#my parents worked a lot and i always felt like an outsider among my peers (probably bc

[scare-ard--sleigh]

here's the thing, here's the real thing, like obviously i do not condone what croccyboy did in alabasta. but i do think it is worth saying, that loneliness -- and i'm not talking about incel 'no one wants to fuck me' loneliness, i'm talking about like real, bone-deep, not sharing a meal with someone in years loneliness -- can fuck the human psyche up in incredible ways as yet unstudied by humans. i think he's a solipsist by necessity, because rain dinners was his entire world (what even existed beyond that world in his mind?) i think it can make you so crazy and it's insidious. you don't even realize how crazy it's made you until you talk to someone who's more adjusted; all he's doing is seeing the world's problems and wanting to solve them on his own : | and i have a really hard time being mad at him for that??? it's like henry winter, like.....no, these things were not good, they were not right, but knowing he got 3 hours of sleep a night???? shit made a LOT more sense .

[blzzrdstryr]

Reveries of the Past. Yandere!Childe x Fatui!gn!reader

Wordcount: 3875

CW: Dissociation, graphic depiction of violence, hallucinations, unhealthy relationship and unhealthy power dynamics.

A.N.: I used a lot of my experience with dissociations in this and if it makes you uncomfortable, I would advice not to read it. I also plan on writing continuation for this, as it’s set before the Rite of Descension. P.s. I am not a native English speaker, so could you notify me if there’s awkward wording.

[Next chapter]

There are plenty of times you find yourself reminiscing about the past and now, your mind slips back to your memories, as you look at the horribly mangled body of the treasure hoarder. The stench of blood stuffs up your nose, it’s sickly sweet metallic odor making your gut clench and nausea rise, as your limbs grow heavier and numb. You don’t feel  like you belong in your skin and bones and blood anymore - it’s cold, so cold, yet you don’t feel any of it. You are an outsider, an unwanted intruder in the house that is your body, an indifferent observer looking at the world through the thick glass.

The world around disfigures, shapes and colors changing in the constant whirlwind - they jump and dance around, small becoming large and large shrinking so much it’s barely visible, green shifts to red to blue and to yellow and to million of other colors, and sounds suddenly become muffled, losing their sharpness, but you don’t care about it: the part that is “you” fled to the daydreams of your childhood moments ago, leaving a clinically observing, yet unfeeling being behind. 

Adults would describe you as a perfect child: quiet, obedient and dutiful, you were a stark contrast to the other louder and more free spirited kids. You studied hard, cleaned the house, helped with dishes and cooking and never talked back. 

I can't upset mom and dad because they work so much. I can't play with other kids because if I do, they will make fun of me, I have to study hard and get good grades, because mom said I will have a good job and become rich and help them. 

These particular memories don't feel good to you: they're bleak and boring, yet full of silent shame - they make your throat clog and eyes water, as something burning starts to bloom deep underneath your skin. 

Childe stops beating the still alive treasure hoarder, a blood smeared on the cheek and a dangerous glint in his eyes, and turns his head to you. 

"Hey, how about lending me a helping hand?", there’s a hunger in his voice you recognize, he wants to teach a lesson to the debtors, then. You walk towards him, feeling your knees get weaker and weaker with each step for some reason. A dagger made of ice shines in your hand with cold light. 

"It's no wonder [First] received a vision! My [First] is always so good and smart, there are no children better" the exact words your mother says, as she brags to her friends, showing them the vision you were bestowed with. You left it to her, not caring what will happen to it - despite all the child's wonder you felt before receiving it, the glowing orb doesn’t look so amazing to you now. It feels foreign and ugly, a reminder of what happened seconds before you gained it. 

“You know, when I was a child”, he takes the weapon and focuses on the treasure hoarder’s leader again, “we made a special kind of promise”. It’s tip travels to the hoarder’s hand. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life”

The sweet voice he uses and the fact that you  know the nursery rhyme too would make you sick in the stomach the other day, but not now. 

You don’t exactly remember how you joined the Fatui - it happened shortly after you gained a vision, when you were still too numb and cold to the outside world after the Event. 

Mom will hate me, dad will hate me too. I can’t let them know.

Your parents say that officials just knocked on the front door one day and offered you an entry into the Fatui and a monthly salary, big enough to stop your parents from overworking themselves. You were terrified back then, Fatuis despite being known as a diplomatic organization are still a mystery to the ordinary Shezhnayan and a direct servants to Her will. The thought of disappointing Tsaritsa or letting down Snezhnaya was enough to paralyze you, but seeing the smiles on your parents faces was enough to make you swear to yourself, that you will work there no matter how scary it seems.

“You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice.” The blade stops between phalanges of the little finger: “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend", he presses it, strong enough to detach the limb from the rest of the body in one swift slash. Treasure hoarder starts to cry and scream from the sudden pain, yet quickly chokes on it as Childe hits him in the solar plexus. The crack of bones feels deafening among the sea of muffled sounds.

Training was rigorous to say the least, you came back to your dorm room absolutely exhausted and after you fell on the bed you were practically dead to the world. Turns out, having a vision wasn’t enough to make you a fighter - you needed to know how to climb, swim, run with a weight to lift and wield a weapon. There were other children and teens with you, they eyed your vision with a mix of adoration and envy, you pretended not to catch it in turn.

“The frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again”, harbinger forces the victim's jaw apart by squeezing it with one hand, the other rapidly forcing a dagger inside the mouth. Treasure hoarder gasps and mumbles, fat tears forming in his eyes. A part of you expects a sound of parting flesh, but none comes: Tartaglia stands up and removes the blade, leaving a shivering and terrified man laying on the ground.

“Well,” Childe shrugs, as if he didn’t just dismember a person, voice back to his cheery tone : “You didn’t actually make a pinkie promise, so consider it a small mercy”. The treasure hoarder cowers even more, snuggling the injured hand close to the bruised chest. “But if you fail to repay your debt I will oversee that the frost”, he points in your direction, a treasure hoarder’s eyes going wide as he notices your vision, “will actually freeze your lying tongue off”, his voice descends again, back to it’s dangerous half-whisper.

You meet Ajax during the winter, he’s close to you in age and just arrived into Fatui grounds. He boasts and shows off to all of you, and you desperately want to retort something acidic to shut him up and rip off that arrogant bravado, yet say nothing, picturing how the tomorrow training session will have him laying flat on his back, too hurt and too tired to move even a single finger. 

He defeats the trainer in less than a minute.

Now, that the treasure hoarder fled, still snuggling disfigured limb, Childe turns attention back to you. “You seem a little bit disinterested here”, his hand on your cheek is so foreign, it’s burning and freezing at the same time, the shock from the unwanted touch almost strong enough to pull you back into reality. He notices your unintentional flinching and unfocused eyes “Ah, you hurt my feelings, [First]! And I thought we already became friends”. 

You say nothing, cold and unmoving, blind and deaf to the outside world, his words register a second too late, and there’s no cliche phrase for you to reply with. He looks a bit baffled and deflated for a second, but shrugs it off, just like he did during teen years, when you deliberately ignored all his attempts at catching your attention.

“Huh, even if you are so cold to me, I still forgive you”, he takes your hand, his touch still too overwhelming for you to process and pulls you back to Liyue harbor, your legs barely bending as you walk after him, like an obedient dog trailing it’s master.

“You know [First], I can beat you up so badly, that you will barely walk”, you put feather aside, stopping writing the letter to your parents as you glare at Ajax with barely masked indignation. He grins, satisfied to finally catch your attention after the whole day of pestering you. “I am aware of that” you reply in an absolutely flat tone, holding yourself from pouncing on him and trying to break the teeth out of that smug smile. He beams even wider, as if sensing your not-so-good intentions, revealing even more pearly whites as if taunting you.

“But I won’t, count yourself lucky”. And he leaves, this short interaction filling you with so much rage that you shake, handwritten letters noticeably becoming sharper and faster, your thoughts clouding around the idea of acquating his face with your boots. 

 Nonetheless, you indeed count yourself fortunate enough, when you see Ajax defeating grown men with bare hands. When you two, the only vision holders among your peers have to spar, he always goes easy on you, prefering to immobilize you rather than beating, making your defeat less painful yet even more humiliating. 

Almost at the end of your trail he suddenly stops and says something, but you don't catch it, words turning into separate vowels and then fusing together into one unintelligible gibberish mess. He leans in, close enough for his breath to burn your neck, and he continues to get closer, until his empty eyes look into yours glazed ones. He seems disappointed for a second and backs down, his breathing no longer fanning your skin. 

Distantly you think that you somehow angered him and he will slap you for it, and do nothing to dodge the hit - you barely feel pain in this condition anyway, but he doesn’t. The road to the Northland Bank is completed in absolute silence, Childe no longer trying to grab your attention, only when you enter Liyue Harbor does he whisper, that you two must look like a pair with all that hand holding. Judging by the volume and tone of his voice he says it more to himself than to you.

***

You come back to yourself in the safety of your room on the third room of the Northland bank. It feels like a rush of sensation, as everything becomes sharper and clearer again, like you just swam to the surface of water from the very depths of it. An invisible bubble around your head pops in one moment, and the world becomes real again, mind and body connecting for once more.

Eyes and ears focused you take in surroundings: the room is neat and lifelessly empty - just a bed and a working desk with a stack of written but unsent letters, along with a small bookcase near, no figurines, pictures or even plants to decorate living place, as you see no reason to adorn the area you use for sleeping only. Indiscernible wallpapers and a small window close to the middle of the bed finish the picture of austerity.

 Once, your memory catches up to you, you can't help groan from the shame and irritation, hiding your face in both hands. Afterwards  always feels both like a disgraceful escape and a warm blanket during the stormy night, a duality that you accepted long ago after joining the Fatui and today is no exception. You curse Harbinger when you remember why exactly you had an episode, and get up from the bed you threw yourself on minutes ago. You come to the desk, taking a clean form of a relocation request from the drawer and writing materials. 

Filling in the blank feels like commiting a felony to you for some reason - you stop several times when you hear footsteps in the corridor, focusing on the door,ready to hide the half written form and say some lie as an excuse. You don't list the Childe-related reasons, knowing that there's nothing that could make any of the Harbingers face the consequence for their actions, and instead you write completely normal and fake causes: health concerns, family matters and so on. Part of you doubts that this will work and you will have the fortune to get away from a certain harbinger as far as possible. Trying and failing is better than never attempting, you think, quickly writing the paper.

Once you finish it, you almost rush to Ekaterina, praying that you won't run into a certain ginger on the way. Sometime ago you caught Tartaglia checking your letters, for a secrecy he said back then, we can’t let anyone know about the coming operation. Childe then instilled that every sent and received letter should be checked, lest Qixing and other Liyuens learned what Fatui had in plan. It sounded logical and sensible, but the paranoid thought that he enforced this policy just to have a glimpse at your feelings never stopped eating at you. From that day on you sent your family the most basic and vague letters, just stating that you’re in good health and mind, still missing them and Snezhnaya, leaving the ones with more private sentiments in your room. 

Her eyes are completely obscured by the mask, but even with that you can’t miss the pointed glare she sends your way - Tartaglia never shied away from showing off, be it his strength, money or his twisted obsession that he calls love. With the amount of time and finances he spends on you and the way he acts like a kicked lovesick puppy in your vicinity, you are pretty sure that at least half of the bank workers see you as a cunning and cruel seducer, so keen and devious in the art of temptation that you managed to lure in Eleventh Harbinger.

As if archons decided to laugh at you, Childe descends from the second floor too, catching the sight of you near the receptionist. He looks unusually somber for a moment, but then he sees you, a smile appearing on his face as he takes the form from Ekaterina's hands. You can just feel how Ekaterina rolls her eyes under the mask, as if muttering complaints about the lovers’ spat and insubordination, having been working with her for some time, enough to have a clue of the inner workings of her mind.

You have to give him that he plays the confusion and regret very persuasively. He asks how he can fix this, says what a valuable team member you are to him and how much you are needed in the Northland bank. You agree to his suggestion - if years of training with Ajax and then work with Childe taught you anything, it is that Ajax is the chaos incarnate and Tartaglia is Ajax’s less tolerable and more unpredictable version, so it’s better not to anger him.

***

In the end he invites you to dine with him at Wanmin restaurant, a place Childe heard from some “xiansheng” as he called them. A bustling Liyue street is open before you two, tall midday sun painting the whole street into bright orange, so unlike the pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya. He orders two Black Back Perch Stews on the chef's recommendations, and hands a bouquet of local flowers in a parody of a normal boyfriend. Any random observer would really see it as a date.

You take the flowers, pretending to pay more attention to  them than to a man sitting near you. Tartaglia is an unpredictability wrapped in human skin, there’s no privilege as being lax and carefree near him, as even Tsaritsa has no idea what he will do next. 

To your mutual confusion Xiangling presents the meal with two pairs of chopsticks. Utensils feel foreign in your palm, you having no idea how to handle them and Childe, by the looks of it too. Tartaglia specifically asks the chef for spoons, while you observe the other clients, noting how they use theirs. Holding one stick like a pen and then placing the bottom one in a fixed position under the thumb you manage to grasp the fish from the soup, albeit clumsily. You consider it a small win. 

The image of a mighty Harbinger struggling in a failing battle with chopsticks would look funny to you, if it wasn’t for the whole "date" you were having. After putting them aside, and seemingly admitting defeat, Childe starts from afar: "You know [First], you changed a lot since I first met you" .

You raise an eyebrow at the starter, it's vague and innocent enough, but experience tells you that he will or at least try to stir the conversation into your relationship with him again. Straightening a bit and finally turning your eyes to him, you pause for a second, picking the least offensive reply you can muster - there’s a swarm of insults buzzing at the tip of your tongue prepared just for him, growing and sprouting since your pubescent years.

“Yes, I got taller”, he laughs it off, like you said some funny joke, his giggles not stopping for some time. "No, I mean as a person. Remember how you used to glare at me for joking? And now you act so unfazed ”

Joking. Is this what he calls it? Shivers creep up your spine when your memory oh so conveniently conjures the images of the aftermath of his jokes.

“Your jokes weren’t funny to anyone but you”. Breathe, you think, there’s no need to anger him. There are pictures of broken bones and bruised bodies and a cacophony of somebody else’s pained screams flashing and rattling in your head, Adults never did anything. Why would they? They had a golden boy Ajax, why would they help the others when they had him? Why would they help you? Bitterness and anger you thought you swallowed long ago rise up to the surface again, and you decide to bite down on the stew - Tartaglia always found a way to turn your words against you and hurt you, no need to give him more weapons now.

“I changed a lot too. I know I was insufferable as a teen”, he must have taken your silence as a free pass to continue whatever nonsense he’s sprouting, “I am sorry”.

The last three words catch you off guard, a piece of fish almost stuck in the throat from the jolt. Ajax takes you by surprise once again, for him to finally acknowledge and apologize for all the pain he caused and years he tormented you?

You blink and look at him intently, his facial expression changing into an unusually somber one. It seems authentic enough.

“Let’s start from the scratch?

You contemplate unsure what to say.

Was he lying?

Looking back, you in a sense are luckier than most of Childe's victims, witnessing his youth, familiarizing and distinguishing the tells of him lying and scheming, observing the way he bloomed into the manipulator he is today firsthand. You see a familiarity in his face and voice, something that helps you from falling to his charms. There's also the added fact that you were and still are an involuntary witness to the way how carnal and bloodthirsty usually friendly Ajax can become. 

When did you catch his attention?

You remember his smile when he first approached you, less teeth and more sincerity that is thereafter,a hand outstretched to you. It happens on the next day after his arrival, almost as cold and unpleasant as the previous one. You brush the limb away like a noisy fly, secretly angry at his arrogant attitude and how effortlessly he endured training. His smiling doesn’t stop, yet you feel a sudden change in the air around you.

Would your fate be different if you took his hand?

You can't forget how your mind disconnected from your body for the second time. It was Ajax again vying for your attention akin to a spoiled child, and like one he threw a tantrum when you refused to give him any. The poor recruit you were talking with was hospitalized the same day, as you helplessly watched the carnage before you. You didn't fight, you didn’t flee, you just froze, like a scared animal, paralyzed by fear, yet somehow too detached from feelings. That day was bizarre: once you felt reality, it was solid and undeniable and then you didn't. The realness of the current diffused, slipped through the fingers like sand, leaving nothing but unreliable and delusive reveries behind.

Will he let you go? 

“People do change and I see that you changed too. I don’t think of you as a teen you were” you carefully pick the words, Tartaglia visibly blooms, thinking that his apology worked, yet your next words snuff out his triumph: “but my memories stay the same. I don’t think we can start from scratch”

You bite the tongue, the second part still coming out too harsh for your liking. The moment of sincerity is interrupted, you see him, changing the masks, unsure what to do. It seems for the first time it was you who caught him off guard. You guess which one of the two standard facades he will decide to show to you, having spent years by his side to observe him masterfully wielding both, the friendly one with a vacant smile that never reaches his dead, dead eyes or the calculating one, distant and devoid of humanity?

In the end he uses none, a hurt still evident, dripping in his tone, face and moves - is it another mask you never got to see or is it real? - “So that is your answer”, he leans in closer, dull cerulean eyes looking right into yours.

You hold his stare, nodding, instead of saying anything and he hums, sitting back and wearing the cold mask, reserved for his enemies: “Just wanted to remind you that I am the Harbinger and you are just a position higher than an ordinary agent”. Despite seeing it so many times, it’s the first time he directs it at you and you have to suppress the shiver. The unsaid threat hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you.

You two are no longer solemn [First] and annoying Ajax, who trails your steps behind like a puppy, no, you are a special agent [Last] and Eleventh Fatui Harbinger Tartaglia, to whom you are personally assigned by Tsaritsa herself. Even possessing vision and delusion yourself you can’t match Childe’s power, and your loss would be easy to overlook if your harbinger wished for it. Honestly speaking, there are a lot of things he could do to you without anyone questioning it, the Harbingers being the second most powerful figures in the organization, right after Tsaritsa herself. You heard the stories of Krupp and other assistants who got missing under Il Dottore, you heard of horrible accidents happening to the people Scaramouche dislikes, you heard about the injuries Signora inflicts on the unfortunate recruits when she is in foul mood, yet you never thought that Tartaglia will abuse his power in the same way.

“Don’t worry” he seems to have taken mercy on you, “I won’t use my position like that, it’s cheating and I like to play the fair game”, despite the seemingly reassuring words , you don’t let yourself relax, knowing him for years.

“Don’t think I will back down though, I am not the type to give up”

[castleoikawa]

‧₊◜ # breath

↳  ❝ i am so incredibly sorry that i fell in love with you, it was never my intention. ❞ 

—description you had never meant to fall in love with the king, his fiery temper and cold demeanor would turn anyone away. yet, the childhood memories seemed to stay with you both.

—pairing king katsuki bakugou x castle stable girl reader

—warnings aged up characters, swearing, angst, fluff

—word count 3k

—authors note my first request! i hope that you enjoy this! :D

masterlist | unedited

Your job was rather boring. You would attend the stables, slaving away to maintain the horses for each of the king and his court. Your day would consist of constant heat, moving, and cleaning up only to start again right after. 

You seemed to always be moving. You would be on a horse, gliding through the acres of land; or you would be feeding them, grooming them, cleaning their hooves and applying new horseshoes. 

Yet, everything seemed to freeze whenever King Katsuki Bakugou would be in your presence. Everything would be in utter standstill. Everything except the beating of your heart that ricocheted against your ribs.

He was an excellent rider; he had to be, being King and all. 

While you were a child, Katsuki would sneak into the stables at dusk and steal them for midnight rides. You lived at a small cottage next to the stables, a small shack made of wood and stone behind the castle. So you always noticed when he would appear in the late morning hours with winded hair and flushed cheeks.

Those were the fleeting moments in which you witnessed the true him.

It continued into the preteen years as well. When his parents would tell him to rest in his bedroom, he would run to the stables and steal his gorgeous black horse named Hades and disappear into the night.

You would watch from your window, eyes gazing at the royalty as if he were a rare bird that you were afraid of scaring off.

“You stare a lot.” He caught you once. He was walking back towards the castle, between the stables and your home. You only blinked in response, pretending that you were invisible.

A small interaction that lead to more.

During the day, Katsuki would pretend to be uninterested and unaware of you.

When he would arrive with his parents, the King and Queen, for their midday rides throughout the week, Katsuki would stand with his back straight and hair brushed. He did not even look like the kid you knew, primed and pampered and perfect for his royal status.

He would ride his horse alongside his parents through the trails and gardens. 

Yet, at night, he was free.

Katsuki indirectly invited you a copious amount of times to ride with him. He would never say it, but he would motion for you to join or say, “Don’t just stare like you normally do, Stable Girl.”

And you joined. Who were you to deny the request of the prince?

Your horse was much slower than his. He slowed down to match your speed, it was an endearing thing that you knew he did. Though he complained nonetheless, strings of “You are so slow!” and “You must be an idiot to enjoy riding like this.”

When you rode your palomino horse alongside Hades, it was as if you were riding next to the night sky itself. The only indicator that he was still with you was his light hair.

That was a routine for a majority of your childhood. Berated and ignored during the day, and free riders at night.

“The sun is rising.” You warned him one particular night.

The two of you were in the stables, just putting the horses in and petting their noses.

“Let it rise.” Katsuki rolled his eyes. “What are my parents going to do? Fire me?”

It was one time that you genuinely thought that he was handsome. At the age of fourteen, he was confident and bright. And as the sun rose, the golden hue reflected off of his skin as if he owned the sun itself.

“Mom, why does that girl have shit on her?” Katsuki once asked the Queen directly in front of you. The two of you were around the age of seven, perhaps eight.

The Queen only rolled her eyes. “Because that’s what her job is, stupid boy. She works in cleaning up the horse shit.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Katsuki said. You felt anger boil in your chest. 

“Continue to use words like that and it will be one of your chores.” The Queen threatened. 

He was one of power and authority. Katuski Bakugou was one of strict rules and temper tantrums that left the castle in fear. Because he was to be feared, he could flick his wrist and you would lose your head.

Those moments of childhood were far forgotten. A lost prince replaced by a king.

You should be pissed at the king. For years, you had been a secret. A nightly visitor that shared secrets under the moon. It was as if none of that had happened.

But you knew that he had more responsibilities than some girl who worked in his horse stables. He was to rule his kingdom, marry a wealthy girl from another kingdom to merge powers, and live his life of royalty.

You were to attend to the horses.

“That’s my horse.” Katsuki’s voice echoed through the stables, deep and loud against the near silence.

You realized that it was his horse that you were cleaning. You were too focused on your work to notice.

With the trimmer in your hand, you wiped the mud onto your pants. “If you plan to ride her, it’ll be a couple more minutes. I’m replacing the horseshoes right now.”

“You will make the king wait?” He inquired.

You leaned on the wall from inside of the stable. “I will.”

There was a moment of silence. He stood with his back straight and crown sitting atop his light hair, hands clasped behind his back. His cruel handsomeness peered at you in the afternoon sun.

You knew that you should not talk to him that way, and request instead of demand. You knew that he was debating on whether to hang or burn you for disrespecting him.

But instead, he said, “Carry on then. I will wait.”

You watched him for a couple of extra seconds before returning to your work. He said nothing else as he watched and waited.

He was to be married soon.

There was a three day festival both in the castle and along the streets. The princess is from another kingdom across the lake, and would bring a great deal of trading and business.

The arranged marriage meant that there would be a grand wedding in which everyone may attend, along with a week long festival after. Parties among parties.

And you were still hard at work.

When your parents passed, you were left with the remains with only yourself. An empty house and your single friend was no longer a friend. 

You could not help the feeling in the pit of your stomach. One of jealousy and hope all at once.

“What are you doing here?” You looked outside, as if you were being followed and needed to confirm that no one else was around. 

Katsuki Bakugou stood at your doorstep in casual clothes and a familiar look in his ruby eyes.

“You will come riding with me.”

“I will, will I?” You sighed. “Katsu-- King Bakugou. I suggest you go back to your castle. You have a princess to love.”

“It was not a request.”

He stepped back, expecting you to follow. You did.

“You did not answer my question, My Lord.” You said as you entered the stables. “What are you doing here?”

“Can you not be a complete idiot for just a second?” He barked, turning to you. “We are going for a ride. Like we used to.”

“I did not think you remembered.” You confessed, not fazed by his anger. He was always like that. 

“How would I forget?” Katsuki turned to take his horse. “It was a majority of our childhood, was it not?”

“Didn’t seem like it.” You mumbled, mainly to yourself. 

If he heard, he did not acknowledge it. 

“Get your horse. Let’s go to the trails.”

You treaded slowly behind him, hesitant and nervous. Perhaps he was planning to kill you for your disrespect. He hadn’t said a word.

“King Bakugou...”

“Katsuki.” He stopped. He looked over at you. “You should know better than that.”

“We are not children any longer.” You said. 

“That’s obvious.” His voice was impatient. “But we are in private. You can call me by my name.”

“That is the issue here.” You sat on your horse beside him, glancing at the open field. “We should not be in private.”

When there was no reply, you stole a glance at him. He was absolutely regal despite being in casual clothes. Black shirt and cloth pants almost blending into his horse. His light hair and ruby eyes seem to glow, matching the golden circular crown on his head.

He did not look as he usually did.

“The sun is rising.” His eyes were on the horizon, the darkness being covered in light. 

You smiled. For the first time in a long time, you smiled. You thought that you caught a rise in the corners of his lips as well. 

“Let it rise.” You said. 

And he did smile, a full smile that you hadn’t witnessed since a child. 

You knew at once that you were in love. It crushed into your chest as if it were beaten into you. It had always been love. In love with the king, in love with someone to be married, and in love with faded memories.

He came back at nights again. The saying was correct, history repeats itself.

You would run through the trails and the garden and end at the field, one that overlooked a hill of flowers. It was the same flower field you would end up as children.

“Run with me!” Katsuki would cheer, snatching your hand and bringing you into the flowers. Stubby child legs and chubby cheeks.

You would giggle and follow him as you always did, struggling to catch up to the fiery boy. The flowers would bend beneath your feet but neither of you cared. 

Cold night winds hit your faces, the mixture of that and laughing leaving you both out of breath and with reddened cheeks.

It seemed like lifetimes ago.

You went to one party. One.

You dressed in the one dress you had, your mother’s dress. She wore it to every formal event that you could remember. 

The castle was absolutely stunning, pristine whites and clean floors. Even in your dress and heels, you felt underdressed. You were sure that you smelled of stables and dirt.

“You were not there last night.” A voice said from behind you.

You were talking to one of the cooks, both of you laughing and exchanging jokes about working in the castle. You couldn’t remember the last time you had social interaction this much. It was enlightening.

King Katsuki Bakugou looked more stunning than you could imagine. A red cloak with fur around his shoulders, white and black fitted suit, hair styled to hold his crown in perfection. Rings decorated his fingers and earrings ran along his ears.

He excused the cook from the conversation, leaving the two of you alone in the corner. 

“You will draw attention, talking to me in public.” You told him. 

He scoffed. “It’s my party. I will draw attention if I speak to anyone.” He paused. “You look different, I almost did not recognize you.”

“It’s because you only ever see me in my work clothes or my pajamas.” You semi joked.

When someone walked by, Katsuki’s voice grew louder. “You don’t smell like shit this time, either. I wonder if you made that dress or found it.”

“Hm.” You glared. “Very performative. Must be easy to keep up the scary King act, huh?”

“You’re being rather informal to me today, especially for someone in public.” He said, but his tone was warning.

“Were you not the one who visits me at night and asks me to be informal?” You asked. “That was embarrassing, what you just did.”

“Oh, suck it up. It can’t be worse than what you do on the daily.” Katsuki’s eyes flicked to yours. 

“I would rather clean up horse shit for hours than be berated in front of the castle workers.” You told him, stepping around him to meet with some of the maids.

You ignored the King for days.

It was a rather stupid plan, him being of his position. But you were both petty and angry with him. 

For someone who knew you since you were a child, for someone who met you every day, and for someone who you knew to be warm and not cold... he really did have two faces.

“Open this door.” He ordered, voice casting throughout your house from outside of the door. 

You flung the door open. “Go by yourself.”

“She lives.” Katsuki didn’t even have his crown on this time, just a shirt and clothes pants. “Come. You’re being stubborn.”

“I’d rather not.” You moved to close the door.

“It is as if you want to piss me off and fire you.”

“Go on and fire me then.” You threatened. “Try to find someone else who would take care of your precious horse as I have. Or meet you in the night as I have. Or...”

Something shut you up. A pressure against your lips forced them closed.

It took you a moment to realize that he was kissing you. Katsuki Bakugou, the King, was kissing you. 

You kissed him back. 

Falling into patterns, it would seem, was your specialty.

The nightly rides turned into kisses and smiles. The two of you would ride only to stop and end in the grass. 

You thought of his wife, of his title. You thought of your job, your title. You thought of everything. Yet every thought would cease when he would grab your face and place a kiss to your lips.

You hated it.

Every time you met in public, he would act as if he knew nothing of you. 

One particular morning, he arrived with the newly appointed Queen. His wife.

“It is disgusting here, Katsu.” She complained, lifting her dress to avoid the mud that littered the ground. 

“You said that you wanted to learn to ride.” Katsuki said. “I told you to wear pants.”

He turned to you, not looking you in the eye as you brushed your horse. 

“Is Maple available to ride?”

Maple. His mother’s old horse, a perfect chocolate brown and very calm. 

“She is, and she’s freshly clean.” You said. Your mind flashed with memories of his lips on yours only hours ago. “Maple and Hades, My Lord?”

“Yes.”

You helped them lead the horses out of the stables and watched as he helped his wife onto the horse. She struggled but eventually managed to balance. 

“The girl who works in your stables,” She said, though you were right next to her. Like you weren’t a person. “She’s a bit gross, yes?”

“Eh. I’m sure she’s used to it.” Katsuki shrugged.

“I couldn’t imagine living in such conditions.”

There was no defense, no “I’ve been coming through here every day for so long I hadn’t noticed”, nothing but a simple, “Let’s ride. We don’t want to be here all day.”

“These meetings need to end.” You told him. You were at the field, sitting on your separated horses and taking in the silence. “You are the King. You needn’t visit a girl who works in your castle.”

“You’re different.”

“How so?” You offered. “I work in your castle. It is not my job to kiss you, or...”

“Shut up for—”

“I need to say what I need to say.” Your voice was soft. “And I believe that...”

“ —just a moment.” He cut you off. “You are different. You always have been.”

“Is that why you only ever meet me in the dead of night?” You asked. “Or berate me during the day? I am not stopping these meetings and this friendship just to save your reputation in case we get caught. I am stopping them because I cannot take your constant changes.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” He rose his voice. He jumped off of his horse only to pace in front. “You simply don’t get it. Of course you wouldn’t.”

“You’re the King, Katsuki.” You said from above him. “I get that you have to—”

“Do the years not mean anything to you?”

“Do they mean anything to you?” You asked. “For years, you didn’t speak to me. Didn’t visit or see me as a person. For years I waited around and wondered about our friendship. And you come back and interrupt it now only to repeat the same things.”

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“And you’re a coward.” You spit. “You create false memories with me every single day.”

Katsuki went silent, looking up at you before mounting his horse again. 

“I did not mean for this to happen.” He spoke in a single breath. He did not look at you. “I am so incredibly sorry that I fell in love with you, it was never my intention.”

He disappeared back into the trees, as he always did.

​please do not copy, repost, or steal anything created and posted by me © castleoikawa 2021

[neonponders]

This isn’t what @memes-saved-me had in mind for this post but lol (read their tags, they’re delightful) 

Thinking about a younger Billy and an older Steve today ✨

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

Billy scratched at the hair on his nape. He wanted to grow it out; really had always wanted long hair. And now, as he peered at the other sophomores trying to fluff themselves bigger to match the juniors and seniors, he just might.

Long hair was in. Mullets, rock star manes, extensions - even the opposite. Women with buzz cuts and pixie faux hawks. Pleasant little surprises in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy might finally indulge in that.

Plenty in this town was backwards as all hell. Girls wearing white stockings like it was the fifties. Boys and girls alike clearly letting having learned hair styling from their out-of-date parents. Two girls with beehives sat in his English class.

But it was fine, because there was plenty of present-day styling, and Billy wouldn’t get any shit at home for matching his peers.

Cherry Lane. The most backwards spot in Indiana.

But that’s okay, too, because small town people need occupations. Parties.

A cool senior with teased, black hair walked right up to him and handed him a neon orange sheet of paper. He saw others holding similar invitations all day. 

Party on Friday night. Address, dress code, and everything.

Caught him by surprise, that a dress code would be needed for one of these things, but the invitation just said ~casual attire~ and someone in his Advanced Biology class told him that Tina hosts the best shin digs, often with costume themes.

So he went. The late summer evening was still humid as all hell, making the party split between the massive house and the matching yard a convenient way to start a weekend.

He’d had alcohol before. Enough to know he preferred tequila drinks over vodka and gin, but the safest way to wake up the next day was to just stick to beer. No matter how bitter or sharply carbonated some of it was made.

Maybe that’s why he heard people hollering about King Steve.

Keg stands weren’t original to Hawkins, but Billy preferred them next to a bonfire on a beach. But people were really yelling for this king to do the damn thing - 

“Steve, why are you even here? You graduated in May,” Tina’s voice cut through the din.

“I live down the street! You really think you’re making this much noise without me noticing? And all of you shut the hell up! I’ll do a keg stand the day one of you dip shits can actually beat my record.”

Another surprise:

Steve Harrington.

Billy’s dumb luck had him three years behind, so he couldn’t look at that face in the hallways. Sit behind that head of glossy, bouncy hair in European History. He still lived in town, apparently. Right down the street. Billy asked around and discovered he worked at the mall and attended the community college -

“Heard you been asking about me.”

Billy stared wide-eyed over his beer. He recovered quickly, but not before Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, smug. That hair was really distracting.

These people really gossip about everything.

“I didn’t think anybody actually went by a title like that.”

“I didn’t put it on my resume, that’s for sure.” Steve’s smirk grew into a smile. Christ, the guy really had that Indiana, home town handsome thing to his face.

That was dangerous. Billy’s gut told him so, the way it bruised like someone had poked it. And wanted to be poked again.

“Let’s do this properly. Steve.” He held his hand out.

It wasn’t queer to accept a handshake. “Billy,” he replied.

“Hargrove?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed involuntarily, releasing Steve’s large hand. His weight shifted over his feet. “Everybody knows everything here.”

“Not everything,” Steve said. His voice sounded...reassuring? But the way his eyes blinked...and a darkness slipped behind his eyes like a curtain. Adults liked to call it maturity. Wisdom beyond years. Billy called it ghosts. Everyone had ghosts behind their eyes. But...he had a hard time imagining what ghosts this pretty senior in suburban America would already have.

Then again, Billy knew better.

Except, as the party progressed and the weekend flowed into a new week, Billy really couldn’t imagine what made Steve slouch a little, and what made his eyes fade out of a conversation. Billy probably should have put more attention into how much he’d begun seeking the guy out.

He worked in the ice cream parlor at the mall. The uniform was equal measures ridiculous and hilarious, but his coworker was cool as hell. Robin. Not Steve’s girlfriend, even though they carpooled to work and community college.

Steve’s house proved just as luxurious as Tina’s, with a pool to boot. A house which supposedly stayed empty more often than it hosted its own family. Steve notoriously didn’t host parties, which....seemed uniquely odd.

Apart from Billy visiting the ice cream shop, it seemed Steve’s only other visitors were high school freshman. Which was weird. That’s weird, right? Then again, Billy was ball and chained to eight hours a day, five days a week to high school. There was plenty of time for Steve to be with friends his own age.

Except he showed up at the next party on Halloween.

Tina’s house boasted a surprising number of Hawkins graduated seniors, forcing the party all the way out onto the street.

Just like before, Steve manifested beside Billy, announcing himself with fingertips brushing his slowly growing, weak little mullet. “Growing that out?”

Steve’s already heavy eyelids were heavier with alcohol. Billy had his customary cup of beer, but his cheeks flushed for a different reason. He had to rub the back of his neck to make the tickle stop.

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll touch my shoulders next year.”

“Have you trimmed it?”

Billy frowned at him. He’d heard some things come out of Steve’s mouth that were endearing in a ‘bless his heart’ kind of way, and this was among them. “No, that defeats the point of making it longer.”

Steve shook his head and waved for him to follow. “Come here. I’ll trim it.”

“You’re not cutting my hair,” Billy scoffed. And followed.

Upstairs.

Billy did his best not to look around the living room; to see any eyes apart from the ones he imagined on his backside. He followed at a leisurely pace. Not eager to be with King Harrington anywhere...

The guy walked right into the closed master bedroom. Billy stood outside of it, stunned at his audacity and the fact that no one was inside it already - 

“You coming?”

Billy’s not a coward -

Actually he is. But he’s an overeager sophomore with a dangerous crush even more.

Steve dug through the master bathroom’s drawers until he found a pair of scissors in their own case. “Sit on the tub.”

By tub, he meant jacuzzi edge. Billy perched. Steve gripped his shoulder to step into the tub with a comb that smelled of foreign hair product and aftershave. Billy’s nose wrinkled. “Wash that first.”

Then he jumped at the tub faucet turning on right beside his ass. Steve laughed. “Chill out. I’m washing it.”

Billy settled with a disgruntled shake of his head. “My hair is curly. You’re not supposed to brush it at all.”

“You’re in the hands of The Hair Harrington, sweetheart. Just relax.”

His shoulders sagged right underneath the weight of sweetheart.

I’m so screwed - 

Of all people to show up in the doorway, Robin from Scoops showed up with an energy that insinuated more sobriety than the guy wielding scissors.

Her mouth hung open like she had come with something to say, but then she sputtered through laughter. “Oh shit. Are you consenting to this?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “If he cuts my ear, I’m beating his ass.”

“I’d appreciate more faith from you, Buckley. I cut your bangs for you.”

Billy chirped, “Really?” admittedly feeling a bit better.

Steve intercepted with the order, “Are you gonna play music or what? I’m so tired of Tina’s music.”

That’s how Billy wound up in a bathroom with college freshmen trimming his ends and styling his hair while Steve and Robin shout-sang to Whitney Houston.

It was great.

Steve curled the top of his hair so he had ringlets falling over his bold brows. Steve, who had his hands all over Billy’s head until he washed the hair down the drain and filled the tub for a bubble bath. Billy scrutinized himself with a handheld mirror until Steve wrapped his arms around him and they tumbled backward into the wet landing.

Tina was hardly pleased to find the three of them making a mess of the jacuzzi, but she sassed a quick thank you for warding off people trying to fuck in her parents’ bed. Billy didn’t have words; only laughter at Robin putting her hair into a wet mohawk and Steve piling bubbles onto his head.

Steve insisted they go back to his house afterward. “It’s November and we’re soaked. Your car will be fine. I can come back and park it in my driveway if you’re that worried.”

That wasn’t the problem.

“It’s fine that your parents are never home, but mine will only recently lifted my curfew for good behavior.”

Somehow, he convinced Steve and Robin to drive him back to his house, at the expense of letting them change at Steve’s first. Billy had his eyes on a beautiful Camaro and was just a few more months of allowance and part time jobs away from having her.

It was his first time in Steve’s house. He had to admit, he preferred Tina’s layout and decor, but he got to wander around. He saw Robin use one of the guest rooms. He saw Steve’s....incredibly boring room. And said as much.

“A prison cell has more personality.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Are you ready to go?”

It wasn’t until Billy lay in his own bed that those words tumbled through his brain. His fingertips moved through his still-styled hair. It felt better with those dead ends gone. Steve did a good job. Steve liked Whitney Houston and Blondie and a little of everything, really. Steve cared about his appearance enough to be a self-taught stylist.

Steve didn’t have a lot of furniture in his room. Clutter on the dresser and desk, sure, but all of it monochrome or neutral colors. Steve who had an old BMW, house, and surely a bank account to match, but didn’t buy anything in excess. Like he wasn’t allowed to, or something. Billy indulged every scent he got on things he wanted, but Steve didn’t.

Steve had a nailed bat in his trunk. Billy heard it rolling around on their way back to his house, and finally bent over to look under the seats and saw it.

Steve was a walking contradiction. A contradiction who smelled good but didn’t say much when Billy and Robin talked about history. Who started giving Billy free ice cream but never asked about Billy’s stepsister. Who gave Billy rides and gave him the hookup to the high-paying neighbors of Loch Nora for mowed lawns and dogs walked.

Steve helped him get his car sooner than he would’ve otherwise but didn’t ask for anything in return.

Steve, who was always available for a good time, but looked sad when left with his thoughts.

Billy didn’t take well to not being the center of attention. He’d grown up with an interrogation lamp over his head, and sought positive interaction everywhere else. He got so much of it from Steve, that the occasions where Steve bumped against him...refused him, or ignored him, or reminded Billy that he was a rinky dink sophomore lit a match in his belly. And he’d swallowed gasoline for too much of his life.

“That’s something a virgin says.”

Billy couldn’t even remember what he’d just said. He was already, instantly, seeing the glow of embers on the fringe of his vision. “Excuse me?”

Steve shrugged as he got up from his couch. “It’s whatever. It’s fine. Just showing your hand, is all.”

Billy couldn’t believe it. Steve was either the biggest idiot in Hawkins - which he knew wasn’t true considering there was a real cesspool that smoked underneath the bleachers - or he was so far in denial that Billy had a whole new reason to be pissed.

An involuntary sound left Steve when Billy came up behind him and pushed him against the wall underneath the stairs.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Billy wasn’t some cute sophomore. He stood toe to toe with Steve, barely an inch shorter. If this is what it took for Steve to realize that, fine.

To realize that Billy wasn’t some teenager scared shitless of a girls’ bra -

Steve regained his footing, and closed the distance between their mouths. It was small, soft, and brief. Rationality should have made Billy step away. Punch him, maybe. But Billy wasn’t rational. His shock held him statuesque, barely breathing while Steve moved a hand to cradle the side of his head and neck -

A sound left Billy this time, as Steve angled his mouth over Billy’s. Where he learned Billy was scared, so scared of Steve. His body dashed rationality against the wall and kissed him back tentatively, and then earnestly, just trying to keep up until Steve’s other hand framed him in. As Steve pushed against him until Billy walked backwards to have himself pressed against the wall.

He felt drunk as his hands let go of Steve’s shirt to hold onto the curvature of his ribs. He panted while Steve kissed his throat and washed Billy’s senses with his warm, sweet fragrance; his hair brushing Billy’s face and inspiring him to turn his face into Steve’s scalp. Inhale him into his lungs.

Billy didn’t know what game they were playing. But Steve outplayed him.

[girlmeetsliv3]

Lilies of the Valley X

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

 “Flower essences encourage gentleness and nurturing. And can also calm an overly aggressive person. However, some have the opposite effects.”

Release Date: 06/19/20 @  7 pm

previously ~ next

           YN couldn’t remember the last time she had a check-up. It must’ve been right before she presented when her physician had explained to her, that everything pointed to her sub-gender being an Omega and not a beta. Granted there had been little time for her to dwell on it with her parents outside the door, but it didn’t make for a favorable experience. Her suppressants hadn’t been handled by a doctor, but rather a nurse in a quick drive-thru clinic for which she had to pay $15 every month. Considering how reckless YN had been she went through the suppressants a lot quicker than she should, but no one ever asked any questions.

           The place she was at now was a lot nicer and even had some omegas as nurses which YN hadn’t seen much of. The nurse had asked Hoseok and Namjoon to stay outside for privacy reasons and the alphas had encouraged YN to contact them if she needed anything. Now all YN could do was wait. For what she wasn’t too sure, but a health check-up couldn’t hurt. Her phone served as a distractor, as did Rosé:

           Rosé: Long time no see…

           YN: Sorry I’ve been mia lately. I’ve missed you.

           Rosé: I’ve missed you too. Also, you’ve missed so much

           Rosé: I met someone!

           YN: Who??

           Rosé: He’s a beta. A nice beta. I just kinda ran into him one day and we started talking. Isn’t it amazing?!

           YN: Yeah, that’s great.

           YN locked her phone screen and glanced around the room. On the door, there were the typical pamphlets one would expect all ranging from various topics: sub-genders, presenting, mating, and starting a family. Maybe she should’ve felt something when she looked at them, but YN didn’t feel anything. Not anger or disgust. Not happiness or excitement. It was still far too early in their relationship to consider any of those things. Can it even be considered a relationship? The men were much more invested in it than she was, but then again that was to be expected. They shared a pack bond and YN had only recently started warming herself up to the idea of being with them. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice in the matter, but at least she was thankful the seven of them weren’t pressuring her into anything. Even if they were rushing a bit.

           The door opened to a nice-looking woman wearing a lab coat, on the pocket was embroidered: Dr. Jun. “Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Hyoseong Jun.” YN felt herself relax at the warm aura that seemed to surround the woman. “I’m YN. It’s nice to meet you too.” The doctor outstretched her hand and YN shook it. Jun motioned for YN to lay on the exam table and went through the procedural check-up before motioning YN to sit back up. Once YN was comfortable, the doctor took a seat in her chair, attention fully on YN.

           “So, what’s the reason for today’s visit?”

           Oh. YN didn’t exactly know, but she took her best guess. “I had a bad heat and wanted to see if I could change my suppressants.”

           Dr. Jun nodded, focusing her attention on the computer. “Have you ever had a bad heat before this?”

           YN swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. Rosé had warned her not to hide these things anymore, but YN was afraid of how people would react. Then, again this was a doctor and confidentiality did exist. “I haven’t had a heat since I presented.”

           “Oh?” This caught the doctor’s attention. “Is it something biological? Are you irregular in your heats?”

           “Um, no.” YN shook her head, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “I just took my suppressants so I wouldn’t have a heat.”

           If anything, the doctor seemed even more perplexed at YN’s explanation. “Does your mate know about this?”

           “No, I wasn’t with them. My mates have a pack bond and one of the alphas bit me during our first heat so-”

           “The lead alpha, correct?”

           YN felt time stop, her words dying on her tongue. “No. It was the youngest. We both presented at the same time and he accidentally bit me.”

           Dr. Jun nodded, “Yes, but did you share the heat with the other members?”

           YN scratched her head, the memories of her first heat were kind of muddled. YN did remember the other’s being there, but not participating in it. “They were there, but Jungkook is the one that bit me.” Seeing the doctor’s confused expression caused panic to swirl in the pit of YN’s stomach. “I was told that the bite of an alpha doesn’t heal.” Dr. Jun shook her head. “That’s only true if the mating bond is completed. Did you complete yours?” Dr. Jun had stood up at this point and was walking towards YN. Noticing her panicked expression and the slight shaking of her hands. “N-no.” A million thoughts were bouncing around in YN’s head as she tried to comprehend what exactly the doctor was implying.

           “Only a lead alpha’s bite can’t be healed. If that applied to regular alphas there would be a bunch of mated teenagers running around. I’m sorry, YN but I have no reason to lie to you.”

           No, that can’t be true. It couldn’t possibly be. If it were true then that would mean Namjoon bit her. It would mean Jungkook was innocent. It would mean…

           “It wasn’t an accident.”

           Kim Namjoon was an anomaly. Born to two alphas his birth had been a challenging one: his mother barely surviving it and Namjoon being born two weeks premature. It was a miracle his mother had even conceived, but with the help of hormonal treatments, they had just barely managed. Still, he was a strong child and exceptionally bright. The pros of having two parents of the dominant sub-gender or so he’d been told growing up. None of those things mattered to him though because Namjoon always felt incomplete. Like a part of him was missing and it haunted him. Nothing ever satisfied him because he had no one to share it with.

           His parents encouraged him to make friends and even develop crushes, but it was useless. No one was ever up to par with his expectations - no one felt genuine. Eventually, Namjoon learned the hard way that self-isolation at a young age could have devastating consequences and made him an easy target. Not just among his peers but family members as well. Many found Namjoon to be unnatural - alphas should not be together, much like omegas shouldn’t - his family looked for every reason to pick him apart and by extension his parents. Namjoon felt that was a ridiculous stance in general: sub-genders shouldn’t determine who you’re allowed to be with. However, these were unpopular opinions and not ones he could voice as a child without extreme repercussions.

           Namjoon kept his head down and avoided people, having few friends, and closing himself off until his eleventh birthday. That was the day Namjoon presented. Alphas didn’t typically present at such a young age, but he’d always been peculiar that day. It wasn’t until he was taken to the doctor and given suppressants that Namjoon finally understood why he was the way he was.

           "He must be a lead alpha. Only lead alphas present at such a young age." The doctor had spoken to his parents outside, unaware that Namjoon had his ear pressed to the door. "It means your son likely carries the pack bond. He'll have multiple mates and will be able to sense them." Namjoon had been so shocked at that statement, he merely fell when the door opened. The second he got home he researched everything he could on pack bonds and how they worked. It might not be the case, as it was extremely rare, but it didn't hurt to hope. That was the one prevalent emotion that filled Namjoon: hope. He didn't know why, but it just made sense to him. He wouldn't simply find a mate like everyone else - no they were destined.

          Being so rare there was limited information about it. Most of it is pure speculation as most individuals with a pack bond weren't open to sharing their experiences online or those that did claim provided little proof. It didn't really matter as it would be just two weeks later on the first day of school that Namjoon would feel it: the smell, pull, tug that innate feeling that drove him away from his parents and towards the center of the large crowd. Standing there with an old grey hoodie and scruffed converse was Min Yoongi. Namjoon's nose immediately picked up on the light scent of myrrh coming from him and a thought popped into his head. Beta? Though that was impossible as it looked like Yoongi hadn't presented yet, still, something inside Namjoon knew.

           It seemed Yoongi was on edge, but the second their eyes met the elder rushed towards Namjoon embracing him in a hug. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” It left both their lips simultaneously and both seemed shocked until Yoongi laughed it off. “I’m Min Yoongi. Nice to meet you, mate.” Namjoon had never felt happier.

           There was still an ache there, a craving, but Namjoon ignored it for the most part. Then, he felt it again. The pull. The need. Namjoon had stayed late after school working on a project when the soft thumps coming from the dance room caught his attention. Now had he been thinking logically, he might have noticed Namjoon was too far away from the dance room to possibly be able to hear music. But he did and so Namjoon followed the sound towards the room and towards Jung Hoseok. Who froze mid-step the second Namjoon threw the door open, there meeting was a bit different: instead of rushing to meet him Hoseok simply stood shocked. As seconds turned into minutes, the only words that escaped Hoseok where “the fuck.” Before rushing to meet Namjoon and nearly causing him to fall.

           The second they embraced Namjoon’s nose rubbed against Hoseok’s neck and he felt a strong citrus scent. Alpha. Was his immediate thought, but he didn’t share it with Hoseok too caught up in the moment.

            Slowly Namjoon began to meet his mates: Seokjin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. All of them experiencing the same reaction upon meeting him and once they meet each other the connection only strengthened. The group stayed together for seven years and it was easy too considering the school they attended housed an elementary, middle, and high. Despite them knowing what they were to each other they simply remained close friends. Best friends. At least until Jungkook entered High school. By then most of them had presented and Namjoon's hunches had been correct. Still, something unnerved him and the others, though they would never directly mention it, they weren't complete.

           It was as if they had all spent years building an elaborate puzzle only for the final piece to be missing. It became increasingly frustrating and Namjoon felt the most guilty as no matter how hard he searched, nothing provided him with answers. It was two years of searching by him and the others, yet there had been nothing. No instantaneous connection. No pull or need. They were beyond content with each other but never satisfied. By then news had already spread that the group were mates and shared a pack bond, which didn't make their search any easier. It's a bit ironic how fate strikes. Or maybe it's cruel. Namjoon would argue it's both. For when the group stopped searching is when they found their missing piece.

          Namjoon was in his senior year, Seokjin and Yoongi had already graduated but since they all lived together it impacted their relationship very little.

          “Don’t overexert yourself.” Jimin stood in front of Jungkook, scolding him after the latter had practically collapsed once the relay was over.

          “But hyung we won. That’s what’s important.” The youngest pouted adorably and Namjoon had to resist every urge to tease him about it. It didn’t really matter because someone would always do it for him.

         “Aw. Jungkookie you’re so cute.” Taehyung spoke, ruffling Jungkooks hair. Soon enough the three of them began bickering between themselves.

         Namjoon looked over the crowd trying to find Hoseok, who had left to bring them all snacks before their next game. It was sports day and in Yeong-gwang that meant another way to prove their superiority among other schools. Namjoon, despite his build, was never the athletic type but most of his mates were so they were drafted by the school to compete. He wasn’t going to complain since it meant he got to skip the dreaded clean up since Namjoon was technically a volunteer. By technically, it meant he got special perks because 4/6 of his mates competed and their families were the school’s biggest beneficiaries.

        “Namjoon.” Taehyung stood in front of him, brows scrunched up. “I’ve been calling you for like ten minutes.”

        Namjoon shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, I was distracted.” He ignored the fact that Taehyung hadn’t used honorifics figuring he’d punish him for it later.

       “Please go find Hobi-hyung. We’re about to start soon.”

           Hoseok was likely in the refreshments section were there currently stood a large crowd of people from his school and those visiting. However, Namjoon didn't head over there preferring instead to take a long way and pass through the lily garden. It was the school's pride and joy, one of the largest privately-owned collections in the country. Most of the students didn't really care for it, but all of them respected it. Sometimes kids from other schools tried to sneak in and vandalize it, but it was only accessible through a key card or a code: one every student had. Namjoon didn't know what led him to the garden only that he had a strong urge to see it.  

           It was when he saw the gate unlocked and the door opened that he panicked a bit. Rushing inside to make sure no one had sneaked in - then he saw her. She wore the school’s uniform with a denim jacket on top. A red sash with the words ‘volunteer’ draped across her body. Namjoon’s heart began to race as his eyes began to water. Finally, he’d found her. The missing piece. His last mate. Slowly, she turned around facing Namjoon with a confused expression. There was a hint of recognition in her eyes and Namjoon expected that any moment now she would run and embrace him. Tell him how she had longed for him and the others the way they had for her.

           “Excuse me. Why did you lock the gate?”

           Namjoon was taken aback, struggling to get any words out. “What?” She marched towards him, but instead of running into his arms she sidestepped and went around him. Opening the gates back up and leaving. Namjoon stood still for a moment or two before he gave chase. He tried to be inconspicuous but knew it likely didn’t seem that way from an outside perspective.

           “YN! There you are.” A group of girls reached her before Namjoon could, embracing her and pulling her away. The slight action caused a hint of her scent to reach him, lilies consuming his senses as another thought prevailed. Omega.

           “Are you certain?”

           “I saw her, hyung.”

           “And she didn’t react?!”

           “No. She just walked past me.”

           “Did you at least get her name, hyungie.”

           “YN. She must be around Jungkook’s age.”

           Silence surrounded all of them back in their small apartment. Namjoon ran his hands through his hair, feeling frustrated. Seokjin felt conflicted at everything that was happening. Namjoon had never been wrong, but YN’s lack of reaction would imply that he was. Maybe she simply knew their mate or spent a long time around them and that is why Namjoon picked up the scent. Then again that seemed like too much of a stretch. Yoongi thought about everything, what were the odds that their mate would be right there in front of them the entire time. Then again, they had all been in the same place and it hadn’t been until Namjoon presented that they’d felt it. Still, Yoongi had felt the bond long before he presented.

           “What is she?”

           Namjoon turned to face Yoongi, “What do you mean?” He knew exactly what Yoongi meant, but wasn’t sure if he should share that kind of information.

           “What is her sub-gender?” Yoongi persisted, trying to grasp if that played a role in it. Maybe she was an alpha and just didn’t pick up Namjoon’s scent. Perhaps she’d recently presented -

           “She’s an omega,” Namjoon muttered seeing the way their expression shifted. No one they knew was an omega or at the very least no one in the school had yet to present as one. Given the difficulties, omegas often faced it would be difficult for someone from an omega family to be able to enter their school. Not to mention how difficult pure omegas were to come by. “She hasn’t presented yet.”

           Hoseok who had remained quiet thus far spoke out, fully aware that his words might only worsen the situation. “I’ve never heard of an omega in a pack bond.” At this Namjoon became frustrated, “Do you think I’m lying?!” Jimin rushed to comfort him. “No. That’s not it. We’re all just confused, maybe there’s someone who could provide us with answers.” Namjoon had someone in mind but wasn’t sure if they would help at all. Seokjin cleared his throat drawing all their attention, “That’s all fine and well but we should meet her first, no?”

           “Excuse me, YN!” YN turned around to see a much taller boy running to her at full speed. Once he reached her, he stopped and smiled. “Sorry. You’re YN, right? Kevin sent me to get you because you forgot to put your student id in the volunteer form so they can’t give you the hours.” YN’s weight shifted on her feet, “Oh. Um, how did you find me then?” The boy kept smiling, but there was a bit of an edge to it now. “You wrote down your fifth period and Kevin described you to me.” YN was still hesitant to give a random stranger her student id, even if he did look harmless enough and had an office pass.

           “Look, I know this looks sketchy and normally we’d just contact the teacher but Professor Wei isn’t answering his phone and their inputting the hours today.” YN sighed, that did sound like something Wei would do. “Alright, do you have somewhere for me to write it down?” The boy grinned and for a brief moment, YN thought about how adorable the smile was. Almost bunny-like.

           “It’s her.”

           “I told you so.”

           “I can’t believe we actually found her.”

           “We can finally be complete now.”

           “...but why didn’t she react with Kookie either?”

           “Maybe it has something to do with her being an omega? Maybe she’ll feel the bond once she presents.”

��          “So we wait, then? That doesn’t feel right.”

           “No, we can still get close to her we just don’t announce our intentions outright.”

           Namjoon agreed, “Eventually she’ll feel the bond. She’ll come to us and everything will be made right.”

           Dr. Kang looked down at the seven men who had all crowded into his study. Kang had become a sort of confidant for Namjoon ever since he presented. Being a professor in sub-gender studies and specializing in mythology caused Namjoon’s parents to seek him out in an effort to aid their son. Though the nature of their relationship was meant to be purely transactional, Kang did eventually develop a soft spot for the boy. One not born out of mere scientific interest. Kang had been there when Namjoon had met all the others and though never directly meeting them, he knew of them. Knew enough. Enough to know that the pack bond couldn’t be completed as they had yet to find their last mate. Unfortunately, it seems it would never be completed.

           “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but omegas can’t have a pack bond.” The look in all seven of their eyes, made Kang feel as if he had just plunged a spear through their heart. “But I felt it. We all did.” Namjoon insisted and Kang had to agree. “That may very well be true, but it is impossible for an omega to feel the bond. It isn’t biologically possible, at least not in any text that I’ve seen.” They all remained silent, letting the information sink in. Kang felt pity for them all, he truly did. Pack bonds were a rarity and beauty. To be left without a mate all the while knowing who they are must damage one’s soul. Not to mention psyche.

           “What do you mean it’s not biologically possible,” Jungkook questioned, his hands fisting the dark material of his jeans.

           “Well,” Kang cast a look around his office searching for the specific book he had in mind. “All omegas are pack omegas. Legends tell us this is from a time before alphas could breed with each other and beta pregnancies were risky. Male omegas were also high in abundance, so all omegas were forced to mate in order to ensure the survival of the pack.” In Kang’s opinion, it was little more than a glorified abuse tale, but it did help to explain the situation. “Due to this omegas didn’t typically mate. So, the pack bond didn’t truly apply to them.” Kang sighed, “Obviously, omegas can mate. It affects them the way it would any other sub-gender, but since there is no historical evidence of omegas experiencing the pack bond it’s best to assume it is impossible.”

           “So what then?” Taehyung asked, clearly agitated. “She won’t recognize us?! She won’t want to be with us?!”

           Dr. Kang shook his head, “Not unless it’s of her own merit. If you can convince her to be with you, then you all can mate and the pack bond will be complete.”

           “And if not?” Namjoon raised his head out of his hands. His voice deep and eyes hollowed. Kang was aware it wasn’t directed at him, but it was terrifying nonetheless.

           “Then she will present, meet, and mate with someone else. There’s nothing you can do about it. The law will only allow the breaking of a mating bond if it is consensual.”

           Dr. Jun reached over hesitantly and touched YN’s shaking hands. “Are you alright?” YN was unable to answer. Instead, she shook her head hoping the doctor would understand. “I see. Do you want me to go get your mates?” No! YN’s hands latched onto Jun’s not letting her go any farther. “I’m sorry if anything I said scared you, YN. That was not my intent. There are a few questions, I would like to ask you, however.” There was a knock on the door, an urgent one, and YN froze in fear. Tentatively June excused herself, heading towards the door. It was the omega nurse looking visibly anxious.

           “I’m sorry to bother, but your next patient is here and it’s an emergency. Something wrong with the baby.”

           Dr. Jun gasped, “Oh dear. Alright, I will be there soon.” The door closed and Jun turned to face YN. “I’m so sorry dear. I’m afraid I have to cut this a bit short.”

           “I understand. Thank you for your time.” The response just slipped out, YN not having put too much thought into it.

           “I’ll get you off suppressants and ask for your alphas to be put on rutters. Be sure to schedule an appointment if your heat is off again.”

           YN nodded, slipping off the exam table and walking towards the door. Her phone in her back pocket vibrated and YN slipped it out typing the message fast without thinking of the possible consequences. Then as she neared the exit, she deleted the message and turned her phone off. YN pushed open the door to see both Namjoon and Hoseok still sitting in the waiting room, smiles on both their faces.

           “Ready to go?”

           “Yup.”

           YN: Come to my place tomorrow at noon. Say it’s an emergency don’t give up until they let you in. If they refuse, call the cops and show them this message but don’t show the guys.

Hope you enjoyed ~~~

Tag List:

@hxsxxk-180294​ @saxpam24​ @trixsterbi @mel-gonzalez07​ @cstobitk​ @dionysus-png​ @taekimxx​ @moonlitehunter @joonie-grim​ @wonderlace19​ @sugashaye​ @rosey-roseu​ @mintaemark​ @ciderxi @soloikeadates​ @alex--awesome--22​ @ruth619​ @tinger-k​ @thenyousaidhello​ @missseoulite​ @justdidabadthing​ @ireallylikefoodandyoutube​ @letmebeyour-sun​ @lyoongx​ @kpopfictrash​ @purpuravm​ @unsureofwhathappens​ @blank-et-noir @thatchampagnebitch​ @nooooooooona​

[moony-marvuders]

monster [ professor!lupin x hufflepuff!reader]

1/?

intro

y/n l/n, a spectacularly odd, and scared witch, with gifted abilities, is now orphaned upon the murder of her Mother and Father, and has come to live with her Godfather, Rubeus Hagrid. Despite her lack of knowledge, and never being properly trained, Dumbledore feels as though she has a right to be taught, just the same as anyone else/

pairing : professor! lupin x hufflepuff!reader

warnings: age gap, trauma, Orphaned Reader, female pronouns,  insinuation of death and violence, student/teacher relationship.  

- Reader is written as 18 in the timeline, and isn’t underage, there for there’s no reason to get dramatic about the pairing. There is also no insinuation of s*xual relations (only romantic) as I myself am asexual, and that would be taking this type of pairing a bit too far. Secondly, timeline is a little confusing, the reader is infact taking year 3 classes, and you will find out why as you read forward. Anyway, if you don’t enjoy, the content, simply ignore it.

( And if you would like a second part, request. request. request.)

-

The sky begins to darken above as you and Hagrid walked back to the castle grounds from Hogsmeade Village. The air cooling around you, with a whisk of the autumn wind. Your Godfather, leading you through the castle grounds, and around the lake, to where your new home would be. It’s painfully quiet, as the students wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow, not something that neither of you particularly enjoy. The sound of silence. 

“ Yer new home is right around ere” He points as you approach to a painfully small hut. It’s made of old stone, it looks warned down, almost ancient, as if it was going to fall apart.  You’re surprised at the sight, it looking from the outside to be too small for a man of your Godfathers size. Though this was Hogwarts, anything was seemingly possible. “It’s lovely.” You halfly lie, only thankful to have a home to call your own, after everything that’s happened, you still had somewhere to go, only some dream to have just as much, if not less than that. 

It had been years since you had been on these grounds and seen your Godfather. Years since you were meant to go to Hogwarts, and fulfill your magical destiny, but everything had been ruined. Your family gone, your childhood taken away, along with most of your happiest memories. 

He opens the wooden door, revealing a cozy home within. You know you had been here before, long ago, but the memory was gone, any recollection of it belongs to the overwhelming sadness deep within you, the memories of what happened to your parents holding a tight grip  around your heart.  You stood still within the doorway as Hagrid, walked inside. He turned back around, halting the haunting thoughts. 

“ Are yeh comin’ in? Yer lettin’ in a draft!” And with that, your new life began. 

- 

“ So I’m going to be the first there?” You questioned, gathering all you needed, to stay at the dorms. Despite having Hagrid’s to live at, he and Dumbledore suggested it would be useful to stay within a dorm, to gather the real experience of Hogwarts. But you thought it to be a way around telling anybody you were in fact Hagrid’s God Daughter, perhaps they didn’t want anybody thinking oddly of you.

“ Yeh, but it won’t be long before there ere”  You sighed, walking among the front doors.  

Only time could tell when they would be here, and when you would have to be sorted. Flashbacks to your Father and Mother crossed your mind, the two of them being an odd pair of lovers at that, considering the houses they had been sorted into.

Your Mother was a cunning Slytherin, filled with power and a strive for greatness, though despite her temperament, she was the nicest woman some had ever met, she was unnaturally kind for such a reputation, but only to those whom she really could trust, one of the people being your Father. Your Father was just as filled with power as she, only he was more selfless, more brave. A Gryffindor in his truest right. Despite their differences, and the wedge between them of Pureblood and Muggleborn magic, they seemed to defy all odds when together. Truly a mystery. 

-

The great hall was huge, candles floating amongst the numerous house tables, all filled with empty cutlery and plates. Your Father had spoken of this moment numerous of times, what it would look like, how it would happen. But now that you were here, the spark of what once was hope and magic was washed out, dimming the more you thought of it. You couldn’t picture your Father’s smile anymore when thinking of him talking with so much joy, only flashes of horrendous memories, that of a wooded forest, and blood, lots of blood, pooling around your feet. 

You felt a firm hand on your back, causing you to jump to turn around, greeted with the familiar face of Dumbledore, whom had been the person to bring you here, from your parents home. You smiled, warmly at the wise and kind man in front of you, “Excited?” He asked, as the other Professors walked along the middle, going to grab their respective seats before the sorting ceremony and feast. “ Excited, but more nervous if anything Headmaster. “ You chew on the inside of your cheek. You would probably be the only Seventh year to be sorted, the only Seventh year to not be in any of the same classes as the rest of your year. It was all so humiliating, and yet you still had some hope, an ounce of faith and true gratitude that you were even aloud among the school.

“ Nothing to be scared of dear y/n. This is the right place for you.” You couldn’t help to hold your trust within his voice, as you watched him give you another warm smile, before heading to the front table, joining the rest of the staff. 

You stood at the back of the room, awaiting for the first years to arrive last. Not wanting to walk with them, too scared you’d be judged and ridiculed for being the oldest to be sorted. Your parents had bravery, so much of it to spare, and yet you didn’t feel an ounce of bravery, perhaps ever. You weren’t brave now, and you weren’t brave when they had been killed. Perhaps the sorting hat wouldn’t know what to do with you and they would have to throw you out, you thought. You weren’t brave or cunning like your Mother and Father, nor smart like a Ravenclaw. Perhaps a Hufflepuff, but you weren’t overjoyed with happiness, always smiling at everybody either. You felt like you were nothing. The girl who had to sit there, and watch the two people she loved the most die, and just let them, out of fear. Why had you been accepted into Hogwarts if you were simply; 

        nothing. 

-

As everybody settled in to The Great Hall, Dumbledore stood above everyone within the room. Describing how the Sorting Hat would work, and that when You had been sorted, to go to your assigned table. 

“ Now!” He spoke loudly, “ Before we begin with the first years. We have a certain Seventh Year who needs sorting! y/n y/l/n?!” He called out for you, eyes across the hall, looking for whom he must be talking to. He called again and before you could process it fully, you began walking up to the front, and through the crowd of new students.

You sat down with hesitation within the chair, eyes closed as you did so, too scared to look into the eyes of your peers. The hat was lowered upon your head gently. It began to speak to you, as if it had been a person, knowing every little detail within your head. 

“ Interesting, very interesting. You’re a bit confusing aye? Your Mother was a Slytherin, correct? Your Father though.,,.he was a Gryffindor? What an odd pairing.. hmmm... But you... you don’t have these qualities- you’re different. A bit odd, not quite academic, but knowledge lies within your heart. There’s something strong about you- You’re loyal, patient, un-judgemental- you seek no power, only a sense of justice, and of love.. Yes I see it now... HUFFLEPUFF!!!” 

In that moment you couldn’t help but wear a small smile, and open your eyes, watching as the Hufflepuff table greated you with graceful, happy cheers.

-

After the sorting, and after everyone had sat within their respective seats, Dumbledore rose once again to the front, before the feast was to begin.

“Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Now, I'd like to say a few words... before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin....who's kindly consented to fill the post... of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, Professor.”

A Professor stood to his feet humbly, barely standing straight, almost being overwhelmed with the clapping the was brought by the mentioning of him. You couldn’t help but to notice, the long scars amongst his face, some of them quite fresh, some scarred so deep, that they would never leave. You couldn’t help but think to yourself whom had hurt him, or specifically what. If he knew anything about The Dark Arts, he must have encountered dangerous things quite often.

He softly bowed, his hands clasped together, before sitting back down within his seat. Your eyes rarely left where he had sat, still pondering within thought.

-

( I hope you enjoyed this first part of this fic! If there’s anything specific you want to see, or perhaps any ideas for this, I’m always open to criticism and creative help! Also request anything you would like within my inbox, I adore requests.)

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 23

31: We have to let go

Last time, Belle and Gold made the final preparations for their baby, and Belle sought a reconciliation with her father. Here’s what happened next.

[AO3]

x

Gold pushed the jeweller’s glass into his eye socket, peering at the tiny cog on the square of black velvet. He reached for the pair of steel tweezers by its side, carefully picking up the cog and transferring it to the silver music box that lay open in front of him. He had been working on it whenever he had a spare moment whilst in Storybrooke, though in truth there had been little opportunity since he had effectively moved to Boston. Belle had not returned from visiting her father, and in order to distract himself from thoughts of marching over there to make sure she was alright, he had decided to concentrate on the music box. Over the past six weeks or so he had cleaned the mechanism, replaced the bent and broken pieces, and carefully and methodically put every piece in its place. This was among the last of them.

The sound of the shop doorbell made him glance up, and he shook his head, turning back to his work.

“A moment,” he called. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“It’s okay, it’s only me.”

Belle’s voice made him smile, and he put down the tweezers, removing the glass from his eye socket and turning on the stool to face her as she pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the back room. She looked a little strained around the eyes, but she was smiling.

“How did it go?” she asked, and he raised an eyebrow.

“That was going to be my question.”

“Oh…” Belle sighed, flopping down on the cot. “Okay, I guess. He apologised. Kind of. We talked. He’s not happy about you being in my life, but I told him he’ll have to get used to it.”

“Hmm.” Gold ran a hand through his hair. “Christmas will be fun.”

“Yeah, I’m trying not to think about that.”

Her tone was very dry, and it made him grin, even as he shuddered internally at the thought of having to spend the festive season with Moe French.

“The shop’s doing okay,” she went on. “I had a quick look through the accounts. He’s got a few weddings this month, which is always good for business. Keeps complaining about not having the time to do anything else, so I’ve tried to convince him to get some help in.”

“You think that’s likely?” he asked. “He always managed by himself before you helped him out. I presumed he’d do the same after you left.”

“Yeah, but I think he needs to,” she said. “Just a few hours. Maybe get one of the school seniors to help at weekends, or something. They could cover the shop while he does the wedding arrangements.”

“Well, perhaps he’ll take your advice,” said Gold, and Belle pulled a face.

“He doesn’t look too well,” she said then. “Says he’s been very tired recently. I told him to go to the doctor, but you know how he is.”

“You think it’s something serious?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“He’s overweight, diabetic, high blood pressure - I just worry his heart is gonna give out one day,” she said. “It’s not as though he looks after himself. The shop keeps him active, I suppose, but I bet he’s still drinking too much and avoiding veggies like they’re poison.”

“Well, you can only suggest a course of action,” he said. “It’s up to him to take it.”

“I know.”

She looked gloomy, and he tried to steer her away from talk of her father’s ill health.

“What did he say about the baby?” he asked.

“Asked when it was due, if I had everything I needed…” Belle put a hand to the small of her back. “He says he’ll visit when the baby’s born.”

“Great.”

It was said under his breath, and he winced at the reluctant tone of his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you wanted to make things up with him. I’m happy for you, really. Don’t listen to my complaining.”

“Can I have that in writing?” She looked amused, and he smiled.

“You know how I feel about formalising agreements.”

“Well, I’d hate to hold you to a promise you can’t keep,” she teased. “How about you buy me dinner tonight and we call it even?”

“That sounds like a deal I couldn’t possibly refuse,” he said. “Are you ready to head back?”

“I think so.” She peered at the bench behind him. “What are you working on?”

“Oh - it’s a music box,” he said. “I’ve been restoring it for some time now. Almost finished.”

“Oh.” She heaved a breath, letting her shoulders drop as she let out a sigh. “You can finish it, if you like. I don’t mind waiting.”

Gold hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the music box.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be here next week, after all. Gives me something to do in between dealing with business matters.”

She smiled, and he pushed to his feet, carefully putting the remaining pieces of the music box into a small pot and rolling up the square of black velvet. Belle was chewing her lip, staring off into the distance, and he folded his hands over the cane handle, looking at her.

“We can always stay another night, if you’re worried about him,” he said. “I could - uh - make dinner. You could invite him round. If you like.”

Belle glanced around at that, and the way her eyes lit up made him forget about any distaste he felt at the idea of spending an evening with Moe French.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said, her tone warm. “But I think we’ll take things one step at a time. I still haven’t talked to him about all those ridiculous lies he told you about me and Gaston.”

“Ah.” Gold wanted to scowl at the memory, but he kept his face neutral.

“Not sure I will,” she added. “At least not right now. I don’t think I have the energy.”

“Fair enough.”

“How did things go with Dr Hopper?” she asked, and he blew out his cheeks, huffing air.

“We’re making progress,” he said. “Slow, but progress all the same.”

"Good."

"The fact that it's slow is my fault, not his," he added, and she gave him a patient look.

"It's no one's fault," she said gently. "It's just a process, and it takes as long as it takes."

"Yeah." He sighed the word, looking at the floor. "I suppose there are no quick fixes, are there?"

"Exactly," she said. "So no giving yourself a hard time because you're not magically fixed after a few sessions, okay?"

"Okay." He looked up again and smiled at her. "Dr Hopper says the same. And the sessions are going about as well as could be expected, in the circumstances. So that's something."

“Well, that’s good.” Belle stood, shouldering her bag and rolling her shoulders. “You want to tell me about it in the car? I think I want to get home.”

“Of course.”

Gold took off the apron he was wearing and went to the small bathroom to wash his hands. When he returned Belle was peering at the music box with a tiny smile on her face.

“It’s so pretty,” she said. “What tune does it play?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Is it for sale?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “We’ll see how it sounds. Maybe we can play it to the baby, get him to fall asleep.”

Belle straightened up, beaming at him.

“You think it’s a boy?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “That was a slip of the tongue. Honestly, I’d be happy with anything as long as it’s human.”

He grinned at her, and Belle bit her lip, looking amused.

“I think we can guarantee it’ll be human.”

“The rest of Storybrooke may question that, given that I’m the father,” he remarked dryly.

“Well, the rest of Storybrooke can kiss my arse, then,” she said, and Gold burst out laughing, reaching out to take her hand and pull her close.

“Oh, I’m not sharing that pleasure with anyone,” he murmured, and bent his head to kiss her.

x

Belle found that she grew nervous as April wore on and the time for the baby to be born drew nearer. She told herself it was fear of the unknown; no matter how many books she read or videos she watched on the birthing process, she felt that she knew nothing at all. Emma had been wonderful, patiently talking her through every minute of her labour with Henry, but Belle was well aware that Emma’s experience would not necessarily be her own. It didn't help that she was now extremely uncomfortable; the baby had moved, head down towards her pelvis, and she had been suffering from an ever-present backache and an overwhelming need to run to the bathroom. It reminded her that the baby would soon be outside of her, and that she would need to endure a lot of pain for that to happen. She told herself that women had been giving birth for thousands of years, and there was no reason she should find it any more difficult than they had, but she had made the mistake of reading about everything that could possibly go wrong in childbirth. It hadn't helped her nerves. At least her hospital bag was packed and ready to go. It sat in the hallway of the apartment and made her anxious every time she passed it.

She had expected Gold to be as nervous as she, given his past pain and the loss of his son, but he was surprisingly calm, and talked her down from a minor panic attack with soothing words and a bubble bath. He got in with her, sitting at the opposite end with his knees poking up through the fragrant bubbles, the hot water making his skin flush a little. Belle let him take her foot and start to massage it.

“Sorry I seem to be losing it,” she said, as she lay back. “How are you being so calm? We’re gonna be parents in like a fortnight!”

Gold grinned, his eyes soft, but still with that glint in them that she loved. His thumb worked magic circles on the ball of her foot, and she heaved a sigh, trying to relax.

“Yes, and I can’t wait,” he said. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Yes, but - mostly nervous,” she said. “I know it’ll hurt, but - but what if I can’t bear it?”

“You talked through your pain relief options,” he said. “You can speak to the doctor again, if you think it’ll put your mind at ease.”

“I guess.”

“I have every faith in you,” he added. “And in the medical staff. I know how independent you are, and how hard it can be to rely so completely on others, but in these circumstances, I think we both have to trust that they know better than we do. We have to let go.”

“Yeah.”

Belle chewed her lip, running a hand over the curve of her belly.

“I know you’re right,” she added.

“It’s perfectly natural to be nervous the first time,” he said soothingly. “I’m sure next time will be easier.”

“Next time?”

“Ah.” He squeezed his eyes shut, drawing his lower lip up over his teeth. “Forget I said that.”

“Hmm.” She was amused, and poked him with a foot. “Let’s get this one out before we think about the next, okay?”

“Agreed.”

He was grinning at her, and she couldn’t help smiling back, enjoying the easy banter. The fears were still there, whispering at the back of her mind, but she found that talking about them with him was helping.

“What if something goes wrong and they have to cut me open?” she said then.

“Then you’ll need to take things even easier after the birth and leave more to me, that’s what,” he said. “You’ll be in excellent hands. You have the best hospital staff in Boston caring for you and the baby, I promise.”

“I’d have a scar.”

Gold lifted her foot, kissing her toes.

“And it’ll be beautiful.”

“And - and even if I manage to give birth naturally, they’ll probably have to give me stitches,” she added. “That’s gotta hurt, right?”

Gold sighed.

“Look, I can’t pretend to understand your fears or to know what you’re going through,” he said gently. “But you are the bravest person I’ve ever known. I know you’re going to be just fine.”

He resumed the massage, thumb rubbing in slow circles, and Belle sighed, feeling the tension start to drain out of her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I just - I’ve been pregnant all this time and it’s like I’ve just realised I actually have to get this person that’s inside me outside. Does that make sense?”

Gold shrugged, grinning.

“I’m not sure I can ever entirely empathise,” he said. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for being as helpful as I can.”

“Well, you’ve certainly made yourself useful since you moved in,” she said, poking him with her toes again, and his grin widened.

“Indispensable, I would hope.”

“Absolutely.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Belle giggled a little, and wriggled a little, slipping down in the hot water and letting out a long, heavy sigh as she felt her body soften under the rhythmic sweeps of his thumbs.

“That’s better,” he murmured, moving his hands up to massage her calf. “Just relax.”

“Mm.” Belle watched him through half-closed eyes. “Emma, Neal and Henry are coming over Friday, by the way. Do you think you could make something for dinner? Nothing fancy, just anything I can shove in the oven.”

“I don’t mind cooking while you talk to your friends,” he said absently, and looked up. “Oh, unless you want me to find somewhere else to be, of course.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “Of course you could be here. It’s just I thought you’d be in Storybrooke most of the day.”

Gold pulled a face.

“You sure you want me to go?” he asked. “It’s the week before the baby’s due.”

“What about your therapy session?” she asked, and he sighed.

“True,” he allowed. “I suppose I really should try to make that.”

“Do you not want to go?”

Gold hesitated a moment, then shook his head.

“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s just - well, perhaps you’re not the only one who’s a little nervous. Maybe I’m just better at hiding it. I want to be here for you every step of the way, and I worry about leaving you alone for any length of time. Just in case.”

Belle smiled, reaching out to run a hand over his knee.

“It’s only a few hours away,” she pointed out. “And it’s only one day. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Besides, Emma and Neal will be here, it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

“Alright,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

He let go of her foot, and she slipped it back under the water as he reached for the other.

“You said your father was planning on coming to Boston,” he said. “Did he say when?”

“No, he said he’d let me settle in with the baby first,” she said. “He asked that I call him when it’s born, but I think he was planning on leaving the visit for a week or two.”

“Will he stay long?”

“I doubt it. He has the shop to run for a start, and unless he gets an assistant in like I suggested, there’s no one to cover. I imagine it’ll only be for a day or two.”

Gold nodded, and she gave him a wry look.

“I think he’s planning on making his own way here,” she added. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask you to go pick him up.”

He grunted at that.

“Good,” he remarked. “The idea of spending four hours in a confined space with Moe French doesn’t fill me with joy, I have to confess.”

“I expect the feeling’s mutual.”

A soft chuckle, and he glanced up at her.

“Don’t know how you put up with us.”

“Well, I’m an extremely patient person.”

“I noticed,” he said, with a wry twist to his mouth. “Far too good for the likes of me.”

Belle pressed her lips together.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t trash talk yourself anymore,” she said sternly, and he inclined his head.

“Work in progress,” he said.

“Hmm.”

“I’ve had years of practice, after all,” he added. “Old habits die hard.”

Belle sat forward, reaching up with one hand to cup his cheek. Bubbles ran over her arm, dripping into the bath around them, and she held his eyes with her own.

“You’re a good man,” she said gently. “And you’re going to be a wonderful father. Okay?”

Gold smiled, leaning into her touch.

“I’ll do my best,” he said. “I promise you that.”

“That’s all anyone could ask.”

He kissed her fingertips, and she settled back in the warm water with a sigh as he continued his massage. Two weeks until the baby gets here. We’re going to be a family.

x

The clock on the wall ticked slowly. Gold was sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, studying the rug between the shining toes of his shoes. Dr Hopper was waiting patiently for him to speak, and he threaded his fingers together and pulled them apart, a whispery sound of skin against skin.

“So you said the baby was due on May fifth,” said Dr Hopper. “How are you feeling about that?”

“Belle’s nervous,” said Gold, fingers moving restlessly. “I’ve tried to reassure her, but she’s anxious about the birth.”

“Well, that’s understandable, given that this is her first child.”

“I know. I’ve tried to tell her that, but I’m not sure I’m helping.”

Dr Hopper scribbled briefly.

“And how do you feel about it?” he asked. Gold shrugged.

“She’s in good hands. I’m sure she’ll be fine. I don’t want to see her in pain, of course.”

“And the baby?”

“The baby will be fine too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Dr Hopper calmly. “You said in our first meeting that you were excited to be a father again. Do you have any other feelings?”

Gold hesitated, ducking his head a little.

“I am excited,” he said eventually. “But there’s this underlying sense of - unease - I suppose.”

“About what?”

“About bringing this child into the world when I couldn’t hold onto the last,” he said, his voice soft. “About whether I’ll fail to protect it. Whether I’ll be - enough.”

“Do you worry that Belle will take it from you?”

“No,” he said, after a pause. “No, I don’t think she’d do that. Not really. Not now I’ve told her how much the thought of it scares me. Belle wouldn’t use my own fears against me like that. She isn’t cruel.”

“Of course not.”

Dr Hopper waited, and Gold ran a hand across the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“It’s more a fear of what may happen in the future,” he said eventually. “That my child will leave and not come back. That I’ll drive him away; something that I say or do will be the last straw, and he’ll leave.”

“I see.” He could hear the sound of Dr Hopper’s pen scratching away. “Is there anything that sets off this train of thought?”

“Not really.” Gold thought for a moment. “Maybe. When I think about Bailey.”

“Your first son?” Dr Hopper nodded slowly. “You said he was two when his mother took him away.”

“Yes.”

“What was it that made her go?”

“I don’t know…” Gold sat back with a sigh. “She was seeing someone else. She was bored with me. I wanted financial and physical stability for our child, and she wanted excitement and - and drama for herself. The two were incompatible. We were incompatible.”

“Was there something specific that you said or did that made her leave?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“So the leaving was her choice.”

“Yes.”

“And your son had no choice in the matter at all,” added Dr Hopper. “Being two.”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why do you think it makes you worry about this child leaving?”

Gold hesitated.

“I suppose when you say it like that, it’s ridiculous,” he admitted, and Dr Hopper smiled.

“Oh, I find there’s very little that’s completely ridiculous,” he said. “Sometimes the reasons behind someone’s thought patterns may be a little convoluted, but there’s usually some basis in reality. Unfortunately, sometimes our minds focus on the least likely and most painful scenarios that may come from that.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that,” grumbled Gold.

“So if you know that it wasn’t your son’s choice to leave,” said Dr Hopper. “Why do you fear your second child leaving you?”

“Because he never came back.”

Gold snapped his mouth shut, feeling tears prick his eyes, a heavy weight seeming to shift inside him. Dr Hopper was silent, waiting, and he forced himself to speak.

“He never came back,” he repeated, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I tried to find him for - for years. I employed private detectives and followed up leads and took out advertisements....” He broke off with a bark of a laugh. “I even went on some of those stupid shows where they try to reunite you with lost loved ones. I thought - I thought even if he didn’t watch them himself, maybe someone who knew him would see, they’d tell him. And - and nothing. He doesn’t want to be found. He - he doesn’t want me to find him.”

“Do you think that’s because of something you did?” Dr Hopper’s tone was careful, and Gold shrugged.

“Maybe it was what I didn’t do,” he said. “Milah always said I worked too much. I should have spent more time with him.”

“How much do you think he remembers?” asked Dr Hopper. “Given that he was two.”

“I don’t know…” Gold ran his hands over his face. “Why wouldn’t he look for his father? If she abandoned him, if she left him with Social Services, why wouldn’t he seek me out? All these years I’ve told myself that maybe he had no information to go on, that she told him nothing about me, but maybe that’s not the case. Maybe he chose not to look.”

“I understand how painful those thoughts must be,” said Dr Hopper gently. “Let’s consider your other child for a moment. You worry that you’ll do or say something to make this child leave and not come back.”

“Yes.”

“Some - confrontation, perhaps,” he went on. “I’m assuming you’re looking ahead to when the child is a teenager or a young adult.”

“Yes.”

“Conflict between a parent and child is the most natural thing in the world,” added Dr Hopper, his tone reassuring. “Especially when a child is maturing and starting to make its own choices.”

“I don’t want to be the reason my child leaves,” whispered Gold, and Dr Hopper smiled.

“Then how about you and I talk through some ways of communicating that should maximise your chances of avoiding something like that?” he suggested.

“Alright.” Gold nodded. “Yes. Good.”

“You’ll probably find these techniques useful in other relationships,” he added, and Gold gave him a wry smile.

“Good.”

“I’m going to give you some homework to do, as well,” said Dr Hopper. “Recording these unwanted thoughts. There are some worksheets I’d like you to complete. A kind of journal.”

“Alright.” Gold slumped a little in the chair, feeling drained. “It’ll give me something to do while we’re waiting for the baby to arrive.”

x

“So.” Emma slumped into one of the kitchen chairs, folding her arms across the back and eyeing Belle. “Not long now. You have your bag packed and ready?”

“It’s in the hall,” said Belle, sliding the casserole into the oven and closing the door. “You guys want a drink?”

“You sit down, me and Henry are on it,” said Neal. “I’m guessing some sort of tea?”

“Yeah, can I have fennel?” asked Belle, rubbing a hand over her belly. “This little guy’s been kicking so hard it gave me indigestion.”

“Wine for me,” said Emma, and grinned at Belle. “Hey, I can’t wait until the two of us can have a girls’ night. You can leave Gold changing diapers and come out and get wasted.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Belle sat down with a sigh of relief, still rubbing her belly. She had been having odd twinges all day, and it was getting on her nerves.

“I think he’d be in his element, anyway,” she said. “It’s gonna be a new thing for him, having a newborn to care for, but he’s been reading all the books. I think he’ll be great.”

“Wasn’t he around when his son was born?” asked Neal.

“I’m sure he would have been, had he known about it,” she said dryly, and Neal and Emma winced.

“Ouch,” said Emma. “Poor guy.”

“Yeah.” Belle slumped in her chair a little. “I get the feeling that’s not the only issue from his past that he needs to work through.”

“How’s the therapy going?” asked Emma, and Belle wrinkled her nose.

“He seems - less anxious about it,” she said eventually. “I think it took him a while to open up, but that’s no surprise. He’s committed to it, though.”

“Is that where he is now?”

“That’s the reason he went to Storybrooke, but he’s had his session,” said Belle. “I spoke to him this afternoon. He said he had a tenancy issue to sort out and then he’d be on his way back.”

She flinched as another spasm went through her. That one had hurt more than the last. Neal set a cup of fennel tea in front of her and gave Henry his cocoa before pouring two glasses of wine and slipping into the chair next to Emma. He was watching her with a tiny frown on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You keep wincing.”

“Yeah, just twinges,” said Belle, and Emma looked thoughtful.

“What kind of twinges?”

“Just - I don’t know, I guess the baby’s head is pressing on something. It’s been going on most of the day.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Well, it does now,” sighed Belle. “Figured it was Braxton Hicks. They’ve been driving me nuts this past month, but this is hurting more.”

“You got any backache?”

“Yeah,” said Belle, pressing a hand to her back. “God, I’ll be glad when this is over.”

“You may get your wish sooner than you think,” said Emma. “Sounds like you could be in early labour.”

“What?” Belle shook her head. “But the baby’s not due until next week.”

“Yeah, but babies don’t always stick to the schedule, and everything you just described could be early labour pains,” said Emma. “How often are you getting the twinges?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe a few times an hour?”

“Hmm.” Emma reached for her glass of wine. “You might want to time them. Could be nothing. Could be something.”

“Is the baby coming?” asked Henry excitedly.

“Maybe, kid.” Emma took a sip of her wine. “Belle, what time’s Alex getting back?”

“I don’t know, he said he’d call when he left.” Belle rubbed at her back, trying to ease the dull ache. “You think I should call him?”

“Not until you need to go to hospital,” said Emma. “If it is early labour you’ve probably got a good few hours before then. The baby probably won’t come until tomorrow.”

“Right.” Belle turned her mug of tea with nervous fingers. “Wow. Is this really it?”

Emma reached over to grasp her hand.

“You’re gonna be fine,” she said firmly. “We can time the contractions, and we’ll stay with you until Gold gets back, okay?”

“Okay.” 

Belle tapped her fingers against the mug restlessly. The dull ache in her lower back was getting worse, and the pain wasn’t helped by her nerves.

“D’you want me to read you a story?” asked Henry. “I always feel better if I get a story.”

Belle smiled at him.

“Thanks Henry, that sounds great.”

“Cool! I’m gonna read you the one about Beauty and the Beast!”

He slipped from the table and ran through to the lounge to get the storybook he carried everywhere. Belle was feeling restless, fingers still tapping, and she pushed to her feet, almost toppling the chair over backwards.

“You okay?” asked Neal.

“Yeah, fine,” she muttered. “I’m just - excuse me a moment.”

She strode from the room, heading for the bathroom. There was wetness between her legs, a sudden rush of fluid. She had taken to wearing pads in the lead-up to her due date, as the literature suggested, and this felt like something that needed attention. A strong cramp went through her, and Belle stopped dead, pressing a hand to her belly with a groan, her heart thumping. How long since the last one? Ten minutes? Less?

“Belle?” Emma had put her head around the kitchen door and was eyeing her curiously. “You okay?”

Belle turned on her toes slowly, trying to steady her breathing as the cramping continued.

“Could you call Alex?” she asked. “I think my waters just broke.”

[jack-o-cel]

I would like to officially introduce one of my OC's that live rent-free in my brain. He's a Resident Evil 8 OC. Even tho he's a fandom OC, he means a lot to me and has grown on me a lot. He's special to me :]

Also please spare me, Resi 8 is my first game in the Resident Evil series.

Forester Vein

Nickname: Ester

Biological Age: 138

Age Appearance: Early 20s

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay Demisexual

Place of birth: Norway

Occupation: Miranda's right-hand man. He essentially does her bidding and only takes orders from her. He also has power over the lords but is usually tasked with helping them. Besides that, he's a Botanist.

Family: Both his parents are dead. All he has is his little brother Foxglove, who looks around 7 years old.

Appearance: Forester is about 5'9". He's a twig. He's pretty pale with long white hair (It was originally brown before being implanted with his Cadou). He has light blue faded sharp eyes. He has sharp teeth (an effect of his Cadou). He also wears glasses.

When carrying out his duties for Miranda he wears a white tailcoat with gold accents, a black and white striped vest, a black dress shirt, a white and gold cross tie, black slacks, and black dress shoes with gold accents.

On his own time, he wears a white t-shirt, a beige knitted jacket, black sweatpants, and socks with sandals.

Personality: On duty, he's in what I affectionately call, customer service mode. He's very formal and helpful. He'll hold his tongue. He's Miranda's most loyal servant and does his very best to meet her expectations. On his own time, however, he more casual and sassy. He speaks his mind. Oh, and he hates Miranda with every fiber of his being (which is a lot :3).

In general, he's manipulative, obsessive, and smug. But also caring to those he loves. Would go above and beyond for them. He's a pretty serious and quiet person. Only when he's alone or with his little brother does his playful and goofy side come out. Despite his usual serious attitude, he's very expressive. His most common expression is a mocking smile.

He's very clumsy, especially when thinking about his obsession, whoever that may be. He's borderline yandere (His yandere behavior is a combination of Yuno from Future Diary, and Tsukiyama from Tokyo Ghoul).

Powers/Abilities: Enhanced strength, and regeneration.

Forester can control large thick vines (which look like large tendrils) and all plant life. He can release special pollen that allows him to control plant life (similar to Donna). The vines are different tho. He can control them without his pollen. To understand why first you have to understand how Ester's body works.

His body underneath his skin is made of vines. He also can easily regrow his limbs and regenerate his skin and hair. His vines are an extension of himself. Although his body is his main body, it isn't his core. His core is located underground surrounded by vines and impossible to get to. Vines from the core spread across the village underground. Forester can only go a few miles away from the edge of the underground vines.

The only time his core would be possible to access is when Forester transforms. His transformed state is a 50-foot tall behemoth made of vines. In this state, he's stuck where he transformed. The core is moved to just below the neck area of the vine monster. Fighting Forester is suicide in most cases. He attacks with huge vine tendrils from his arms and the base of the beast. He doesn't tire and his vines regenerate.

There are only two ways to beat him. The first way would involve killing him. You would need large amounts of fire-spreading explosives to slow him down. It makes getting to his core easier, you'll still be getting attacked tho. You'll need to be able to fly (or just about anything that's not climbing) to his core, climbing would take too long. You'll need to plant explosives where the core is sealed away. Once opened, jump in as fast as you can, the vines will close shut rather quickly.

The core is a large amber sphere. it's soft and gooey when touched gently, but if you were to attack it, it would harden. Inside the core is the shape of a man in the form of vines. That's where Forester's brain and Cadou is. Destroying that kills him.

The second method requires cooperation with Forester's brother, Foxglove. This method is to non-lethally beat him. In this method you cant use explosives, Fox won't agree to help you otherwise. You'll need a team to pull this off. You need someone, or a group, to distract the majority of the vines. You'll need a way to get to the core and something strong enough to pry open the vines long enough for Foxglove to enter where he'll take care of the rest. This method saves Forester, but kills Foxglove.

His Area: Just like the four lords he has his own area. You'll need the six-winged unborn vine key to unlock the gate that leads to his garden lab. The lab is outside with a greenhouse nearby. It's a small area. Most, if not all, would miss the entrance to his underground lair.

The underground area is seven floors down with an arena to the right of all the floors. You can peek inside the arena through 5 of the sub levels. sublevel 1 is above the arena, while level 7 is where the entrance to the arena is. The arena's ceiling is about 60 feet tall. It's used for testing Miranda's experiments abilities among other things. Forester uses it to test and train his own abilities (which is why the ceiling is so high :3).

From the main entrance to the bottom level is a spiral staircase. Each sublevel has a floor gate on the steps with a unique lock. To continue you have to find the key somewhere in the sublevel. Each level has its own tactics and enemies. They're all based on the five senses. Also, before entering you will be disarmed, one way or another.

Sublevel 1 - normal. There's an elevator on this floor locked behind a door that requires the vine key, that only Forester, and his little brother (who i'll talk about later in the post) have. The elevator goes to each level by going through hallways behind the arena walls.

Sublevel 2 - enemies that rely on sight. It'll be essentially hide and sneak kinda gameplay. If you get spotted you have to run out of sight and into a hiding place. You cant be seen going into a hiding spot.

Sublevel 3 - enemies that rely on hearing. You have to explore as quietly as possible. If a chase scene happens you have to hide in a special safe room.

Sublevel 4 - enemies that rely on smell. You'll have to regularly step into ponds that have a special substance inside that masks your scent into smelling like the enemy. But you can't get too close to the enemies there. They'll be able to identify you if you're too close. There are special rooms filled with an overwhelming amount of scents that the enemies wont enter.

Sublevel 5 - the enemies there rely on touch. They have long arms and hands that sweep across the floors. All you gotta do is avoid them. Harder said than done tho. The enemies can sense vibrations =). Dont move too erratically. Simple fast movements are best. Since they're rather big, they cant fit inside some rooms.

Sublevel 6 - The enemies here rely on taste. The key in this level is at the end of a large room that's packed with enemies with long tongues. They interact with their tongues. If they taste a human they'll attack. You have to explore the rest of the level for a vine suit to disguise as one of them. A few enemies roam outside the crowded room tho. They whip their tongues around them. It's a pretty wide radius, but it's not fast. To get past them you gave to see the whip pattern. There are no safe rooms or hide spots, besides the merchant room, in this level.

Sublevel 7 - All the above (with Forester roaming around as a treat =3)~

Arena - Boss Battle =))))))

Story: Forester was born in one of the poorest areas in Norway. His parents barely had enough to feed him, and themselves. When Ester was 10 he found a job at a garden owned by an old wealthy woman. To get the job he had to pretend to be rich. He did a lot of stalking to learn the behavior of rich kids his age; he got very good and stalking and slipping on a mask. He also stole clothes and food to look the part. The old lady was none the wiser. For 6 years she believed in his carefully constructed lie.

The old lady happened to have no living relatives, with no one else to give her wealth and belongings to, she gave it all to Forester when she died; He was 16. With his newly acquired wealth, he gave his family a comfortable home, with everything they could need and want.

Forester had always wanted to attend school, but could never afford or have time for it. Now that he could, he immediately enrolled. It was incredibly difficult. He was somewhat educated, he'd stolen books in the past and taught himself, but he was still incredibly behind. Regardless he tried his best and spent countless nights up studying. Eventually, he was able to do more than catch up, but surpass many of his peers.

After graduation, he went to college out of his country where he majored in botany and aimed for a PhD. He met Miranda in college. They had a few similar classes and got along well. Eventually, they became close friends.

After graduating from college they both went out to do their own thing, but kept in touch and traveled often together. Eventually, Forester decided to work as her assistant and learn from her.

In his early 30s, he took in his little brother, Foxglove, after their parents died. Foxglove was around a year or two years old at the time. While raising his brother, Forester felt a void in him filled. He had someone to love and take care of. Someone he could trust and love unconditionally. Both Foxglove and Eva got along well and played often together.

When Eva died, Forester was there to support his closest most trusted friend. When Miranda found the megamycete she went to her friend and explained what happened and her new plan. Forester, although wary, supported her in any way he could. He refused to go near the megamycete tho.

When he got close to it, Miranda pushed him into it. The megamycete grabbed Forester with tendrils and seemed to absorb him into it.

A few months after Eva died. Foxglove wandered into the forest nearby and found beautiful flowers. Ones that shared his name. Curious the boy ate a few of the flowers. Not too long afterward he came to his brother as fast as he could. He felt sick. Very sick. Fox explained what happened to Forester. Panicked he quickly tried his best to make a remedy, a cure, anything with what he had. But with no time or sufficient supplies on hand, Foxglove died in his arms.

It broke Forester. The void from before returned, larger than before. He desperately turned to Miranda for help. Miranda smiled, with something malicious behind her smile, and told him to go to the megamycete.

Inside the megamycete was an indescribable experience. While inside Ester could feel his body painfully changing. It also awoke something hiding deep in his mind. Something he was forced to forget. Miranda had been brainwashing him for years as an experiment in creating a truly loyal servant. He could feel his anger overwhelm him. He thought they were friends. He thought he could trust her. She knows things about him that he never said out loud before. He was hurt, betrayed, and pissed. Forester was determined to confront her, make her pay.

With his mind quieter, Forester remembered his brother. He found Miranda and approached her carefully and asked where his brother is. Miranda took him to an unmarked grave in the forest. He broke down. Miranda interrupted him, and asked him what he was going to do. Was he going to continue to wallow in despair or try to bring Foxglove back?

He clawed his way out of the megamycete. He felt heavy, but he continued. Eventually, he broke through after weeks of being trapped. With him a giant sphere like object covered in vines emerged. Upon inspecting it, he quickly realized what it was. He could believe what he saw. He had to hide it, and fast. He had looked down and had an idea.

He felt a newfound power within him, and with it, he sent his core deep underground where its vines would grow and spread. With his core safe he confronted Miranda. She initially tried to kill him, but found the effort futile. Instead, she spoke a series of words. Forester blacked out.

When he awoke he was sitting in a chair in Miranda's lab. Miranda was nowhere in sight. Desperate to find answers he returned to the megamycete. Touching it revealed the truth. When he blacked out, he was still awake, but he wasn't himself. He saw as he answered every question Miranda asked and did exactly as he was told. He calmed his growing anger and thought carefully. He needed a plan to bypass her brainwash effect.

Soon he began working on his lab and lair. He worked tirelessly on ways to bring back his brother. After years of research and testing, he was able to make an exact copy made of foxglove flowers. Forester not caring that what he created was a copy, embraced the boy and accepted him. Ester explained to the new Foxglove who he was.

Forester was content. He had his brother back. Still, the void remained. Regardless he could now focus on getting rid of Miranda. By then he had learned how to pass messages and take notes unconsciously. He informed his brother about his situation.

As the years passed, Foxglove stayed physically the same, but his mind grew.

Eventually, during the time that Heisenberg began preparing his army, Forester had Fox give him a letter explaining everything he knew. In secret, the two conspired against Miranda.

Currently: So Forester was created for an rp with one of my closest friends (@plague-doctorz). So what happened with Forester is that a war had started with three forces. Heisenberg's army, William's (Plagues' OC) army, Miranda's one-man brainwashed army, Forester. Will provoked Forester into transforming, according to Foxglove's plan. After dealing with many attack from Forester, the pair, with Lady Dimitrescu's help, formed a plan.

William acted as the distraction. With most of the vines focused on him, Alcina, transformed, swooped in through the middle, while dealing with stray vines, and brought Fox to where the core is. She pryed open the vines. Foxglove stepped inside and forced Alcina to let go. The vines shut closed. Inside Fox opened up the amber easily. Even in a brainwashed state, Forester trusted his brother no matter what.

Foxglove began flaking into leaves and flowers and flew into the crevices of the vines that made up Forester. He was able to snap Ester back to his senses at the cost of his life.

Forester had lost consciousness, and when he awoke, Miranda was already dead. He felt even emptier than before. The hole in his heart got wider when he found out what happened.

Right now, a few months later, Forester is at a state where he's on the brink of snapping. What he needs is closure, and something to fill the void in his heart. But can he have both? Will he even get either?

=)

So this is Forester! Please send me any questions and stuff if youre interested. I love to talk about him! Seriously, he lives rent free in my head.

Oh also, here's a picrew of him while I'm still working on his sketches~

His hair down too, cause im a simp,,,

Also here's Foxglove!

Also here's the link to a playlist on spotify based on Forester: here

one last thing

👉👈 @roxyourworld look what i did~

[yukipri]

How do you think the ASL brothers would change if it was Ace that was separated and Sabo stayed with Luffy on Dawn Island?

Hey there! I’m so sorry for taking my time with this ask! It’s a really great question and I wanted to take my time thinking about and typing out my answer...and well. It got LONG ^ ^;;;;;

Bc oh man do I think things would change a LOT, but in order to answer this question, let’s first sorta picture the scenario itself. How did Ace end up the one separated?

This could go a number of ways, but here’s one that comes to mind.

~~

The boys are running back from causing mischief in High Town, when Ace overhears some gossip.

Did you hear, the marines are coming! Apparently they found a terrible, terrible criminal, hiding right here in Goa, and they’re coming to get rid of him before the Celestial Dragons arrive!

A terrible criminal?

Oh dear, what terrible crime did they commit?

Well, nothing, apparently, or at least nothing yet.

What do you mean?

They say he’s the son of the most wanted, most terrible man in history. But don’t worry, the marines’ll take care of him before--

Ace feels like the world’s suddenly gone black and white. He feels numb, barely hearing Sabo shouting at him to hurry, barely registers Luffy tugging his hand and looking up at him with worry.

They’ve come for him. He should have known. Gramps may have tried to hide him, but there’s no escaping Gol D. Roger’s infamy.

Ace knows once he would have sneered, said See, Gramps? I knew this would happen. But now, he feels fear.

Ace doesn’t fear death, and will look it in the eye and punch it when it comes for him. But fear grips him now, as he stares blankly into the campfire Sabo’s set up, finally registering that Luffy’s calling his name and still tugging at his arm.

He doesn’t fear death for himself. But when they come for him, to end his life because of his blood, will they spare Sabo and Luffy? Will they spare the brothers of the Pirate King’s son?

Somehow, Ace doubts it.

And so he knows he’s got to go. He’s got to leave now, before they find him, before they find Sabo and Luffy, before they can steal away his family.

An adult Ace, looking back regretfully, would lament the timing of his brash actions. But Ace had never been a thinker, more of a doer, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing his brothers--even now, he can’t.

And he couldn’t have known back then that the island had had two boys considered the sons of the worst criminals in history.

So he doesn’t blame his younger self for writing a sloppy letter, tucking it under Sabo’s head, and then fleeing into the night to steal a boat that he’d use to leave the island on come daybreak. Running away, leaving his brothers behind, making Sabo vow to continue looking after Luffy like he always had, until one day, the three of them could be reunited once more.

Young Ace doesn’t even know what a Celestial Dragon is. All he knows is that an enormous ship, the likes of which he’d never seen before, is approaching--

And then everything is FIRE, and then, blank.

Dragon and the Revolutionaries had been in the area, but not just to rescue people from the Gray Terminal fire. They had intel, and Dragon had reason to believe that the marines may have found Luffy, and his connection to Dragon. The commander of the Revolutionary Army kept his distance from his son, but he wasn’t going to let the child get slaughtered for his relation to a father he’d never even met.

He’d briefly run into Ace while he was stealing a boat. He hadn’t stopped the child, but had been curious about his raw desperation, his bitterness towards his blood, and his determination to protect his found family.

Dragon is surprised to find the boy in the wreckage of an utterly destroyed sailboat.

The boy is terribly burned, and has no memory of anything, not even his own name--but he is immediately terrified at the suggestion that they return him to the island, shouting that he doesn’t know why, but he can’t go back there, they’ll find Them and kill Them if I go back there, and it’ll all be my fault--!

He decides to let the boy stay. His name is Ace, they think, the name found among his belongings. With the Celestial Dragons come and gone, marine presence on the island also fades, and Dragon concludes that Luffy is safe for the time being. He sends a coded message to Garp to be careful, and then disappears back to Baltigo with his new charge.

After regaining his memories, adult Ace grudgingly admits that while he still wishes it’d never happened, there were some perks to memory loss.

For one, he’d completely forgotten that he was the son of the late Pirate King. He still had a weird fixation towards fathers, but after getting attached to Dragon, and Dragon accepting his protege’s need for a father figure, the desperation fades.

While not the best at studies, Ace is physical strong, and takes to Revolutionary Army training like he was born for it. He masters both Armament and Observation Haki by fourteen, and with his private training sessions with Dragon, is becoming terrifyingly proficient with Conqueror’s Haki as well.

Ace is still learning, but the power he exudes when unleashing Conqueror’s Haki makes Dragon curious (and some of their peers, nervous). He’s only ever heard of one person exhibiting the kind of power Ace seems to have the potential for.

There are also other perks to being a member of the Revolutionary Army. Dragon isn’t the most wanted criminal in history for no reason. The location of the Army headquarters in Baltigo is a tightly kept secret, one that the World Government has desperately been searching for ever since it was built, but to no avail.

Even as the Marines track the rumors of Gol D. Roger’s child, as long as Ace remains in Baltigo, it’s like he vanished into thin air. And should they have discovered Headquarters, the Pirate King’s son would have been the least of their concerns.

And so Ace grows strong, no longer shackled by self-hatred of his blood, but also haunted by nameless whispers that keep him up at night, a sense of foreboding and aching longing that he’s forgetting something vital about himself, something that he both needs to remember, and doesn’t dare to touch.

~~

On Dawn Island, on that fateful day, Sabo wakes up to find a letter written in a child’s familiar sloppy hand. He tries not to panic, knowing that Ace’s long gone, and tries to think rationally on how he should move next. Even with Ace’s clumsy words, Sabo understands what his brother had been trying to say.

They’d discovered Ace’s parentage. Ace felt that he would endanger Sabo and Luffy by staying with them. So Ace left the island early, by himself, entrusting Sabo with their younger brother.

Sabo doesn’t know how he can possibly tell Luffy that Ace left to protect them, and to convince him that they need to stay.

And then Sabo suddenly doesn’t need to, because suddenly there’s shouting below the tree house, and Luffy’s blearily sitting up.

Ace is dead.

~~

Sabo tries to maintain a level headed facade in front of Luffy (even if he cries, screams his lungs out for Ace in private). He needs to support their little brother, now more than ever. Ace is gone. Ace entrusted Sabo with Luffy.

Sabo will not lose Luffy.

~~

~~

What next?

There’s the chance that Sabo would act as Ace did, continuing training and then leaving the island at seventeen as promised.

But what if he didn’t? Seventeen is a number that Sabo chose, because noble-born children become fully fledged nobles at eighteen. But now there are other, more important things at stake now.

Given what happened to Ace, and the possibility of the marines returning, Garp tells Sabo about Luffy’s heritage (he hadn’t told Luffy yet, at Ace’s request, Ace not wanting Luffy to hate himself as Ace did. Garp doubted Luffy would react that way to Dragon, but he lets Ace have this, this attempt at protecting his little brother).

Knowing that Luffy’s the son of a man rapidly growing to be as infamous as the Pirate King kicks Sabo’s overprotective instincts into overdrive.

Sabo will not lose Luffy.

From here out, there’s three possible routes. The first two routes assume that Sabo’s parents never end up coming for him (they forgot about their son for five years, who says they wouldn’t for more).

1) Pirates Route:

Sabo swallows his pride, and agrees to join Luffy’s crew, much to the younger’s delight. The thought of being captain of his own crew now seems pale in comparison to keeping Luffy safe and also keeping his last promise to his lost brother. And so Sabo vows to stay at Luffy’s side as his guardian. They leave the island to become pirates together.

2) Marines Route:

Sabo demands that Garp take him and Luffy to be trained as marines. Sabo feels nothing for disdain for both the marines and World Government, and has every intention of taking Luffy and ditching as soon as they’re safe. But right now they can provide several things that he wants and needs:

1) He feels it’s too dangerous to remain on Dawn Island with potential government eyes on them, and Garp is a relatively secure way of ensuring they can leave. They know too little about the outside world now, and carelessly leaving on a boat and getting blasted like Ace is the last thing they need.

2) He wants training for both himself and Luffy, not just combat, but on how to survive at sea. The marines, at least, should be able to provide plenty of that experience.

3) Sabo doesn’t want to be caught unawares ever again. Ace fled because he’d overheard a rumor. If Sabo had known, perhaps the outcome would have been different. Sabo’s always been the thinker, the planner among the brothers, and he wants information, especially if there’s a chance that the government will make a move on Luffy. Sabo’s goal is to work his way up the ranks until he not only has access, but is in charge of investigations hunting the Revolutionary Army, and more importantly to him, the existence and location of the Commander’s rumored child. As Chief of marine intel, Sabo will be able to control what information goes to the higher ups, and which information needs to be quietly eliminated.

(and if his investigations into the Revolutionary Army leads him to become curious about the powerful fire logia user who is their Chief of Staff...)

3) Royalty Route:

Sabo’s parents find him, shortly after Ace’s “death,” and demand he returns to High Town and his noble heritage. With Ace gone, abandoning Luffy to a life by himself isn’t an option, but neither is letting his little brother be killed. So Sabo decides that he’s got to do what he must. Protect Luffy at all costs.

He strikes a deal with his parents. He’ll return to them, and he’ll be their perfect little noble son, but ONLY with the condition that Luffy comes with them. His parents are unhappy with the deal, but grudgingly agree, warning that if Sabo doesn’t truly impress them, they have no problem with, ah, eliminating both Sabo and his tag along because they have Stelly as a perfectly viable replacement.

Sabo can excel when he puts his mind to it, and although inside he froths with rage and hatred, he will do anything to keep Luffy safe.

Luffy is his one and only saving grace who keeps him sane. Luffy, who is now trapped in this birdcage alongside Sabo, and it’s all Sabo’s fault. He’s called Sabo’s “servant,” despite being incapable of doing chores, and is ignored by the entire household other than Sabo.

And while Luffy’s clearly uncomfortable, he doesn’t complain. He senses Sabo’s pain, and his suffering, and takes it upon himself to soothe his older brother, to keep him company, to love him. Luffy will never leave here, if it means leaving Sabo. Because nothing is more terrible than being alone and Luffy knows that best. 

So Sabo keeps moving forward, vowing to Ace every night that he’s going to protect Luffy, no matter what. If this is the hand that he’s been dealt, Sabo will just have to make do. Sabo wonders how far up the hierarchy he’ll have to climb in order to guarantee Luffy’s safety.

(or, Sabo eventually becomes King of Goa, and Luffy is his “servant.”)

~~

~~

Are just some possibilities I came up with! To anyone who made it to the bottom of this post, thanks for reading!

Do any of the three scenarios I came up with sound interesting? Which is your favorite/do you think is most likely? Should I write a follow up??

EDIT: >> Follow Up

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

[letsgivethisonemoreshot]

Thing For You

Word Count: 1,840

Warnings: Mentions of sexual situations, rape, bdsm aspects

Summary: While at a friend's party, Valerie runs into the one person she hopes she would never have to see again.

Author's Note: I have always loved this song, since I first heard it. One day while listening, my brain decided to turn it from a romantic loving song, to a sadistic scary song. Hope you enjoy this take on Hinder's Thing For You.

Valerie walked into the banquet hall in her dark green dress and was in awe of her surroundings. Her friend Michelle had just gotten engaged, and her parents being wealthy and high society wanted to throw her an engagement party. But this engagement party had well over one hundred guests, all dressed in cocktail attire. Servers were walking around with appetizers and champagne. There was a DJ and it was decorated beautifully. She couldn't even imagine what the wedding itself would look like.

She walked through the sea of people until she found some that she recognized. They were standing off to the side of the dance floor, drink in hand talking. She joined in their conversation, talking and laughing. She was also scanning the room looking for Michelle. While searching, she found another group of friends that she knew, and among them was a man that she was hoping she wouldn't see tonight. She was hoping that maybe he hadn't seen her, but before she could look away his crystal blue eyes locked onto hers. He had left the group he was talking to and walked over to the one where Valerie was and greeted everyone with a charming smile.

Valerie hadn't really known him. The only time she had really ever seen him was at group outings. He was a very attractive man. He was in great shape. His dark hair and facial hair was a contrast to his light eyes. And having only been in the United States for a few years he had a very thick Irish accent. She was surprised when he asked her during a party if she would like to go to dinner with him one night. It gave her the feeling of having butterflies in her stomach. But now when she saw him her stomach turned for other reasons.

Valerie excused herself to go and find Michelle while everyone else continued on with their conversations. As she was weaving around the people on the dance floor she felt someone grab her upper arm causing her to turn around, bringing her face to face with the one person she didn't want to see.

"Hey Val." He greeted.

"Oh, hey Finn." Valerie got out.

"I was hoping I'd see you here." He said with a smile.

"I didn't think you'd be here. I didn't know you were still close with Michelle."

Finn shrugged. "Eh, I'm not really. But I hang out with Trevor and the guys a lot. So here I am."

"Well you have a good time tonight with them. I'm going to go try and find Michelle." Valerie said trying to end the conversation.

He still had his hand wrapped around her arm. When she tried to take a step back, his grip tightened to stop her.

"She's outside schmoozing her future in-laws." Finn told her. "Not really the kind of thing you'd want to interrupt. So what do you say in the meantime you share a dance with me? It's been a while."

"I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate that very much." Valerie answered quickly.

"Oh? Where is he?" Finn asked. He had noticed that she had arrived by herself, and no other man had come and joined her since she had been there.

"He had to work." She answered trying not to stutter.

"Shame. I would have loved to meet him. But since he's not here we can share one dance. What he won't know won't hurt him." Finn stated with a smile.

"Yeah, but it might hurt me." Valerie mumbled under her breath without thinking.

He yanked on her arm pulling her in closer to him and snaked his arm around her waist. His smile seemingly switched from nice and charming to devilish in a matter of seconds. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

A slow song began to play over the speakers. He released her arm and wrapped his arm around her back along with the other one and slowly started to sway to the music. The sounded sweet and romantic on the surface, but if you really listened to the words, that was not the case.

"Kind of a strange song to play at an engagement party." Valerie pointed out recognizing the song. Also trying to make normal conversation hoping these few minutes would pass quickly. Unfortunately for her, his answer just made her more uneasy.

"I requested it."

Well now that it's morning

Where do you want to go from here

Well now that we're sober

Are your thoughts of me more clear

Oh yeah

Now that your head is right

Did you dig last night

It keeps playing in my mind

Cuz girl I got a thing for you

And I think it's kind of crazy

Cuz I know that you have someone true

Wondering where you were last night

For now we'll say goodbye

But don't think we're through

I got a thing for you

The lyrics sent a shiver down her spine. They were bringing her back to the night she went out with Finn. They had gone out to dinner. They were talking and getting along really well through the night. At the time, she wasn't sure what happened, she had only had one glass of wine during dinner but the next thing she knew she was in Finn's bedroom. She didn't remember agreeing to go back to his place or how she even got there. She had no intention of sleeping with him that night. It was only their first date and they were just only getting to know each other. But he clearly had other plans.

She remembered coming out of her daze with him standing in the doorway watching her. She didn't think she would have to worry about leaving the table to use the restroom on their date, but she had been wrong. Whatever he had given her was just enough to make her loopy enough for him to get her home. From there he would wait. He didn't want her knocked out. He wanted her to feel and experience everything. She quickly realized he wasn't going to let her leave. She begged and pleaded with him that she would do whatever he wanted as long as he didn't hurt her. But that wasn't in his plans either. He took pleasure in hurting people. The more they begged, the more they screamed, the rougher he got, and the more he enjoyed it.

She remembered back to that night, him giving her just enough slack in the restraints to fight back, but not enough to get away. She remembered how he'd laugh at her attempts to do so. She remembered trying so hard not to scream or react to anything knowing that's what he wanted, but he did whatever he could to make her.

Well now that you're home

Will he be the first thing that you see

I know you'll compare us

How does he match up next to me

Oh yeah

Now that your head is right

Did you dig last night

It keeps playing in my mind

Cuz girl I got a thing for you

And I think it's kind of crazy

Cuz I know that you have someone true

Wondering where you were last night

After that night, Valerie hadn't dated anyone in a while. She wasn't sure who she could trust anymore. When she finally did start dating her boyfriend, she would only meet up with him in public places, never let anything she would eat or drink out of her sight, and would never let him take her home. She had told him that she had been attacked, so he understood and worked with her. It took her a long time before she was comfortable enough to be intimate with him. She was worried about how she would react to being with someone again. Worried to have to show him the scars she had on her body.

So girl I got a thing for you

And I know that night was hazy

But I still remember waking up

And kissing your head one more time

For now we'll say goodbye

But don't think we're through

I got a thing for you

She remembered laying in his bed when he was done with her. She was untied, physically free, but she wasn't able to get away. She was in too much pain to move. She quietly sobbed, hugging herself, trying to will the strength to get up. He had crawled into the bed and laid down beside her. He draped his arm over her pulling her close against him and gently kissed the back of her head. The gentleness of him now after everything he had just done made her want to crawl out of her skin.

She should have forced herself to get up, to run away, to try and get help. But she just couldn't. Even if she fought through the pain, the truth was, as disgusted as she was by him, she was even more scared. She knew what he was capable of just because he wanted to, who knows what would have happened when he was angry. And she was sure with how he was around all of their friends that no one would believe her over him.

Finn holding her close to him, feeling her body pushed up against his, she felt trapped again. She didn't want to push him away and cause a scene. And she wasn't even sure she would be able to if she tried. She looked up at him, his eyes peering down onto her. The icy blue color matched the coldness of his heart. He moved his hands around slightly around her lower back. He brushed up against a spot by her side where she had a heart shaped scar, caressing it. She winced when he found it. He kept a small knife in his nightstand, to brand the ones he really liked. He would cut into them so deep that they would never be able to heal properly. Then they knew that they would always be his, and that at some point he would be back. Valerie knew that she couldn't have been the only one, she just didn't know how many there were. She often wondered if that is why he left Ireland or if why some of the people she knew had moved away.

As the song was coming to an end, she tried to gather whatever courage she could.

"Okay Finn, that was your dance. I really have to go try to find Michelle now." She said trying to sound strong.

His arms were still wrapped around her, hands placed on her back. He wasn't holding her there tightly, but he still wasn't letting her back away. Not until the song was over, not until he was ready.

"Thank you for the wonderful dance Val. And don't worry, I'll be seeing you again soon."

For now we'll say goodbye

But don't think we're through

I got a thing for you

[nevernotwriting]

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 7: No Honour Among Thieves

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

Your mind was still brimming with questions about Yancy as the sun was setting over the courtyard. Where was he taking you? Why had he got such an apparent affinity for you? And, perhaps the most burning question of all, why exactly was he helping you in the first place?

You hummed to yourself. He said he knew you had something worth fighting for on the outside, but that didn’t explain why he’d been so eager to get to know you.

Right on cue, Yancy waltzed up to you with a small smile. “All right, it’s nearly time for the guards to switch out for the evenin’ shift. That means we got about ten minutes in the security room. Yous ready?”

Yancy took your hand and led you around a corner before you could answer.

“No time for questions, we gotta get yous in there. Follow me!”

Yancy peered around one last time before taking the cover off of a vent that was just above floor-level on the side of the building. He gestured for you to enter, following you shortly after.

“Just go straight forward. Make sure there’s no guards around at the end before you get out.”

Just straight forward. You smiled to yourself at the familiarity.

When you made it to the end, you tentatively stuck your head out of the vent. The hallway was clear so you shuffled out, holding out a hand for Yancy as he followed you. He took it and stood up, dusting himself off. He led you to a door that had been left ajar, poking his head in to check the coast was clear.

“All right, in here.”

You entered the room where small televisions filled the wall, all displaying a different section of the prison. There were two office chairs tucked under the desk in front of you, which housed a computer and half a dozen empty coffee cups. You turned to Yancy, who was stood with his head in the hallway.

“You said yous is good with computers, right?” He began, keeping his voice low. “Well I think theys keep all the old security footage on that computer there. Might be able to find out if youses friend got outta here.”

You stared at Yancy. You would have hugged him right then and there if you weren’t on borrowed time. Instead, you shot him a grateful smile before getting to work.

Getting into the computer was child’s play for you by now, so you were logged in within a matter of seconds. You managed to find the archive of security footage, and it didn’t take long to navigate to the footage from two days ago. You clicked on the file, and it spread across the various screens in front of you. You skipped through it until you saw the footage of Mark lecturing the much taller man with you lingering close by. This was the moment of truth.

Seconds later, you saw Mark get smashed through the wall. Your eyes darted around the screens again to find the corresponding footage. Sure enough, it was there; an outside shot of the prison walls, not too far from what looked like the main entrance. The wall gave way as Mark landed outside of it. You cringed as his body hit the grass with a painful thud. With bated breath, you clenched your fists, waiting for him to move.

And sure enough, he did.

He stumbled to his feet and rubbed his head. He stayed still for a few minutes, dazed, then walked away with a slight limp in the opposite direction of the building, out of the camera’s view.

You sighed in relief, but an icy pit formed in your stomach as a realisation crossed your mind.

He hadn’t come back for you.

The pit grew, working its way up to your heart and clenching your throat. Hot tears formed in your eyes as you rewound the footage, making sure you hadn’t imagined it.

But no, it was still there. You watched through blurry eyes as he walked away again, leaving you behind. A sob escaped your throat.

No honour among thieves, I guess.

The door creaked open further, and Yancy came in with an urgent tone to his voice.

“Zero, there’s a guard comin’ any minute now. I can hear ‘em. We gotta get outta here.”

With a bitter frown on your face, you closed the footage and locked the computer. Yancy jumped back in surprise at how quickly you stalked out of the room, ducking into the vent without waiting for him. He clambered in after you, managing to get your attention with a gentle tap on your leg.

“Go right this time. That’ll go right next to youses cell.”

You crawled along, eventually reaching the end. Yancy was right; the vent was directly opposite your cell. You could hear several other prisoners coming back from the showers, so the cells were still unlocked for the time being. You slipped out and ran into your cell, quickly wiping your eyes before Yancy noticed.

Not fast enough. A gentle hand on your shoulder turned you around on the spot. Anger and sadness were still boiling inside you and you tried to avoid his gaze, but he gently lifted your chin with one hand.

“What happened?”

You swallowed past the giant lump in your throat, managing to croak out an answer. “He left me.”

You took a step back from him, turning away to slump on the edge of your bed. Yancy stayed frozen on the spot with a frown on his face, until the realisation hit him. Letting out a deep sigh, he sat next to you and pried one of your hands out of its tightly clenched fist and held it. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and warm.

“Zero… I’m so sorry.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress further tears. A high-pitched whimper escaped you. Yancy held your hand tighter. You stayed like that for a few minutes, Yancy silently comforting you, until you felt calm enough to look at him again. You inhaled shakily and wiped your eyes, turning to see that Yancy was watching you intently with a worried expression. He offered a small smile.

“If you want, I’ll leave yous alone.”

His offer caught you off guard. Amidst the pain in your chest, you found it grew worse at the thought of losing his gentle grip on your hand or his weight next to you on the bed. You replied with two meek words.

“No, stay.”

Yancy nodded, his smile widening a little. You returned it, regretting it when more tears spilled from your eyes. You were about to wipe them away when Yancy did it for you, gliding his free hand across your cheekbones. Your heart jumped again at his gentle demeanour.

“Listen…” Yancy began, swallowing. “For what it’s… shit, I dunno what to say to yous. I’m sorry for takin’ yous in there. I was tryin’ to help, but I just…” he trailed off, ending his sentence with a sigh.

“No, it’s okay.” You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “At… at least now I know.”

Yancy pried his hand out of yours, moving it across your shoulders. He watched for any sign of resistance, pleasantly surprised when you leant your head against his shoulder with a small sniffle.

“I was wondering, though,” you spoke after several seconds of silence. “Why exactly did you help me, Yancy?”

More silence. You were about to ask again, thinking he hadn’t heard you, when he answered in a quiet voice.

“You don’t deserve to be here. I know yous stole somethin’, but this place… it’s for real bad people. Real, real bad. And… I know what it’s like to not be in the right place.”

You frowned, sitting up to face him. He was fixated on the floor as if he could see all the way to the centre of the Earth.

“What do you mean?”

Yancy hesitated, taking his arm from around you and clasping his hands together. He took a deep breath.

“I… I didn’t actually… I didn’t kill my parents.”

Everything you had learned about Yancy ran through your mind like a film. “But what about-”

“It’s a lie,” Yancy interrupted. “Truth is, my sister did it. She was always the family favourite anyway. No one would’ve suspected her. And they didn’t. That psychopath pinned everything on me, little ol’ Yancy the college dropout, Yancy the lost cause, Yancy the renegade, and they believed her. I didn’t stand a chance.”

His expression grew darker with every passing second, but he immediately softened when he turned back to you. He looked exhausted from years of carrying such a burden, and you returned his earlier gesture, reaching out and taking his hand. He jumped at first, staring at your hand as if it were a foreign object, but he let you wind your fingers through his.

“Does anyone else know?”

Yancy shook his head. “Gotta keep my reputation up with the gang in here. Don’t get me wrong, I still done bad things, but they think I’m a lot worse than I am,” he explained with a cynical smile.

“So that’s why you said family bonds aren’t worth it.”

Yancy nodded. “Don’t get me wrong though. It’s not all bad.”

He looked at you again. Your breath ceased as you observed his features; there was kindness there, buried underneath years of hardship. You sighed, your heart stirring.

“You know, Mark and I were supposed to go on a date this weekend.”

Yancy raised an expectant eyebrow at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “And now?”

“I think I might just kick his ass instead.”

Yancy let out a deep chuckle. “I wouldn’t put it past yous. Sure I can’t persuade yous to stay?”

Your heart wrenched, your expression faltering.

“Yancy, I… I can’t,” you sighed. “My family…”

You trailed off as Yancy pressed his lips together in a tight line with a single, solitary nod. “S’alright. I get it.”

He stood up from your bed, combing a hand through his hair. You followed him, grabbing his hand.

“Hey, it’s not personal. I just-”

“I know,” Yancy turned to face you, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Like I said, yous got somethin’ worth fightin’ for. Wouldn’t be fair for you to stay.”

He patted your cheek gently. “Tomorrow. Warden’ll be back, then we can get yous outta here. Okay?”

You swallowed, heart aching in a whole new way you never expected. “Okay.”

With a simple goodnight and a sly wink, Yancy left your cell. You stood there for a few minutes, clasping your hands together and frowning at the floor. You felt crazy for wanting to stay, but part of you felt even crazier for wanting to leave.

Next chapter

[de-facto-slut]

Release Me Into Orbit

(Dark!Bucky x Black!Female Reader)

Summary: Bucky and the Reader are trying to heal from the trauma of their pasts.

A/N: Here we dive into the past. The true beginning to our characters stories. This story takes place both in the past and the present so get ready for that. I do plan on releasing the next Chapter of Invisible Chain soon! Stay tuned.

Warnings: Non-Con, Dub-Con, Violence, major character death, Manipulation, emotional abuse, physical abuse, eventual Kidnapping, Breeding Kink, and angst etc later in the story.

Honestly More tags will be added.

Ch 2: 2014

Longing.

It was hard for Bucky to see anything through the small opening in his cell door. He had lost count of how many years he had been locked up a long time ago. There were no windows that allowed him to even guess when it was night and when it was day. Inside his cage they made sure he had no human interaction; they left Bucky completely alone. As the years passed the only thing keeping him company was his own thoughts. Bucky would try his hardest to focus on his fragmented memories before the war. Those memories contained the few good things he could remember about being human. His first kiss behind Sal’s Diner. The smell of his mother’s home-made cherry pie. The scary thing was he couldn’t even remember his mother’s face, just the smell of her fragrant pie. To be honest he couldn’t remember any faces. They were all just blurs. When it came to his captors all he knew is that they had the same routine in place for him every day. They would feed him his one meal, then they would return to remove him from the cell. The strong ones would drag him through a maze of corridors until he reached a room filled with bright fluorescent lights. The lights illuminated the dreaded device they used for their experiments.

Rusted.

The experiments were the only time he interacted with anyone outside of his cell. Bucky could never see them properly as they always hid behind the bright lights. All he ever got to see were their shadows as they moved about speaking their foreign tongue. Nobody ever spoke to him unless they were reciting the very words that caused him great mental distress. Those words were a curse that was cast on him a long time ago after the war. One that followed him, captor to captor. They would often drug him, just enough so he’d be a little disorientated, but they made sure he’d still be able to feel and hear everything. Once drugged, that’s when they would begin torturing him. The only thing they would change in his routine is the method in which they tortured him. Each time they would try a new method to test the limits of his body and the limits of his mind. Unfortunately for Bucky, the day didn’t end until he physically and mentally could not take anymore. Eventually, they didn’t even need to use pain or the dreaded spell to get him to comply.

Seventeen.

It was a strange sensation to not be in control of one’s own body.  It was a sensation that Bucky should have grown used to, but he never could. It was as if his own consciousness was taking a back seat while someone else controlled him over and over, each driver just as brutal as the next. He was always vaguely aware of what atrocities they made him commit in the name of science, and that in itself was torture to live with. When they would return him to his cell, he could barely get a wink of sleep as the images would replay over and over in his mind. Their screams ringing in his ears. This was what they had reduced him to, he was just a tool to them. Eventually, he had to do everything in his power to keep himself from going completely mad and that just meant numbing himself to it all. The bright-eyed man from Brooklyn that was just trying to save the world was gone years ago. In his place was a murderer. A weapon. A monster. And that’s all he’d ever be.

Daybreak.

It was a day like any other, except it was storming outside. Bucky could tell by the sounds of the fierce winds howling against the facility that and he had finally been moved to a cell with a small window. Bucky had learned that he had been with these particular captors for several years. Honestly, everyone that ever ‘owned’ him was the same in his eyes, so it didn’t matter how long he was kept. Eventually, he’d just be handed off or kidnapped again by someone else that wanted him. Luckily for him, years of compliance and loyalty earned him an upgraded cell and some limited freedoms. Along with some of the smaller changes he was finally able to speak their tongue, just another language to add to his impressive portfolio. There weren't a lot of things Bucky could do to entertain himself. If he wasn’t on an active mission, he was pretty much tied to his room unless they allowed him a break from his cell. In his free time, all Bucky could do is entertain himself by working out. And that’s all he ever did.

Furnace.

He was face down as his palms supported his weight in a push-up position.

“Two hundred and Forty-Nine.”

“Two Hundred and Fif-”

Nine.

He suddenly paused looking towards the door of his cell. He could have sworn he had heard a voice. Bucky waited patiently, but there was only silence in return. Perhaps he had imagined it, or maybe he was truly going mad. He returned his gaze to the floor before he heard it again. It was a voice, it was faint, but it was definitely a voice.

Benign.  

“Hello?” it called out softly as if in a whisper.

Homecoming.

 The voice was suddenly followed by the sound of the metal slot on the door sliding to reveal two eyes peering at him. Bucky was unsure of how to respond, mainly because he was unsure what was going on. The men who came to retrieve him from his cell never spoke to him, and this person was clearly speaking English. English felt foreign to him now, he hadn’t heard it in so long. Bucky suddenly sat up watching the eyes on the other side of the door. Again, there was a moment of silence before they spoke again.

One.

“Can you understand me?”

It was a woman.

Freight car.

---

“Mom! Hurry, I’m going to miss my flight!”

You rushed down the stairs with your bags in your hands. Your shoes caught on the last step almost causing you to trip. A quiet curse left your lips as you attempted to stabilize yourself. Your father watched as he tried not to laugh at your misfortune. Carefully, you handed him your bags and he tossed them into the trunk of his truck.

“Fragile!” you shouted at him.

You crawled into the back of the car as you patiently waited for your parents to join you. Eventually, after what seemed like another 30 minutes gone by, they entered the car. “Do you have everything?” your father asked one last time.

 “Yes, now let’s get going!”

It felt like freshman year of college all over again. Instead, you were a graduating senior and you had just accepted an opportunity of a lifetime. A few months ago, your professor, Mr. Brigmova, had presented your class with an opportunity. The top five students in the program would be able to join him in a work-study program. You were still unsure how you beat out several other students, but you did. You felt extremely lucky to be able to partake in such a program. To be among the top 5 students in your area of study was everything you could have hoped for. It showed your parents that it wasn’t a waste of time or money to send you out of state for school.

 Ever since middle school, you had always wanted to study genetics and biology. When you reached high school, you learned about Bioinformatics and molecular genetics and you made up your mind on what you wanted to do. When you told your parents, they began immediately running numbers in their heads. Feeling guilty about your career choice and the school you chose to attend; you worked your ass off to get and keep a 4.0 GPA. In turn that promptly led you to the 3rd spot among the top 5 students. And not to toot your own horn, you were the only double major among them. Double the hard work, so deep down you felt as if you were #1 anyway.

As a result of all your hard work, you were flying across the world for the first time. You’ve never been so nervous before your professor had revealed the location, you had never heard of Sokovia. You wouldn’t have been able to locate it on a map either, it was such a small country. This was also the first time you had to travel without your parents, and you’d be away for them for five months. You would have no safety net out there. Before you knew it, you had arrived at the airport and you could feel the butterflies settling at the bottom of your stomach like a heavy rock. You felt like you had to use the bathroom, but you knew better than that. Your parents helped you remove your bags from the car as the other cars honked impatiently. You flipped the respective vehicle off before embracing your parents one last time. You exchanged your goodbyes before you disappeared behind the airport doors.

It was the longest flight you had ever been on. After getting off the plane, you were tempted to kiss the frozen ground, but you had seen enough cartoons to know what would happen. In Sokovia, the winters were harsh around this time, and thanks to your research beforehand you were prepared. Or at least you thought you were.  You exited the airport to be greeted by the harsh Sokovian winter.

The bitter cold of Sokovia nipped at your bare cheeks and the tip of your nose. Slowly it seeped into the pockets where you kept your gloved hands numbing your fingers slowly. The cold was nothing like you were used to back in the south. Immediately, regret settled right beside the nervousness as you realized you wished you had stayed behind the airport doors just a moment longer as you waited for your ride.

The streets were not as busy as google images made it seem. It was probably due to the fact that it was unbearably cold, and it was late.  You desperately wanted to return to the warmth of indoors, but you feared missing your shuttle. You moved about in hopes that it would warm you up while you waited for the shuttle as you watched it grow dark.  Not wanting to expose your hands to the cold you peeked at your pocket for the time before you left you made sure to adjust it for the time difference. The shuttle was running late and that worried you, you knew nothing of the language to get help if you ended up stranded.

Eventually, you took a seat on your suitcase, holding onto it tightly. The last thing you would want is to be robbed in a completely different country. You waited for what seemed like almost an hour in the cold before you saw the shuttle pull up in front of you. Slowly you stood on your two feet stretching as you watched the shuttle door slide open, only to reveal your professor. Mr. Brigmova was a tall man with an average build in his early forties. He had dirty blonde hair and striking gray eyes. If not for the slight wrinkles near his eyes, he could have easily been mistaken for his early thirties. He motioned you inside as he jumped out to grab your bags for you.  You did as you were told climbing into the vehicle as the warmth inside embraced you. You watched as Mr. Brigmova carefully placed your bags in the back seat of the shuttle. He flashed you a smile as he slid into the seat next to you. “It is good to see you, Y/N.” He greeted you. “It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Brigmova,” you replied.

“Please, call me Peter. We’re colleagues now.” He responded.  You noted it was just you, Your professor, and the Driver. Out of everyone you were the last from the program to make it in. Your professor turned towards the driver tapping the back of his seat, “My gotovy k rabote.” He mentioned in his native tongue. You weren’t completely sure what he had told the driver but the fact that the shuttle started moving probably was related. Peter turned to you noting how tense you were placing a hand on your knee and squeezing it lightly. His action surprised you, but he only flashed you a smile in return,

“Relax you’re in Sokovia now.”

[cordoniantrash]

the seas within me

Hello one and all! There’s my day 4 submission for the Choices 12 Days of Fictmas (It’s my 2nd year doing this! Can you believe?!) . Huge thanks to  @leelee10898​ and @emichelle​ for hosting this year and to  @grenadineandsunshine​ for betaing this one (along with all my works here tbh)! 

Title from Notos by The Oh Hellos. Here’s some angst I guess?

Book: Distant Shores

Pairings: Oliver x f!MC

Rating: G

Warning: none

Words: 2770

It was snowing when they arrived. The rising sun at their back had splashed colour on the white piles of freshly fallen snow at their feet while the distant sea breeze froze them in place. Claire felt something tug at her heart. There was something about this place, an almost indescribable tingle, a feeling of a feeling, which reminded her of him. She felt like she could close her eyes and find him there. It was absurd. They haven’t even had the chance to spend a winter together. All her memories of him, of them, are tethered to the waves, the ever present salt in the air and the unrelenting heat of the sun. So why can she almost hear his voice in this cold, snow-covered place?

“Huh. Expected something fancier.”

Claire felt the corners of her lips turn into a frown. It was becoming a steady companion in this hare-brained scheme. Her frown deepened when that indistinct tugging faded at the sound of his voice. It took some effort to unclench her jaw and her fist. To bite back the venom in her retort. It wouldn’t do to annoy him out of helping me. And so, stealing herself, Claire took a deep breath and repeated the mantra that began the moment she agreed to this plan.

Just until I get back.

Just until I find them again.

Find him again.

“What time’s that tour supposed to start again?” she asked instead. Robert, ignoring the too long stretch of silence between them, stepped into her line of sight. Claire carefully wiped her face clean of emotion. Uneasy allies they might be, but she’ll be damned if she let him glimpse a crack, however small. Being betrayed once was enough for her.

If only the compass worked like last time! Suppressing a sigh, she turned back to the estate. She’d been optimistic when they reached out to touch the compass. After all, all it took for her to travel that first time was a simple touch. The devastation when nothing happened nearly sent her to her knees in the middle of the museum.  It was only a slight consolation to find out that Robert had expected the same thing.

A breeze ruffled past them, the air fresh and bitingly cold. Claire rubbed her numb nose, her frown forgotten. At the corner of her eye, she saw Robert trying to hide his shivering. Claire suppressed a smirk.

Silence once again stretched between them. A bus full of students pulled up near their rented car. Claire couldn’t help but smile at the little faces peering from the windows, all of them bundled up despite the light snow. The adults with them did not seem to mind the cold as much. Tightening her hold on her hand warmer, Claire tried not to feel jealous.

Maybe we got used to the Caribbean. Too used. Man, I really want to go back.

“Well,” Robert sighed as a staff member opened the door of the estate. “Here’s to hoping, I guess.”

“D’you think this’ll work?”

Robert glanced at her. Claire took it as her queue to walk.

“His family had the compass before some descendant of his thought it’ll be a good idea to donate it to the museum. If there’s anything that can explain why it’s not working now, it’s probably here.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Robert paused, letting the last of the children run past them. “All those records of you as a captain must mean we got back.”

Claire frowned, “And what about you?”

Robert’s profile seemed to blend with the snow clouds ahead.

“That’s what we’re here to figure out, isn’t it?”

**

Vice-Admiral Sir Oliver Francis Cochrane KCB (born c. 1722-24, Durham, England—died unknown) was an English naval officer most known for his short but successful maritime career where he had earned the moniker of “The Pirate Hunter” and his much speculated and scandalous personal life. Decades after his last known sighting, he had become a well-recognized literary romantic icon.

Despite his early moniker of “The Pirate Hunter”, Cochrane had occasionally worked with pirates, particularly with the crews of Captain Edward Mortimer and the much disputed Captain Claire Velis. Whereas association with pirates is enough grounds of treason, Cochrane retained his position and rose through the ranks of the navy for his work in exposing the crimes and treason of other naval officers, most notably, his own father Francis, often with the help of Mortimer, Velis and their pirate crew.

Excerpt from High Seas and Piracy: A History of English Maritime Advances 

**

The compass was silent.

Claire turned it over, as she had done again and again since she entered her hotel room. Robert had mumbled something about rum and a free bar before awkwardly hightailing out of the lobby. Claire felt too rung out to even think of a quip about pirates and alcohol.

The golden finish of the compass seemed to glow in the dark room, mocking her with the faint possibility of a return. Outside, the Christmas decorations glitter amidst the darkness and the sea breeze.

The tour hadn’t gone exactly as planned. For them, at least.

Not for the first time, doubt crashed and tumbled in her mind. Apparently there was a reason poets after his time found Oliver so fascinating. As someone who knew him, loved him, stayed and fought at his side, whose hands were stained with his blood—

Claire closed the compass with a snap.

Her heart felt heavy, an anchor dragging her down further into despair.

Charlie had made a name for herself, doing what she loves in freedom.

Charlie, who while being wily and nimble, ultimately could not outrun an empire.

Edward, doing more good and ascending into hero hood, depending whose side you ask.

Edward, who despite his strength and loyalty, was betrayed and handed over to the British.

Oliver, the successful navy officer. Loving father of two.

Oliver, who never got to rise to the ranks he deserved, who became a widower, ultimately becoming a figure of tragic romance, his final fate unknown.

All of them were shining brightly.

All of them doused before their time.

If I go back could I change things? Can I lift them up, move them forward? Or will they run aground because of me?

The edges of the compass dug into her hands, forming indents where hands softened by inactivity pressed into the compass’ sides.

Or will I just make things worse?

To return would mean chaos, but to stay where she was supposed to belong felt hollow.

Should she even go? Either way, it will turn her world inside out. She’d cause them all grief one way or another, the family she had in this present and the family she found back in time.

The tour guide’s words echoed in her mind:

“He left England a hero and an eligible bachelor to boot. Almost a decade later he returned a father of two small foreign looking children and claimed himself a widower. His ever loyal crew refused to shed light on what happened during those years at sea.”

Claire blinked. Tasting salt on her lips, she hastily wiped away the tears that splashed onto the compass.

Outside, the fairy lights continued to twinkle. Their rhythmic pulsing at odds with the raging sea within her.

What happened after I left?

**

Oliver Cochrane was a creature of contradiction. Of chaos, one might even say. On one side, he was an exceptional officer, a step away from becoming an Admiral before he mysteriously disappeared. On the other side, he was an excellent example of British hypocrisy.

Throughout his career, Cochrane toed the line between audacity and treason.

He had exposed numerous corrupt navy officials, while he also worked with pirates. What’s more, he had a rather well-known love affair with a pirate captain.

Records at that time proclaimed the affair short-lived, painting Captain Claire Velis in a rather unflattering light but contemporary evidence now opposes that idea and posits that the identity of his deceased wife (whom historians have precious few documents about) was none other than Captain Velis herself. Common consensus among society (and among historians) was that the mysterious mother of Cochrane’s children was the pirate captain herself. Further cementing Cochrane’s strange status in both 18th century Britain and in history.

This personal life aside, his apparent friendships with Captain Edward Mortemer and Captain Charlotte “Charlie” Smith was so prominent that one of the most salient theories to ultimate fate after his disappearance was that he himself became a pirate when he last left England’s shores, a contradiction to one so hailed for his honour and morals.

Excerpt from Cochrane: Behind the Myth

***

“Oh, hello dear.”

Claire turned and almost collided with a smaller figure. The tour guide from yesterday was standing in front of her. A glance at the pin on her blazer identified the older woman as Tina. In smaller letters under the name was the word CURATOR. Claire hastily stepped back.

The curator smiled.

“Aren’t you one of the people on the tour yesterday? The names Tina,” she said as she offered her hand. Claire found herself smiling as they shook hands.

“Uh, Claire Velis. Nice to meet you,” as soon as the words left her mouth, Claire felt herself freeze. Damn it! The hell was I thinking!

Tina’s eyes seemed to sparkle, “Claire Velis, you say? My, what a coincidence!”

Claire blushed.

“My parents were fans,” she mumbled.

“I’ll say!”

“Uh… yeah.”

“You must have loved the mention of your namesake then?”

Claire arranged her face into a smile.

“Right. Yeah. It was very interesting.”

“You know, I’ve always wanted to meet Captain Claire,” at Claire’s wide eyes, Tina let out a tinkling laugh. “Of course, I never thought it’ll be a namesake, but here we are. In fact, you look quite a lot like her drawings.”

Claire swallowed, “Is that so?”

Tina nodded, “Oh, would you like a cuppa? I noticed you were very interested in the tour yesterday. Besides, it’s almost the holidays,” she leaned in, smile growing. “We’ll have some tea and some mince pies as well! What do you say?”

“Oh! I wouldn’t want to impose –“

“Oh, pish posh! It’s no imposition at all, dear.  It isn’t often we get tourists here, you know what I mean? Usually it’s always field trips and the like. Sometimes academics, if we’re lucky. Besides, tea is just the thing when it’s this cold out. ”

Claire followed the curator inside the building, bewilderment and relief making her mind buzz.

As they passed by an open doorway, Claire felt something tug at her.

A familiar tug.

Claire stopped in her tracks.

The room looked similar to the public exhibitions, with glass boxes in pedestals displaying some artefact or another. The feeling, however, was leagues away from the public rooms.

It was tugging me here.

“Oh, what a lucky find!”

Claire jumped. Tina smiled as she leaned toward the doorway.

“It’s a special display, see? We’re going to show it to the public soon.”

“W-what’s in this one?”

Tina glanced at her, eyes twinkling again. “It’s a collection of Oliver Cochrane’s personal effects. Or what’s left of them. Would you like a peak?”

“I—are you sure?”

“Of course, dear,” Tina’s eyes seemed to droop. “Captain Claire may not have had the chance to see it. At least a namesake can. Wouldn’t you agree?”

 Throat suddenly dry, Claire offered a nod.

“Let’s go then!” Tina exclaimed as she entered the room.

Claire stepped forward.

The world seemed to blink.

“Claire? You alright? Hang on, I’ll call the nurse –“

“Wha—no, no, please. It’s fine.”

Tina’s eyebrows furrowed. Claire straightened, pointedly ignoring the twinge in her temples. The headache had taken her by surprise.

So different from the first time I travelled.

“—here, just sit down here for a moment.”

“I’m really fine—“

“Of course,” Tina smoothly interjected. The curator seemed to regain some composure. “But better safe than sorry, yes? I’ll get the nurse, dear. Be back in a jiffy.”

Claire sighed as Tina left the room, exchanging a couple of words with the security guard before waving back at Claire and rounding a corner.

Claire shook her head and looked around the room.

She froze.

There was a necklace inside the display in front of her (not the one she was currently wearing. The one that belonged to her grandmother). No, this necklace was obviously old and weathered besides. The shine of the silver peeking behind dark spots. The label under it calls it a Cochrane family heirloom.

And it was the same exact copy of the one hanging on her neck.

Except she wasn’t wearing this necklace when she travelled for the first time.

Outside, the waves crashed and crested. The snow kept falling.

Going forward will mean turbulent waters and uncertain winds.

But a ship cannot sail in becalmed waters.

Inside her, hope surged.

**

1752

“Will that work?”

“Well, we haven’t been twiddling our thumbs while you were off smooching with high society.”

“Charlie.” One word contained an entire conversation’s worth of chastisement. Charlie shrugged but fell silent.

Edward sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. But it seemed like the compass is lacking a catalyst of some sort.”

“A spark if you will.”

“That’s not a guarantee.”

“No. We’re groping in the dark here. But there has to be something that can work on this side.”

Oliver sighed. “I suppose it’s better than nothing.”

Charlie smiled, “That’s the spirit. We’ll get her back here yet.”

Oliver’s lips curled into a shadow of a smile.

**

The compass was humming.

Claire and Robert stand amidst a partially shattered exhibition room. Security alarms had just started blaring while some artifacts seemed to pulse with light. Beside her, Robert looked tense. But Claire felt calm. There seemed to be some form of energy in the room for the compass to actually come to life.

“Well. Here we are. Just in time for Christmas too.”

“Yeah. Whodathunk?”

“Certainly not me, Velis.” A particularly loud alarm blared. They both winced. “You ready?”

Claire took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

“… do it then.”

There was a flash of white light.

.

.

.

A moment later, the doors burst open. The staff looked around in shock and bewilderment. The room was in chaos, that much was clear.

But there was no one inside.

**

When I was younger, I used to pretend my mother was a mermaid. My older brother had indulged my fantasies and our imaginary mermaid mother would become a fixture in my make believe plays. On the days, months and years that bordered the beginnings of our fleeting visits and even shorter holidays, I, an imaginative child prone to wild fancies, would sometimes believe my own story. 

Before I understood what really was going on, I used to ask Father of her fate. He would humour me, a twinkle in his eye as he told me she was lost at sea, a romantic fate that contrasts with the pitying looks thrown our way when Father wasn’t looking. 

Perhaps it was one of his favourite sayings that stuck this particular fancy within me. After all, he always told Eddie and me that the sea was in our blood. My older brother, ever the man of reason, took that quite literally and followed in our Father’s footsteps, becoming a sailor as soon as he could.  Experiencing adventures that our parents surely had. Whereas I was content enough to experience adventure through the page, whether through my brother’s letters or my own pen. 

But sometimes, when I look out to the sea, I can’t help but wonder if there was any truth to my childhood fancies. But that probably is just sentiment talking. Father had always remarked that my stories should set foot on a stage of some kind, something that Aunt Adelia and Uncle Axton would heartily agree with. 

Over the years, I had often wondered at the irony of a navy officer’s daughter having pirates as aunts and uncles. An unforeseen consequence of being the Pirate Queen’s progeny, I’d imagine. 

Perhaps Mother was a mermaid masquerading as a pirate. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. 

All I know is that being lost at sea, for all its romance, does not quite fit my parent’s fate. 

I hope—no. I know—they must have found each other.

The sea is in our blood, after all. 

- Excerpt from the diary of Marcelline Somerset née Cochrane, Viscountess of Ashbourne

#

A/N: This surprisingly had a lot of number wrangling that didn’t make the text (rip my last braincell - don’t get me started on the research and the excepts). Also had a bit of a crossover with The Unexpected Heiress (haven’t played it yet). Anyways, lemme know what you guys think!

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[wren-fell]

Stuck in Borderland

Decided to post my Alice in Borderland fic. The main character is my oc Sayaka, and all other characters belong to Haro Aso.

Warnings: language, violence

Length: ~3000 words

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Beach

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Sayaka walked through the doorway, and the red grid flashed for a second after she passed. She glanced over her shoulder with a frown, no turning back.

           She picked up a phone on the table in the center of the room and the screen lit up white. Registration complete, the game will commence in 5 minutes. With a deep breath she closed her eyes, just another game… that’s all it is.

“Just do it quickly you’ll be fine!”

“Hurry the fuck up we only have 10 more minutes!”

“I’m trying!” The girl wailed as she waited on the other side of the platform, a row of swinging saws and blades blocking her from the other side where two others were.

“Just go!” A guy at the platform behind her screamed.

“Fine!” She drew in a deep breath and took off running across the bridge. She was halfway across with no incident when a saw came rising out of the floor. The girl screamed and jumped over it, but when she landed the floor gave way and she fell into the electrified water below. There was a sickening crackle and a scream, then nothing.

The five remaining participants were all silent until the time chime rang out. There are 7 minutes remaining.

“Alright, I’m going next!” A guy screamed pushing Sayaka to the side and stepped forward on the platform.

He drew in a deep breath and ran across. He was doing fine, but as he came up to where the saw in the ground was he hesitated.

“Don’t jump!” Sayaka yelled.

“What? Are you fucking crazy!?” He snapped over his shoulder.

“Don’t jump! If you do you’ll go into the water! If you keep running straight you’ll be fine!”

He looked from her to the saw and let out a scream, “you better be right about this!” Running forward he closed his eyes waiting for the saw to chop off his legs, but as he was just about to run into it, it receded into the ground.

Sayaka sighed, “thank god that was right…”

“How did you know?” the man with the glasses standing next to her asked. She glanced at him and smiled.

“The two people that died both died from falling into the water not the saws. The saws have sensors that make them retract when someone is about to touch it, but if you jump the floor is unstable and will give way,” she replied.

Two minutes remaining. She looked down at the phone as the voice rang out, “we should get across.”

Sayaka and the man with glasses walked across with no saws even coming close to cutting them, and as the clock began to count down thirty seconds they stepped into the circle on the second platform. At the end of the countdown everyone’s phones lit up.

Congratulations. Game cleared. A four day visa has been issued to all players.

“4 of Diamonds done,” Sayaka sighed closing her eyes and leaning her elbows on her knees.

“That was very impressive.”

Sayaka raised her head to look at the man with the glasses, and rubbed the back of her head, “Well, you really start to pay attention when people die I guess.”

“I’m with a group that’s trying to win this game. I think you’d be a good addition,” he added. Sayaka hesitated she had only met one other person so far in the borderlands she had spent extra time with, but they had died fairly quickly and she’d been alone since. Although, winning and leaving this world was a very tempting offer.

“Come with us we’ll introduce you to our leader,” he said waving a hand and she was surrounded by the other two men from the game. She hesitated, but started walking when she noticed the guns poking out of their pockets. Where did they even get guns?

Sayaka was led to an old beat up corvette outside where they tucked her in the backseat between the two men with guns. This was starting to feel less like an introduction and more like a kidnapping. They squealed the tires as they tore of the parking lot and down the road towards the river.

Eventually they pulled up in front of a large beach club that she recognized. Her parents used to take her and her sister here when they were kids, except now it looks slightly more rundown and Beach in red spray paint was scrawled across the original sign. But, the most interesting thing about the old club was that it seemed to be the only building in Tokyo that still had electricity aside from the game arenas.

“Welcome to the Beach, follow me,” the man with glasses ordered as he got out of the car.

Sayaka followed him inside where there were hundreds of people wearing swimsuits and running around without a care in the world.

“What the fuck did I get myself into?” She whispered.

The man with glasses led her upstairs to a room in the main building of the club where 8 other people in swimsuits sat at a table and you couldn’t hear the pounding music.

“Kuzuryu. Welcome back, have you found us a new member?” A man with sunglasses and long hair declared waving his arms.

“Yes, she did exceptionally well in the 4 of Diamonds game. I think she could make a good addition,” Kuzuryu said handing the Diamonds card to him.

“Wonderful! My name is Hatter and welcome to the beach! What’s your name beautiful?” The way he said beautiful and peered over the top of his sunglasses made her stiffen.

“Sayaka Umino.”

“Sayaka, the beach is a haven! I made this place so we could all have hope that one day we’ll get out of here and all go home! But, we all must work together to make that dream a reality,” he paused and stood up from his chair to wave his hands dramatically at the window, “hope! Hope is what this place is for, so we can all survive these terrible games! The beach is a place where you can do anything your heart desires as long as you follow the rules.”

There was another pause and Sayaka foolishly opened her mouth, “what are the rules?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Hatter turned quickly his robe flaring dramatically behind him, “Rule #1: Always wear a bathing suit!”

“Why?” The question came out of her mouth before she could stop it and she stiffened as she waited for the response.

“You can’t hide a weapon in bathing suits! Only militants are allowed to carry weapons, so you must wear a bathing suit.” Sayaka pouted, no thank you.

“Rule #2 you are free to live your life however you want here. Drugs, sex, alcohol, it doesn’t matter! You can do whatever you want!” Hatter turned dramatically waving at the window again at all the people partying outside. Sayaka furrowed her eyebrows, this place sounded more like a nightmare than paradise.

“And rule #3?”

There was a long pause and a heavy silence hung in the room. Hatter leaned closer to the window resting his hands on the sill, “Rule #3 is…” he turned around to look at her, “death to all traitors.”

Sayaka drew in a sharp breath through her nose as she stared at him. One of the guys by the wall shifted his Ak-15 and a sadistic smile spread on his face. Guess me saying no makes me a traitor.

“So? Sayaka what do you say?” Hatter asked taking a step towards her and holding his arms out.

“Sure, I’ll join…” she replied quietly.

“SPLENDID!” Hatter’s exclamation made her jump as he turned around back to the table of people, “Ann please take Sayaka to get a bathing suit and get her wristband.”

“Yes Hatter,” a woman with short black hair and sunglasses stood up from the table and headed to the door, “follow me.”

“Welcome to the beach Sayaka, and enjoy!” Hatter called as she walked towards the door.

“Thanks…” she mumbled and followed Ann out.

 Ann led Sayaka downstairs to the gift shop, and bent down to lift the metal gate up before turning sharply to Sayaka, “pick one.”

Sayaka walked through the shop with a frown. Most of the swimsuits for women were skimpy bikinis, and judging by Hatter’s speech about what you could do at the beach she could see why. She settled on a teal one-shoulder bikini, with a black stripe on the top and bottom, and a pair of black board shorts. At the entrance to the shop Ann handed her a red wristband.

“This is your room. Please go up and change. Welcome to the beach,” Ann said quietly before walking away.

Sayaka sighed, “guess this is where I’m staying now,” she muttered as she headed to her room.

 Sayaka went up to her room on the third floor and changed before heading back downstairs to investigate her new home.

Hatter wasn’t joking you could really do whatever you wanted at the beach, it was like one big frat party. Everyone was either dancing, drinking, smoking, or sloppily making out in plain sight, among other things… Cringing as she walked past a particular corner of the hotel with multiple couples, if this is what hope looks like I’m not sure I want any part of it... But, that thought didn’t last long when she stumbled upon the dining room. Where the hotel would have usually held dinner or breakfast service was transformed into an elaborate buffet piled high with food, most likely for the returning players of the evening.

Sayaka could literally feel her mouth water. In the two weeks she’d been in the borderland all she’d been able to eat was snacks from a gas station and some questionable cans of vegetables. She felt her stomach rumble as she walked up to the buffet and grabbed a plate.

“Where to start?” She piled her plate high with steak, lo mein, dumplings, and BBQ, “I don’t care where this came from, I don’t care how they got it, I just want to stuff my face,” she cooed as she settled down at a table.

Sayaka sat and ate closing her eyes at the heavenly taste of real food for the first time in weeks, “if this is what hope is maybe Hatter isn’t wrong,” she sighed. She finished her first plate of food and leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed. The blaring bass of the music seemed to fade away for a minute and this was all there was, Sayaka sitting there with food in her stomach and feeling relatively safe. But, that moment of bliss was interrupted by a voice.

“Well hello there beautiful, you must be new around here.” Sayaka opened one eye to glance at the boy in swim trunks who had wandered over to her table. He placed a hand on the table and leaned over way too close to Sayaka’s face.

Shrinking back in her chair Sayaka pouted, “yea. I’m new. Excuse me I’m going to get more food,” she turned away from the boy as she got out of her chair, snatching the plate off the table and heading back to the buffet.

As she started loading her plate again the boy followed her, “aw come on sweetheart there’s way more to do here than just food. Why don’t you come have a drink with me and I’ll show you the ropes?” he cooed, and Sayaka felt a hand slide onto the exposed skin on the small of her back as he leaned over the table to cage her in.

“No thanks not interested,” she mumbled brushing his arm away to sidestep along the buffet.

“Pity. The Beach may have amazing food, but that cannot be the only thing you’d want to do on your last days alive?” He leaned over her again, but this time plucked a piece of BBQ pork off her plate and plopped it into his mouth, “Live like you’re dying baby. Haven’t you heard? We’re all fu—“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Sayaka whipped around slamming her fist into his cheek causing him to spit the pork out onto the floor. He landed with a loud thud and stared up at her in absolute shock.

“What the fuck!?”

“Don’t touch my fucking food!” Sayaka snapped.

There was a long pause as the guy scrambled to his feet, “you crazy bitch,” and ran off.

“Hmph…” Sayaka stood a deep frown forming on her face. She glanced over to the side noticing that the room had gotten quiet and everyone was staring at her. She grunted and turned around pushing her plate further onto the table, “made me lose my appetite,” she muttered and heading out of the dining room.

 She wandered around the hotel before settling on one of the few beach chairs that wasn’t being “used”. Everyone at the beach was truly living like it was their last day on Earth. Sayaka sighed, I guess because it technically could be.

The pool wasn’t as nice as Sayaka remembered it. This hotel used to be a pristine beach club for its very rich members, but now it was nothing more than a sketchy nightclub. The bass of the techno music made ripples in the water that were barely noticeable around the swarms of people jumping around in it. Their bodies were tightly packed and gyrating together like a wave of humans instead of water.

“Hi.” Sayaka was snapped out of her thoughts when a girl wearing a purple one piece and a side skirt spoke to her.

“Uh, hi,” Sayaka mumbled.

“You’re new huh?” She said. Sayaka nodded, but didn’t speak, “do you mind if I sit? It’s kinda the last chair,” she asked gesturing around to the other occupied beach lounges.

Sayaka hesitated, but moved over and nodded, “sure.”

The girl sat down and leaned over onto her knees before looking up at Sayaka, “my name’s Madoka. What’s yours?” She offered out her hand.

Sayaka watched it for a second before taking it slowly like a stray cat considering a free piece of food, “Sayaka.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Sayaka raised her eyebrows.

“I’m sorry that you’re here,” Madoka glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, “in the borderlands I mean, but…��� She paused and let out a sigh, “I can’t say the beach can always be better.”

Sayaka knit her eyebrows together watching her, “what do you mean? I thought this was meant to be the ‘oasis in the desert’,” she made air quotes.

Madoka turned to look at her with a sympathetic look in her gray eyes, “it can be. As long as you follow the rules,” her voice dropped to a whisper.

Almost as if on cue a group of people strolled by the pool with guns slung over their shoulders and hanging by their sides. She recognized some of them from her “introduction meeting”. A bald man with a scar over his eye and made of nothing but solid muscle, a man with tattoos over his face and a katana slung across his back, and the man with the Ak-15 and piercings on his face; along with at least 5 other men and women carrying weapons. They sauntered past the pool made comments to a couple of people and picked up 3 girls who seemed nervous, but happily leaned into the man with the piercings.

“The militants.”

“Hm?” Sayaka turned towards Madoka.

“Those are the militant corp. They maintain…” she paused, “order.”

Sayaka watched the group as they left the pool, “order, huh?”

“Yea… steer clear of them, obey the rules, and this place could be your own personal slice of heaven,” she paused as a loud moan came from one of the girls in the pool, “if that’s your sort of thing…” she mumbled.

Sayaka’s eyes scanned the pool. This certainly wasn’t her idea of heaven. All the food in the world wouldn’t make this heaven even in the borderlands. She had people to get back to this was just temporary. A white spot in the sea of bodies snapped her back to attention. A boy probably not much older than herself was leaning against the doorway wearing a white sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his face. He had been at the meeting too, sitting at the table two seats over from Hatter.

“Madoka.”

“Hm?” She raised her head.

“Who’s that?” Sayaka asked nodding her head slightly in his direction without looking at him again.

Madoka took the hint and passed a glance around the whole pool, so as not to bed suspicious, “that’s Chishiya he’s one of the 9 executive members. They help Hatter make decisions.”

Sayaka cast a glance over his direction again to find that he was gone and she frowned, suspicious little shit.

“Just don’t cause any trouble and you shouldn’t have to deal with them much,” Madoka paused and let out a chuckle, “although, I can’t say you’re off to a good start.”

Sayaka snapped her head around to look at her, “what?”

“I saw you slug the guy who touched your butt in the dining room. Honestly you better get used to that unfortunately happens often, and you don’t want the militants getting involved,” she added glancing back to the door they had disappeared through.

“It wasn’t because he touched my ass…” Sayaka mumbled looking down.

Madoka put her head to the side, “what was it then?”

“He took a piece of food off my plate…” she mumbled.

“What?”

“He took a piece of food off my plate, okay!” Sayaka snapped, “I haven’t eaten actual food in 2 weeks and he comes over all flirty and shit, and takes a piece of BBQ pork off my plate!? No fucking way!”

Madoka fell against the back of the chair laughing hysterically her bun bobbing back and forth.

“What?” Sayaka muttered.

“I can’t believe you punched him over a piece of BBQ!” She wheezed wiping the tears from her eyes.

“I’ve been hungry!” Sayaka replied waving her arms, “you don’t take food away from animals they bite!”

“Oh now you’re an animal!?”

“I just meant you don’t take people’s food! Especially people that haven’t eaten anything, but canned shit since they’ve gotten to this hellhole.”

“Oh some of those canned foods were questionable before the apocalypse now I don’t even know. I can’t believe you ate that!”

“I didn’t have much of a choice!”

“And how did you feel after that?” Madoka asked quirking an eyebrow.

Sayaka grimaced, “I threw up like twice…” she muttered.

Madoka burst out laughing again, while Sayaka pouted her cheeks turning red.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I totally understand I had the same problem before I came to the beach. I ate some food that was frozen and had thawed, and had diarrhea for like 2 days,” Madoka said laughing again.

Sayaka smiled and laughed, “oh god that would suck. We don’t even have working toilets out here!”

“Trust me I know!”

Sayaka and Madoka sat on the beach chair laughing together about their experiences, and at the people around them. Barely acknowledging the red lasers that shot down from the sky in the distance killing those whose visas expired. For a little while it didn’t feel like the beach was sketchy or they were trapped in this hellish borderland. It felt like Sayaka and Madoka were just long time friends who were having fun at a party on a Friday night, and there wasn’t the possibility of death looming over their heads.

[boogiewrites]

Rosie & the Road Less Traveled

Characters: Declan Harp x Rosie Anderson (OFC)

Summary: Declan Harp 1970s Hippy/Roadtrip AU Rosie has made a bold decision and decided to leave her monotonous life. She sets out to create her own with a group of misfits traveling  across America, post-Vietnam during the 1970s. She breaks out of her shy and insecure, sheltered shelf to have an adventure where she learns the realities of life outside her former cookie-cutter existence. She experiences, a year of sex, drugs, and rock and roll as the group of ex-soldiers and free spirits change her worldview and show her another way. She meets the charming but damaged Declan who takes her under his wing. Will a budding romance for this blossoming Rose prove to be her gift from the universe for making the hard decision to be her own woman? 

Warnings/Tags: Talk of emotional abuse by family. 

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

Rosie awoke in the same pink and frill filled bedroom she had every day of her life so far. She could smell the same coffee she wasn’t allowed to have. The scent filled up their Better Homes and Gardens modeled modest family home settled in a suburb full of pastel houses with the same pastel cars in their driveway. It was polished and performative, just like Rosie’s mother who was standing in her doorway looking like a copy of June Cleaver.

“You’ll be late for John to pick you up! Don’t keep a man waiting! A wife must be preemptive and pretty dear.” She exits as quickly as she’d entered. Rosie is left looking to her favorite childhood toy and only friend, Booger Bear, with a sigh before starting her day. Not much had changed in Rose Anderson’s life since she was a child. She was raised by older parents, very strict and traditional. Which would explain why they’d agreed to her engagement so fervently. She was 24 and unmarried and being a spinster was not an option according to them. So she was having yet another huge life decision made for her by someone else. She couldn’t remember the last time she had held her own opinion or made up her own mind. She had fear instilled within her from a young age that she was less than and this was used to keep her under control. Being different as she was with her ghostly white skin and pale blonde hair, her albinism stood out among her peers. She wore glasses and a constantly apologetic look on her face. Her childlike treatment was clear on her face as her features were baby round. A button nose and large light blue eyes with cheeks that always had a flush to them showed her softness unwillingly. She truly did look like a baby animal, naive, and easy prey.

This was a common theme among the treatment she’d had from men so far in her life. She didn’t expect any different. Her mother had cried tears of relief when George had asked for her hand. She would finally be able to tell her bridge club that her daughter had at least something normal going on about her. The cruel and belittling words she’d heard her whole life only made sense to continue hearing from this new person that would now be in charge of her she was told. If nothing had changed in her life up to this point, why would it ever?

The fact that George never showed didn’t surprise her. So when she went into town to run wedding errands on her own she wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. He usually disappears at night and not in the morning so that was unusual but she went through her day with the same polite smile she always did. A smile that said sorry for existing. She called her home from the library, offering to see if her mother needed anything for supper. She hadn’t but she had heard from George’s mother, and she hadn’t seen him either. So it was now Rosie’s job to find him, as they’d be married soon.

She sat defeated on a bench to rest as the sun started to set. She’d asked at the stores on the square and no one had seen him. Luckily for her, she’d sat down in front of the Beauty Parlour and it being a small town, everyone knows everyone, one of the ladies there knew who sweet little odd Rosie was and took pity on her.

“I know it’s not my place to say so baby but that man of yours is no count. You know that right?”

“I’m sorry ma'am?”

“You were in town all day today alone, doin' your dress and all that right? For the wedding?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And he’s been across county lines getting drunk as a skunk.” She shakes her head. “Again.”

“Oh.” Rosie sighs and looks to the ground. “Do you know where he is?” She asks reluctantly.

“No where no sweet thing like you needs to be goin'.”

“I need to get him home. His mother’s worried.”

“She should be. Ain't your mama worried about you out here alone?”

“She said I have to do real women’s work and take care of George as best I can. He’s mine now and I better start acting like it and go… find him.”

The kind woman sighs and feels bad for the poor thing. But it wasn’t an uncommon story. “He’s out at the bar past the county line. Neon sign, bikes out front, can’t miss it. It’s on the right.” She says with a groan.

“Up 25E?” She asks already getting to her feet.

“Yes, baby now be careful. I’m only telling you this because someone’s gotta help you out, honey. Maybe it’s time you helped yourself huh?”

“I’m doing what any good wife and daughter would do ma'am.”

“Life’s not about being good for other people. You have to think about what’s good for you. What do you want? Do you want to marry George?”

“Ma'am what a silly question.”

“That’s not the enthusiastic YES I should be hearing from a bride to be is it?”

Rosie doesn’t know how to reply and just looks worried for a moment with her wide eyes.

“Go before it gets darker baby. Be careful. Take care of yourself.” She says as Rosie scurries across the square to the car.

She did love getting to drive around. Something she’d not been allowed to do until recently. So a trip out of town on a lovely evening was something that got her very excited.

She had held onto that moment of happiness as she drove out of town. A perfect evening with a chill after the sun went down. She could hear frogs and crickets as she left the roads full of cookie-cutter homes and drove into a more forested area.

She had a comfortable smile on her face until the trees cleared for a patch and showed a roadhouse. This had to be the place. She pulled in with a mix match of very nice and very beat down cars. Some buses and small caravans lined along the perimeter. She could hear music coming from inside the metal and wood walls. There were men three times her size all around. They were an odd mix of trendy sleazy men with feathered hair and grizzly biker men and they were all chain-smoking. Everyone looked as confused as she did as she entered the building. If she was polite and direct there was no reason these gentlemen had to give her any trouble. She’d heard about these sorts from her mother. Bikers, greasers, all sinners, and a dirty lot to associate with.

But Rosie had always seen glimpses of people in the magazines. The intense men on their bikes with a scantily clad woman who looked both elated and aroused clutched to his back as they rode through the great American Route 66. They looked like they were having fun, she thought. She thought they looked free and those were things she longed to know how they felt. But there was no room for these things in her life. So although she should be afraid to be around these people, she was actually quite excited. She fantasized with already blushed shy cheeks about striking up a conversation with one of them and finding out what they were really like.

“You lost sweetheart?” The man in glasses with his arms crossed at the door asks her.

“I’m here to fetch my husband- my fiancé.” She corrects herself.

“You with a man that comes to a place like this?”

“His name is George. He is a fan of a strong drink and a cigar. And apparently, his frequenting of this place is something everyone in the town knew about but me.” she admits freely as she wasn’t one to have any reason to hide bits of herself. Everyone could be a friend in her eyes. She entered every interaction with a genuine curiosity it was honestly a bit hard to be rude to her.

“Ah.” He nods and understands. “Go on in, sweetheart” he holds open the door for her and watches her stand and take it all in for a moment. He chuckles and then sighs, “Poor little thing.” he mutters.

Through an old western saloon style inner door she enters with a delighted smile. “How charming!” She says to herself. She walked into a rather large room full of gambling tables. A bar on one end and a stage on the other. Panning over to meet the stage last, she’s hit with a thump of bass in her chest by way of her feet. It rumbled into the floor as she tentatively approached. She’d never seen live music before. She supposed choir and church and talent shows didn’t really count. There were electric guitars and men with no shirts and girls without bras and she was enthralled. She had heard a few rock songs by way of sneaking into a poor reception radio station when she was left alone in the car. She loved it. But it was something only classless people were apart of. Or so she was told. But these people looked the same as those in the magazines. A very tall and dark man played the instrument causing her to experience a very pleasant vibration through her body. He was shirtless and sweating and had a large tattoo on his arm. A chain from his worn dark jeans that bounced with every pluck of his long fingers. Next to him a smaller man, pale and singing with delightfully large blonde curly hair. He sang beautifully she thought. He wore a shirt unbuttoned and tucked into pants so tight she could see a bulge that ripped her from her fantasy of being as cool and free as they were. She turns around quickly and moves towards the bar.

She finds George in his work clothes, the navy not being blotched by black oils and spills told her he also hadn’t been to work. She wears her disappointment in her face clearly for a moment before trying to put on that mask her mother taught her to wear. Never show him that you’re upset. Anger is unseemly on a lady. But this did make her angry. Her red face made it obvious she was holding in red hot emotion. Her smile was hollow and her eyes gave her away.

“Hello, George. I believe it’s time we got home.” She says with a hand to his shoulder.

“How’d you find me here?” He asks with a dramatic turn on his bar stool, and he was in true skunk form.

“A person in town suggested it. Your mother is worried about you. Can we please go home?”

“You can. I’m staying here.”

“Please George I have to get you home. Both our parents expect me to take care of you and that’s what I’m doing.”

“What if I don’t want you to take care of me? Huh? What if I don’t want anything to do with you?”

Her throat felt tight. She was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a way since she was bullied when she was young. The eyes she could feel on her from a growing audience he was causing made her feel all tingly and nervous. He looked at her with disgust and the shame she usually felt was quickly turning into anger in this new over-stimulating environment.

“Do you think I want to be here?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think I wanted to run all the errands myself today for my own wedding? And make excuses for your absence all day and have people look at me with pity. Because they knew you were here. Again from the looks of you.”

“Well, I’m only here because of YOU.” He spits back.

“Me?” She squeaks with growing confidence that makes her take a deep breath and steady herself. “I have been nothing but an ideal fiancé from the beginning of this. YOU asked for this. Not me.”

“I didn’t ask for it! You did!”

They both looked at each other confused. “I was told you asked for my hand.”

“Hell no my parents told me I had to say yes to your parents offer or they’d cut me off and send me to the army.”

They both blink at each other for a moment. “This is…” she takes a shaker breath. “I’m in an arranged marriage.” She whispers and feels a betrayal deep in her chest. She’d been lied to. Her parents lied, her fiancé lied, the whole town and only one person has the decency to tell her where George was. It hurt like a knife might she thought as her hands held fast to her stomach.

“Are you like...retarded too? Ugh geez. Of course, it is! Why would I want to be with a freak like you?”

It’s as if he’d culminated every fear she’d ever had into a single sentence. All her thoughts of not fitting in, of something being wrong with her. She’d been right all along. “Well, I don’t want to be with a mean drunk like you!” She says back with a face that showed her first real emotion in years.

“I am not a drunk.”

“Yes you are! The whole town gossips about it behind your back. Your parents threaten to send you off if you don’t start acting like an adult. You try to take advantage of ME when I’ve never been anything but nice to you! You are MEAN and you are a DRUNK!”

He moves fast and grabs hold of her arms tightly. Enough to make her cry out and wince. “You listen here you little freak of nature. If you’re gonna be with me you’re gonna respect me as a good wife would.”

“Is there a problem here?” The same tall man from the stage asks, towering over George.

“Buzz off bud. This is between me and my girl.”

“It’s not when you talk to her like that, loud enough for whole damn bar to hear and then put your hands on her.

“Why don’t you go and fuck your cousin, you dirty ass hippies.”

The man meets eyes with Rosie and he immediately knew he had to help her. She looked defeated, but a shine of hope that someone, anyone would ever help her out. He knew one of their kind when he saw that look. Just like the group of outcasts he’d gathered over the years since returning home.

“You’re a…” he glances to Rosie who beams innocence in such a way a man like him is forced to protect it. “Jerk.” He decides instead of saying words that might make the victim feel embarrassed.

“He’s an… asshole.” She spits out and feels a wave of rush over her as she curses.

George flinches to hit her and that was enough for the tall stranger. “Alright, you’re killing the vibe, man.” He wraps his neck in a headlock and drags him out of the bar with a shocked Rosie froze for a moment.

“‘Ello there, love.” The singer from before came in. With gentle hands to her shoulders. “You alright? Hurt?”

“N-no.” She stutters.

“Ya sure you’ve gone all rosy in the face.” He fans her with his hand.

“I always am.” She excuses quickly. “Sorry..I-“

“No apologies, let’s get you into the fresh air eh? Don’t worry I’m with the big guy what dragged off that unpleasant twat you were dealing with.”

“Okay.” She says breathily and a little dazed. “Thank you.”

——-

“Well, he’s gone.” The tall one says proudly, clapping his hands.

Rosie stands and looks at the spot where her car had sat. Now empty. “Did he take that yellow car?” She points to the space.

“Yeah, he headed right for it, had the keys.”

She nods and sighs. “I’m afraid that was my car he took.” She looks down the ground to figure out her next move from here, now stranded.

“Oh shit. Oh no, I’m sorry.” The tall man says putting his hands to his mouth. “Ah. Well fuck, honey I really screwed you there didn’t I “

She blinks with her large pale blue eyes at him with tears withheld. A cherub round face that struck a deep nerve as she tried to hide her upset. “You didn’t mean it. You were trying to help.” She says with a slow nod and inhales.

“Bad luck innit.” The other rubs her back comfortingly and she didn’t mind it. He seemed like such a nice man. They both were.

“Can you get a ride home? Call your parents or… something? Or did he just... steal your car?” He towers over her but she doesn’t feel afraid. He rubs his head in thought as he bit his lip.

“I’ll have to call my mother. He’ll go home to his mother I presume.” She nods. “I can retrieve my car tomorrow. Unless he crashes it.” She sighs. “He was terribly drunk.” Her shoulders sink in disappointment.

“Look, we’ll get ya home...what’s your name love?”

“Rose.”

“Oh, that’s a beautiful name innit? For a beautiful girl.” He holds no ill will as he says it and the compliment hits her hard in her emotionally unstable state. Tears well up for someone, a man, a nice man to be so kind to her to say such a nice thing. “Oh no, don’t cry. We'll get you a cab home. It’s no trouble love. Don’t worry ya pretty little head about it eh?”

“You’re so nice.” The tears fall fat over her flushed cheeks.

“Now there’s a good girl.” He brings her in for a hug. “Go call her a car, mate.” He nods away the other fellow.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like this. I’ve had such a bad day.”

“Now let’s sit down here and you can tell Danny all about it now little Rosie.” He shoos some men off a nearby bench to sit her down.

“That your name?” She sniffles

“It is. I’m Danny and that big man was Declan. You’ll be safe with us. Don’t worry. We are protectors of the oppressed.” He chuckles as he puts an arm on her shoulder as she hides her face from the eyes watching.

“Oppressed?”

“Yeah. You know, women… people that are... various beautiful shades of brown, black yellow..." he spoke dramatically with an outstretched hand that captivated her " … homosexuals. You know how it goes, the bad ones yeah? The rebels, the outcasts,  lost children who come across our path.”

“You’re making us sound like a cult man. Don’t scare her.” Declan laughs and stands guard at her other side. “Taxi’ll be here within the hour.” He gives her a warm smile that crinkles around his eyes. Half of it coverd in a beard that was pointed and a bit fuzzy. His hair was like a dark lions mane around his face and shoulders.

Rosie contemplated as she looked up at him and wondered if she’d ever seen a man so tall before.

“He only looks scary,” Danny assures her. “Declan this is Rosie.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He gives a gentle nod down at her.

“Almost exactly what I told her.” Danny beams.

“Hey Rosie, I’m Declan. Nice to meet you.” He spoke softly and gently as if she might startle if he spoke too loudly at her. “We’re in a band. We travel around. Play music and just...living life y’know. Being free with the life we’ve got.” He spoke proudly as he explained. “We’ve heard a lot of stories. So you aren’t going to tell us anything we’ll judge you for.” He laughs.

“We’ve all done far worse than whatever spot you’ve got yourself in angel.” Danny joins in the laugh.

“I’m sorry to cry I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed.” She wipes her cheeks. “As I was telling Danny I’ve had a very bad day.”

“Tells us about it then love. Let the evil out.” He motions with his hands as if he were vomiting and it makes her have a soft little giggle. “There she is.” He pushes her chin up gently. “Go on then…”

Her blubbering story hurt them both as she told of isolation and now betrayal and forced marriage to a terrible man. They’d seen it and heard it before, many in their group had a similar past.

“You deserve so much better Rosie love,” Danny says with a broadly shaking head. “You are clearly such a bright and lovely girl with a pure heart and you deserve the same given back to you.”

“I do!” She whines.

“You can change it all. You’ve got the power. They tell us we don’t. That we can’t. But it’s because they’re afraid of us. Afraid that if we knew what power we had as a collective, as they’ve made us all feel so isolated you see? You can have whatever sort of life you want Rosie. You just have to take it.” Dany speaks intently to her with unwavering eye contact.

“Take it?” she sniffles.

“Make the hard choices. You want things to stay like this forever or you want to take a chance and be your own person?” Declan asks with high brows. He had the tougher approach and Danny handled the whimsy of things, it suited their personalities.

“Like...refuse to marry him?”

“Not just that. You can refuse to stay with your parents.”

Rosie laughs as if he’s joking.

“I’m serious. You could go and live anywhere you wanted. Did you even know that?”

“No. I thought….”

“You can make your own choices Rosie,” Declan says as he sees the cab arrive. “You could see the world. Meet anyone. Do anything. ”

“That… sounds too good to be true.” she looks down at the ground as they walk her towards the car.

“It’s what we did,” Declan turns to face her. “We didn’t like our lives so we just...changed them. I wanted music and freedom and to be around people who understood me.”

“We eventually found each other. And our little family has grown ever since.” Danny holds his home like an adoring mum seeing away their daughter on the bus.

“Family?”

“We’re just a bunch of misfits that are trying to find our place in this crazy world.” Danny shrugs. “Some of us play music and some just follow us in the summertime to escape their lives. Some just like life on the road. We’ve got all sorts. Certainly had a few girls with stories like yours.”

“Really?” she rubs her cheeks.

“We aren’t saying you have to join us. We’re just saying you can make your own choices... have whatever sort of life you want. That’s all. You seemed like you could use the help.”

“I could.” she lets out a heavy, thoughtful sigh. “Thank you. Both. You were very helpful. I can’t really repay you.”

“Start making YOURSELF happy Rosie. That’ll be payment enough. You deserve it, pet.” Danny waves her goodbye.

“Don’t let the man get you down little Rosie.” Declan Nods her way as she gets in the cab to head home.

—————

The cab drive home was the most peace she was going to know for the next 24 hours. It started with the cops being at her house when she got there. George had been arrested after being taken to the hospital for injuries from wrecking her car. He was being held and charged and poor Rosie thought she might pass out.

George’s mother paced and shouted in their house late into the night. Wailing about her “poor” son. What did she do to him to make him behave in such a way? Denial was not just a river she'd read about in the encyclopedias she'd gotten for Christmas.

Her own mother joined in, what did she do? How was she going to fix this? Why didn’t she have the money to bail him out? She raised her better than this.

Rosie sat and took it. But each biting remark only made that funny feeling in her stomach grow as each verbally slapped her over and over.

“Did you ever consider you’re yelling at the wrong person?” She finally says back quietly.

“For god's sake girl don’t mumble and slouch! It’s ugly!”

She had been told she was pretty tonight and told she could be and do whatever she wanted. Things she’d never heard before. There were people out there that wouldn’t treat her like this. This isn’t what she wanted. She wouldn’t survive a life like this, it would hollow her out into a shell of who she really was.

“I said, Did you ever consider you’re yelling at the wrong person?” Her brow was now creased and a rare sight it was. “Did you ever consider your son is a drunk? A hateful loser who has been breastfed too long by his mother?!” She sass’s with balled fists in the meanest and most insulting thing she’d ever said came out of her mouth confidently. “And you! I don’t have any money because you won’t let me work! You won’t let me leave! Or even LIVE!” She throws her arms up in the air. “You’re being bullies when I’m the ONLY one that tried to DO something and HELP him. And this is what I get? No. No more. I don’t have to put up with this...this… BOLOGNA!” She yells and stomps to her room, slamming the door and leaving a room of shocked faces behind. Her father in the kitchen almost choked on the beer he was trying to secretly down to deal with the situation. It was beer and not even liquor what was he becoming?

Rosie falls to her bed and cries and hits the pillows as her door is quickly bombarded with screeches on the other side. Demands of her to come out and apologize and she just kept shouting “NO!” Over and over to their requests. She took all of her suitcases and laid them on the bed, the voices on the other side growing tired and falling quieter and they tried to listen to what she was doing. She threw her life into those cases. All her favorite things, things she might need, she stuffed them full and sat on them to get them to shut. She angrily pens a letter. Telling them she was tired of being oppressed and lied to and she was going to make herself happy and never see them again. She still signed it with a heart.

She gets out of her bedroom window and makes her way to the car with the dented fender and busted windows the cops had returned to them. She throws in her bags and whispers a prayer it will start. Someone was looking out for her. She could see the sources of the yelling running out of the house behind her as she headed out of the subdivision. She’d never felt more alive.

She practically drifted into the gravel parking lot at the roadhouse and held tears of joy from her escape and the fact that the buses and vans were still in sight. The bus was headed out of the parking lot. She leaves the car with the keys in the ignition and straps her bags and suitcases up and runs as fast as her feet will carry her toward the van left in the line.

“WAIT!” She shouts and pants. “PLEASE WAIT!!” She lets out a scream she didn’t know she had in her. Her lungs burned and her blood pumped faster than it ever had as the van door rolled open. “I’m coming with you!”

“Is that?” Declan snorts out an amused sound

“Well fuck me it’s that little girl again.” Danny muses as he looks out the door. “Slow down mate, we got a castaway.”

“Being. Chased. Keep going.”

“Chased?” Danny laughs. “By who?” The thought of someone being in pursuit of this tiny white field mouse amused him to no end.

“I RAN AWAY!” she laughs as she throws her bags to the filled van and is ran full force as the van gets to the highway and she’s yanked inside. The door slams shut behind her and she’s left wheezing and trying to fix her dress and hair.

“Come now little bird, have a seat.” Danny pulls her down on the bean bag he’s sat on.

“I. Ran.” She pants out and Danny and Declan laugh but the other eyes in the van are looking at her confused.

“From the cops?” Someone asks concerned

“No.” She clears her throat and takes a deep breath as she calms down. “From my house.”

“Was it as bad as you thought it was gonna be?” Danny pushes back her hair.

“Worse.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I can... I can come with you guys right?” She says with puppy eyes.

“Welcome to our merry little crew Rosie bug.” Danny beams.

“I ran away too.” Another girl with long beautiful wavy hair says from her spot in the open-backed van, now crowded full. “Husband? Parents?”

“Both.” Rosie nods and they share a sympathetic nod of understanding.

“I’m glad you came Rosie.” the girl's eyes showed strong empathy and it made Rosie certain she'd made the right decision.

“I am too.” She finally catches her breath. “So…” she primps for a moment to gather herself. “Where are we off to first?”

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness  @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​

[valkyrisffvii]

Secrets

Setting: Mithra’s apartment in the Shinra Building, Midgar

POV: 3rd person

Summary: Mithra invites Sephiroth over to her home so the new couple can spend time together, and she reveals some of her deepest secrets.

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

Mithra sat on one of the barstools in her kitchen area, mindlessly staring at her phone. She finished cleaning up her apartment earlier to make it look presentable, as Sephiroth was going to be spending the night with her. Apparently, her apartment was nicer than even the 1st class SOLDIER’s, as it was originally a suite for Shinra’s guests. 

The two of them had been together for about a week now. Mithra still felt somewhat overwhelmed and in disbelief at the fact, but Sephiroth had reassured her that he loved her and wanted the relationship. Also, thankfully, there were no rules in SOLDIER that forbade dating among members. Additionally, the two of them had agreed that their relationship could become public, as doing such would prevent fangirls from causing problems. 

There was a knock at her door, and Mithra quickly hurried over. She peered through the peephole and saw the tall, silver-haired First standing on the other side. Heart racing, she opened the door to let him in.

“Hello, my dear,” his smooth voice did nothing to calm her down. He placed his duffel bag down and pulled Mithra in for a hug. Normally, Sephiroth would never perform such a physical act, but Mithra somehow brought out this side in him. Mithra hugged him back, burying her face into his shoulder.

“Hello, love,” she mumbled into his coat. She leaned up to kiss him, which he gladly accepted. Mithra then led him into her living area.

“Your home is very nice,” he said. “I now understand why Zack and Cloud like to hang out here so much.”

“I do my best to accommodate. I made Zack his own jar of puppy food.” 

Sephiroth could not help but crack a small grin; Mithra knew her friends too well. The living area had a television as well as a large couch and a coffee table. The kitchen was in the same room, with a nicely-sized kitchen island that sported several bar stools. Sephiroth spotted several of Angeal’s cookbooks perched on the countertop, showing that Mithra had been borrowing them and experimenting with new recipes. 

Mithra opened one of the doors that led out of the living area to reveal the bedroom. Maroon sheets and pillowcases adorned the king-sized bed, and a matching comforter was draped over the foot. Each side had a nightstand with a pink salt lamp, and the nightstand on the left had a caddy with several small items. Opposite of the bed was a full-length window whose curtains were currently drawn. 

“You can leave your bag there.” Mithra gestured to the dresser against the wall next to the door. “The left side of the bed is my side. I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the right side.” She paused, getting nervous again. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable sleeping next to me, then you could sleep-”

Sephiroth shushed her.

“Relax, love. I’ll be more than comfortable sharing a bed with you. I’m sure your bed will be much warmer with me in it.” He winked at her, inciting a giggle from the now-relaxed Second. As she helped him get settled, Mithra could not help but adore the way Sephiroth could both fluster her to the point of blushing and instantly relax her all in the same breath. 

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

The evening had consisted of the two talking about their lives and gossiping about their friends. Mithra cooked them dinner with the help of Angeal’s cookbooks, and, unlike the times she cooked with Zack, the kitchen stayed relatively clean. They also played chess, which Sephiroth won every single time. Mithra and Sephiroth only grew closer during that time. She had always known that they were more similar than she originally thought, having no clue who their parents were and being mostly solitary in their youth. It almost seemed like they were meant to be together.

It was 9 PM when they both decided to get ready for bed. Mithra showed Sephiroth to her luxurious bathroom, which sported separate shower, whirlpool spa, and toilet rooms that both connected to a vanity and sink area. Not even the prestigious 1st Class SOLDIERs had this amenity.

“I know that you’ll be taking a while with that hair of yours, so I’ll go and shower first.” Mithra gathered her clothes and went into the shower room, finishing her shower within five minutes. She changed into her preferred sleepwear which consisted of a sports bra and shorts, and she went back into the bedroom where Sephiroth was sitting on the bed. 

“You look quite adorable,” he said playfully, which resulted in an equally playful punch in the arm. He pretended to be hurt and chuckled as he went into the bathroom to shower.

Ten minutes had passed, and knowing that her boyfriend would be taking a while, Mithra went to the bathroom and opened up the small skincare refrigerator that sat safely on a vanity away from the sinks. She applied her toner and creams, considering asking Sephiroth if he was interested in trying out one of her mud masks sometime. As she walked back to her bedroom, she failed to notice the large, slippery puddle that a certain someone had dripped in the middle of the floor.

“Fuuuck!” she cried as her feet slid up from underneath her. Luckily, before she could collapse on the floor, a strong pair of hands saved her by catching her under her arms. Instead of laying flat on her back on the floor, Mithra’s body was now propped up by her heels and her rescuer. 

Mithra opened her eyes and looked up to see her silver-haired lover who currently sported the most smug face she’d ever seen. To add to her embarrassment, the only thing covering him was a white towel wrapped securely around his hips. She could feel the heat rising in her face as she gained her footing and looked away. Sephiroth stepped in front of her, smiling at how cute she looked. She looked up and was met face to face with a broad, naked chest, which she could not take her eyes off of. She was snapped out of her trance when she felt his velvety lips press against her forehead.

“Sephy! Why are you walking around and leaving puddles everywhere?” she cried. “Go dry yourself off and put on some clothes while I clean up the mess you made!”

“You know, I could use my towel to wipe the floor...”

“No!” Mithra practically shoved him back into the shower room and went to mop up the puddles, all while fighting the urge to peek in on him getting dressed.

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

After she had wrung out her mop and left it out to dry, Mithra headed back to her bedroom and sat on her side of the bed. She laid back against the pillows as she doodled on her tablet with her prized stylus. Drawing proved itself to be a favorite pastime of hers. It helped her relax and unwind in between missions and long training sessions with Angeal. She had drawn portraits for all her friends, which they appreciated immensely. 

Mithra was currently working on yet another sketch of Sephiroth. She knew that she was falling for him when she found herself drawing him over and over, constantly trying to get more and more accurate with her portrayal of the famous SOLDIER. Having spent plenty of time with him lately, she basically had his entire face memorized.

The bathroom door opened, and Mithra turned her head to see Sephiroth standing there. His hair still laid flat on his head with dampness, and he had slipped on a pair of black sweatpants, leaving his bare chest exposed. Mithra could not help but crack a small smile at him. He came over to sit next to her, peering at her tablet and the drawing she worked on.

“Drawing me again, aren’t you?” He asked teasingly. He looked more closely at Mithra’s work, his eyes sparkling.

“I’ll probably be drawing you a lot more, my dear,” Mithra responded, looking up at him and getting lost in his minty-green eyes. She noticed that his usual slit pupils had dilated slightly, now resembling ellipses. Before he had confessed his feelings towards her, Mithra had rarely seen him look at anything with the amount of love and adoration he currently exhibited. He was always so serious and dedicated to his work. He chuckled in response to her statement. 

“If you ever want me to model for you, I’d be honored.”

“Remind me to bring my pen and tablet when we go to Costa Del Sol,” she laughed, placing her items down and scooting herself in between his legs with her back resting on his chest. Sephiroth wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. He then leaned back against the headboard and began to mindlessly fiddle with Mithra’s short brown locks, a stark contrast to his long silver mane. 

As she shifted her head, he noticed something peculiar under her hair right behind her right ear. He pushed the hair aside to reveal a long, raised scar that marred her skin from right behind the tip of her ear to about halfway down her neck. He could not stop staring at it as his finger went to trace along it, causing Mithra to cease her movements.

“How did you get this scar?” He asked curiously. Mithra did not respond, as thoughts of how she’d explain its story swam in her head. Even though it had been so many years since that event, the memory was still fresh in her mind. It was one of the things that made her hate her life in the slums, and how glad she was to have been able to find a new life at Shinra. 

“Mithra?” She turned slightly so she could look at Sephiroth from the corner of her eye, and her scar was still fully visible to him. 

“I got it when I was sixteen. I was in the slums and I was leaving a bar because I had to return a stolen item to a client,” she explained. Sephiroth only stared at the mutilated skin, running his thumb along the length of the healed scar. “I was just outside the entrance when a man reeking of booze grabbed my arm and told me I looked pretty. He asked me if I was interested in having some fun with him; he was obviously trying to get me to sleep with him. I refused and tried to pull away, and he eventually got so mad that he slammed his half-empty bottle into my head. He aimed for the right side of my face, but I was quick, so it ended up hitting me behind the ear.” Her hand came up to meet his. “It still hurt like a bitch though. If I didn’t jerk my head I probably would’ve gotten glass in my eye and gone blind on that side.”

Sephiroth only looked at her in horror. How could someone do that, and to a sixteen year old no less? He concealed the anger and hatred he felt towards that man; Mithra was most likely safe from him for good now, but that wouldn’t stop Sephiroth from killing the offender if he dared to show his face. By now, Mithra had turned around to face him, her hands on his shoulders.

“I know what you’re thinking. I give you full permission to impale him with Masamune if you see him. I still vaguely remember what he looks like.” She paused to reach behind her ear and touch her scar. 

“Experiences like that one are what taught me all the skills I’ve needed to survive. After I staggered from the pain, I ran for my life. It wasn’t until a year later that I had the courage to leave when I knew that I had had enough,” she sighed, looking down. “I had to hide from several people who were angered by my refusal to submit to them. That’s how I became so good at staying in the shadows and being undetectable. Well, my job as a thief helped me also.”

By now, she felt like she had said too much. Mithra hung her head, afraid to see her lover’s facial expression. His hand came under her chin and gently forced her to look at him, just like how it did when he kissed her a week ago. She stared into his eyes and swallowed thickly.

“Mithra,” he began, “I am so sorry that you had to experience that. I did not know that your skills were the results of such traumatic events.” He pulled her in for a tight hug, her head buried in his neck and his hand stroking her hair. 

“You are such a strong person. I have seen the compassion you exhibit and the hard work you put into everything you do. You have overcome so much adversity, yet you still have a kind heart.” He pulled away slightly to caress her cheek, looking into her eyes yet again.

“I love you so much, Mithra, and I promise that I will do everything within my ability to protect you. If anyone tries to hurt you, they will have to go through me first.” By now, Mithra was blinking back tears of love and adoration. She slammed her lips against his in a long, passionate kiss, her arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around her waist. She knew he was the one for her, and he knew it too. They separated for air, resting their foreheads together. 

“Sephy, you were the first man to catch my eye and the first man I fell in love with. I will always be by your side,” she said, her voice full of raw emotions. By now, there was an evident sleepiness in her voice, and, despite trying her best to look at him, her eyes were drooping. Sephiroth chuckled and kissed her nose in thanks.

“Someone is falling asleep. Why don’t we call it a night?” Mithra nodded eagerly, turning off the lamps. Sephiroth laid on his back, extending an arm to her. She happily nestled against him, her head on his bare chest. She could hear the calming rhythm of his heart beating. His arm came to wrap around her waist, and she tangled her legs with his. Peaceful slumber overcame her almost immediately, and her mouth was frozen in a small smile.

“Good night, my love,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. He soon drifted off as well, looking forward to what the future held for the both of them.