”

His voice is earnest, firm, pleading. You are shocked that Seonghwa would want you here when he needed to say something to his family, but you aren’t going to deny him this one request about something so close to his heart.

Seonghwa turns back to his family grave, kneeling before it. He presses his forehead against the stone, fingers tracing the carvings of their names, as if by doing so it could bring him closer to them. Something in you feels like you’re intruding on this intimate moment between Seonghwa and his family, but he did ask you to stay, so you listen.

“Mother, Father, Hyunjung, Ha Rin…” Seonghwa murmurs softly against the cold stone, eyes fluttering shut. “I hope you can forgive me, but I have no intention of joining you for a very long time.”

A gasp almost forces its way from your throat, and from the way Wooyoung is staring at his crew mate, slack jawed, he’s just as shocked as you are at Seonghwa saying something like that to his family.

“I love you all. I always have. You’ll always be my family.” Seonghwa continues, apparently oblivious to the looks you and Wooyoung are exchanging behind him. “But I have a reason to stay now.”

A warm feeling rises in you, spreading from your chest down to your toes.

“I’ve found another family. Please let me stay with them.”

A tear slips from your eyes, and from the way Wooyoung is wiping his eyes desperately with his sleeve, he’s crying too.

In that second, you hear the shattering of something in the air, soft and barely noticeable, but Seonghwa’s eyes fly open in shock. Then tears start pouring from his eyes and you and Wooyoung approach him in alarm, horrified at what might have happened. But Seonghwa merely waves the two of you off reassuringly, and you’re surprised to see him wiping the tears from his eyes with the happiest smile you’ve ever seen on him.

“They’ve stopped.” He can’t stop grinning, joy radiating from him. Wooyoung looks a little confused, frowning.

“What’s stopped?”

Seonghwa laughs through his tears, elated and jubilant even with the tears still streaming down his cheeks.

“Their voices. They’ve stopped.”

With that declaration, he gets to his feet, wiping his eyes as he turns to look at the two of you with a bright grin that you can’t help but return. Wooyoung claps his crew mate on the shoulder gently with a smile on his face, the shackles on his wrists jingling.

“That’s good, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa nods enthusiastically, turning to face the sea once more where you know the Treasure is moored, just out of sight of the town. “Well then, let’s get back to the ship-”

But there’s someone standing there.

Your heart skips a beat at the dark shape there, until Wooyoung’s eyes open in surprise and recognition, the man’s name leaving his lips.

“Soobin?”

At the name, Seonghwa’s mouth falls open in shock as he stares the man down. The man too, is gaping at your crew mate in shock.

“Hwaseong?”

“Soobin?”

Then the two take down across the beach, sprinting full speed towards each other like two wild horses on a collision course. And collide they do, the resulting sound of the two men crashing into each other makes you wince and wonder if either of them broke any bones, but they don’t seem to care, leaping up and down in sheer excitement.

You turn to look at Wooyoung, who’s gawking at the two of them in shock as realisation dawns on his face.

“Well, I definitely didn’t expect that.”

Your mouth falls open as you finally get what is happening. Back when the two of you had escaped from the guards of the officials’ building, you had entered this man’s house, the woodcutter with two missing fingers.

“Apparently when he was younger he had a run in with them and helped his friend escape them too, but he lost a couple of fingers in the process.”

You would have never thought that the friend would have been Seonghwa.

“Maybe it’s fate.” You shrug, and Wooyoung grins at you for a moment, before he dashes across the sand and throws himself into the hug as well, tackling the two men off their feet and into the sand. Their shouts and cries ring across the beach to you.

You simply shake your head and move to join them at a more sedately pace.

“I can’t believe you’re still alive after that little stunt you pulled!” Seonghwa wraps his old friend in a hug as Soobin grins widely, something you hadn’t seen the last time. In fact, you’re a little unnerved how that stoic, fierce man’s face can change so much.

“I barely escaped with my life.” Soobin tells him dramatically, raising his left hand so Seonghwa can see the two missing fingers. “One of their bullets ricocheted off a wall and hit my hand, so I lost two fingers, you know! If I had known how much trouble I’d get into for trying to save you, I wouldn’t have done it-”

Seonghwa’s mouth falls open and you see his head hang in guilt. “I’m sorry, Soobin-”

“-so late! Do you see this, my friend?” Soobin flutters his ring finger and Seonghwa’s eyes widen almost comically at the sight of the silver band resting there.

“Someone wanted to marry you?”

The disbelief in Seonghwa’s voice forces a snort from you and you rush to cover your mouth with your hands, but Soobin has already heard it and glances at you. “Ah! Gunshot! I see you’re not dead yet! That’s amazing. And Hwaseong, how dare you!”

Seonghwa is grinning so hard you’re sure his cheeks must be hurting. “So who’s the unlucky girl?”

“Only the most beautiful woman in the world, Kim Seohyun.” Soobin pretends to flip his non existent long hair over his shoulder and you’re sure you’re goggling at the complete attitude change of the man who’d threatened to chop you and Wooyoung up into tiny pieces with his axe. “She was so awestruck by how I had sacrificed two fingers to save your ass that she started talking to me more and more, and that’s how we ended up together.”

“That poor girl.” Seonghwa gushes in pity and Soobin screeches, wrapping Seonghwa in a headlock.

“Shut up! So who are these two?” He gestures at you and Wooyoung, who’s come to stand by you, smiling at Seonghwa’s exuberance. Seonghwa’s smile softens as he turns to look at the two of you.

“My crew mates, Choi Chin Hae and Jung Wooyoung.” Soobin’s eyes widen at the information, glancing over at you. Wooyoung smiles and waves proudly at the mention of his name.

“So you really stayed on that pirate ship?” The woodcutter gapes, and Seonghwa nods happily.

“I’m with them.”

“How is the baby?” You ask Soobin, who grins proudly. You don’t miss the way Seonghwa’s jaw literally drops to the sand as he stares at Soobin.

“Seohyun is pregnant?” His eyes are shining, celebrating his friend’s joy like it’s his own. Soobin nods, a proud father.

“The baby is coming along well. Seohyun and I’ve agreed on names, whether the baby is a girl or boy... the name will be Hwaseong.”

A tear falls from Seonghwa’s eye and he laughs, so happily as if he couldn’t be more joyful. “Don’t be stupid, Soobin. You’re supposed to name your child after something meaningful, not after a wanted criminal on the run-”

Soobin shakes his head firmly.

“You’re not a wanted criminal anymore, Hwaseong.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen in shock. “What?”

“A few months after you escaped, a mysterious source from within the town officials removed your name from the wanted list.” Soobin tells him and happiness bubbles within you. Seonghwa is no longer a criminal, and he can return home to Nassau! “If you returned this very second, everyone in this town would welcome you back with open arms, Seonghwa. We’d help you establish a new life here, a house, a eatery, anything you want. We’ve missed you so much the last six years.”

“That’s amazing.” Wooyoung says, turning to glance at Seonghwa. “Hyung, you’re a free man now.”

There is joy in Seonghwa’s eyes as he turns back to look at the soft glow of the town, the place he had grown up in, running along the dirty streets with Soobin and Hyunseok, helping his parents out in the eatery. He can return to Nassau, build a new life with his old friends at his side, meeting the town residents once more and establish himself once more. A life of safety and comfort, one of warmth and joy.

It had been his dream his whole life, to open his own restaurant when he grew up, only for it to be shattered by that terrible event. But now?

Now, all those dreams can come true.

The sea breeze caresses his cheeks, and he turns back to look at the ocean.

What is your Treasure?

Something settles in Seonghwa’s chest, warm and content. He already has his treasure.

Then he shakes his head as he looks at Soobin.

“I can’t.”

The three of you are confused for a moment, all staring at Seonghwa with some sort of shocked expression. What does he mean, he can’t? He can! He can return to Nassau, no longer on the run from the Royal Navy, no longer with a bounty on his head, no longer in fear of death every waking moment. But Seonghwa is insistent.

“I really can’t.” He smiles, turning back to look at you and Wooyoung as he explains himself to Soobin. “I have a new family now.”

Soobin’s eyes soften as you and Wooyoung gape at Seonghwa in shock. “I understand.”

“Well, I don’t!” Wooyoung smacks the back of Seonghwa’s head. “Why don’t you want to return to your hometown, hyung? You’d be safe and have a comfortable life! Soobin and all your friends are here too!”

Seonghwa grins at the smaller man meaningfully.

“Not all of them.”

Your mouth falls open. Seonghwa is choosing to stay a pirate over a comfortable life in Nassau as a cook, like he’s always wanted. He’s giving up everything he’s ever wished for.

“And I haven’t taught Chin Hae all of my kitchen tricks, so how are you going to explain to Captain when the standard of the food drops?”

“Hey!”

Seonghwa laughs, shaking his head as he turns back to Soobin, who’s simply eyeing his friend with a smile. “I have these people who were willing to risk their lives to sneak into Nassau, get shot and whipped just so that I could have closure. I want to stay with them, come what may. Whether it be fair weather or stormy seas, I can’t leave them behind.”

Happiness and disbelief wells up in you. He’s going to stay with the crew. He’s not going to leave all of you behind.

“I know.” Soobin embraces his friend one last time and steps back. Seonghwa moves to join you and Wooyoung, who is still staring at Seonghwa in shock. “I wish you all the best, Seonghwa. Make sure you come back and tell little Hwaseong about all the adventures you’ve had as a bloodthirsty pirate on the high seas.”

Seonghwa gives his friend a smile. He regrets nothing, even as the needle in the compass of his heart settles on a new course.

“I promise.”

[goodgodgodfrey]

Rebirth Part Nine | A Hemlock Grove Story

So, this was two years in the making. I am so so so so sorry I left this account behind without any explanation whatsoever. My life took an almighty bad turn and fell apart right before my eyes. I had an extreme rough patch with my mental health and I am extremely surprised I made it to the end of 2018. 2020 has been an horrendous year but I am back, I remembered my log in and I am ready to continue showing BIll all of the love! I hope the fandom can welcome me back with open arms! Many new fanfics and one shots to come, I promise! <3

Start the Rebirth saga here.

Tw; nakedness, self harm, blood, gore, dead Roman

Word count: 1760

 -

*flashback* 

It was late. Ana wasn’t sure how late, but the sky was dark, and the moon was bright. She awoke with a jolt, one hand gripping her chest, the other wrapped around her throat. Her breathing was staggered as pain ripped through her. Something had happened, something bad and it had rocked the universe. She pulled the blanket off her legs and swung them round, allowing her feet to hit the cold laminate flooring beneath her. The cold sent another jolt through her as her breathing steadied. Ana quickly turned and scrambled to find her cell phone, tapping the keys and pressing dial.

“Come on, come on, come on, pick up …” she said, anxiously, tapping both her feet on the floor. The dialling tone continued to ring out and ring out. With a dissatisfied grunt, Ana cancelled the call and threw her phone on her bed. “Dammit, looks like I’m taking a road trip!” She quickly threw some clothes and some supplies into a duffle bag, swapping her pyjamas for a knee length floaty dress, knee high socks and a pair of boots. She threw a cardigan around her shoulders and grabbed her cell phone and car keys from her bedside table. She threw everything into her trunk before speeding off away from her apartment. She drove for a couple of hours, the pitch-black night sky beginning to turning more royal blue as the moon left and the sun began to rise. As she past the sign welcoming her to Hemlock Grove, she slammed her foot down on her brake.

In front of her car was a wolf; a wolf with bright white fur, it’s teeth bared as it growled into her headlights. Ana’s eyes narrowed, falling on the giant red ball the wolf was holding between it’s teeth. A moment of realisation hit her. It wasn’t a ball, it was a heart. A human heart. The area around it’s mouth was stained pink.

“Oh shit …” she whispered to herself, eyes focused forwards. The wolf growled and began to slowly walk towards the car. “… Peter what have you done?” she whispered again, turning swiftly to get out of the car. From the pocket in her cardigan, she pulled out a handful of herbs. The wolf snarled, lowering its head towards the floor, preparing to pounce. Ana mumbled something under her breath before throwing the herbs towards the wolf. There was another growl, a whimper, a light thud as the heart dropped, followed by a larger thud as the wolf keeled over and hit the road. Ana quickly checked that the wolf had been completely knocked out before stepping forward. She collected the heart in her hand, a disgusted grunt escaping from between her lips. It was still relatively warm; it was fresh. Whoever this heart belonged too had only recently joined the realm of the dead. She got back to her feet, shuffling towards the boot of her car. With her spare hand, she opened the trunk and rummaged through her bag, pulling out a canopic jar. She dropped the heart into the jar before closing it and putting the jar back into the duffle bag.

“Now, what to do with you?” she mumbled under her breath, looking back over at the wolf which was now softly sleeping next to the front of her car. It took all of her strength to pull the wolf along the road and lift him into the back seat of her car. She placed another sprig of herbs by his nose, hoping it would keep him at bay. As she got back into her car, the hand which she had collected the heart, began to heat up, as if the blood it had left behind was boiling. With a swift intake of breath, she knew where to go. Her foot slammed down on the accelerator and she sped through the town of Hemlock. She was greeted with the sight of the Godfrey tower, billowing flames and smoke. Her stomach dropped as the realisation hit her that something big had gone down in this small Pennsylvanian town. As she pulled up to a large, extravagant looking mansion, her chest began to tighten. This was the place.

She slowed the car to a stop and got out, her eyes dodging around the area outside the front. As she wandered around, coming across nothing of suspicion, she turned on her heels and began to walk backwards. There was something not quite right. She could smell blood, a lot of it, but where was it coming from. As she took a step backwards, she tripped and fell, landing with a grunt onto her backside.

“What the …?” she said, lifting her grazed hand from the gravel. Her eyes fell upon a body, but not just any body. The body of the one and only Roman Godfrey, the youngest billionaire of Hemlock Grove. The guy who had taken over Godfrey Industries as a teenager. He was lying, on the gravelled exterior floor, his throat and heart ripped out. “Oh my god,” Ana shrieked, her hand almost subconsciously moving to cover her mouth. “Peter, what did you do?” she asked to herself. She removed her hand from her mouth, leaving behind a bloody handprint. Getting to her feet, she shook off the overwhelming feeling of darkness and death that surrounded her.

She stepped over Roman’s body and walked back to her car, flinging open the back seat. Her hands wrapped around the rear legs of the wolf as she began to pull the limp body of her cousins’ wolf form from the car. It hit the ground with a bump and was quickly followed by the sound of scratching gravel before coming to a halt next to Romans corpse. Ana removed the sprig of herbs from the wolf’s nose before running back to the trunk of her car.

Quickly, a pentagram was created of candles in the gravel. North. South. East. West. Spirit. Ana stripped herself down to her underwear before throwing an assortment of crystals around her neck. She sat down in the middle, crossing her legs and beginning to meditate. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours that Ana was sat inside the candle pentagram, the candles flickering and burning away. As the wolf began to stir, the flames flickered violently. Ana by this point was in such a deep trance, she did not notice, her lips were moving quickly, any words unintelligible. In order to save her cousin from life as a wolf, it would take an incredible amount of energy to channel the dark magic necessary.

The wolf staggered to its feet, shaking its head in order to rid itself of the fuzzy head the herbs had given him. It turned on its heels having caught a familiar scent and was met with five bright, flickering lights. A guttural growl began to grow in its chest, its head lowering as it prepared to pounce. Before the large wolf had a chance to pounce, Ana’s eye snapped open, her entire eyeball a faint grey colour; all colour from her iris and pupil completely gone. The wind grew, the candle flames flickering even more violently.

“Howls are heard from near and far,” Ana began to chant, her voice monotone, almost robotic.

“The moon shines on the pack. Running, howling, barking, fierce as the cold snow’

The wolf began to whine and howl in pain, writhing slowly. Ana slowly unfolded her legs, the trance she was in remaining still. She got to her feet and walked to the edge of the pentagram, where the wolf stood. She placed her hand on the wolfs face, palm flat against it’s nose.

“By the light of the moon and our piercing howls, you will become further from this cunning beast. From the circle of life to the evolution of man, you shall be reawakened as one with the land. Human once more, it shall be done!”

The wolf dropped with a short, high pitched whine. From within the side of her underwear, Ana retrieved a small knife. She lifted up her arm, placing the blade against it.

“Remus. Romulus. Capitoline. Mars. Take his curse and make it yours.” As she chanted, the blade ran down her arm, the blood dripping onto the fur of her cousins wolf form.

“Maketh the man, taketh the wolf, Maketh the man, taketh the wolf. Maketh the man, taketh the wolf.”

There was a crack of thunder and a gust of wind. Each candle flickered before extinguishing leaving nothing but the candle of the spirit. Another crack of thunder and a loud, guttural scream erupted from inside Ana, who fell to her knees. Her hand grabbed her throat as she struggled to breath. During her struggle, she did not notice the change her cousin was going through. His wolf form began to melt around him, disappearing into the gravel, leaving nothing but a blood stained and sticky, naked male form.

The urge to turn was growing inside her body like a burning sensation ripping apart each limb and muscle. The fight caused her to scream out in pain even louder, for longer. She fell onto her back, writhing into the gravel, hoping the physical pain on the outside would numb the burning sensation inside. The writhing became faster and more erratic, slowly turning into tranced fit.

“Ana? ANA!” came a male voice. Peter had come to, back in his human form, sticky and bloody. “Ana, Ana … fuck … come on…” he said as he grabbed the shaking body of his cousin. As the writhing got worse, Peter got to his feet and ran to the back of the car, rummaging through his cousins’ bag for anything that may help. He grabbed some of the herbs she had used to knock him out, running back to his cousins body and shoving it into her mouth. “Come on … chew it goddmit!” he said, panicked by the state his cousin was in. He was used to Destiny’s after spell exhaustion and fits but this was something else. It was like dark magic was ripping everything out of her. Ana made a few choking noises before rolling herself onto her side and throwing up a jet black, sticky goop.

“Ana ..” Peter said, rubbing her back. A few more coughs and splutters and Ana was sat bolt upright.

“It’s gone …” she said simply.

“What’s gone?” he replied, allowing her to place the palm of her hand on his cheek.

“The wolf!”

@fucking-hell-skarsgard

[noire-pandora]

Blush

For @14daysdalovers also on my AO3

Words: 2317

Pairing:Solavellan

Warnings: pain and wounds mentioning.

Heavy, dark clouds gathered above Val Royeaux, threatening to release the cold rain over the streets, to flood every nook and cranny. Without warning, their burden poured over the people who enjoyed their walks around the luxurious streets. What started as a sunny autumn afternoon transformed into a cold, wet day. The downpour and the joining wind ruined the lovers' romantic walks, forcefully waking them up from their love-induced dizziness.

In a few seconds, markets filled with people emptied as the rain came down rapidly, transforming into a cold curtain, the smell of wet dust rising in the air. Women wearing sparkling and expensive dresses hurried to find shelter, their tiny multi-coloured shoes useless against the flooding waters. Soon, the streets transformed into small streams, the sewers unable to contain it all.

The open terraces slowly became waiting stations, as people gathered under the tiny roofs, finding temporary shelter against the unexpected turn of events. Among the tensioned gents and giggling ladies stood Elluin, annoyed by the lack of respect for personal space. A young, half-drunk man nonchalantly used her shoulder to steady his movements, winning a long, deadly stare from her. With a low growl, she left the safety of the coffee shop, to lie against the outside wall, hoping the small, extended roof will be enough to keep the water out of her hair.

She stared ahead, cursing her luck. Of course, it had to rain precisely on the day she decided to come back, after ten years of diligently avoiding setting foot in this town. She returned at the Diplomat's insistence. At first, when the woman informed her they have to come here to sign commercial contracts with the merchants, she refused, but Josephine advised her to let the traders see her face, especially after Haven's fall, to combat the rumours of her death and ease their fears. She accepted, dreading the meetings. But, to her surprise and joy, after a few minutes, the merchants grew bored with the Inquisitor, their interest grabbed by the offers laid in front of them. At that moment, Elluin slipped past her and her companions, to walk the streets of Val Royeaux again.

The stroll brought back memories long forgotten, the sights and the smells reminding her of a younger Elluin, one who ran around the city's avenues, ignoring their beauty and elegance, in a hurry to deliver the packages her adoptive father entrusted her with. Back then, the numerous faces and accents of the city fascinated her. She spent her free hours studying the people, learning how to read their emotions and moods only by observing their body language. Now, the busy streets, with everyone bumping and pushing her from every direction, took the air out of her lungs.

When the thunder rumbled in the sky, she decided to make her way back to the merchant's base. When the lightning electrified the clouds, her instincts beckoned her to find shelter. As she barely reached the terrace, the rain came down, making her feel as if every single inhabitant of Val Royeaux decided to retreat under the same roof as her and shove their perfumed selves into her soul.

And now, she stood under the small extended rooftop, her short-sleeved shirt and linen pants doing nothing to stop the cold from pricking her skin. She swore under her breath as the rain reached her toes through her sandals.

The wait reminded her why she despised the rain's touch on her skin, the icy kisses of the water drops, sending her body into a frenetic fight against the cold. A shiver shook her body, her teeth chattering with a dull sound. She whimpered, wishing she learned how to cast a barrier to protect her from the downpour; instead, she had to wait for the skies to finish pouring their anger on her. The thought of a walk through the rain sent another powerful shiver through her body, the hair on her arms standing up in indignation.

Suddenly, a pang of pain crossed her left leg, starting from her big toe, moving up towards her knee and stopping at the back of her thigh. There, the pain pressed on her nerves, forcing her to bite down on her lower lip to supper a groan. This affliction tortured her almost every day since Haven's fall and her trip through the mountain's cold paths. The wounds inflicted on her by those violent events slowly healed, leaving scars on her skin, but one made her life harder: a sword cut that reached the bones of her leg. No matter how careful and thorough Solas has been with the healing, the pain came back to remind her of her vulnerability. And when the weather turned cold, the sharp pain intensified.

She closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths, flexing her fingers while trying to remember the calming techniques Solas advised her to use when her body suffered.

"What terrible weather, mademoiselle!" a man suddenly addressed her, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him.

A blond Orlesian joined her, his back against the wall to protect his expensive-looking clothes from the rain's touch. The bright colours of his attire stood out in contrast with the grey hues of the day. Under his tastefully decorated mask, deep blue eyes shone with delight. Elluin watched him, perplexed, unsure if he addressed her.

"Yes, it's been pouring for a half an hour already," she found herself replying. "I hope it will stop soon, my toes are turning blue."

"I suspect it will continue for at least thirty more minutes," he explained, his melodious voice grabbing Elluin's attention. "Autumn in Val Royeaux can be quite wet. I hope you did not plan for sightseeing today." He smiled at her, his perfect, white teeth, offering her a hint about his social status.

She sighed, cursing her memory for forgetting that. Three more drops reached the tips of her toes, and she shivered again. Gods, she hated rain so much.

"Are you in our exquisite town for the first time?"

"No, I've seen it a few times," she answered, wondering why an Orlesian bothered to talk with an elf. She suspected the wait for the rain to pass might have bored him. Truth be told, the half-hour-long wait bored her too.

"Oh, is that so?" he inquired, genuine curiosity colouring his voice.

"Yes. I lived here for a few years with my father. He owned a bookstore, close to the University of Orlais."

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips, the memories of the jealousy nestled in her heart as she watched the students leaving the University pulling at the strings of her heart. Back then, she would have given anything to join them.

"Did he?" My memory must be deceiving me, for I do not remember any book shop there."

"I closed it ten years ago after my father died."

"In the Blight?"

She gave the man a short nod, hoping he won't continue interrogating her. The loss of her adoptive father still haunted her dreams, even after ten years.

Silence fell over them, and Elluin thanked the gods the Orlesian man understood her tone. She had no desire to share her private life with a stranger.

"While we are waiting, shall we warm ourselves with a drink?" he said, breaking the silence and startling her. "They serve the most delicious Sun Blonde in here, imported from Tevinter."

Elluin blinked with disbelief at the man, amusement and confusion blending in her mind. Last time she checked, no one dared to even speak with elves, at least invite one to a drink in a busy cafe. The sly smile on the man's lips made her frown. Was he aware of her identity?

"Lethallan?" a voice reached her ears, making her heart skip a beat.

 She spun on her heels to face the owner of that voice, thanking the gods for sending Solas at the perfect moment to interrupt the awkward invitation.

Solas stood outside, his tall, lean body unbothered by the rain, his clothes and face dry. A soft, white halo buzzed around his body, the magical barrier keeping the rain at a distance.

"Solas!" she exclaimed." What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you."

"Get me?" she frowned. "Did something happen? Does Josephine need me?"

He shook his head, nonchalantly. "No, our Diplomat is doing wonderful, much better than any of us can do. I came after you because of the rain."

"The rain?" she asked, knitting her eyebrows in confusion.

"Indeed. If I remember correctly, you told us you hate the rain and," a small smile appeared on his lips "your hair smells like a stinky wolf when wet. Since you do not possess the ability to create a protective barrier, I have been searching for you to offer my help against the rain."

Elluin watched him, baffled, various emotions knotting in her throat. "Did you search for me, not knowing where I am exactly? In Val Royeaux? In this immense town?"

"I did. But I found you faster than I anticipated. It took me only fifteen minutes."

"You walked in the rain for fifteen minutes, searching for me in a place you don't know," she repeated, dumbfounded, her breath shortened. "Solas, I--- that's so-- "

"Extremely romantic," the Orlesian man shouted, scaring Elluin who completely forgot about his presence. His hand reached for her waist, playfully pulling her closer to him, a bright smile adorning his face. "In all my years of courting, I have never seen such determination," he let go of her to move closer to Solas.

The elf watched the human with a raised eyebrow, a mild amusement reflecting in his eyes. The Orlesian circled Solas, carefully studying his body and posture. Then, he stared into Solas' stormy grey eyes, stroking his chin and nodding, as if understanding a marvellous secret.

"Yes, yes, I can see it in his eyes. He knows how to pleasure a woman," he turned to face her and gave her a dramatic wink. "This one is a keeper, my lady Herald."

Her eyes widened as she heard the man's words, a blush blooming against her freckled skin, starting from her neck, up to her cheeks, reaching even her lips, to travel all the way up to the pointy tips of her ears. A pleasant chill ran up to her back, but she felt considerably warmer than a few moments ago. She waved her hands in the air as if to clear the air.

"What? No, we're not….Solas is my companion!" the Orelsian snickered at the last word. "Not like that! Of for...Solas is just my friend, that's all. Friend!"

She looked at Solas and discovered a blush discreetly dusted his cheeks, and for a second, she hoped he felt the same rush at the words uttered by the other man.

"That is how all the relationships start, my dear," the man continued to tease her and Elluin felt the blush reaching her forehead and scalp. A few more seconds and her face would catch fire.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Solas intervened. "Thank you for your fascinating insight, Messere, but the Herald is needed in another place. Let us get going, Lavellan."

Solas reached out for her, extending his arm towards her, palm up, and for a second, she thought he wished to hold her hand. Then, she realised he waited to cast the barrier on her. Her fingertips reached for his, the cold touch of his skin soothing and calming the maddening rhythm of her heart. He whispered a few words, and the barrier shrouded her, instantly warming her. She instantly missed his touch when he retreated his hand. 

"It was a delight to speak with you," the Orlesian man waved at them as they left the cafe, the sly smile never leaving her lips. "I offer you all the best wishes, Herald."

They walked in the rain, the barrier keeping her dry, a comfortable silence settling between them. She looked up at Solas, delighted to see the blush reached the back of his neck.

"Are you well, Inquisitor?" he softly asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"How is your leg?"

"My leg?" she asked back, unsure what he meant.

"Yes. Does it hurt?"

"Oh! Yes, it does, but not as bad as it did a few moments ago. The barrier is helping me by keeping away the cold and the rain.”

"I see. I am happy to hear it."

She frowned, looking down at the ground, the raindrops bubbling as she walked. Was this the real reason why he searched for her? Did he fear the pain would take over her again? The thought made her breath hitch.

"Who was that man?" he spoke again after a few minutes of total silence.

"I have no idea. He joined me when I was waiting for the rain to pass. Did you notice he called me 'Herald'?

"Yes," he paused. "You should be careful. People will not shy away from any means to feel the taste of power. Even if it means charming their way to it," he added, the vein on his temple pulsing nervously.

Elluin glanced at him in amazement, the faint note of irritation in his voice surprising her. "Do you think he tried to charm his way into my heart? Did the man make you jealous, Solas?" she spoke before her mind had any chance to catch up with the meaning of her words.

He chuckled. "I worry about your safety, as everyone does. After all, you hold the key to our salvation in your hand."

"Ah, of course," she commented, barely containing a cheeky smile. Somehow, the blush spreading towards his ears contradicted his words.

She grinned. For a reason, at this moment, even the infuriating rain filled her heart with unspoken joy.

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 4

Double feature tonight! Here's chapter 4 as well. Last night I was inspired and I did managed to write a few chapters.

As usual... some Gaelic for you:

A bheil Gàidhlig agad - Do you speak Gaelic? mo charaid - my friend

Some of Elias' words seem funny, but he speaks Scots as well. And he is so damn sexy while doing it.

All the locations I mentioned they are real. Rowan's bookstore it's the only fictional place.

Happy reading!

------

Aelin woke up quite late the next morning. After her fight with Rowan she had spent the day at the marina and wondered around the town. She had felt empty and could not bring herself to do anything. She finally managed to speak with Lysandra and cried. She cried her heart out and her friend had listened. Like she always did. She had gotten home later in the afternoon and felt exhausted. She spent the rest of the afternoon in the living room reading her books. That brought her joy at least, although dreaded going back to shop to collect the last book. She could not face him. Not yet. But that morning she had woken with a renewed motivation. She had prepared breakfast for herself and admitted she missed Maeve’s apple turnovers but could not risk going back there at the moment. She had to put some distance. So she ate her own breakfast, prepared a couple of sandwiches and got her backpack ready for the next adventure. Today she was driving south toward Harris. She had learned that Lewis and Harris were one big islands but Lewis was the Northern part, full of moors and peat land. Harris, was the Southern part, much rockier and with some stunning beaches and a famous road called the Golden road. Ten minutes later she was in the car and ready to go. She set her sat nav and she left. Over an hour later the sat nav announced one last turn to her final destination: Luskentyre beach. She had a look at some photos online and she could not believe such a gorgeous place existed.

She parked the car and opened the door and got out. No internet image had prepared her for the view in front of her. The beach was massive, the stretch of sand never ending and the sand was so white that it almost hurt the eyes. And the sea. It was the purest green mixed with blue that she had ever seen in her life. She was speechless. For ten solid minutes she leaned against the open door of her car and observed the stretch of paradise in front of her, incapable of doing anything else. Trying to burn in her memories the colours. She would take pictures but doubted they would ever do any justice. Finally she moved and grabbed her backpack, locked the car and walked to the beach. Once she reached the sand she removed the shoes. No way she was going to walk on that sand with her shoes on. The sun was up and the sand was warm at the touch and she let the feeling sooth her. Around her there were a few people walking dogs and couples walking hand in hand. A pang of sadness hit her, and absentmindedly she touched the spot where her wedding band should have been hating herself straight after, for missing Chaol. He made his choice. She had given him his freedom. Tears threatened to appear once again but she fought them back and resumed her walk along the beach. She followed the beach and walked in the water ignoring that it was cold. She walked for hours then she decided to sit and eat her lunch. Her sandwich was gross compared to Maeve’s and in her packed there definitely was no chocolate cake. She sighed. A young man was walking his dog and she noticed the animal coming her way. The man called him a few times, but a moment later the dog was at her feet, his tongue lolling from his mouth and was staring at her sandwich. Aelin laughed and gave him a bit and he ate eagerly. “I wouldn’t do it if I were you. You might never get rid of him.” The man was now in front of her and was scratching the dog ears. “It’s fine I was done eating anyway.” And she gave the rest of her lunch to the dog. She lifted her eyes and stared at the man. He was wearing shorts and a navy blue polo shirt. His hair was black as the night and his eyes a light blue edging on grey. Her breath caught and she felt herself blushing. “You are not a local.” He said as a matter of fact. “That obvious?” “Your accent. Definitely not from here.” His smile left her breathless. He had dimples. On both sides. He was quite cute. “Where do you bide?” Aelin looked at the man puzzled “Bide?” “Aye, where do you stay?” Understanding dawned on her. The word must have a different meaning in Scots “I am staying in Stornoway.” “Bonnie place. I live in Callanish. Ye, ken?” Aelin was stuck again. Was he even speaking English? So far all the other people had done their best to speak English with her. “Sorry, bad habit. I didn’t mean to be rude. I meant if you know Callanish.” The man sat beside her on the sand while the dog was running free on the beach. “Yes I was there a couple of days ago. I went to the standing stones. Such a fascinating place.” “I have one of the smaller circles just outside ma hoose.” He confessed turning his head to her “There are actually few more different sites scattered around the area. The main one at the visit centre is Callanish I.” He explained, then he extended his hand “I am Elias by the way. I have been yapping non stop and forgot to introduce myself.” “Aelin,” she said taking his hand. “Aelin…” her name on his tongue sounded perfection “In Gaelic means bright or shining one.” “So, are you a tourist? Visiting friends? Family? Boyfriend?” Aelin giggled “Status uncertain at the moment.” She said, then looked at Elias and explained a bit further “Tourist at the moment, but things might change.” “So, where are ye fae?” She guessed his question and she hoped she got it right “London.” She replied. “Been there for work a few times. I am an engineer and I have been down there for a few conventions.” Aelin was too busy listening at his sexy accent to pay attention to what he was saying and she felt embarrassed when she had to ask to repeat his answer. “Nae worries. I said I am an engineer and I was in London a few times for work.” “Cool what type?” The guy was fascinating and seemed much more willing to chat that a certain grumpy one back in town. “Environmental. I am working with Calmac at the moment. That’s the company that runs the ferry you used to get here if you travelled by sea.” He explained while the dog came back and licked his fingers quite happily. “I am a doctor. I was…. Still am… it’s complicated.” She cut short and noticed the confusion in his face. “Long boring story.” “What type?” “Cardio thoracic surgeon.” He whistled “bad ass woman. Love it.” His grin reached his eyes and she felt heat spread inside her. Definitely more than cute. And those dimples… She was having a good time but she had to keep going, she still had a few things to do. “I am enjoying the conversation but I still have quite a lot to cover.” She stood and turned to him. The main smiled “Of course. Care for some suggestions?” Aelin nodded. “If you are driving south, right after Borve there is another lovely beach. Stop there as well. Not as famous as Luskentyre but amazing as well. Then continue all the way down to Rodel. It’s the village at the end of the road. There is a lovely church called St. Clements. Worth visiting. Once you are past Rodel make your way back via the Golden road. It’s a very narrow road but it’s a pleasure to drive if you want an Hebridean adventure. Once you are almost at the top before Tarbert, make sure you stop in Drinisiader. There is a fascinating wee museum about Harris Tweed. But just hide your purse. They have some amazing stuff and you might want to buy the entire shop. Then you are in Tarbert and from there it’s an easy drive back to Stornoway.” “Tapadh Leat.” She said and Elias gave her a huge grin in response. “A bheil Gàidhlig agad?” He asked and she realised she had to stop trying to use Gaelic. “I just know thank you and good morning.” She explained almost embarrassed. “That’s okay, lass. I am not a native speaker either. I learnt it later on in life. My parents don’t actively speak it, but my gran did. It was the only way I had to communicate with her. My parents were parts of the generation that grew being taught that speaking Gaelic was not proper, so they never did. My mum understands it because of course her mother was a speaker. But she used her dad to translate. It’s a very long complicated story.” He stopped and looked at her. “Looks like we both have a complicated story to tell each other.” Aelin’s stomach fluttered in excitement. He grabbed his wallet and removed a business card from it. “Sorry for being so direct, but you seem quite an interesting person. Call me or message me if you need a guide.” He held the card to her and Aelin debated for a moment whether to take it or not. Lysandra had told her to go to Scotland, enjoy herself and get a Scottish man in the process and forget her ex husband. She took the card “I’ll call you.” “Do it, mo charaid.” She smiled warmly, grabbed her backpack “It was nice meeting you, Elias.”

She was driving along the Golden road and she had to admit that the road was a real adventure. Large enough for a small car to pass, she had to constantly focus on the road to avoid ending in a ditch or in a loch beside the road. But no matter the stress, she was loving it. Until the sheep arrived. One moment she was alone on the road. The next moment she was surrounded by sheep. A massive flock stretched for some length along the road. She got off the car, she took a picture and sent it to Lysandra with the caption traffic jam in the Hebrides. A moment later the phone rang. “Are you kidding me?” “No Lys, I swear I am surrounded by sheep. They are everywhere and I can’t go anywhere. Guess someone will come and collect them soon.” She heard Lysandra laugh “Sounds like you are having a great time.” “I am.” she confessed not entirely convinced. The memory of the fight with Rowan still stung and she was wracking her brain to find a way to fix things with him. She was… intrigued by him. He was brooding, infuriating and handsome at the same time. Plus he was the owner of a bookstore which was not bad. She wanted to be his friend but it looked like he was not interested. He had made that abundantly clear. Nothing I want to give you. Tears threatened to appear once again but she fought, not willing to let sadness spoil such a lovely day. So she had decided to put some distance. She would go to get her book when it arrived and then limit her visits to his shop, for as much as it pained her. He didn’t want to have anything to do with her. Well, she was granting him his wish. “How is going with Aedion?” She changed the subject. “Well, we have only been on a date but he’s great.” “Already planning your wedding?” Aelin joked and Lysandra laughed in reply. “Nah, just imagining having sex with him for now.” “Eew. I didn’t need to know that” “Seriously… the man has amazing hands and I spent the evening thinking what he can do with them. And if all the other parts are just as big as the rest of the body…” “Eewww. Ewwww and eeeeew.” “Since when you are such a prude?” Aelin laughed she wasn’t but she had no interest in listening her best friend talk about her boyfriend’s body parts. “Get a move on finding a man of your own and then you can fantasise about his body parts.” For a brief moment Aelin’s mind thought about Rowan’s hands and… No, stop. She could not go there. That was dangerous territory. “We’ll see.” Was all that she added. “I need you to come back to me happy.” “What if…” she paused for a second “what if I am not coming back?” “What do you mean?” In the distance Aelin noticed a tractor and the sheep began moving again. “Sheep are moving. Gotta go back home.” “Ok. Keep me posted.” She say bye to Lys and she was positive she felt a note of sadness in her friend’s voice.

The sheep finally moved and she spent the journey home mulling over what she had said to Lys. She could not see herself going back to London. Something had broken inside her. Maybe it was her that was broken. With her skills and experience she could easily find another job in another hospital. So why the rejection from one place hurt so much? And Chaol… London was a very big place, the chances of her bumping into him on the streets were minimal. However, they had loads of friends in common. She would have to give up her friends to avoid him. Give up her gym, her favourite bookstore and cafe, because he was a regular in those places too. She would have to give up her life to avoid him and the pain that seeing again would bring. She had felt relieved after the divorce. She still had no regrets. But forgetting almost a decade together was proving more difficult than she expected. She pushed on the breaks quite hard, forced the door open and run to the field near the road. And then she collapsed on her knees and screamed, letting out all the frustration festering in her. Her hands began shaking and she felt the symptoms of a panic attack starting to manifest. Breathing was getting harder. So Aelin stayed in the filed, and cried and shook. Until she had no more tears left in her.

[springtimebat]

Dragon-Smoke

The monster was born on an October morning. 

The mother lay on a makeshift bed, her legs in the air, her hands grasping the iron bars of the headboard. Three midwives, three fates cutting a golden thread, three phantoms, three pairs of pincers held her down and interfered with parts of her body she never let anyone touch. Not even the father. Her hair, once golden brown, had greyed. Her eyes were squeezed closed, her nose was snotty and her mouth yelled obscenities at the autumn air. She screamed at the looming circus tent, at the freaks, at the demon, at the father, at the husband and finally, at the cross. It lay there. Just...lay there. Golden, holier than thou, on the old steeple wall in the mother’s mind; it scoffed at her with an imaginary mouth and wicked eyes. She’d been a nurse years ago. She’d wanted to be a nun. 

“Bless you,” The cross snarled from another place not so far away.

The father stood outside the tent, his golden curls waving about his head as the wind danced. At every other birth he’d been in the operating room when the time came. The first few times holding this wife’s legs down with the rest of them, leaving sticky, silky marks all the way up her calves when he had a passionate turn. The last few times he’d sat in the back, smoking a pipe and yelling encouraging words over his wife’s curses. It had been in the afternoon then; that was no time for a man to lose himself to the throes of passion. His eyes were just slivers as he looked up at the warm morning skies, their golden reds and their dark golds twisting among the stars and the waxing moon. A waxing moon. All the others had been delivered on a full moon. The father took a puff of his cigarette (he had just moved on from pipes, at a companion’s request when the smoke became too thick to stand) and gave a smile that would make the devil shiver. This would be a special one.

The father, all alone, began to think of past times. He began to remember what it had been like to be Billy Young, over a lifetime ago. He’d never done that before. The name seemed so stifling then. Once it had chained him down, placed a giant padlock on his chest, directly over his heart. He’d not been a man of power. A man of importance. He’d just been Billy; the third son of Harold Young. After that, the fourth child out of a future nine. He was one of nine. That’s how he was seen. By his father. By his mother. By his older brothers and sisters. Nothing special. Nothing extraordinary. But he’d shown them. They were all gone now. He’d outlived them. Once, there had been a family of twelve, ruling the carnival freaks. Now, only Billy Young remained. The freaks answered to him and only him.

Lucy Albarn floated past him, a dove in the guise of a penguin. He’d noticed her one day. One ordinary day with a not-so ordinary outcome. Billy Young had been marching with his freaks; a top hat sat on his head, a smirk spread across his face, a clown and a blind girl held onto his sides, begging for scraps of his glory to devour. Billy Young was a king. The father sighed wistfully as he recalled his top hat; his crown. He’d seen all sorts that day, as usual, but no one stood out. A cold eight in the morning had turned into a boiling four in the afternoon and wearing his jacket hadn’t been such a grand idea. He tried to find a place where he could calm down, compose himself, as the heat threatened to strip him away. That was when he saw Lucy Albarn, her eyes like saucepans, staring. At him. At him! Not Harold Junior, not Allister Young two years his senior: him. She saw him gazing at her, taking notice, and her mouth opened slightly in a little gasp. He shifted a little, his stance grew askew. His hand flew up and gave a wave. Lucy Albarn waved back. He saw her now in the cigarette smoke, waving and grinning slyly. It was funny; he was there for a short time, always moving, always changing, always followed by a circus, always shadowed by the tent. She had been there, in that town (he couldn’t remember the name), probably all her life, and she stood there, looking him in the eye (and oh, how big her eyes were), smirking at him. Grinning. It was a secret smile, the one Lucy Albarn had given him that day, in the horrible heat, just before her other penguin friends whisked her away from him for a short while. It was a friend’s smile, it was a lover’s smile, it was a wife’s smile. It was a smile that he’d tried to get her to show him ever since. It was the smile that made Billy Young realise he liked Lucy Albarn. It was that secret, devious, evil little smirk that made him realise he wanted to marry her. 

The next few years were a giant blur, cut into ribbons by his addiction to cigars, rum and producing heirs. An incident in an alleyway may have happened, involving Billy Young, Lucy Albarn and three or four strongmen and a burlap sack. At least, Lucy Albarn had testified that it had happened. But, as everyone knew, she wasn’t quite… right anymore. She hadn’t been since the first baby, the clowns would occasionally mutter. Billy disagreed. He’d say she went wrong on their wedding day. He stood at the altar with the priest who’d kindly agreed to officiate (abruptly, suddenly, there was a flash of a gun cocking, a bat being drawn from the carnival folks mass of hands, claws and hooves), waiting proudly, patiently, as she walked down the aisle. Her hair was still a golden brown, hidden by his mother’s old veil, and she hunched over as she stumbled up to them, ashamed. And, as the priest began to recite his scripture, she looked up at Billy Young for the first time in weeks. She gazed at him, her owl eyes glazed over like glass. Then, she gave him a small smile. It was not the smirk he desired; no she’d never pull it again, not after the first one got her into so much trouble. It wasn’t really a smile, if he was being honest with himself. It was just a slight curve of the lips. It was a small cry of mercy. Billy Young realised, then and there, that this was Lucy Albarn’s final attempt to plead with him. After being taken from her home, being beaten by a group of strangers and being caged in a freak show for three never ending weeks, she was about to break. As she gazed at him with those glass eyes, she searched this man for any sign of Billy Young; the boy with the top hat, the boy with golden curls, the shade of the sun, the boy who noticed her in a crowd of thousands. The boy she had smirked at. He smirked instead, when she looked down and her shoulders slumped. Moments later, a priest declared that Lucy Albarn was now Lucy Young, her husband lifted her off the ground and strode towards his tent (their tent now) and to their bed. 

His wife’s silence finally brought Billy back to earth and he turned back towards the same tent, now threadbare and drenched of colour. The three midwives pushed their way outside, their mangled hands holding bloody towels. They began to bicker amongst themselves, about pay, about personal rights, but they saw their master out of the corner of their eyes and put on their brave faces. They were all simpering and sweet smiles. It made him feel sick. Lucy would do the same thing once he made his way to her. That was the worst part. 

Billy Young of Young’s Cabinet of Curiosities cleared his throat, “Everything in order?”

“Yes sir!” One midwife with a missing eye said.

“A normal birth sir!” one with a snout for a nose said.

“Here’s hoping it’s a healthy one sir!” the last with a stump instead of a leg said.

“One to live a long and happy life sir!” They all croaked together as a loansome chorus.

“Hmm cheers,” Billy grumbled, “How’s Lucy?”

“Fine. Fine. Could have another ten chillies, if you wish it sir.”

“Good,” Billy changed focus to the tent. Inside was silent. Unnaturally silent.

“I’d like to see my family. I won’t be at the big top for the rest of the day,” with that, Billy let his cigarette fall to the ground and crushed it under his rider’s boots, “Wilson is in charge ‘till I return. You three get back to work.”

The midwives raced away towards the shadowy hills, grumbling about promotions and the unfairness of it all. Billy watched them go, taking his time. He had all the time in the world. Lucy had all the time in the world. The baby had all the time in the world. Slowly, he lifted the flap of the tent up and stepped inside to greet his family.

How many was it now? Surely it had been about ten right? Ten babies. That meant it had been at least twelve years. Twelve years full of babies, travelling, Billy Young. In all of those years, Lucy had never given birth to a child that didn’t scream. Margot, Janie, Billy Junior, Kyle…. All the others that had gone before she could give them names. They’d all had a powerful set of lungs. 

“They all took after their father,” Lucy thought grimly as she pulled herself up out of bed. They’d left the tent in disarray; towels had been thrown onto the floor, a shelf had been pushed on the way out, leaving her books in disarray and a stained mattress growing strange, green fur out of its sides had been put next to Lucy’s bed. The monster lay on that mattress, wrapped in the threadbare blanket his brothers and sisters had been nursed in. Still, something else was wrong. 

“Something’s missing,” Lucy realised, scanning the room.

Then it hit her. She turned to the tent entrance. The cross that had taunted her was gone, stolen from the patchwork wall.

Lucy sighed,”Strange thing to take,” she thought to herself as she went to meet her new baby. Still, she shouldn't be surprised. She knew she was surrounded by strange folk. 

The baby was small and thin, which made Lucy worry. 

“I can’t have another one,” She whispered, picking the thing up, “I know I can’t.” 

Then, the baby’s hand, bright pink and chubby, grabbed onto her wrist and the mother’s fear faded away. It was a boy, which would please the demon once he decided to make himself known. He had hair; all his siblings had been bald. Not only that but it was a dark, dark brown, wild and curly as his little head swivelled around looking for food. Lucy pulled her dress down and put him to her chest, being rewarded with a clumsy slurp a few moments later. As he ate, his eyes went up to her face, startling her. He wasn’t squinting. No, he was staring at her, as if he were fully aware of everything. His eyes were blue. Forget me not blue. Lucy smiled. All the others had green eyes,their father’s eyes. These were her eyes. They were the one pair of friendly eyes she’d seen in a long, long time. It sounded crazy, but this baby looked almost...sad. It seemed to understand everything within minutes of its birth. Lucy relaxed and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, listening to her son’s noises as if they were a lullaby.

“You’re gonna be ok, aren’t you?” she asked her baby quietly. The baby blinked in response.

The father strolled in from the morning light, his top hat on his head, his eyes tired and weary. Billy smiled proudly once he saw his wife feeding their newborn son on the bed. 

“You’re gonna be ok right?” He asked, with a voice like honey. Lucy grunted, trying to focus on her son, who’d stopped eating and was now nuzzling his head against her breast. Quickly, she hauled him over her shoulder and patted him on the back. The baby burped quietly soon afterwards.

Billy chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. Lucy tucked their son back into his blanket and pretended to look at the wall. 

“Can I hold them?” Billy whispered. Lucy sighed. She hated when he begged her. He sounded so pathetic. She slowly handed the boy over to his father, taking extra care to support his head. Billy smiled at her then turned to his son. 

“It’s a boy,” Lucy whispered, lying back on the pillows. Her back made a terrible cracking sound, making Billy turn to her. 

“You just relax for a while. I’ll get the midwives to nurse him for you,” He stroked the baby, curling a few locks of his hair around his thin fingers. The boy gurgled and his father cooed in delight. Lucy furrowed her brow, suspicious. 

“No, I want to do it. He’s mine.”

Billy shook his head, “You need to rest. You can’t even take care of yourself, much less a baby,” He stood up and walked the baby around the tent, bouncing him in his arms. The boy squealed, “You got a name in mind yet, honey?”

“No,” Lucy closed her eyes. She never thought of the names. 

“Huh. Ok.” Billy stroked his son’s cheek, thinking. The baby began to gnaw at his nail.

“I like this one,” Billy chuckled. Lucy groaned, “How about Owen eh?”

“Sure that’s nice,” Lucy moaned. She just wanted to sleep. Billy bent down to sit next to his exhausted wife in bed.

“Look at that, you’re both out like lights,” He showed her Owen, who had begun to snore. Lucy rolled her eyes. Billy stroked her forehead with another hand, catching beads of sweat. 

“You two get some rest for now okay? I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Sure.”

“Love you honey.”

“Yeah, I love you too.” 

Billy handed Owen back to her and lay down on the bed, staring happily at the ceiling. Lucy glared at the sleeping baby in her arms; the son her husband seemed to adore almost immediately.

“I thought we had a deal,” she thought, “This is not how you stay okay.” 

The newborn answered with a snore.

Lucy kissed her son’s forehead and fell asleep with him her aching arms.

[archadianskies]

/kicks down door "The Revenge for hurting one of their family." Kuro reapers???! (i miss your kuroshit stuff so bad)

Live long enough in London and you’ll learn a thing or two about how it runs. There are rules, there are boundaries that govern the populace both natural and supernatural. One must quickly learn their place if they are to find order in the chaos, if they have even the barest inclination to survive.

Reapers are an amusing, if but pesky race. Little death clerks, little worker ants that march on and on; personifications of balance and duty. Harmless for the most part- they mind their own business if you mind yours. Unless you’re the type to go after souls in which case you will spend your existence like a bear swatting a hive for its honey. They can sting, yes, and Grey Metal is not to be taken lightly. Their Scythes can cut through any type of flesh, even the toughest of hellion hides, and many have succumbed to wounds caused by their incorrect  dismissal of those seemingly laughable gardening tools. 

If a Reaper dies and they are harvested, their souls are returned to be recycled and reborn anew. If a Reaper dies and their soul is consumed, there is no coming back for them. Consume a Reaper and you have consumed quite a feast, for a Reaper takes souls into themselves for safekeeping when they ferry the records of the dead to the starry sea. Consume a Reaper and you will not have to consume anything else for at least a millennia. 

It is a tantalising temptation, then, to go after a Reaper. Many fledglings across the great breadth of time have met untimely ends by underestimating a Reaper, by mistaking them for an easy meal. If you are unsuccessful in killing a Reaper outright, much like an injured bee the hive will be alerted and the others will come for their fallen. 

“You should have killed it and consumed it!” He snarls, and the fledgling shrinks back at his tone.

“But I wanted to bring it back to share it with you!” 

“And instead it got away!” He roars, and the fledgling darts away with a cry, huddling in the corner. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! It will alert the Division and others will come!”

“It was a young one, it shouldn’t have any rank!” The fledgling argues, reaching into a pocket to hold out a pair of cracked, dirty spectacles. “And I got its glasses, so it’ll take it longer to go back!”

He snatches the spectacles and turns them over in his hands. A Reaper’s spectacles are just as unique as their Scythe and though his blood is cold, it feels colder still when he realises who the spectacles belong to. “Did it see this place? Did it recognise where you had brought it to? Answer me!”

“I-I’m not sure? It had already lost a lot of blood before it managed to make the Jump.” The fledgling looks at their surroundings, at the crumbling mansion around them. “I don’t think there’s much about this place that’ll stick out. Lots of crumbling old ruins everywhere out here.” It mumbles, hands twisting nervously. He looks over at the creature, weighing up his choices. There are few.

*~*

The Jump takes all he has left, and he didn’t even make it very far. Just far enough. It used to be a musty, dark little parlour with the stench of incense and lacquer to mask the Death. It used to have dried floral swags hanging from the roof to aid in freshening the air. Now it’s a neat, tidy little funeral home with all the modern furnishings, all the modern embalming equipment. 

“Oh, a little stray!” The Ancient One wheezes a laugh, looking down at him with amusement in those startling, bright yellow-green eyes. “My my, pup, you’ve been in quite a tousle.” He tisks, bending to gently scoop him off the floor and lay him out on one of the embalming tables. “Bites measure about the depth of an older fledgling, hm. Didn’t think there were any around this part of town. This is dear Sebastian’s territory, how very rude.” He begins to pat down his pockets, until he finds his phone. “I’ll phone ahead and let them know.”

Ronald doesn’t remember arriving at the Infirmary but he doesn’t remember much in general, in all fairness. The kooky Undertaker had luckily, very kindly, transported him here after he so rudely appeared in a wet visceral splat on his parlour floor. He must have left quite a mess. 

“Ronnie? Pup are you awake?” Ah. 

“Hey Grellybean.” Wow is that his voice? Opening his eyes reveals more than just Grell at his bedside, but Alan and Eric, and even Boss, too. He squints a little, their faces no more than smudges of colour but he’d recognise them even blind. He loves them that much, and they love him too. Grell leans over to press her lips to his forehead and he feels the waxen slip of her lipstick leaving a print. 

“Papa made these himself.” She eases a pair of spectacles onto his face and his vision sharpens. “Rush job after we told him what happened.”

“What happened before you unceremoniously appeared on the Mad Old Bastard’s floor?” Eric leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Meant to be an easy reap- family car accident.” Ronald tries to shrug but the movement sends a sharp stab of pain in his torso. Wincing, he continues. “Got accosted by a fledgling. Would’ve been an easy fight if not for the high population density and the fact the bugger was deadset on me and not the souls.”

“On you?” Alan echoes with a frown.

“Yeah. Didn’t even glance at the souls.”

“They were still there when the recovery team arrived.” William adds, brows furrowed in thought. “A personal attack?”

“Cocky fledgling thinking it could make a snack out of our pup?” Grell huffs, face twisted in a scowl. “That calls for retribution.”

“The fledgling clearly crossed over into new territory. That reap is on the outskirts, but still included in his territory; no other hellion hunt on those grounds.” William’s frown deepens. “Best we set things right before that creature decides to take matters into his own hands.”

“They’re such lovely hands though, Will.” Grell giggles, rolling her eyes at the glare he throws her. “Don’t worry. Ordinarily I’d be raring to dance with the devil but…” the playfulness vanishes when she looks at Ronald, her expression hardening into something serious. “It came after one us. I don’t take that too lightly.”

*~*

He expects the Red One, but it’s three others instead. One of them is the head of the Reapers himself. 

“You know why we are here.”

“Yes.” He steps aside to where he has his fledgling bound in scripture that burns the more it struggles.

“It was your fledgling who set upon one of our own. On grounds that were not yours to hunt on.” The leader says and points his Scythe at the fledgling’s neck. 

“I offer it to you, as compensation for your fallen.” He bows as the fledgling shrieks in protest, thrashing violently despite the ropes of scripture that burn deep into its flesh. “I should have taught it better.”

“That is your failure alone.” The Reaper reprimands sharply. “That the demon whose grounds you trespassed is not here yet is not attributed to luck.”

“He knew you would come first.” He nods, looking down at the writhing fledgling in disdain. He will have to make another. A waste. “Counted on you to clean up the mess so he wouldn’t have to.”

“We come to bargain.” Another Reaper says, stepping out from the shadows. “Set the fledgling free. It is older than most, and matured in its skill. If it can evade us, if it can survive us, we will consider it a lesson learned with the condition it will never set foot here ever again.”

“I accept this bargain.” He bows, whispering the incantations to break the bindings free. The fledgling whimpers, darting him a fearful glance before dashing away. The Reapers wait, standing calmly and regarding him with their reflective yellow-green eyes. The leader raises his hand and snaps his fingers, and the other two take off. It isn’t long before he hears the snarling, the shouting, the screaming.

“A student is a reflection of its teacher, and you did not teach it well.” The Reaper shakes his head. A blur of red drops down from above, the click of her heels echoing in the empty hallway. 

“The bargain is this: if you can evade her, if you can survive her, I will consider it a lesson learned with the condition you will never set foot here ever again.” Director William T. Spears looks over at the Red One and he knows this is it, this is the end. There is no surviving her. 

The Reaper looks back at him, eyes unnaturally bright in the darkness. “Run.”

[inupibaldspot]

Saviour : Chapter 17

From spring it slowly turned into summer. Cherry blossoms which was once surrounded the area were no more.

The team were back in their own tree house.And to say the weather was bad was an understatement, with heavy rain and strong winds.

The boys were currently playing pirate, with Ace holding the wheel and Luffy on the crow nest.

"The wind is really strong! Blow stronger." Ace and Sabo who were enjoying the weather said.

"Luffy!" Emilia called out. "You should come down. The wind might blow you away!" She started climbing the stairs leading to the crownest. Seriously, if we were to add Luffy's clumsiness and his luck for attracting trouble nothing is impossible.

As if god had heard what Emilia said and mess with her, not even a second later a strong wind blew,making Luffy lose his footing. But due to his stretchable hands he was still holding onto the tree house.

"Luffy!" Emilia shouted. Rushing to reach Luffy.

"Are you alright?!" Ace and Sabo also rushed, worried.

However looking at it closely,the way Luffy was looking was quite halious. The way the boy's hands were stretched like a rope and his body flapping like a flag. "What are you doing,Luffy?" Ace and Sabo laughed at the comical scene.

"Stop laughing and save me!"

Emilia finally reached the top of the ladder leading to to crow nest. But as she was grabbing Luffy's hand his hands slipped making him fly away.

Without a second thought Emilia jumped with full force breaking the floor in the process. Emilia stretched her hands and tried to hold onto Luffy. "Luffy! Grab my hand!"

Luffy listened to her and stretched his rubber like hands. Emilia quickly held onto it and pulled Luffy towards her, however when she attempted to land on a huge branch due to the slippery place one of her legs landed funny making a bolt of pain rush in.

Emilia withstood the pain and jumped from the branch with Luffy still in her hands and finally reached the ground.

"Wow! Emilia is amazing!" Luffy smiled with his hands in the air.

"You guys okay?!" Ace and Sabo who were also on the ground ran towards them.

"Ugh..." Emilia groaned.

Luffy looked back and saw Emilia on the ground. Her hands held on her right leg with her face looking in pain.

"Emilia?" Luffy worriedly called out.

"What happened,Emilia?!" Sabo asked.

"I'm fine." Emilia said,composing her self. "I just sprained my ankles. I'll be fine with about a few days of rest."  Thank God it's not a second degree sprain. Emilia said to herself. This would only take about 4 day to heal. Whereas a second degree would usually take more than 4 weeks. That is if she remembered correctly from the book.

"Get on."

"Hm?" Emilia questioned. Ace was in front of her crouched down, hands facing her indicating her to get on his back.

"No..." Emilia shook her head.

"Huh?! Get on already."

"No way..."

In the end Emilia lost.

"Wahhh! The rain finally stopped!" Luffy shouted looking at the sky.

"Yeah! Let's go get food." Ace replied with a smile. He look at Emilia who was was sitting down, face red. "You still sulking that I carried you here."

"Hahaha!" Sabo laughed at the scene.

"But it was embarrassing." Emilia said ,pouting her face still abit red.

"Emilia just stay here. We'll go get some food." Sabo said walking towards the door followed by Ace and Luffy. "But first let's go get some wood from Grey Terminal  so we can fix the damage on the tree house."

"Yeah!" Luffy jumped.

"You guys!" Emilia called out before they left. "Please be careful. When we were staying with Naguri in Grey Terminal there were a two or three guys who were keeping watch on us.They didn't seem hostile then but we can't be so sure."

"You're implying they might be Blue Jam's men?" Ace asked.

"Maybe." Emilia said. "Could be anyone...Just be careful."

"Got it."

Emilia watched as they climbed down the house. She then stood and looked down on the guys who were leaving. Luffy turned back and waved bye to her, to which Emilia also waved immediately.

In the corner of her eyes she saw a small pink flower on the wet ground, really small but the bright colour which made it catch Emilia's attention . A cyclamen.

.......

"What did you say?" Emilia managed to let out in a soft voice.

After the boy left Emilia kept on waiting, reading a book she managed to borrow from the doctor who taught her medicine. But sky kept on getting darker. And when they finally did return, one of them was missing.

"Sabo was taken back by his father." Ace looked down on his feet, his hands clenched."We should have been more careful."

Luffy who was beside Ace was whipping off his tears.

Emilia stayed quite for a while and finally look at Ace. " I dont want you two be reckless and try to get Sabo back. At least not now. And as long as Sabo stays in the High Town, where the nobles live, he is safe."

Emilia limped towards Ace and took hold of his hand. "For now let's be grateful you guys are fine." She said as she slowly opened Ace's clenched hands, which Ace didn't even know he was clenching so tightly.

In the morning Ace and Luffy would wake up really early and go hunt for food. After that Ace would make make breakfast for all of them and would shout if Emilia volunteered to help. Followed by both Ace and Luffy rushing off somewhere.

And everytime Emilia would ask where they were going, they would never answer properly. And this action continued for two more days. Of course Emilia did use her haki and see where there were going ( at least till the range she could cover ) but each time they would always seem to go towards one particular direction, the direction which led to Grey Terminal.

Emilia shook her dead shaking off any doubt she felt at the moment. They said they wouldn't go there.

"But they sure are late today." Emilia muttered to herself as she stood up and walked towards the window. Her eyes widened when she saw vast bright lights coming in the direction where Grey Terminal would be situated. A fire?!

Ace! Luffy!

Emilia climbed down ignoring the pain she felt on her leg. If she were to go to Grey Terminal and if the two boys would be in trouble, she might not be of much use more so if Blue Jam' s crew would be involved. No...I could be a bait and make Luffy and Ace escape.

But she quickly dismissed the thought.Knowing Ace and Luffy, they would refuse to leave her alone. And that meant she only had one choice. Emilia ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

After a while she finally reached a familiar looking house.

"Dadan!!!" Emilia shouted as she reached near the door. And almost immediately the woman who was called and her gang rushed outside. It wasn't every day that they heard Emilia let out such a shout.

"Dadan, Ace and Luffy might be in trouble." Emilia huffed, still tired from running.

Dadan looked at the girl in front of her. The girl had a few injury here and there but most noticeable were her right leg, which were swollen and had developed a blue and purple colour to it.

"Please....please...." Emilia cried out bending her knees and lowering her head towards Dadan. "Please...They might be in danger."

Emilia  continued to prostrate herself to Dadan. "Please save them! I probably won't be much help but I'll also come along! I'll can be the bait so please somehow use the chance to forcefully take Luffy and Ace somewhere safe!"

Dadan walked over to the girl. "I won't!"

The world suddenly felt so silent for Emilia when those words were heard. Her body felt really cold and she could feel her body tremble. Emilia's eyes widened. She wanted to cry. How useless could I be!

"I won't take you along with us, Emilia! Look at yourself, you're in no position to even walk." Dadan shouted as she continued to walk forwards, her men also following her.

"In a way, I am you brats' foster parent! As if a parent will be there to watch her children get hurt!" Dadan shouted. "You just stay here and wait for good news!"

"Thank you....thank you so much..."

[thevideonastiest]

Cookie: Part 1

So.

Bobby Peru smut.

At least, next time it will be smut, this is just the build-up.

A TW: As it’s Bobby, this story does contain sexual harassment, so it is best to avoid if it is a trigger.

For a short synopsis, it’s a self-insert fantasy of Bobby coming into my home as i’m baking and putting his distinct and very sleazy moves on me.  Does it have an effect? Do I find devilish criminal characters played by Willem Dafoe far more adorable than what was intended?

But yes! Enjoy, and part 2 will be soon! 😊

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

The rich smell of dark and milk chocolate melting in a creamy sugar dough filled the room with it’s sweet scent. It seemed that the batch of cookies Chloe was baking on her day off were coming along just nicely, all that needed doing now was a bit of washing up.

Letting her blonde locks fall as she removed the rubber band from her hair, she tightened her apron up once more and moved to clean up some bowls in the sink, dipping in and out of her thoughts as she scrubbed. There weren’t many options on what to do later on, the scorching Texan heat of Big Tuna made Chloe want to stay inside more than anything today. Maybe next week when it was cooler she could visit the nearby field with those beautiful bluebonnets? She hadn’t done that yet, there were so many places to explore since she had moved to this little town-

At the loud sound of heavy knocks on wood, Chloe was suddenly startled out of her thoughts. Out of the window, above the sink, she spotted the figure standing outside her door. A very familiar figure in fact, he had a look that was hard to forget.

Bobby Peru, the most notorious criminal in all the South, leant against her door as he waited for an answer. In seconds however he turned his head in the direction of the kitchen window, Chloe catching his eye, and met her look of surprise with cold blue eyes and a growing smirk. From even the short distance away, his distinct rotten teeth couldn’t be missed.

An initial rush of fear met Chloe as she looked at Bobby, she had only met him once before, in the diner she waitressed at. He was friendly enough, and in a sort of roguish way was quite handsome she found. But all the same, he carried with him a strong air of menace, especially when he had looked her up and down, flirting with her as she served him. And the stories told about him by the locals, well they were . . . not flattering.

Still, Chloe didn’t want to be impolite, so smiling back at him, she motioned towards the door and hurried down the hall to unlock it.

As soon as Chloe opened, Bobby began forcing his way through the opening gap of the door, like a snake squeezing through a space. “Mah’ lil’ waitress, long time and no see.” he proclaimed, his gravelly southern drawl dripping with sleaze. All at once the welcoming smell of baking cookies was drowned out by cheap cologne and worn-out leather as Bobby swaggered through the door, flashing that frightening smile, more gums than teeth bared.

Chloe swallowed hard as she took in the frightening bravado of Bobby Peru. While he wasn’t that much different to how he presented himself at the diner, he did feel that much more intimidating in such a secluded spot as her home. Even more so, after he had quickly shut the door behind him.

She rubbed her arm anxiously, the reality of having a man this supposedly dangerous in her house was definitely very scary, but still, he was here now. In the face of even potential danger, she had her chance to deal with it alright, just being polite.

“H-Hello.”, she fumbled out finally, moving her arms down to clasp her hands together, in an attempt to be more welcoming and to appear eager to see him. Though, it probably didn’t make a world of difference to Bobby how she presented herself, he just continued to casually stand-about, holding his waist by his belt quite proudly, staring down at Chloe with his beady eyes and cheshire cat grin.

Breaking his seemingly unflinching stare, he rolled his eyes to the back of his head and pursed his lips, licking them in deep thought. Darting his eyes back to Chloe, Bobby began to speak, his tone very matter-of-fact. “Ah been round ol’ George’s diner a number o’ times tha last few weeks. Was hopin’ ah’d catch ya again, have another talk.” Bobby stared deeply into Chloe’s grey eyes, it made her feel sheepish and want to look down, but his gaze was unnervingly strong.

“You haven’t been . . . avoidin’ Bobby? Have ya?” He said, as if just innocently wanting to know. But his stare, his stare was unflinching, unblinking, and his eyes and his words made Chloe’s heart pound in fear all the same, it felt like he wanted to catch her out.

“N-No!” She blurted out, “Sorry I-I had my work schedule changed a few weeks ago, but it-it wasn’t you, I-I just wanted more time to-“ Chloe stumbled on her words as she tried to explain. It really was that innocent, Bobby wasn’t a factor in her schedule change at all, yet she felt so guilty all the same.

Bobby however just began to laugh, a very strange titter of a giggle, emitting it through the gaps of his short and damaged teeth. “Aw shit, ah’m just messin’ with ya, girl!” He tapped her arm in a playful manner, making Chloe jump slightly and the tassels on his jacket sleeve swing wildly as he reached out and back. “Listen, ah came round cus’ mah bladder’s about ta burst like a bitch in heat, you mind if ah’ use ya head?” He said it so quick and with such a colourful simile, that it had to take Chloe a second or two to fully process his request. In fact, even after that, she still wasn’t sure she had done. With a shake of her head, her messy blonde hair shaking back and forth not unlike the tassels of his jacket, she formed a response.

“I . . . I um . . .”

Bobby tapped her once again, on the shoulder this time, and grinned from ear to ear. “Yer toilet! Ah’ mean, ah ain’t gonna piss in ya head, come on now!” His hands back on his hips, he looked around the little hallway, head turning quickly as he scanned the little home back and forth. “Where’s it?”

Chloe understood that a lot quicker and was a bit more on the mark to respond to her guest. “Oh! Um . . it’s down the hall, to the left.” She motioned in it’s direction for him.

Immediately Bobby set his sights on the door down the hall and yanked it open, if the hinges were just a bit rustier, it very well could have broke off in his hand. Stepping inside, he unzipped his trousers, leaving the door wide open while his urination echoed out the room.

Chloe stepped closer in the direction of the bathroom, she was tempted to close the door behind him for decency’s sake, but opted not to just in case it upset him. Still, she turned her head away to be polite, and just in case he suddenly decided to turn around with his fly still down.

Finally she heard the zip of his fly, but worryingly not the sound of a flushing toilet or running tap. She grimaced to herself before turning back to face Bobby as he stepped up to the bathroom door. Grin still very much present, he lowered his head and raised his brow in a cheeky expression. “What chu’ up to? Were you watchin’ me pissin’?” Teasing or not, Chloe was repulsed by his suggestion and quickly began to fumble out another nerve-wracked response. “Oh n-no. I was waiting outside.” Pausing a moment as she tried to steady herself once more and get a better grip, she felt guilty for standing so close by. “Sorry, I should have kept back a bit.“

Bobby shook his head, pretending to look disappointed at her shyness, but clearly amused still. “Why you frettin’ so much, lil’ girl?” He walked up towards Chloe as he talked, the narrowness of the hallway making her to step back as he stepped forward. “Ah don’t mean no harm, just wanna say hello, have a lil’ friendly talk, that’s all there is!” Bobby now loomed over Chloe, her back against the wall as he leaned his hand on it, as though to trap her in further.

Looking down at his host, bright red and stock-still, he let out another strange titter of a laugh. “You know what you like? You’re like a lil’ bunny rabbit, all jumpy and nervous-like. Bobby Peru scare ya that much?”

“No! No, i’m not scared, sorry.” Chloe lied, praying for all these tense questions to end. She didn’t know what else to do at this point except blunder out more passive answers, it felt like the only thing keeping her safe right now. “I-I’m just . . . I’m just shy really, I-“ Stray tears of stress running down her cheeks, Bobby could still only smile. More often he surrounded himself with the most hardy and ruthless of characters (though they never quite matched up to Bobby himself in either category), even the countless women civilians of Big Tuna that he chased would often snap back at least a little. But her? This girl, so submissive, so sweet, he’d never met anyone like her, at least not in a very long time. It was fascinating and incredibly fun to see how far he could push someone this anxious.

“That’s plain there, sure as shit it is!” he proclaimed in response to her timid insistence. Bobby stared at her in silence for just a moment, continuing to leer at the young woman, before gently shaking his head and stating in a quieter, yet still menacing tone, “A shy little bunny rabbit . . .”

While Chloe had an idea of what Bobby Peru wanted from her by this point, she had to admit, this exact conversation she had no idea just where it was going, all this talk about rabbits. But it seemed like her turn to respond, and she did love animals, so maybe she could sway him a bit and make the subject more innocent?

“I do like rabbits a lot . . . “ She paused as she wondered where to go from there, but as she looked the sinister man up and down, she finally thought of something to say. “You know, you kind of remind me of a snake.”

At that, Bobby very slightly raised his brows and continued to stare Chloe down. It was clear he wasn’t anticipating the animal comparison to be received back, but licking his lips in thought, he did seem a bit bemused by it all the same. “Snake, hmm?”, he questioned, nudging her on to continue. “Yes! You’re very cool and very . . . slick!” Chloe explained as best as she could in the moment. It wasn’t a lie at all, between the powerful air he gave off and his slithery way of moving around, he really did remind her of a snake. Knowing it could be taken as an insult however, she reaffirmed eagerly as she pointed up to Bobby and explained; “I mean that in a good way. Snakes are cool!” Beaming, she settled down and waited for a response.

Bobby let out a short cackle, removing his hand from the wall as he straightened himself up. It was a good sign to Chloe, him being amused by the comparison.

“Well, funny you done mention snakes there” Bobby began to unbutton the bottom of his black shirt, all the way up to the top of his tummy. Chloe felt a bit startled as she saw him begin to undress, but as he held his shirt open and pushed his hips out, it turned out surprisingly innocent.

What greeted Chloe was a large tattoo of a Cobra, it’s hooded head faced forward and it’s fangs were bared, starting just under Bobby’s belly button with it’s body continuing down until it had disappeared underneath his jeans. Chloe found it delightful, oohing and aahing as she leaned down to get a good look.

“Got this one done a long time ago, mah other pride and joy.” Bobby explained to her, proudly. “Go ahead, touch it, it don’t bite”

It was more than understandable to be suspicious of that, with Bobby prodding Chloe to touch him, and so low on his body too. But she certainly didn’t want to say no to him still, so she went ahead and lightly touched the tattoo with the ends of her fingertips. However, even after a few seconds of light prodding, Bobby continued to remain still. It appeared that he was waiting for her to continue on, and likely expecting her to pick up on what he really wanted and to head further down.

In what was probably the first act of confidence from Chloe in this entire interaction, she decided to distract him, and not only that, but to be just a bit cheeky herself as she did so. Running a fingertip lightly along the outline of the snake, she heard Bobby cough and he jolted away slightly. Well, Bobby Peru, ticklish! she thought to herself. It didn’t exactly take off his sinister edge, but that was quite cute still.

And Lady Luck was smiling on Chloe now it seemed, as she heard the sudden ding! of a timer ring from the kitchen. She now had an excuse to move away from Bobby before he could react properly to her teasing. Maybe as well, if she played her cards right, she could potentially distract him moreso with some of her baked goods.

After looking in the direction of the kitchen, Chloe turned back to her guest to address him. “Excuse me, Bobby,” she started, as politely as she could. “I think my cookies are about done, i’m just going to get them out the oven.” She smiled at him and pointed to the kitchen, hurrying in it’s direction and before he could potentially object to her leaving.

Chloe swore that in the time she had looked at him just then, Bobby had a slight expression of bafflement on face, the corner of his already prominent upper lip curled up and a single brow of his was raised, as though he really could not tell if the woman was escaping his advances intentionally, or if she was just that dumb and unable to pick up what was happening. Again, while she still found him quite intimidating, she was honestly starting to find him a bit cute.

Putting on her oven gloves, she took the tray of cookies out and moved to put them on the counter, the sweet and comforting smell making her feel a bit calmer in the face of Mr Peru.

Although it was not over just yet, far from it, as Bobby strutted into the kitchen, just finishing to button up his shirt and with his sharp nose turned up in the air. “Mmmhmm! Those goods smell mighty nice, lil’ bunny!”, he declared as though he was the man of the house, coming home to his loving housewife. He leaned on the table next to him, still casual but clearly ready to make a move at any time.

Chloe smiled as she listened to Bobby’s flattery. It made her feel weird to be complimented in general, and Bobby’s schmoozing way of talking to her meant it could be ingenuine, but she wanted to think nicely of it still. “Thank you.” she quickly smiled to him before turning back to spot-check the cookies. “I like to bake when I have the time.”

“Must have a lotta time then,” Bobby eyed Chloe up and down, shaking her head slightly as though analysing the sight in front of him. “Those goods been makin’ you a chubby bunny.”

Hearing that, Chloe went red. She did like her body generally, but it felt uncomfortable just how he pointed it out so bluntly. Still facing the counter and her back to Bobby, she tried to think of a response, embarrassed to face him just then. “Oh . . . I guess, I-“

Her eyes widened as she suddenly sensed a figure looming over her from behind, not touching her, but still very close. She shivered as she felt Bobby’s lips nearly graze her ear, starting to whisper loudly, with his voice dripping with lust, “Now, ah don’t mean nothin’ by it, pretty woman. Ah like a woman with a lil’ more meat on her body. Nice and soft, all ta hold onto”

Bobby began to lean his whole body into Chloe, the young woman gasping in surprise as she felt that jacket press into her back, and an arm beginning to reach around her body. Chloe could feel herself begin to panic as she saw his hand emerge in front of her, clearly trying to reach for some part of her body.

It seemed to be an overeager reach however, as Bobby found he had to lean his other hand forward to steady himself.

On top of the burning hot tray.

“OWUUCH SHIT”, Bobby quickly jumped off of Chloe and grabbed his injured hand, glaring daggers at it before biting down next to the burned spot, trying to distract himself from the pain.

After initially jumping at his sudden shouts and wondering just what the hell was going on, Chloe realised what had happened soon after and looked over towards Bobby, still nursing his hand. While she knew that he did have sleazy intentions overall, she still couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor man being in even just a bit of pain.

Taking a sheet of kitchen towel, she ran it under a cold tap and moved towards Bobby as he continued to cradle his hand. While he did glare at her still, frustrated and confused as she approached him, when she held out her hand, he finally offered his own injured one back, hissing as the cold towel that she wrapped around it stung to the touch. The hiss was met with Chloe gently hushing him back, like a mother would when comforting their child.

It seemed surreal to Chloe, here was this dangerous and frightening criminal, even at his shorter height in comparison to many men, he still towered over her. But here she was, carefully helping him with this little injury.

She couldn’t imagine just how surreal this must all seem to Bobby as well. He continued to let her hold his hand as he slouched over slightly towards her, more just staring at her now with his upper lip sticking out, leaving his mouth just that bit agape. He looked more curious than anything, as she helped him. As she looked to him, the woman felt butterflies fly around in her stomach, and while Chloe tried hard to hide her smile, afraid that he’d think she was mocking him, she did find him really adorable now.

“There now”, she spoke gently to Bobby about the burn, unwrapping the towel around it. “Is it ok?”.

With that, Bobby snatched his hand back and let out a small snarl, though not small enough that he didn’t grit his rotten teeth at her as he pulled back. “S’fuckin lil’ burn!” He growled, as if to remind both her and himself that this fuss over a minor injury was ridiculous.

Still not used to his harsh and snappy nature, Chloe felt a bit jolted at his reaction, he had seemed ok with her nursing it at first. But she moved on and headed back to the counter, picking up a spatula to remove the cookies from the baking sheet. “I think they’ve just about cooled now.”

Turning back to Bobby she began to ask, still a bit sheepish in case he was still angry, “Bobby, would you like to take some with you?”

Letting go of his hand, deciding it was overall better now, Bobby looked over to Chloe and squinted his eyes at her. Tilting his head to the side just so slightly, he spoke up, putting on a bit of a offended tone, “Take with me? Awww, you finally sendin’ me out now?” He pouted at her almost sarcastically, his mouth twitching as though trying to suppress another devious grin.

Chloe blushed and looked down at her feet, she could tell that he was definitely doing this only to rile her up now, to make her feel nervous and fretful.

But by god, it still worked.

“I-I mean . . . when you-you do go, I mean.” she followed up quickly, playing with and looking down at her hands, afraid of his reaction still.

His hand in the air, as though commanding her to stop, Bobby closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to look humble. “No, no, Ah get it! Hell, ol’ Bobby knows when he’s just about worn out his welcome.” He turned to face the kitchen door, holding onto the frame as though about to step out. “Well,” he started, looking back towards Chloe, his smirk smaller now, “Been nice talkin’ to ya, lil’ bunny.”

Chloe was just confused, she wasn’t sure what was happening exactly. The whole time he’d been here, he was so eager to try and make his move on her at every opportunity, but now he was all of a sudden just leaving. Truth be told, despite how intimidating he was still, she felt kind of sad to see him go. She felt nearly used to his dominating personality now, as strange as that was.

Still, if it was time, it was time, so she smiled warmly towards him and let out a friendly giggle, “Ahhh it’s been nice talking to you too Bobby.”

With that, Bobby turned his back and headed out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Springing into action, Chloe picked up a cookie from the tray to give to him before he left, then followed behind closely to let him out of the front door.

As she moved past him and began to open, Bobby’s hand suddenly shot out and grabbed it over hers, forcing her hand to close the door once more. “Now wait now, one lil’ minute!”, he insisted.

Chloe was feeling a bit frustrated now with him suddenly changing his mind again. Still, she didn’t show it and stepped back instead, while Bobby slinked  back and across to block the door.

“Now, before you send me off’n on mah way, can ah just ask for the lovely lady ta give Bobby just one lil’ kiss goodbye?” His hand on his heart, he tried his best to seem earnest as he stared at Chloe, but it still felt more like a demand than a request. Feeling put on the spot, Chloe rubbed her arm anxiously as she thought of how to respond. “Oh . . . I, um . . .” In her head she began to justify it to herself that it did seem fair. Just one little kiss and he’d be happy, ready to begin on his way. Nodding, she responded with a quick “Ok!”

Holding onto Bobby’s arm for support, she reached her head up and placed a kiss on his thin cheek, settling down once more as she smiled and looked up to him for a response.

After giving his cheek a quick rub, Bobby slowly turned his head down towards Chloe and put on a humble smile. “Aw,” he cooed, “Very sweet.”

In a flash, Bobby’s arm shot out and grabbed Chloe by the waist, yanking her towards him as she squeaked in surprise, their bodies now tightly pressed together. With his other hand, he firmly caressed her face, pulling her chin up to look at him directly. “But ‘chu know that ain’t the kinda kiss ah meant.”, he stated as he smirked down at Chloe.

Chloe’s heart was pounding, she could feel it while she was pressed up against Bobby’s own chest. As he held her there, tightly grabbing her waist and holding onto her face just as firmly, she felt terrified.

And yet, as he held her closely to him and stroked her cheek with his thumb, the young woman looked up at the gangster through wet eyes and felt herself feeling weak, as she took in his menacing smirk and the sharp features of his face. She didn’t know what was happening, she felt so frightened, but her tummy was fluttering again, her legs were quaking and between them, she could feel herself thumping down there.

Bobby moved his hand from around her waist and grabbed the cookie from Chloe, still miraculously in her hand, even after the harsh shock he was giving her. He lifted it up and held it right up to Chloe’s face, his own still flashing that wide and rotten smile.

“Now, open niiiiice and wide fer’ Bobby Peru.”

He quickly shoved the cookie in in her mouth, Chloe bewildered by just what was going on, but holding it in her teeth still, all the same. She was very worried, but almost as worried over how eager she was to see where this would go.

Leaning his head down, Bobby engulfed the other end of it in his large mouth. As he bit down on the treat, the pair’s lips only just grazed, making Chloe let out a small whimper, just at the small touch. If she was red before, well she was crimson now when she realised that she was starting to feel wet.

As he finished up his mouthful, smacking his lips together, Bobby leant back in once more, this time however now fully kissing Chloe. Her eyes widened in shock as he passed his tongue through her mouth, tasting the sugar and chocolate as he stole the last bit of cookie away and ate it, all that while he was kissed her.

With one last gulp, Bobby leaned back in for the last time finally. He passed his tongue through her mouth once more, his own large mouth overtaking her’s easily as he bit down on her lips just ever so slightly.

Chloe couldn’t take it anymore. She’d never been kissed before, let alone this passionately and by a man like this. He was so dangerous, so sexy and . . . and she found him so oddly endearing. As she felt herself succumb to Bobby Peru’s strange seduction, she began to close her eyes and kiss him right back.

[serahsanguine]

Vacation Series Pt. 2. Halloween Surprises Ch, 4

This is the second book in a two-part series

Book one. - pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6

Book Two. - pt. 1, pt, 2, pt. 3, 

All chapters can be found Here on Ao3

This Chapter Rating; NC-17 NSFW

Tagging; @skullsmuldon @baronessblixen @today-in-fic

*********************************

Chapter 4; Day Four - Vanity Fair

Mulder woke up and felt the cold sweat of Scully’s skin as he rolled her over slightly and nuzzled his nose into her strawberry smelling hair. Whispering reassurances over and over again tell her he loved her, that they were safe. She opened her eyes adjusting to the darkness she could tell she had been crying and she clung to Mulder’s body. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, care to tell me about it?”

“I will but not now, I'm going to grab a glass of water.”

“Ok,” he said simply not wanting to push the matter and make it worse.

“I’ll be quick I promise, the fires nearly out and the room is quite chilly” she leaned back over to him her finger gracefully touching his cheek “I’m ok I promise”

He smiled weakly and watched her wander to the bathroom. She switched the light on and grabbed the glass she kept by the sink and ran the water cold before filling it and taking a sip.  

It didn’t agree with her and everything she had eaten the day before all came up and into the toilet bowl. Mulder was up in a flash and by her side for support. His hand grabbing her hair to keep it out of her face and his other hand rubbing her back. He helped soothe her as best he good but he felt useless.

5 minutes passed and everything that was coming up was out and now all that was left was her dry heaving into the bowl. She sat on the cool tile floor and Mulder had grabbed a washcloth and ran it under cool water to apply to her head and neck. 

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked concerned.

“No, but I think that’s it for now,” she replied solemnly.

“What happened?"

“The bowling alleys hotdog disagreed with me,” she said trying to calm her breathing down and trying no to throw up her stomach acid. 

“You did say you didn’t think it tasted right,” he said in confirmation. 

She nodded and rung the washcloth out and ran it under the tap before replacing it to her skin. “That'll teach me to listen to your advice and eat junk food.”

“This is not my fault,” he said defensively and looked away at the floor.

She smiled and locked her fingers with his, he looked up into her face and smiled back and realized she was teasing him.

“Nice to see you're making jokes, are you ready to go back to bed?”

“Yes, I think so.” 

Scully stood up and went to walk out of the bedroom but Mulder scooped her up under the legs and carried her to bed. 

“I can walk you know,” she said laughing.

“I know but I felt chivalrous,” he replied smiling back down at her. 

He wrapped the blanket around her skin and she was asleep instantly, it was a little while before he fell back to sleep making sure she had everything from a sick bucket a fresh cup of water. He was worried for her and hoped she was up for tomorrow as he knew she was really looking forward to the vanity fair.

//

Both Mulder and Scully had been awake for several hours now dealing with some of the preparations for tomorrow's Halloween party. 

The Lone Gunman had gone way overboard on the pumpkins, buying 25 of them to be exact, all of them needed to be scooped and cleaned with the inside of the pumpkin put in a bowl to make pies for tomorrow.  Mulder and Scully were sat by the kitchen island, Scully’s hair was tied back in a low ponytail keeping the pumpkin from attaching itself to her hair. She was wearing a low cut vest top with a cardigan buttoned up, her jeans covered buy an apron, she was cleaning out her second pumpkin. Mulder was wearing black joggers and a grey tank top also cleaning out his second pumpkin. All of them agreed to do 5 pumpkins each and once cleaned they would get to do a different design on each one.

Mulder watched as Scully was finishing up, he just stared and watched for awhile he knew she was still feeling quite ill from yesterday but was putting on a brave face as they sat trying not to let on. But when you look deeper she was aglow her skin porcelain and freckled but her cheeks were red from the fire and warmth of the house. Loose curled hair framed her beautiful face her eyes downcast at the task at hand. Her nose is small and quaint, her lips pink luscious and kissable but they were covered by the tip of her tongue just darting out from between her lips. He smiled because she didn’t know she did this, and she only did it when she was concentrating he never brought it up in case it made her self conscious and she would stop. 

She looked up and caught him staring at her and instantly she blushed it didn’t matter whether they were in a relationship or not whenever he looked at her like that it sent her into little schoolgirl crush mode. 

They got through the rest of the pumpkins creating creepy ghosts, ghoulies, monsters and cats, even carving an X into the largest one they had between them. 

Mulder placed a tea light in his last pumpkin and held it up next to him, he had carved a face with a large smile into it.  

“Scully, You light me up,” he held up the lit pumpkin and then looked at her with a cheeky smile on his face.

She looked at him and smiled and then proceeded to laugh at his awful pun.

“How long have you been holding that one in?”

“Since we started. ”

“You’re incorrigible” she carried on laughing. She managed to calm herself down some minutes later and watched him as he scooped some of the ‘guts’ of the pumpkin into his hand.

“Don’t you dare Mulder.”

She watched as if in slow motion he pulled his hand back and threw the pumpkin insides at her. His evil smirk said everything she needed to know as she picked up some of her insides and threw it back at him. 

“Do you really want this to turn this into a food fight, Scully?

“You started it, Mister.”

They threw pumpkin back and forth until the whole kitchen was covered in orange blobs and seeds he had definitely achieved his goal of helping to cheer her up and not think about how awful she felt.  

“Thank you,” she said quietly. 

“Anytime, but we need to get this place cleaned up before the boys get home.”

She looked around at the room and sighed their little bit of fun had caused so much chaos. 

“Ok, I will get the mop and you get the broom.”

Mulder followed Scully to the cleaning closet, she grabbed the mop and he grabbed a Halloween broom. 

He looked at Scully, witches broom in hand “Stick with me.” 

She rolled her eyes and he watched her laugh as she walked back into the kitchen. He put the decorative item down and grabbed the real thing and proceeded to help her clean up the mess they had created. 

//

That Following Night.   

Scully was still under the weather and feeling sick but was miles better then she was feeling the night before. She was just putting the finishing touches on her outfit. She wore a red dress that came up just above her knees, black tights and red pumps. Her hair was down and curly around her face, her face with just a small touch of makeup. Her gold cross sitting firmly in the middle of her neck. 

She walked out of her bedroom and down the stairs finding Mulder staring at her from his seat in the living room. His face in awe of her beauty. 

“Mulder close your jaw, you’re catching flies.”

“I… ugh… Wow”

She blushed profusely. But quickly turned it around back on him. She raked her eyes down on his form, his Jean's were dark and acid washed and they curved his ass perfectly, she remembered the first time he wore them, his ass looked smackable. At least this time she could actually touch him. His attire above the waste consisted of a grey t-shirt paired with a black leather jacket. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself Mulder,” now it was Mulder's turn to blush. Scully slipped on her black trench coat and hooked her arm inside Mulders and they walked into town towards the vanity fair. 

10 minutes later they arrived, it was beautifully decorated, there were streamers full of ghosts and cobwebs everywhere complete with freaky looking spiders. Chinese lanterns with amazingly drawn mythical creatures hung from above and they had pumpkins of every variety placed all over. What really surprised them both is they even had characters from Mulder’s new favourite movie ‘A Nightmare Before Christmas’ with people dressed up as Oogie Boogie and Jack Skeleton, even children adorned costumes as Lock, Shock and Barrel. 

“Mulder, can we go over there first?”

Mulder followed Scully gaze as she pointed towards the shooting stall. He smiled. 

“Only if you think you can beat me, Scully.”

“Is that a challenge Mulder?” she said emphasized his name, he simply nodded in return “You’re on” and off they walked towards the shooting stand. 

The stands colours were bright orange and yellow, exactly what you would normally find at a funfair. But instead of shooting a family of plastic ducks you were shooting a family of pumpkins. 

“You being a hot shot can go first.”

“Thank you,” he was feeling cocky and she could tell she as she watched him line up with the plastic cork gun in hand he shot them hitting ten out of 13 targets.

“Not bad Mulder.”

“Your turn Scully but that is hard to beat.”

“We shall see,” she thought she walked to the stand picking up the loaded cork gun taking the right stance she aimed the gun and fired hitting every pumpkin and not missing one. 

“Wow Miss, that was brilliant” Scully beamed a full toothy grin at the stall, “Which large plush would you like?”

“That one please” she pointed at the rather large grey alien hanging from the ceiling. 

“Here you go, Miss.”

“Thank you,” she took the large plush toy from the elderly man, said her goodbyes and they left to find another attraction.  

They found the candy floss stall and Mulder ordered them both a cone each. 

“I have a sugar crush on you,” he said sweetly.

“Oh brother,” as she rolled her eyes and in search for a small bench to eat and talk away from the crowds. 

“Here you go, Mulder, this is for you,” she said handing him the grey plush toy.

“I.. Don’t know what to say, Scully. You didn’t have to give me this you won it fair and square.”

“I may have, but It's not that I had to give it to you it, I wanted too. Just say thank you, Scully, and give me a kiss. ”

“Thank you, Scully.”

He leaned forward brushing his lips against hers and the fireworks of passion ignited there, he pulled away but not before she pulled him back again, her tongue probing inside his mouth tasting cotton candy and mulled wine.

“Mmm, You taste good Mulder.”

He pulled away his cheeks red and a boyish grin upon his face. 

“How about the House of Horrors next?”

“Is that the one with all the mirrors?” he opened his mouth to reply but she carried on talking not letting him say a word. “Because if it is the answer is definitely no. We have been there and done that, never again.”

“Ok, so that’s out the picture, how about the haunted house?

“Really?” she raised her eyebrow in scepticism. 

“Yeah, come on Scully it will be fun.”

“Fine why not.”

They soon finished their cotton candy and went to the haunted house. Stepping inside to complete darkness, Mulder went first in protection. Scully laughed making a comment that plastic does not kill anyone. They walked the corridors as plastic mannequins decorated with fake blood jumped out of nowhere. Vampires, jumping spiders also popped up, Scully could not help but laugh as every time something made Mulder jump he screamed like a girl and then pretended to be all macho and act as if nothing happened. Finally, they got to the end and it was straight on the ghost train which was full of mostly the same stuff but with added fog, mist and neon lights. Scully took the opportunity to snuggle into Mulder's side while they went around the track. He was warm and smelled like Paco Rabanne and her Paris perfume, it was a gentle mix but one that certainly suits them both. 

Their evening at the funfair came to an end and it was time to go home. They took a small stroll along the beach watching the moon reflect on the calm ocean. They arrived home and noticed the Lone Gunman had kept the fire going in the living room for them so the house wasn't as brisk as the outside. They took off their coats and both wandered upstairs, Scully slipping her pumps off along the way and depositing the rest of her clothes in the bedroom, she slipped into her cotton full-length pyjamas before sliding in between the sheets. She watched as Mulder unclothed and found an old t-shirt to lay in bed with making sure to grab the book before getting comfortable. They would both forgo their nightly routine, they were much too tired.

With Mulder propped up with pillows behind his back and Scully laying on the side of his body with her face and head in his chest. He began to read. 

“On the brink of what was once known as ‘The River Hill’ at the east of Main Street in Williamston, there formerly stood an old hotel building. Owned and operated by the Edward Yellowy family in the early and middle 1800’s, the hotel was frequented by captain and sailors. From barges and ships while they were docked at the Roanoke River wharf just below ‘The River Hill.’

He looked down to find she was still awake her eyes were drooping but she was listening intently. 

“Incidentally, one of Edward Yellowlys' sons, Edward C. Yellowly, practised law in Greenville and was one of the principles in what was said to be among the last duels fought in North Carolina. The duel took place at the Virginia-North Carolina state line along the Dismal Swamp canal in October 1947, and Yellowly’s opponent, C.F. Harries, another Greenville lawyer, was killed in the encounter. 

“Returning to the old hotel, it had a handsome mahogany stairway and a large balcony covering the entire front. The front veranda was elevated so that the carriages could drive under it. It’s said that a misunderstanding developed between a honeymooning couple staying at the hotel and the young bride leapt off the balcony to her death it was the reason that the place developed a reputation for being ‘Haunted’.”

He stopped and listened to her calm breathing and soft snore he carried on reading to make sure she was completely asleep before putting the book down, that and he hated leaving a story not finished. 

“The hotel was finally abandoned, but an ancient piano was left in it. Some of the neighbourhood children in the old days would go into the abandoned structure and play the piano. There were also rumours that musical sounds could be heard in the building when no one was around. Some thought the music was played without human hands, and an examination would show that there was undisturbed dust on the keys of the piano. When this writer was a child, all children were afraid to go into this old hotel or even pass by the place when alone. It was widely known among the children as ‘The Haunted Hotel’.”

Mulder leaned over to his side of the bed and placed the book down softly, Scully was still asleep on his chest and he fell asleep along with her. 

[paellaplease]

Firebird | Chap.1

pairing: Revali/Original Female Character genre/warnings: adventure, romance, slow-burn. graphic descriptions of pain. later depictions of self-injury. scarring. burning. swearing. canon-typical violence chapter word-count: 2,847

author note: Props to revali’s VA for bringing such an interesting and compelling character to life, especially with the limited screen-time etc. I knew I wanted to write about him the moment he rocked up and started talking.

Hope y’all enjoy the ride. 

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 1: Dagger and Arrow

If there was anything she was completely positive about, it was that death wasn’t painless and enchanting hurt even worse. 

*

She had felt death before.

It was a white, hot pain. Racing through her veins and making her muscles stiffen and squeeze as if she’d been struck by lightning instead of stabbed by a sword. Sometimes in her dreams it starts in the tips of her fingers, others it begins as a heavy weight on her chest. 

All times it hurts and it lingers. Swirling in her abdomen, making her feel sick as she briefly registers that her head was spinning, and the world felt very, very far away. Slowly, the edges of her vision would creep in. The commotion and screaming around her fading away till it was nothing but dull chatter.

Eventually, there would be silence and darkness. The pain ended just about then.

Yes, she’d felt death before. Or at least the worst parts of it. However now, standing in the middle of the Akkala Forge and staring at the lone dagger that sat on its pedestal in the centre of the black marble table…

She realised that on days like these, enchanting sometimes felt worse than dying.

The task was simple enough. The same she was given each month after weeks spent in study and preparation, training both her mind and body before her mentor deemed her ready to perform the procedure. 

Enchant the blade, make it work.

Gently, she exhaled a long, tired breath, glancing at the rune in disdain. There it was, marring the surface of her hand like it always did. An ancient pattern carved deep into her skin like a raised scar. The shape that looked almost like an eye at its middle seemed to stare back at her. What are you waiting for? It seemed to say. 

The rune had been there for as long as she could remember. It was the one thing she had left of her past, and also the main thing that reminded her of what her purpose was right now. 

Every attempt she’d made on enchanting a weapon had ended in failure, some more spectacularly terrible than the last. However today, on the eve of her twenty-fourth birthday, she was determined. She’d studied even harder this year, dedicating much of her free time to observing the smiths, and the rest to visualising the procedure. Today was the day she was to complete what was set out for her.

Gritting her teeth, she focused on the target and fanned her palm open.

The weather in the forge immediately shifted, transitioning from a stagnant cold, to a thick blanket of humidity. It was stifling, heavy in the same way the air would feel in the moments before a storm. 

The energy lying dormant in her veins ignited like a spark, low pitched and buzzing, singing loud and clear in her ears.

Bracing herself, a familiar burning sensation raced from her outstretched palm to the rest of her body, making her bite her lip as she focused on not calling out from how much it hurt.

The feeling worsened with every minute, the magical energy in her left hand pulsing to the beat of her racing heart. Carefully, she bent her ring finger inward, watching the rune illuminate in a blazing flash of blue light.

In an instant, jets of fire crawled up from the edges of the rune and into her five fingers, casting an eerie, orange glow on her pained face and making the air smell of charcoal. She pushed the fire further, the pain in turn worsening and making her head spin. 

Lines of fire raced out from her fingertips, wrapping themselves around the hilt of the dagger first and embedding themselves into the detail. The silver metal, now hot and red, began to melt and warp as the fire travelled up, searing a blazing trail into the metal of the knife.

Then came the worst part. Grimacing in anticipation, she grabbed the blade. 

The first time she had attempted the sealing stage, she had passed out in the workshop. It was the middle of winter then, five years ago. 

(She woke up the next day to the sterile chill of the village infirmary, sore as hell and smelling like a campfire.)

With time, she eventually learned to look past the spots that formed in her vision, fighting through the dull ache in her body and willing herself to stay awake. However, even with years of practice, her body wasn’t fully immune to the procedure’s effects.

She eventually discovered that at her level, her enchanting had a time limit:

Five minutes.

One. She closed her eyes and focused deeply on the blade, imagining the fire as she coaxed it to slither its way into the molecular structure of the dagger, willing it to wrap itself around the rapidly vibrating atoms like a snake in a birds nest. 

Two. With a shaking hand, she lifted the mallet she held in her other palm high into the sky, aligning it with the red star she had painted on the ceiling as a guide. Exhaling a gust of air, warm as oven smoke, she brought the mallet down, letting go of the blade in the same instant. 

Three. The black stone table she worked on shook lightly from the force. In contrast, the dagger she had just struck went immediately still. Steam began to lift from it, small flames licking its edges and casting the room in shadows. 

Four. She felt her focus waver, clutching her hand and falling to her knees-

Not yet! Not done yet! 

A bead of sweat dripped from her forehead, seeming to evaporate before it hit the ground below. 

Five. She dropped the mallet, shakily rising to her feet and swiping the thick cream coloured cloth at the edge of the table, quickly wrapping the burning blade in the material and extinguishing the rising flames.

Release! She ordered it, and the fire and burning in her veins were no more.

For a while, she stood there panting, clutching her shoulder as residual phantom pains echoed in her left hand. 

Swallowing her nausea, her right hand lifted the dagger to the dusty light filtering from the forge’s window. She marvelled at how heavy it suddenly felt, the metal, whilst still hot, laying cold in her hands as if never kissed by flame in the first place. 

She had done it. Her first successful attempt amongst so many. 

“Congratulations, Maiya.”

Maiya jumped, quickly whipping around to face the person standing behind her, still clutching the dagger. 

It was a tall woman, almost seven feet in height. She was wrapped in a dark cloak with light blue intricate designs laced into its sleeves and hood. Her bright, silver locks stood out amongst the darkness, cropped short and slicked back, her wrinkled face clear of distractions just as she likes it.

Seeing who it was, Maiya’s face broke out in a large grin. “Teacher! How long were you standing there for? I did it! I finally did it!”

If she wasn’t paying attention, she wouldn’t have caught the brief, small smile that flashed across her mentor’s face before it was replaced by her ever customary frown.

“I was here for long enough. You did well, my dear.“ 

Her mentor took a step forward, reaching out for the dagger with a black gloved hand. She peeled back the cloth slowly, revealing the enchanted blade underneath.

It was red. Bright red. With orange light glowing and racing its way from the hilt to the sharpened tip, embedding itself into the dagger’s swirling detail and setting the dimly lit room alight. 

"It’s time you find a master for this dagger.”

Maiya opened her mouth, questions bubbling to the surface as her mentor continued. 

“Rito Village, in the upper north western corner of Hyrule, is where you will go.”

“But why-”

“The land is filled to the brim with monsters made of ice and snow. The people there will benefit greatly from a warrior skilled in handling an enchanted blade of fire, no?”

At that, Maiya’s mouth ran dry of complaints, her words evaporating in the heat of the workshop’s air. It was no use arguing with her mentor at this point. But a lingering thought still hovered in her mind like a dark cloud.

“The land is quite far, teacher,” she whispered, looking everywhere but the woman in front of her. She braced for a sharp reprimand for her obvious sign of childish weakness, and was surprised when none came.

“I understand, child. However, I believe it’s time that you venture beyond the borders of this town and see for yourself the riches and diversity of the world around you." 

Her piercing grey eyes seemed to cut into Maiya’s darker ones, distant and glassy. Seeing something she couldn’t.

"An evil is building, my dear. And we must be ready. You learn nothing if you allow fear to dictate your freedom.”

Maiya dropped her gaze to her hands. The rune, ugly and deep, cut through the tan skin on the surface of her left. It stood out, angry and red, contrasting greatly with the smooth, unmarked skin of her right. 

“What of my other element, Teacher? The one that I will carve into my right hand when I am ready?”

“It is ice, is it not?”

Maiya nodded.

“We will begin preparations once you return.” Her wrinkled face twitched into a smirk. “Perhaps the environment will give you some ideas.”

With that, her mentor put both hands on her student’s shoulders, steering her away from the stone bench and leading her to the exit.

“You will be fine, Maiya. Now prepare, I will arrange a space for you in the next merchant trip to the region. Pack warm, you leave in three days.”

———————

Thud. The arrow embedded itself into the center of the target. Thud, thud, thud! Three more, dead centre again, each piercing through the previous arrows with deadly accuracy. 

Thud! Another, still in the centre of the target but slightly askew by a millimeter.

Revali frowned, wiping his brow and nocking another arrow onto his bow. Not good enough.

The forest outskirts a few hours from Rito Village was not his usual training spot. The wind was still fair, and the targets numerous (with hundreds of trees to choose from), but it still didn’t pack the same challenge, the same dramatic drop, the same chilling and powerful air of his beloved Flight Range in the Hebra Mountains. 

However, today marked the culmination of months of training for several of their new aerial recruits, and said Flight Range was therefore currently swamped by excitable Rito’s raring to get a few targets in before the sun set on the horizon. 

And as much as he would love to provide them with a generous demonstration on the highest level one can reach as a skilled archer such as himself, he didn’t believe he had the patience to deal with any novices today.

So…the forests will have to do.

Thud! The arrow went, embedding itself again in the middle of the target and cutting through the three previous others with a bit more force than usual.

The blue-feathered Rito reached into his quiver, picking out and nocking three arrows in one fluid motion. The world around him sharpened, then blurred. Three painted trees for three arrows, his vision hyper fixating on the first, second, then the third.

One breath, another. Now. 

The first arrow sang through the forest, embedding itself into a target hanging from a tree to his left. The second, whizzed past a bit further, passing through the leaves and piercing the hidden bullseye that he had placed underneath the foliage.

The third arrow travelled the furthest. Revali aimed to hit one of the more difficult targets he had planted several meters away. The tree was an ancient oak with leaves mostly orange, swaying lightly in the chill autumn breeze. 

Revali’s gaze sharpened. The arrow dipped and flew, dancing with the movement of the wind, quickly approaching the woman with dark hair that had just stepped in the way.

Wait.

What?

“Watch out!”

It all unfolded instantly. The Rito, in shock, slinging his bow over his shoulder and sprinting towards her, stopping to shield his eyes from the flash of a bright blue light. The woman, in a bizarre twist of luck and fate, hearing his voice and turning at the last minute, the arrow missing her head by an inch and cutting a diagonal line through her long, braided hair.

Silence reigned through the forest for a second. Then:

“WHAT THE FU-”

“YOU NEARLY KILL-”

The Rito stepped forward, pointing an accusing wing at the stranger. “Don’t you dare voice a stupid accusation such as that, I had no intentions of harming you.” He narrowed his eyes, suddenly feeling suspicious. It was rare to see Hylians frequenting this side of the woods, especially with the recent increase of monster activity and abundance of natural predators hiding in the thickets. 

Furthermore, although he doubted her involvement with the troublesome Yiga Clan, whose members have often been known to terrorize the odd lone traveler, he didn’t want to take any chances. “What are you doing wandering the middle of the Tabantha wild? The next Hylian-managed town is more than an hour away.”

He was surprised at the fury in her tone as she tilted her head up to snarl at him. “First of all, birdie, this forest is open to the public. No one owns these trees.” He opened his mouth to bite out a seething retort, but she stepped forward, pushing a finger underneath his beak to snap it shut. He spluttered. 

“Second of all, I’m taking a shortcut. I’ve been travelling west for three bloody weeks and it has been absolute hell. I’m sleep deprived, hungry, and tired. And I’m in a hurry! So unless you know anything about a place called ree-too Village, I’ll be on my way." 

Revali glared. At least that clears a few things up. Were all Hylians this demanding and foolish, or was it just the ones Valoo above was adamant in acquainting him with?

He pushed away the offending finger and rolled his eyes.

"Firstly it’s pronounced ree-toe. Secondly,” he said, mocking her manner of speech, “No. I don’t know anything about the village of which I was hatched and spent most of my life and waking hours. Whatever led you to such a ridiculous notion?”

He raised an eyebrow, watching- bemused, as a dust of pink crept its way onto the haggard woman’s cheeks. It was adorable, really. If only he wasn’t so pissed.

He took her silence as his cue to continue. 

“I wasn’t hatched yesterday. You’re obviously lost. However, to avoid you waltzing into another unsuspecting warrior’s weapon range, I suggest that you continue eastwards that way." 

His bow gleamed in the afternoon sunlight as he used it to point towards a structure which towered and peaked over the top of the trees. "See that stone pillar over there? That’s Valoo’s Spire, follow it and you will eventually reach the shore of Lake Totori. You will meet the Great Hylian Highway once again, and if you manage to follow it this time, the bridge to the village will be made apparent to you.”

He smirked, crossing his wings and tilting his head. Amusingly, she was about a head shorter than him, and she had to lift her dark eyes to the sky to glare at him. “Got all that? Because if not, good luck as I am not the type to repeat myself to idiots who ignore my knowledgeable advice.”

“Alright thanks, whatever,” she sighed, grabbing an elastic from her pocket and pulling her now asymmetrical hair into a haphazard ponytail. She turned “Try not to kill anyone with that bow, Fly Boy,” she called over her shoulder. 

A few strands of uneven, dark hair came free as she walked away. He couldn’t help it. “A very creative haircut, Strange Hylian!”

“Oh shut up!” A shrill yell replied, echoing from the other end of the forest and scaring several birds from their perches. 

He squawked out a sharp laugh at that.

A few seconds passed and she was finally out of his line of vision. Revali of the Rito was happily alone once again. 

“What an unusual and infuriating woman,” he muttered. He had been distracted and decided that now was a good time as any to take a few minutes to collect his discarded arrows and reset his targets.

Revali trudged towards the oak tree where the troublesome arrow was embedded, feeling slightly amused at the trail of shorn dark hair a few steps away.

He reached out towards the arrow, eyes widening in surprise as he stepped closer.

The once brown wood of the arrow shaft was an ashy, crumbling black. The bird feathers of its fletching emitted an unpleasant sulphurous odour, and the metal of its arrowhead was warped and melted like silver molten clay.

It was completely burnt. 

A strong wind blew through the trees, rustling through his feathers as he took a careful step back.

How odd.

[crowsent]

Whumptober 2019 Isolation

Haru Okumura, Akira Kurusu, Persona 5, Isolation

Two separate fanfics this time but I put them both on one post! I hope to gods that I got Haru right bc she’s such an underappreciated character. Big thanks to @lastvalyrian for giving me the Akira Kurusu goes back to his hometown idea bc I cried at that

=

Isolation was the monster lurking under her bed, the beast that trailed after her with a drooling open maw, her own Damocles’ Sword, held aloft by a single hair. And in a way, the fact that she felt isolated from everyone else was a little funny.

What a silly girl you are, Haru Okumura. How silly for you to fret over such trivial matters like companionship when you had the whole world laid out before you on a silver plate. Isolation? Loneliness? Solitude? If you’re sad we can buy you new friends. Friends who will adore you and shower you with praise. Powerful friends from rich families that will further the heights of the Okumura name.

You’re so lucky to have all this money, all this fame, all this fortune, and yet you wallow in useless self-pity. Be thankful that you’re an Okumura.

Haru had friends. Fake friends with fake smiles, with honeyed words dripping with the money Father paid them to be nice to Haru. Rich sons and daughters of other conglomerate businesses that Father used as a tool to spread the Okumura family name. They agreed to everything Haru said, laughed at all her jokes, and invited her out to everything. Employees vying for her father’s favour complimented her dress, her hair, taught her how to play cat’s cradle when she was but a young child. Managers of the Big Bang Burger empire always took care in flattering her. Haru caught people around corners, laughing at the easy money just for humouring the Okumura heiress' petty desires to have someplace to belong.

Isolation, Haru thought, was the invisible cage in which she was doomed to die in.

She was always surrounded by people, but she was always alone.

And it was cold.

It was empty.

It was hollow.

All the wealth in the world couldn’t stave off the chasm inside Haru’s heart, the desire to have someone in her life, just one person, who saw her not as the rich Okumura daughter, but simply as Haru.

She waited.

She hoped.

The shoujo manga she happened to read in Shujin’s library had always said that someone would inevitably swoop in and save her from being on her own. Someone would show her that she was more than a damsel in distress, fated to walk a predetermined path. That she could live her own life without someone else’s hand moving the pieces on the board.

But no one came.

Father had arranged for her to marry the son of a wealthy politician. She, too, had become a tool to further his own ambitions.

No one came.

“I’ll be fine.” Haru nodded decisively. “Everything’s going to be okay Haru.” She gently stroked the tomato’s leaves. It had grown so much, rising up despite being in a cramped planter. “Don’t worry about me, okay?” The tomato did not speak. Haru continued to gently brush her fingers over the leaves.

She was in her last year of highschool now. The shoujo manga she had read when she first came into Shujin was long forgotten. A distant memory. She couldn’t even recall what it was about anymore.

The tomato plant was still green, not yet ready for harvesting. Haru hoped she had enough time over the coming weeks to care for it properly. “Shibuya’s a lot safer now that that mafia boss turned himself in. The Phantom Thieves are amazing, aren’t they?”

Silence.

“I wish they would answer my request too…”

Her phone pinged.

A text.

Haru’s smile thinned. “I have to go now. I’m sorry for leaving you in such a quiet place.” The rooftop was silent and the plants which Haru had cared for had to wait. “I wish I could stay here longer.” The text was from Sugimura. Haru didn’t want to go. She had no choice.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay?”

She stood up, wiping the dirt from her hands onto her gym tracksuit. Her plants did not answer, but they were all that Haru had. The rooftop was the only place she felt less alone. Her plants; the tomatoes and carrots, the bougainvilleas and lilies, were the only reason she held on. The only things in her life that brought colour to her grey existence. If she was fated to walk a path someone else had chosen for her, she wanted to at least see flowers blooming at the edges.

Her heart was empty.

Haru walked by a pair of giggling girls on her way out from Shujin.

Haru walked alongside a crowd on her way back home.

She was surrounded by people.

She had never felt more alone.

====

It wasn’t the same.

The gas station was still there, still manned by a single overworked attendant with dead fish eyes and a tired smile frozen on their lips. The school was still there, still tiny and still filled with gossip over every little insignificant thing that happened around town. The cats on the floodplain were still there, the large Department Store was still there, the historical Amagi Inn was still there.

Nothing changed about Inaba. It was still the sleepy old town Akira remembered it to be. His house was still crammed in the residential district. The old couple who lived across from him gave him clipped greetings. Rumours of his arrest, his second arrest as a rebellious thief had spread just as fast as he expected it to. His parents weren’t home.

Nothing changed about Akira’s hometown during his year in Tokyo.

But it didn’t feel the same.

Not anymore.

He shut the front door of his parents’ home with a sigh and stalked over to the living room couch where he collapsed on the cushion with a soft thud. Morgana wiggled his way out of Akira’s bag and onto the couch. “This is your home?” Akira turned face-up so he could watch Morgana’s whiskers twitch and his tail swish around as he peered curiously at Akira’s family home. At the white countertops, at the boring beige sofa, at the obsessively clean space. “It’s quite different from the chief’s attic.”

Akira laughed at that. Though it was a much quieter sound, now. Anything too loud in this too quiet house sounded deafening. “Aren’t you glad not to live in an attic, Morgana?” Akira scratched Morgana behind the ears. Morgana’s tail curled up in delight and his eyes shut with a soft purr. “It’s a lot better than Sakura’s attic, isn’t it?”

Morgana’s eyes opened. For some reason, Akira didn’t like the look his cat gave him. “Do you really think that?”

Of course, Akira wanted to say. Here he was, back home, his actual home. Back in his hometown where whispers about his criminal past would always trail after him like a cape, where his parent’s house was devoid of any character and life, where Akira would have to come back to a quiet building because his mother worked the night shift as the receptionist in the hospital and his father didn’t bother doing anything but drink beer from the fridge when he came home most nights.

He had his old room back. A spartan square room with only a bed and a dresser. Without the potted plant he’d come to love, without the decorations and gifts his friends had given him, without the work desk where he spent hours meticulously crafting tiny knicknacks together. It was a fairly large house that had everything he could possibly need; a nice bathroom with a large tub, a fancy new tv unlike the tiny box he had in Sakura’s attic, a lot of space where he would spend the rest of his life alone.

Without his friends.

Without freshly made curry given to him with a smile.

Without someone to say “welcome back” as soon as he opens the door.

“Joker?” Morgana shimmied away from Akira’s hand, walking on his chest to look at him properly. He nudged Akira’s cheek with a paw. “Hey. Joker. Akira. Are you okay?”

Thankfully, Morgana didn’t mention the fact that Akira’s face was wet with tears. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Akira croaked. He wrapped Morgana in a half-assed hug. Morgana’s tail traced patterns on his forearms. “I’m back home. I’ll be going back to school where you can’t come with me because you can’t fit in the space underneath the desks here. All of my friends are still in Tokyo and I have to live the rest of my life here listening to everyone else mumbling shit about me when they think I can’t hear!” A sigh. Akira’s hands running through Morgana’s fur, trembling. “I’m fucking fine.”

It felt like yesterday when Akira stumbled into Shibuya, wide-eyed and confused, lost. Staring at the cars zooming by and the bright lights and the allure and danger of a strange city. It felt like it was only yesterday when he and Ryuji stumbled upon a lavish castle, when Ann cried and broke down in front of him at some random diner because of Kamoshida’s persistence, when Morgana first came into his life and taught him how to be a phantom thief.

It felt like he had met Makoto only a day ago, when she trailed him all over Shibuya with a flimsy magazine like that would stop her from getting noticed, when she vowed to stop Kaneshiro with them all. It felt like Haru came to him to ask for help with differentiating coffee beans only a few hours ago, when they planted flowers together on Shujin’s rooftop, when she annulled her engagement with Sugimura and gave Akira the biggest smile he had ever seen. It felt like it was only a few minutes ago when he met Sakura, Chihaya, Yoshida, Shinya, Iwai, Mishima, and all the other people who had made his life worth living.

It felt like he had met Yusuke for the first time only a few seconds ago. When Yusuke dragged Akira all over Tokyo in pursuit of true beauty. When Yusuke proudly gave him ‘Desire and Hope’ with their fingers brushing against each other. When Yusuke softly requested for Akira to keep smiling until he was able to capture it on canvas. When Yusuke gave him a tearful smile at the train station as Akira was bound to leave.

A year was not enough.

A year would never be enough.

It’s not enough.

The box of things Akira had from Tokyo sat near the door. He couldn’t bring everything. His room was nowhere big enough to display all that his friends had given him and his parents would never allow such “unsightly” decoration around the house. At least they agreed to let Akira hang the painting from “a famous artist” by the living room. Something to give the white nothingness of the house a little bit of colour.

Morgana stayed quiet as Akira wiped his tears away. “At least I have you Morgana. You’ll stay with me, right?”

A purr, Morgana doing his damnedest to snuggle into Akira’s neck. “Hmph. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

“I would never! Unless you try to steal my food. Then you’re gonna be living in the streets.” Morgana giggled. Having fur around his neck was ticklish.

The house was too quiet. There was no smell of coffee in the air, or the white noise of a television. He should unpack his things. He’d finish his last year of highschool at Yasogami and he’d have to enroll himself. Again. Not like anyone was going to come with him. Too busy. Not enough time. You’re already a problem child so don’t you dare think of being a burden on us even more. It was deadly quiet, at least, until his parents would come home.

At least he still had the headphones Futaba gave him. When his parents begin yelling at each other, he can block them out.

Pretend that his parents gave a shit about him.

Pretend that he was back in Tokyo.

Pretend that he wasn’t going to spend this year alone.

[aliofvalhalla]

Lights in Your Eyes

Including the prompt, "Look at the sky." 

You never expected to be spending New Year's Eve freezing cold, on the side of a mountain, in Norway with none other than Jesse McCree. Back in the Blackwatch days, you and Jesse would be laughing and joking about how ridiculous this situation was, but not tonight. Tonight, you were mad at him. So mad.

The two of you had been sent to scout out some suspicious omnic activity in Norway. You hadn't been sent alone; Mei, Angela, Pharah and Reinhardt were with you. The operative word being 'WERE'. It'd turned out that Winston's research coupled with Soldier:76's intelligence on the area had been right; a new wave of omnics was planning to lend a hand to the 'new omnic crisis'. Your team had unexpectedly gotten caught up in a fire fight and you and Jesse were separated from the rest of your companions. The omnic group here was in its infancy, meaning there weren't too many of them to contend with. It'd been going well...until Jesse got hit.

Jesse McCree never let his guard down in the field, and against forces as small as this, he would never have been hit...if it wasn't for you. You made a simple error in judgement, which left you out in the open and vulnerable to attack. A blast to your right had thrown you to the ground on your back with your gun about a foot out of your reach. You scrambled to get it, but as you did so another blast sent it flying into the goddamn ether. That's when you heard the unmistakable metallic footfalls of an approaching omnic.

Still on the ground, struggling to find balance every time you attempted to stand, your head was spinning. You must've hit it in the first explosion. You turned to face the source of the sound, only to be met with the sight of an omnic. It looked almost identical to the 'Eradicators' you'd encountered during the first omnic crisis, except instead of a canon, this one had guns. Big guns. Big guns pointed directly at you. It began to shoot them at your feet and you began to scramble as fast as you could towards any kind of cover...but your head. Your head hurt. The dizziness was relentless. Your vision blurred as you focused so hard on getting up and escaping.

Suddenly, the ground left you and you were floating. Not floating, no...you were being carried. The eyes you hadn't realised were closed, opened to stare blankly up at your saviour. The first thing your eyes focused on was that ridiculous cowboy hat. What was he doing here? After you'd taken the wrong turn and ended up with an omnic blockade between you, you'd told Jesse to run. To get out of there quickly. You thought he had.

He was running with you tight to his chest, his heart pounding loudly in your ear. He entered a cleared building and set you down behind cover. "Stay there, darlin'" he'd said before racing back out of the building, running on adrenaline. As you watched him go, you noticed the seeping red substance beginning to show through the oddly civilian shirt he insisted on wearing, just under his chest armour on his left side.

Was that his blood?

The stinging pain in your head was fading, but the throbbing didn't seem to want to stop. You pushed yourself up with a grimace, almost missing the distinct sound of a six shooter doing work right outside. Before you were fully on your feet, his arms were at your waist, steadying you.

"I thought...I told you...to stay put." He said between gasps for breath.

"You're hurt." You stated looking down at the offending stain.

He followed your eyes to spare a glance at the blood on his shirt before returning his gaze to your face, "Aw, it ain't nothin'. Don't you worry, doll. Let's get outta here, yeah?"

You gave a single nod and instantly regretted it as your head swam and you heard your own blood whirring in your ears.

After confirming over comms that the rest of the team had made it back to the temporary base in the mountains, the two of you helped each other clamber out of the small town towards the safe, rocky confines of the base. If you could just get each other back there, Angela would be able to patch you both up. However, the weather had other ideas.

The higher you climbed, the worse the storm seemed to get. You could see that Jesse was struggling with his injury and your head still felt like it would spontaneously explode any second. The blistering winds and snow didn't do much to make you feel better either. You had to stop. You spotted a small cave in the face of the grey stone just up ahead, just big enough for the two of you to enter side by side.

"Jesse, stop. We're going to have to rest here...at least until the storm dies down. See what we can do with our first aid kits...just for now."

Your words fell out among gasps and gulps as the wind caught your breath every time your mouth opened. His eyes followed the line of your extended arm to the crevice you were gesturing to.

He hesitated for a moment. His eyes flicking between the cave, the road ahead and your face, obscured by waves of side-sweeping snowflakes, "Alright...alright, let's get inside."

You both got as comfortable as two injured, armour-clad individuals could inside a small hole in the wall. Jesse had made two makeshift bandages from his serape. He used the little remaining supplies from his first aid kit to provisionally treat his wound...and yours. You hadn't realised, but the blow to your head had caused a bloody and bruised crack to appear at the base of your skull, hidden by hair. He'd wrapped one of the serape bandages around your head as best he could and laughed when he took a step back to admire his work. You narrowed your eyes at him and watched as he wrapped the second piece of material around his middle to conceal the bullet wound.

Before long, small talk turned into an argument.

Which brings us back to now.

"Darlin', I think that hit on your head gave you a concussion...or just knocked you stupid."

He was responding to your comment that what he did was reckless and that he shouldn't have come for you. Telling him he should have ran like you told him to.

It wasn't that you weren't grateful that he saved your life, it was that he did it by risking his own. You didn't think your life for Jesse's was a fair trade. It hurt you to think he could have died.

You scoffed, "You must have a concussion if you think almost dying for me was smart."

He scoffed right back, "Well, colour me concussed. I stand by my choice."

"You know what, Jesse? You're so fucking stubborn. You could have died. Do you realise that?"

He narrowed his eyes, any signs of playfulness long gone as he pierced your own irises with his intent stare, "So could you. In fact, that tin can very nearly put a bullet in ya head. Do you realise that?" There was silence for a beat, both still staring fixedly at each other. "I wasn't going to 'run' and let you die. No way was I. There gotta be something wrong with ya if you think I would."

At a loss for what to say, you stood up, finally tearing your gaze from his. His eyes, however, stayed firmly on you; watching as you strode towards the entrance of the little cave.

"Where are you going?" He almost growled.

"The storm's passed. We can go now." You replied flatly, wanting to just get to the others as soon as possible.

You were done with arguing, or even discussing, the events that transpired in that modest town. Jesse, on the other hand, had a lot more to say. He joined you at the opening of your temporary rock haven where you were looking out across the sprawling, emerald and russet woodland over the steep edge a few feet away. The colours were darkening with the coming of night, but it was no less beautiful than it had been soaking in bright, winter sun. Standing just behind you, his eyes were admiring the same forest, he spoke.

"What's so bad about being saved? It turned out alright, didn't it? We're both alive."

"Barely." You retorted.

"You got a death wish or somethin'?"

You rolled your eyes and turned to him then; leaving the striking, vast landscape behind you in favour of a view arguably just as appealing. Jesse was looking at you too.

"What are you talking about? You put yourself in danger...unnecessarily so. I could have gotten out...there was no need for us both to get hurt. You never could resist playing the fairy tale hero, could you? You never think about..." Your ranting went on for a while, but then you noticed Jesse had stopped listening and his eyes were planted on the space above you. You gave him a look of confusion, "Jesse?"

"Look at the sky," he replied, not taking his eyes off whatever had him captivated.

Instead of the usual fireworks of New Years past, you turned to be met by a much more enchanting scene. Above the trees you'd earlier admired, glistened a plethora of glowing, swirling colours. Green and purple mostly, with intermittent flickers of white, pink and blue; all dancing around the dark expanse. The aurora borealis. A spectacle you'd wanted to see since you were a child.

You were awe-struck. The display was breath-taking...it literally took your breath from you. You couldn't speak, couldn't tear away your eyes. Then you remembered something your primary school geography teacher had told you. When you found our voice again, you repeated his words, even if only just a whisper.

"Some say it's the most beautiful sight on the planet."

It may have been quiet, but in the still of the night, Jesse heard. He heard...and it made that ever-present voice in his mind jump loudly to the forefront and spill out of his lips before he could stop it.

"Not quite the most beautiful."

You felt his gaze on you then, not sure when it had moved from the northern lights, to your face. Your head snapped away from the beauty painting itself over the dark canvas and your eyes landed on his, all the colours of the manifestation reflected there. Your mouth was slightly agape with disbelief at what he was implying. Dumbfounded, you stayed like that. Silent. Watching the rare, vibrant phenomenon through eyes just as striking.

He moved in closer to you, never once dropping his love-struck stare.

Your heart was thudding so loud, you were sure he could hear it. You'd forgotten how silly you must've looked with a torn piece of serape wrapped around your head and a goldfish-like gape to your mouth. You wouldn't have cared anyway. Jesse didn't.

You realised in the moment just before his lips met yours, the reason you'd been so angry...you couldn't bear the thought of him being gone.

As he kissed you, sparks of electricity buzzed through your body and created a warmth so comfortably contrasting the shrill air of the mountain. Pulling away to rest your foreheads against one another's, you shared the same giant grin. He laid a soft, gentle peck on your nose as he rested his hands on your hips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and chuckled, "You're definitely concussed."

He laughed and pulled you as close as he could, the sparkling backdrop creating the picture-perfect moment. It would have probably been more romantic if it hadn't been for the pained grunt he let out as he was unpleasantly reminded of the hole in his side. You grimaced for him as his eyes clenched shut.

"We should get you to Angela, huh?"

"Mhmm." Was all he managed.

You stifled a giggle and you laced your fingers through his and cuddled close to his arm, leading him towards the base. It didn't take you long to realise it was over a mossy ridge not a few metres away. You could've avoided all of it. Could've been back ages ago. The cave wasn't even necessary. It was right there all along!

But if you'd recognised that crest of stone before you'd found the cave, you would never have been able to appreciate the splendour of the woodland. You would never have seen those astonishing, natural lights. You would never have kissed Jesse.

You were so glad you decided to stop.

As you helped him up the last stretch, something occurred to you. You briefly glanced at the watch display attached to the wrist of your specially designed uniform. 00:10. You smiled in Jesse's direction to find he was already watching you.

"Happy New Year, cowboy."

[writingsbysam]

Duty

Dear Theodore, 

Duty. It’s a cold word, cold like steel, cold as the clanging of swords, and cold as the iron throne it stems from. We know duty well, don’t we my prince? My mother taught me duty. She taught me the bitterness of our fates. She taught me how to be a good wife, a great queen, but more importantly a good person. My mother named me Maria, after herself, and I pray that I will gain one ounce of her devotion to her people. 

    It is unusual for an Empress to rule alone, but my father died a few years ago, and my mother had been ruling the kingdom anyway. (It was her birthright, not my father’s.) Ruling took a toll on her, and her health slowly declined. Until one day, on what we assumed was her death bed, she told me of the sacrifice I must make,

    “Maria, my darling daughter Maria,” a cough and weak sputter, “listen to me, there is a boy who lives in England. The Crown Prince, Theodore. You’ll like him. Just stay together, thrones are dreadfully lonely places, my dear. He will never love you, Maria. Be his friend.” 

    “I promise, I promise I will make our kingdoms great,” my voice broke tears streamed like hailstones down my cheeks, “Mama- will I? Will I see you again?” But it was too late, and with a thousand words left unsaid my mother laid in bed, one last time. 

    Her public funeral was held in Vienna, an empty casket paraded around the crowded town square, shouts of “the queen is dead, long live the king!”. The mood was sombre but in general optimistic, however, they didn’t know my brother quite like I did. 

My mothers’ private funeral was held at Hohensalzburg Castle, on the grounds where my mother would spend the summers. There seemed to be no sun that day, even though it was shining brightly, the colour had faded the second Mama left my world. 

    My brother Joseph was a cruel man, and if it was not the line of succession I would have taken the throne myself. Anything to prevent a wicked man from taking the throne, and anything for my people. (A cold wash of realisation came over me, they would soon no longer be my people, just my brothers’.) My brother stormed into my chambers two days after Mama died, yelling and screaming, 

    “Maria! This is your last day at this wretched court! Take your stuff and leave, now.  I’m sure the English would love to have you.” 

    ���Joseph! Please don’t make me leave, let me go to Hohensalzburg one more time?” I tried to beg but he shook his head no, 

    “Maria, you have to leave now. Before now the stirrings of war was just a faint unrest, an article about British spies spotted in Austria, a faint whisper on the wind. Now there are entire groups of scouts and mass panic! Maria! I am sending you away to protect you. Can’t you see!” he screamed, and he screamed for what seemed like five minutes. It was anger, it was retribution, and it felt like he was blaming me. For our mother, for her death. 

    There was a void that filled me, that swallowed me whole, that made me ache, to dance, to sing, to somehow let all this pain out. I felt as though white had turned to crimson, and marriage veils no longer looked so holy. I imagined what life is away from here and I imagine myself a prized heifer, laid on the altar to slaughter. 

    Our sacrifices were the same. One a sacrifice to the gods, and one a goddamn sacrifice to the British. Maybe we were laid upon the altar for something more holy than ourselves, for something greater, for something more. My marriage was my sacrifice, and like Iphigenia, and the millions of others, I went willingly to the altar, head held high. “How sweet it is to look upon the light”.  

    My sacrifice took place that evening, at the doors of the church in Vienna. A proxy stood in for Theodore, my uncle Ferdinand. Uncle was kind and jolly. He had deep blue eyes that sparkled in the sun, and I was happy that he was chosen to be the proxy, at least it was someone I knew. 

    It was a grand affair, and yet I felt as though there was no one there at all, that I was just standing among the ghosts of people who were no longer mine. I felt like I was floating, not on air, not in a happy way, but floating on numbness, on that same cursed emptiness that had consumed my every thought since my mother’s death. 

    I shut down. For an entire month, on the carriage ride to the port in France where we would cross the English channel, I think I hardly ate, drank, or slept. I was a husk of the girl I used to be. And now they want me to rule a country? The only wish I had was for this emptiness, for this pain, for this heart wrenching sorrow, to leave me. All I did was write in those days, on the nature of daylight, of the cruelty of growing up, of anger and pain, and maybe one day I will write of hope again. It appears that those days are too far away. 

    We arrive in England on a dark grey day and for the first time since my mother’s death my inner world resembles the real world. The moorland was empty and seemingly barren after leaving the town. It was eerily still, no birds sang, no winds blew, and no other horses were heard. Almost as though we had passed into Avalon, and the realms beyond. I had heard stories of princesses getting lost in the mists, taken by some Fae that was smitten with her. (And for a second I wanted those stories to be true, any end would be a better end than this one. Or so it seemed.)  

    It took us months to reach our destination from Vienna, and by the time we had reached London I was ready to walk to my fate, head held high. I was ready to meet the man who I had never even seen his face. (You were the bright spot of this arranged marriage, Theo. Even if we never truly loved each other in that way. You were my best friend.)

    Our wedding was at Westminster Abbey, like all of the most important events. It was grand and I felt less like I was marching towards my doom, and more like marching towards my freedom. My dress was white and I could no longer see blood stained altars dancing in my vision.

    Iphigenia rests inside me, and in that moment I was not a deer going unwillingly to slaughter, I was a princess choosing to become someone, something more. I was Kore from the stories of way before Homer, where she walked into the underworld back straight, face to the sky, going to comfort the souls of the dead. She went in a princess and returned an eternal queen. 

    I will never be a nameless sacrifice, I will be a queen, and the greatest of them all. 

    I will be Maria Antonia, the greatest Queen of England.

[blazingcobaltx]

20 cents per minute (complete)

Fandom(s): CANAAN, 428: Shibuya Scramble Characters: Canaan, Osawa Maria, Minorikawa Minoru (minor) Words: 1432 A/N: I’M FREEEE, FINALLYYYYYYYY. Split into 7 chapters on AO3/FF, but I’m publishing it at once here. Chapter 4 contains minor 428 spoilers. ________________________________________________________________

Between their vastly different lives, the phone calls became a constant.

7-2006

They exchanged phone numbers when Maria was about to leave town.

Obviously at Maria's initiation, but the young Canaan didn't oppose it. She was drawn to the girl; the prospect of more contact between them was one that pleased her. The few days spent together left her with a warm feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Maria is the first non-work contact in her phone. Her name is surrounded by many others - clients, onetime associates, various middlemen - but those are nothing more than dull greys, greens or browns with occasional dashes of blue. Some leave an uncomfortable buzz on her tongue, a reminder to never fully trust anyone.

But this contact - ‘Maria Osawa’, followed by plus-eighty-one and just the right string of numbers - shines a bright yellow. The numbers vibrate near perfectly in her ears and the ripples of colour prickle her skin soothingly.

A change of the regular. But definitely a welcome change.

8-2006

Maria called a few weeks later, when she was already back in Japan. The speed Canaan answered the phone with might have been startling to some.

"Maria?"

"Ah, Canaan! I'm so glad you picked up!"

Turns out Maria didn't expect her to answer; she figured Canaan was busy with some 'errand'. In turn, Canaan never expected to be called back so soon, even though Maria had promised she would.

The bubbly girl tells her about the rest of the trip: The (super difficult) travel back to the (amazing) capital, her (amazingly bizarre) encounter with a fortune teller who only saw a blank white in her future, which was "super weird!", and her (super long) trip back to Japan. Overall it was an "amazing!" journey.

Canaan is not doing much throughout the phone conversation (which lasted about an hour). In her apartment she sits on the bed, walks around, tucks her phone between her head and neck to pack her bag, but mostly she just listens with a smile.

It's nice, a phone call like this. She hasn't had this before. Her Japanese friend is recollecting about her vacation and all she has to do is sit back and let the girl do her thing. It's different than those calls with some gruffy man giving her instructions for the next job, or the CIA agent (also Japanese but not a friend) updating her on the woman with the tattoo just like hers.

Those are fast, full of essential information, and sometimes overwhelming. But this is pleasant, slow, and despite the amount of information does not feel overwhelming. She listens silently, and whatever she hears goes right into its own designated location: Information about Maria.

"So, what about you, Canaan? What have you done these past weeks?"

Eh? She did not expect any questions about herself.

1-2007

At some point, Canaan could expect a call from Maria every two weeks. The topics ranged from everything to nothing. Activities of the day, preferences; the conversations were scattered and often with random questions ("what's your shoe size?") in between. But neither of them minded. There was no other purpose to the conversations than getting to know each other and just talking.

Maria changes numbers and sends Canaan a text. Filled with smiling faces and some kind of excitement, the message is so Maria that it warms Canaan’s heart. Canaan, on the contrary, is constantly switching phones; sometimes for safety, sometimes because they do not survive the tumble of the battlefield. Maria never fails to be surprised when the unknown numbers she answers have her “good friend Canaan!” on the other end.

Between their vastly different lives, the phone calls became a constant.

4-2008

The plane lands after six hours. The young mercenary could hurry, but only doom awaited her: Maria was dead, the Ua virus scattered all over Tokyo, and the Snake retreated back into its shroud.

At least, if Canaan had to imagine a flawlessly-conceived scenario befitting the intellect of the Snake’s leader, it would be something like that.

But the plan was fouled: She is on time, the outbreak was stopped, and Maria is not dead. On the contrary - her shallow breathing interrupted by uncontrollable sobs told Canaan she was full of life.

Perhaps the girl would survive, and perhaps Canaan could tell herself that she would. With a new resolution to fight, Canaan ends the call and moves towards her prey.

8-2010 (1)

The sun shines brightly on the city today. Although its heat can reach high intensities during peak hours, the soft breeze provided by the Huangpu river makes it welcoming to stay outside. The circumstances could not have been better for ice cream.

A spoon clinks on the table when Maria finishes her sundae. She fixes her gaze on her companion, who is still taking modest bites from the sugary delight.

"Why haven't you called since you left?"

Spoon in mouth, Canaan meets Maria’s gaze. The question is dropped quite bluntly, and Canaan senses the shift in emotion from her friend.

"I lost your number."

Maria… Doesn’t exactly believe that. But she knows better than to press. Something about Canaan’s demeanor during her visit two years prior gave off the vibe that she had unfinished business to attend somewhere.

"Well, doesn’t matter now,” she shrugs off her own dwelling, “Give me your phone now."

Canaan retrieves the device from her pocket and obediently hands it to her friend. Some clicks later and Maria’s own cell phone can be heard ringing in her bag.

“Alright, I got your number again. Now promise me you will remember mine,” Maria’s gaze turn cold, “or else.”

Propping a hand under her chin, Canaan eyes the numbers on her screen really pensively. A noise of wonder escapes from her, and she returns Maria’s glare with a sarcastic gleam of her own. “Like this?”

Immediately, Maria breaks back into a smile, “Perfect!”

. . .

The daze from the impact cannot overtake her. The tight grip on her hair throws off her senses, but then she hears Canaan’s voice - the woman has acquired her phone.

As the clouds dissipate from her eyes, tears of remorse threaten to spill.

8-2010 (2)

Minorikawa rummages through Maria's bag until his hand finds what it needs. He flips it open and searches her contacts for the entry he’s looking for. As he presses 'call' and holds the phone to his ear, a scowl marks his face when he hears the one thing he did not want to:

"The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

9-2012

The darkroom is tiny and stuffy, but it is wholly hers.

The newest additions to her portfolio hang from the washing line to dry. Tokyo, Yokohama, Saitama. Her latest jobs have led her to these urban jungles in an attempt to disentangle them. The unique lens she presented on Shanghai has made magazines jump at her to recreate that magic. But Maria is sure it was a one-time thing, face turning into a grimace when some of the developed photos show their true appearance.

She needs some motivation. Turning to her right, she withdraws a box prodding from the shelves. Her Shanghai exposition.

Browsing through the pictures, Maria feels herself reliving the weeks that alternated serenity and despair. These pictures tell a story that is only known by those who lived it. Visitors were left fascinated by the pieces of the puzzle they were presented, unable to put into words why the woman with the white hair was such a stark contrast from the scenery.

Maria eyes the white-haired woman with a solemn smile. It’s been two years now. Although she kept hoping for a message initially, Maria knew she couldn’t sit still and wait forever. She had to keep moving forward, following her own way, until their paths would cross again at the middle of the road.

The digital clock chiming on her desk breaks her thoughts. 7 PM.

Sighing at the days gone, Maria begins her preparation to leave. There is a faint buzzing she hears that she ascribes to the company above her renovating their bathrooms. This premonition is invalidated when Maria actually catches her bag shaking erratically.

Rapidly she scrummages through it for the offender. The phone display reads two missed calls from a number she doesn’t recognise - but it is foreign.

Maria’s skin freezes and burns, excitement and fear overtaking her simultaneously. Could this be it?

Trembling with nerves, she dials the number on her way out. Her ‘hello?’ surely betrays the shakiness in her voice. The reply comes just as the door locks shut, the heavy slam an echo of Maria’s heartbeat when she identifies the voice.

“I’m on my way.”

[padfootagain]

Singles Will Be Paired (V)

Part 5: Parlez-moi d’amour

Here is the fifth part of my Ben Barnes series, hope you all like it :)

I advise you all to listen to the songs I refer to while you read this ;)

So much cuteness, prepare yourselves! This is fluffier than fluff and cuter than cute…

Gif not mine

Word count : 3482

Paris at dusk was filled with lights. The sky that had been coloured with grey by the rain had cleared during the afternoon, and was now coloured with a deep shade of purple, stars slowly lightening, like tiny diamonds on a velvet dome. Lampposts had started to be turned on as well, their yellowish light shining through the street. Christmas was adding its own lights as well, decorating the tall trees down the Champs-Elysées. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower was also about to wear its dress of lights. After visiting the Trocadéro and a few other places of the French town, you were now walking out of Notre-Dame, its sculpted stones towering the two of you.

You had a large grin on your face, and it didn't seem to be willing to go away. And Ben's smile matched yours.

"Well, that was something," Ben commented with a dreamy glint in his dark brown eyes.

He offered you his open hand and you walked away hand in hand towards the tall trees glimmering in the night.

Winter was shortening the days, but many tourists were still visiting the cathedral, walking with their eyes up towards the gigantic monument. You couldn't blame them for being oblivious of their steps and almost bumping into you once or twice. The tall walls sharply carved and adorned with so many gargoyles and shimmering stained glass were so impressive that you wondered how humans had been able to build something like this hundreds of years before…

A few meters away, a man was selling hot chestnuts, and you and Ben bought a tiny bag that you shared together. The warm food was more than welcome, as the inside of the cathedral, although its beauty had warmed your heart and soul, was filled with cold air. Your feet and legs were starting to be a little painful as you had spent your whole day walking, but you didn't regret it. You had spent such a lovely day…

Ben threw a chestnut up in the air, before catching it in his mouth, and you couldn’t help laughing at him.

"I didn't know that skill of yours," you mocked, and he gave you a wink and a bright smile.

"Do you want to discover another one of my incredible skills?" he asked proudly.

"Impress me."

He chuckled.

"This skill can only be revealed in the right place."

"So… that was all words, huh?"

"Of course not! You will get your demonstration before the end of the day, I promise. But here is not the right place to do it."

"Too close to a church? What kind of sin are you thinking about? Oh, so that's it… you were a serial killer all along and I'm your next victim!"

He exploded with laughter.

"Of course not! You'll see, it's a surprise."

"I can't wait to see that."

"You won't be disappointed."

You exchanged a smile, before turning your back on the hospital and Notre-Dame, choosing to cross the nearby bridge in order to walk for a while on the riverbank. You walked across the Petit-Pont that some called Pont Des Coeurs, lingering above the water for a minute. In the distance, you could see the Pont Saint-Michel that seemed to float in mid-air a few meters above the calm water. A barge with tiny golden lights hanging at the windows was peacefully floating on the Seine. You moved a little closer to Ben, until you could rest your head against his shoulder.

The atmosphere was magical, and Ben reckoned that it was a little cliché here again. Notre-Dame behind you, a barge on the Seine, stars above your heads… He had never been romantic enough to believe in the magic of this kind of settings. And yet, he felt deeply moved by the whole scenery. The fact that you were near him had quickened his heartbeat, and no matter how hard he tried to control his own body, he couldn't slow down the racing thing. There were butterflies fluttering in his stomachs, and an excited feeling tickling him from head to toe, and his heart was pounding in his chest… Was it just you? Was it Paris? Was it the view? Or perhaps a little bit of the three mingling together to drive him crazy… he didn't know. And he decided then that he didn't care at all. If he couldn't control the way he felt around you, he might as well just dive into it and embrace how hopeless he was around you. For some reason, your mere presence made him happy. And it was enough.

"I don't want today to end."

Your voice was a mere whisper, almost covered by the voices around you, the roaring of the cars driving behind you, and the shushed whisper of the water flowing beneath you. But Ben caught your words all the same, turning to you. His lips were so close to your hair, you could feel his breath warming your skin. When he answered, his voice was deep, almost hoarse, but soothing and tender as well.

"We'll still both be here tomorrow. And the day after that too. We still have time."

"But it would be great if the world could stay like this forever… Just you and me and the Seine."

His fingertips brushed against yours, his skin a little calloused against the back of your hand, until you intertwined your fingers together.

"It feels…" you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "It feels like a dream. But dreams don't last, do they? They're gone in the blink of an eye, and they leave nothing behind but blurred memories and a dizzy feeling."

"Maybe. But the dream isn't over yet. For now, we're both lost in this dream, so let's forget about the moment we will have to wake up, and let's only think about this. Now. Just you and me and the Seine."

You looked up at him and gave him an earnest smile. And for a moment he fell so deeply in your eyes that he was certain he would never find a way to escape. But did he even want to try? He could find a new tiny detail in them that made him even more lost at every second. He guessed that if he kept on staring at your eyes for eternity, he would still be able to find new things to love about them.

You were the one to look away first, Ben wouldn't have been able to even if he had tried anyway. You took a chestnut from the paper bag Ben was still holding, the hot food feeling like fire against your freezing skin, and you took a step back.

Ben's cologne had blurred your senses, you could feel his warmth radiating through his clothes and yours. And his brown eyes were so beautiful…

You needed to take a step back, or you would take a step closer and that would mean the end of you.

"Let's walk a little," you proposed.

He smiled, nodding, and you didn't fail to notice that his cheeks and ears were turning a little red as he shook himself.

You walked down a flight of stairs to reach the bank and walked towards the Pont au Double, passing next to the Cathedral again, only from the other side of the river. Lampposts shed a yellowish light on the growing shadows, the sky darkening from velvet to ink while more and more stars were hung on the canvas. There were people sitting on the edge of the bank, their feet a few meters above the running Seine, laughing and smoking. Christmas had added lights to the boats. The atmosphere was light-headed. A few couples were kissing while they walked hand in hand.

"What will you do after this holiday?" you asked Ben after a rather long while spent walking in silence.

He gave you a chestnut that you ate in one mouthful, and as he stuffed the bag in his pocket, you realized that he had given you the last one. He sniffed, burying his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. He offered you his arm, and you locked your elbow with his.

"I will have some press to do," he answered with a little wince. "Not my favourite part of the job, but I can't escape it."

"You'll be travelling?"

"For a month or so," he nodded. "Then… I don't know. I'll take a little break, I think. I had several projects in a row, I have to admit that I'm a little tired. I'll take some rest."

"You've travelled so much… where would you like to go?"

Ben let out a chuckle.

"Well… Paris was on the bucket list," he smiled.

"You can check that!"

"I can."

"And you had some wonderful company for the trip! Even better!" you joked.

"I couldn't have had better company indeed."

His tone was not as humorous as you expected, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

"What place in the world would you like to see?" you asked again.

He thought for a moment, before laughing.

"I can't choose one! That's terrible, there are so many places I want to see. I want… I want to go to Roma."

"Roma?"

"Yeah… and Firenze… and Napoli… the whole Italian coast too. I want to visit Spain as well. I went to Madrid a couple of times but only for press, and I didn't see anything. I want… Actually, I just want to go somewhere and take my time. Do you see what I mean? Just like we did today. Taking my time, walking through a city without an agenda just… visiting. Just seeing the places I want to see without anyone telling me to hurry because I have twenty interviews to give today. I want… I want today to happen everywhere."

You exchanged a smile.

"Well, next time, you may even be able to visit a town with your brother, instead of a stranger like me. And that'll be even better!"

Ben slowly shook his head.

"If I were to be completely honest, I'm quite happy my brother couldn't come. We would never have met otherwise."

You gave him a shy smile.

"I have to admit, that I'm quite happy I came here alone as well. I'm glad we've met, Ben."

"I'm more than glad that we've met… and… can I confess something?"

"Of course, I'm all ears."

"I feel… I feel like… I know you."

You frowned a little.

"I'm pretty sure we've never met, Ben."

"No, I don't mean that we've met before. But I… I feel like it's easy to be around you. I don't feel nervous even if we've known each other just a few days ago. I don't feel like you don't know who I am, like you don't understand me. I'm… I feel happy with you, like we've been friends for years and we're just catching up on each other's lives. But at the same time… at the same time I feel excited like it's the beginning of something important that I can't really understand…"

He narrowed his eyes a little as he tried to make sense of his thoughts and feelings, almost forgetting that you were next to him, walking by his side, holding his arm.

"You really are terrible at flirting, Ben," you smiled.

There was something tender in your voice as you answered, and Ben seemed to realize all the extent of his confession, and by the embarrassed look on his face, you easily guessed that he hadn't meant to tell you all this. But you playfully nudged him, and your voice was reassuring when you broke the silence again.

"I'm happy to be with you too, Ben."

You exchanged a smile, and kept on walking in silence for a little while.

You finally reached a bateau-mouche that had been turned into a restaurant. Ben gave you an excited look as he proposed to eat on the boat. How could you resist a romantic dinner on a barge in Paris?

The movement of the boat was barely noticeable and didn't disturb you at all. You were guided to a table for two with a view turned towards the Seine, the bridges alit with lampposts and fast cars. In the distance, you could guess the shape of the alit Cathedral partially hidden by branches of naked trees. The atmosphere of the restaurant was warm, a piano set at the end of the room and a door leading onto a little space outside. The restaurant wasn't full yet, and when you checked your watch, you realized it was rather early still. But you were absolutely famished.

Dinner went smoothly. French food was a pure pleasure, and you were particularly happy with the chocolate fondant. You noticed that anyone could sit behind the piano and play, and you enjoyed the happy mood it gave to the room. Many Christmas songs had been played by various people during the meal, adding even more warmth to the place.

You were about to finish your meal with a coffee, and yet, you didn't want to leave. You felt too happy here, with Ben, listening to the soft piano and eating amazing food and laughing with him and…

You were falling for him. It was more than clear. And there was nothing that you could do.

Ben would have wanted to make this evening last forever. The view on the Seine was beautiful, and you were breath-taking. He hadn't laughed like this in ages, you really were hilarious. He was happy, God, he was so happy…

He was falling for you. It was more than clear. And there was nothing that he could do.

You reached across the table to hold his hand in yours, and he gave your fingers a tender squeeze. You moved to press your palm against his, measuring your hand compared to his much larger one. Eventually, Ben slid his hand against yours just enough to intertwine your fingers with his.

Behind him, the woman who had been playing the piano stopped, and silence filled the room over the shushed buzzing of quiet conversations. A mischievous smile formed on Ben's lips.

"Are you ready to discover that other talent of mine?"

"Now?"

"Now."

"Sure! Go ahead! What is it? You can touch the tip of your nose with your tongue?"

He laughed, shaking his head, before standing up and striding towards the piano. You watched him moving between the tables with a curious expression, wondering what he would do.

He sat down at the piano, and you couldn't refrain a little gasp.

He looked at you for a few seconds, sending you a smile before he would rest his fingers on the keys, and he started to play.

Softly, he sang All I Want For Christmas Is You, and you were left breathless, your heartbeat a complete mess. His deep voice was soft and reassuring, like a warm blanket wrapped all around you. Everything around you was gone, except for Ben and this piano. Several times, he looked at you while he sang the most tender lyrics, and you were certain that you were about to faint. And you couldn’t help to imagine… what if he sang it a bit for you?

In his eyes you could read that he did. That when he spoke about wanting you by his side, he really was talking about you. Your reasonable brain tried to keep the thought at bay, but your heart knew.

He was singing about love, and it was all about you.

Only too soon, his voice faded, almost as if it were breaking, and upon the piano his fingers went still.

His dark brown eyes were fixed on yours. He knew he had revealed too much too soon. Even he wasn't sure of how deep his feelings were. He knew he had feelings for you though. How crazy was that? You had met just a few days before… how could he feel so much so fast?

The rest of the clients of the restaurant gave Ben a round of applause, but he didn't seem to notice it. He saw you clapping though. He saw the grin on your face, and was almost certain that there were tears in your eyes.

How much of his heart had he just revealed?

Suddenly, he was terrified. He felt his head spinning. So, he stood up in a hurry and strode towards the door that led to the front of the boat, outside.

The cold wind slapped his cheeks, but he ignored the bites of the wind. On the contrary, the weather calmed him down. All around the decks, Christmas lights were shining, sending reflection on the dark water and enlightening the whole boat.

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. What was happening to him?

He didn't hear you coming and was startled when you rested your hand on his arm. You gave him his coat, and he thanked you with a weak smile.

"That was beautiful," you complimented him weakly.

"Thank you," he smiled.

"I have to admit, that it's almost as impressive as that chestnut trick."

He couldn’t help his laughter.

"Thanks."

Your eyes locked on his, and for a moment, you both stood still.

Inside, a woman had taken Ben's place at the piano, and had started to play Parlez-moi d'amour. You smiled, taking Ben's hand in yours and taking a step closer to him.

"I think it's time I show you one of my skills," you joked, starting to sway softly with the piano.

Ben was not a great dancer, but he didn't even think about that then. All he could think of was your hand in his, and your two eyes that had captured his soul, and how close the two of you stood. Without a word, but with a tender smile, he rested his other hand on the small of your back, and you danced in the night, upon the Seine, surrounded by the soft lights around the deck, Notre-Dame in the distance, while the notes of the piano flew towards the starry sky and the silver moon.

The voice of the pianist joined the instrument, and Ben softly sang along, and you noticed that he knew the French lyrics.

"I thought you didn't speak French," you teased him.

"I know the song."

He tightened ever so slightly his hold on you. Your breath and Ben's were a mess that mingled between you in one warm little cloud. There was nothing in the world but his arms, his breath, his deep voice singing softly and this piano…

"What does it mean?" you asked in a whisper.

Ben's voice softly switched from French back to English, and he translated the end of the song for you, still singing along.

It is so sweet

My dear treasure, to be a little crazy,

Sometimes life is too bitter

If we don't believe in chimeras,

Sorrow is quickly soothed

And with a kiss it is eased,

The wound of the heart

Is healed with a reassuring promise

 Tell me about love,

Tell me tender things all over again,

Your beautiful speech

My heart is never tired of hearing it

May you forever

Repeat these supreme words:

I love you.

 Slowly, your hand rose to rest on his cheek, your palm tickled by his beard. Your fingertips brushed the lonely freckle under his eye, and the gesture felt so intimate…

You barely noticed the fact that the space between your two faces was shrinking and shrinking and shrinking. Slowly, Ben leaned down towards you, and you leaned up towards him, your lips coming closer and closer until the feeling of his warm breath against your mouth sent shivers up and down your spine. You both closed your eyes and remained still for a few seconds, so close…

…and Ben finally closed the space between you.

Your other hand flew up to run through his hair. He wrapped an arm around you to hold you as close to him as he could, while his other hand held your face, his thumb softly stroking your cheekbone.

You had never felt this way. How could you feel so many feelings through only one kiss?

Ben was asking himself the same question, breathless, his heart beating so fast he wondered if he was about to have a heart-attack.

But then the answer was simple, and nor you nor Ben could deny it anymore. This kiss was the final proof.

He was falling in love with you.

You were falling in love with him.

And in the boat, the piano kept on playing the same song a second time…

For how long did you stay there, kissing… a minute? An hour? A year? You would have wanted it to last for a lifetime…

***************************

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