#the devil was a kindly gentleman :)

[thesean]

met the devil in rdr2 last night and shortly thereafter we heard a bootboy landlord on mic publicly talking about how his ex wife left him while he was on deployment

[psalm22-6]

A man stopped at a book cart in Ann street Saturday to look over the cheap paper editions that it contained, says the New York Times. He picked up a copy of "Les Miserables." As he did so a tramp touched him on the shoulder and said: "I beg your pardon, sir, but will you purchase that for me?" A gruff "no" was the reply, but the tramp was not to be easily got rid of. "I enjoy reading, sir," he said, "and have much leisure time. The newspapers do not satisfy me. Their stories are not written by masters. They are superficial they are not from the heart they have no particular object in view. Hugo had no equals and so no superiors." The tramp spoke hurriedly, as though unwilling to let his forced hearer escape his plea. He wanted the book, and to indicate that he was not of the lowest order of tramp he said: "To paraphrase Caesar, all gall is divided into three parts—the bitterness of the world, of the flesh and of the devil. I have experienced the first, am experiencing the second, and hope for something better than the third. I am a tramp, an outcast—you can see that—but I have been a gentleman—as the world uses the word and at times I can momentarily forget that I belong to the Brotherhood of Adversity. But even these months are getting rarer and yet more rare. But why bother you with this? "Purchase for me this cheap copy of 'Les Miserables.' Jean Valjean was one of the brotherhood; Fantine was another; the book contains many others, and I wish to read it again. I have read it four times and have passed it on. I will do so again, for it contains much that by contrast makes an outcast's life seem easy, and, although you may doubt me, while to an extent it embitters us, it in the end elevates us, only to a slight degree it is true, but it has a beneficient effect, and that, no matter how slight, is something." The man addressed, wishing to terminate the appeal, and being more or less impressed by the tramp's words and manner, picked the volumes from the cart, paid for them, handed them to the tramp and walked away. The fellow of the Brotherhood of Adversity said: "I am much obliged to you, sir. Humph! He cannot even wait to be thanked for a kindly act because the beneficiary is a tramp. Curious thing is human nature."

Source: the Terre Haute Express, 2 October 1896

[maybeelse]

It is said that devils hunger for souls, and many a wayward maiden—and dispossessed gentleman—quakes with fear at the prospect of what might befall them if they misjudge the stranger who so kindly offers them a warm bed, a hearty meal, a heavy purse ...

For, oh! So easily may an immortal soul be lost! Eternity hangs in the balance at every moment, so vulnerable, so delectable. Each moment of life teeters in the balance between paradise and damnation, and the light of tender grace will never penetrate the darkness beyond that too-sharp smile.

Many things are said of the lightless ones. It is easy to fill your voice with certainty when you condemn monsters, when you offer so much for just a little faith, for the tiniest proof of devotion. Questions beget condemnation; what poisons have dripped into the ears of your flock! Truly, a devil must have been among them—but you know how to root out the collaborators, don't you? How to find the traitors, the witches, those poor souls who turned their back on the light. Misled or willfully rebellious, the remedy is the same—what matters a moment of suffering when eternity hangs in the balance?

It is said that devils and Fae both are chained by language, that words and bargains bind them as surely as gravity does the merely human, that they—and their creatures—can twist and stretch meaning but never lie. They were absent at the burning of Babel, or so they say, and its poisoned light never came into them and stole away the mother tongue. For this reason also their bodies are immortal, their nature is incorruptible, and their minds are repulsed by the light of burning books and the touch of branding irons.

Stories are still told in village taverns—but not in their sooty urban cousins, for in the city history moves too fast to be remembered—of when last the duke's hunt caught a devil. Nigh forty years ago, and yet the storytellers remember it more clearly than yesterday—the stink of the beast, the way it struggled and cursed and then convulsed madly at the touch of the duke's iron! They paraded it through the villages, proof of their triumph; the hunters gleaming in silk and chain, the duke glowering down from his sedan, smiling only when they cracked its head against the hard cobblestones! Such glory, such triumph!

There are awkward questions that one might ask. There always are. It's an opportunity for children to be taught a lesson, and for willful adults to be quietly noticed. It always pays to know who might have found—and be found in—infernal company.

It is said that devils court the virtuous with wealth and power and secret knowledge, and that no clever tinkerer or shrewd merchant ascends beyond their station without a whiff of sulfur. Mostly this is said by those who are already wealthy and powerful; no one likes competition.

It is said that a devil taught old Aubergine Throat the secrets of blood and sin, back before she became all that she is. Even the fiercest hag was once an innocent girl, though you may find that hard to believe, and few stories start in the furnace's fire. That is the surest proof of the danger of devils—that their clever tongues and licentious weapons can tempt even the most virtuous off the righteous path!

This is humanity's virtue and its vice: that each and every human is gifted the potential to change, for good or for ill. Even the most sinful among us can be induced to genuine repentance—unless, unless! Unless a devil has stolen their soul away, and left in its place a lightless facsimile capable only of pretending! A false copy, walking through life upon whichever path best fulfills its basest urges, no more capable of restraining itself than a wyrm can withhold its flame or a stud horse his seed.

For that is what devils do: they prune away the choice.

So many things are said of devils. Surely some of them are true.

[ghostvampiregalgazerock]

Ace 🔥 ❤️‍🔥and Nami 🍊 🧡as a Couple HEADCANONS! *CRACKSHIP*

It's been ages since I wrote One Piece fanfictions and my first time doing anime headcanons! Honestly, I never knew I would ship Nami and Ace together, who are my top favorite characters from the series. Then I realized they are my favorite crack ship as I imagine them as a couple, which is now my One Piece Otp XD! I mean, come on! Ace is hot, badass, and hysterical. Nami is beautiful, badass, and hilarious. Well, fans said Ace has Isuka, and she is from Ace's Adventures novel, but I am more team Nami as always since I watched this series. Also, I need to catch up on watching this series, but I am back into watching it, and yes…I spoiled myself on the series a bit, but it's a long series (don't judge me; I saw a lot of spoilers on the internet. Seeing it as a surprise is magic while watching for the first time, but I fail at it), and it's one of my favorite anime series of all time when I first got into anime. Also, I know (SPOILER ALERT) Ace dies… 😢. But I am keeping him alive in my One Piece stories/one-shots. I never knew I would grow close to Ace, but he's such a great big brother to Luffy, and he's a badass. Also…really attractive as hell😳. But then I imagined him in the Strawhats crew, but only for fanfics if he was alive and why not. Also, Luffy is happy to have his brother with him. It is also a good excuse for him being close to Nami as a Strawhat crew member. Or Nami as a Whitebeard crew member? But here's their headcanons!!!!! You can imagine you are Nami to have Ace or be Ace to have Nami in this headcanon of mine just to let you know. I DON'T OWN ONE PIECE!!

Firey Couple ❤️‍🔥(Ace is fire since he has fire devil fruit powers, while Nami...HAS A FIERY ATTITUDE😂)

Really care about each other

Got along really well during the Alabasta Arc with Ace as the major ally. (Back then, I skipped forward to see episodes of Ace because I really wanted to see him while I was getting into the series. Well, I feel like I started the show because of him. But I heard it's really good, so I'm watching the series also and I love it. One Piece is one of my favorite anime series.)

Nami was really shy when she was around Ace as he came over to visit, and she started realizing she had feelings for him.

Ace said he likes her, causing her to melt and blush so hard.

Our boy made the first move on the first kiss. He thought Nami was gonna punch him, but she didn't since she accepted the kiss, meaning she likes him back.

Ace is such a gentleman to her (he respects her space and makes sure she is alright). He can be protective of her, but only in fights and dangerous adventures.

Nami would be the clingy one in the relationship. (Not possessive, just being cute by koala hugging him when she misses him. Ace doesn't mind it since he loves it a lot and finds it cute)

Ace would get clingy too, when he's tired and wants to snuggle her, Nami finds it cute.

Yes, they do get jealous.

Nami would get jealous if someone flirts with Ace in front of her. Luckily, Ace is a respectful partner for Nami. He is uncomfortable and would kindly let the girl down, saying 'he's taken' or 'I have a girlfriend'. Nami would step in by just hugging him from behind while pouting. Ace would smile before giving her a kiss on the cheek to let her know he's still hers.

Ace gets jealous when a guy tries to flirt with Nami...oof...he tries not to beat the shit out of him. Though if the guy isn't listening to Nami when she says 'not interested' or 'I have a boyfriend'...Ace would come over to her aid by telling him off or would beat the crap out of him if he's sexually harassing Nami. Nami would punch her stalker, but sometimes they would dodge her attacks. Nami doesn't mind Ace beating either guy's ass who flirts with her since he deserves it.

Nami would laugh if he fell asleep out of nowhere, as she finds it funny, but he doesn't do it when they are together without making her think he's bored of her. He would fall asleep if they were snuggling together on the bed or couch since they both feel relaxed.

Nami may be greedy for treasure, but she deeply cares about Ace, her family, and her crew. Ace doesn't mind since he knows where she got the nickname 'Cat Burglar'. But he knows the real story of why she cares about treasure.

Nami tells Ace of how Arlong treated her and what her village went through in hell because of him. Ace was furious about how she was treated. Nami then cries as she brings up that story. Ace would hold her as she cries in his arms for her comfort. He lets her know that he's sorry since he couldn't be there for her and what she went through. Nami assures him it's alright and not to feel bad since it's finally over, and she's living her best life out in the seas, making Ace feel better.

Ace telling Nami that he is Gol D. Roger's son was nerve-racking for him. Nami was surprised since she had already known through the news when it was revealed during the Marineford War. She told Ace that she didn't care who his father was. All she cares about is that he is a wonderful and amazing person with the amazing life he deserves, which makes Ace surprised but smile as he hugs her.

Talking about what happened at the Marineford two years ago was hard when Nami saw the scar on his torso and one on his back from Akainu, yet survived. (a devil fruit user comes in with healing powers to save Ace's life, but it costs his savior's life.) Nami tearfully confesses that it was terrifying that he almost died. Ace comforts her and lets her know that he's still here for her. He lets her know that he won't die and will live, making Nami smile.

They would bond over their tattoos.

If they go shopping together, Ace isn't a shopping person but is happy to go to be with Nami. Ace isn't controlling of what Nami wears since he wants her to be happy and comfortable so she can make her own choices as an independent woman. Though she would love to hear opinions from other people for fashion advice, she chose Ace. But Ace said she looks great in everything as she is model material, making her the luckiest girl on Earth.

PDA - They would hold hands while walking around town, and Nami would sit on his lap, or while sitting next to each other, Ace would have his arm wrapped around her waist. However, if someone looks at either one of them based on how good-looking they are (I mean, have you seen them?), they would get jealous and have their arms linked together.

Make out session - somewhere quiet so no one would stare at them.

Ace's favorite body part on Nami is her eyes since he finds them pretty, and he can stare at them for hours.

Nami's favorite body part on Ace is his freckles since she finds them cute, and they suit his childish personality.

🔞This is where they get steamy with each other (SKIP TO THE FLUFFY IF YOU AREN'T READY FOR IT!)

If they get turned on, Ace's favorite body part on Nami would be her legs, and Nami's favorite body part on Ace is his entire upper body when he's shirtless (He's always shirtless, but he would wear tops sometimes to cover his scars and not blow his cover. This him in After Timeskip. IDK how After Timeskip Ace would dress, but why not. He does have a slight stubble on his chin, like Sanji from the Post Timeskip, and his hair has grown a bit longer and when I think of Ace looking like that...🤤 ALSO BOI PUT A SHIRT ON!!!! I CAN'T FOCUS ON YOUR ABS WHILE WATCHING THE SERIES TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Ace would teasingly spank or grab her ass to tease her or a sign of knowing he wants her so badly.

They are turned on by each other when they are alone together.

Ace would definitely be turned on if Nami is sitting on his lap.

Nami would 'model' in her new lingerie to show Ace, but he prefers her without the lingerie she's in.

Ace is excited for the 'Happiness Punch' when they are in bed or when it is just them in the bathroom together before getting in the bathtub or shower.

He does have a thing for her breasts. He would watch how her breasts bounce as she rides him while on top of him or when they have sex in front of a mirror. He would grope them or use his mouth and tongue on them to Nami's pleasure.

Ace wouldn't go too rough on Nami, so he wouldn't hurt her, but she would tell him when it's okay to speed it up.

Ace was a gentleman during their 'first time'.

Kinks? Temperature Play since Ace has devil fruit powers that are based on fire. He wouldn't burn Nami and is careful to not burn the bed, lol. He would have his entire body heated up while they are having sex. He would warm his hands, lips, and tongue to touch every part of Nami's body to make her go crazy for him.

Besides doing body heat during sex, he would calmly heat his body up to keep Nami warm on cold nights while snuggling.

Oral? Ace would give it to Nami to drive her crazy as she's moaning his name out and begging him for more to his pleasure. Ace doesn't care if he doesn't receive one from her if she ain't up to it, and he still loves her and wants her to be comfortable. He did say he prefers his...c*ck in her clit to his pleasure, making her blush mad. (A/N - As a writer, I get uncomfortable with how I want to write my love scenes. I will explain it in another post. Anyways back to the headcanons!)

Fingering…Nami is a moaning mess when Ace fingers her while he kisses her neck or breasts along with his tongue.

Positions...any sex positions to face each other since Ace wants to see her face while he makes love to her so he can kiss her also. He would take her from behind when they have sex in front of a mirror.

Public? Ace would make love to her in a private hot spring somewhere to make their temperature play hotter.

Ace prefers to have sex in bed with Nami so he can sleep after, which Nami doesn't mind since it's comfortable, and be sure they have towels, so the bed ain't sticky when they go to sleep.

Masturbation? (OH HELL NO!!! I am not comfortable writing it!!!!!!! I am sorry!!!! AGAIN I DON'T OWN THIS FRANCHISE BUT AS A FANFIC WRITER NO THANK YOU!) The couple prefers not to touch themselves if they are separated from each other. It feels weird. It's not the same when they touch each other while they are having sex together.

Love marks? - Ace is the king of leaving hickeys everywhere on Nami's body (neck, boobs, and thighs). Nami would leave some on his neck but would leave scratches on his back (to suit her title as the cat burglar).

Ace is really affectionate to Nami after they make love to each other. He holds Nami tight in his arms as she snuggles against his chest, hearing his heartbeats while he kisses her forehead and plays with her hair. Then he falls asleep before her, and she smiles at how cute he is before she falls asleep with him.

Morning sex? Depends on how sleepy Ace is when he wakes up and when he's in the mood. Nami doesn't mind but would love to snuggle him more with his face buried against her breasts.

THEM AS PARENTS AND MARRIED💖

Nami was in tears when he popped the question to her before she accepted. The proposal took place on a ship.

A beautiful wedding that was on an island. Their crewmates (Straw Hats and the Whitebeard Pirates), allies, and family came to celebrate the couple's marriage. (Nami's wedding dress she wore was from the PLACOLE Wedding when the One Piece girls did a sponsorship with them. Ace doesn't have a tie in this because...does he really need a tie when he can rock those iconic beads?)

Had an amazing wedding night together.

They didn't really leave their crew. They just decided to settle down at an island for pirates who settled from the seas as they start a family.

Really great helpers to each other with housework.

They would talk about becoming parents as they see couples with children of their own.

Amazing parents to two daughters - 1st daughter Rouge (named after Ace's mother), 2nd daughter Bellemeré (named after Nami's adoptive mother) born 2 years after Rouge was born.

Both were happy to find out that Nami was pregnant with their first child.

As Nami's pregnant belly grows bigger, Ace kisses her stomach nonstop.

Ace was worried about Nami during labor since his mother passed away when he was born due to an overdue birth date to protect him.

When Rouge was born, both of them were overjoyed to have their first child born.

Ace promises to himself that he will be there for his daughter and his wife after his father leaves, and he is a wanted criminal. It made Ace feel 'abandoned' without a family until he met the real family that he deserves. He wants his daughter to live throughout her childhood with love and respect.

The couple knows there are consequences of becoming parents.

Changing their baby's diaper

Trying to calm their baby down from crying

Feeding her (Exhausting for Nami as she breastfeeds her)

Have do these in the middle of the night when they are sleeping

Ace would be lovingly staring at Nami breastfeeding their daughter since it's a beautiful thing to see from a mother with his wife as one.

Nami would smile at her husband, who was asleep on the couch, with their daughter sleeping on top of his chest.

They would hold their daughter's hands together as they walk around town together.

They would let their daughter sleep in their bed with them at night for her comfort if she gets scared of thunderstorms or has nightmares.

The couple talked about having a second child since Rouge is slowly growing up and has someone with their daughter, so she isn't alone.

After realizing they were pregnant with their second child, they were overjoyed when they were first pregnant with Rouge.

Telling Rouge was easy by saying, 'You are gonna be a big sister. There's a baby growing in mommy's tummy.' Rouge was happy as her parents smile, but then...'How are babies created?' asked Rougue, making her parents blush really deep red. (I thought this would be hilarious to add! 😂)

Rouge would talk to Nami's pregnant belly, saying how excited she is to meet her baby sibling and wanting the baby to come out soon. Ace and Nami would smile at how excited their daughter is to be a big sister.

When their second daughter Bellemeré was born, the couple were happy to meet her. Rouge loved her already when she met her little sister.

The couple both love that their daughters got along really well.

The couple don't have a favorite child among their daughters. They love their daughters equally.

Ace would use his devil fruit powers to entertain his daughters to their amazement by making fire butterflies.

Nami would have her companion Zeus to give them a ride on his back to fly around to their enjoyment.

Their daughters look like their parents. Rouge looks like her father with his freckles and yet looks mostly like her late grandmother/Ace's mother. She has Nami's hair color. Bellemeré looks a lot like Nami but has Ace's hair color.

Ace and Nami can be the papa bear and mama bear when they protect their daughters from danger.

As their daughters get older, Rouge becomes a Pirate Captain of the 'Rouge Pirates'. Bellemeré joins the Revolutionary Army.

Devil fruit powers? Rouge eats one during her journey as a pirate which gives her the power to control the power of Gardens. Ace gives her great advice on being a devil fruit user since he is one too. Bellemeré doesn't eat one but her mother taught her how to use the power of the weather.

Nami and Ace would be proud of their daughters of how they are living their life at seas as they would call them everyday through the Den Den Mushi.

[20k-leagues-speedrun]

CHAPTER II A NOVEL PROPOSAL OF CAPTAIN NEMO’S

On the 28th of February, when at noon the Nautilus came to the surface of the sea, in 9° 4′ N. lat., there was land in sight about eight miles to westward. The first thing I noticed was a range of mountains about two thousand feet high, the shapes of which were most capricious. On taking the bearings, I knew that we were nearing the island of Ceylon, the pearl which hangs from the lobe of the Indian Peninsula.

Captain Nemo and his second appeared at this moment. The Captain glanced at the map. Then turning to me, said:

“The Island of Ceylon, noted for its pearl-fisheries. Would you like to visit one of them, M. Aronnax?”

“Certainly, Captain.”

“Well, the thing is easy. Though, if we see the fisheries, we shall not see the fishermen. The annual exportation has not yet begun. Never mind, I will give orders to make for the Gulf of Manaar, where we shall arrive in the night.”

The Captain said something to his second, who immediately went out. Soon the Nautilus returned to her native element, and the manometer showed that she was about thirty feet deep.

“Well, sir,” said Captain Nemo, “you and your companions shall visit the Bank of Manaar, and if by chance some fisherman should be there, we shall see him at work.”

“Agreed, Captain!”

“By the bye, M. Aronnax you are not afraid of sharks?”

“Sharks!” exclaimed I.

This question seemed a very hard one.

“Well?” continued Captain Nemo.

“I admit, Captain, that I am not yet very familiar with that kind of fish.”

“We are accustomed to them,” replied Captain Nemo, “and in time you will be too. However, we shall be armed, and on the road we may be able to hunt some of the tribe. It is interesting. So, till to-morrow, sir, and early.”

This said in a careless tone, Captain Nemo left the saloon. Now, if you were invited to hunt the bear in the mountains of Switzerland, what would you say?

“Ha! ha! it seems we are going to hunt the tiger or the lion!” But when you are invited to hunt the shark in its natural element, you would perhaps reflect before accepting the invitation. As for myself, I passed my hand over my forehead, on which stood large drops of cold perspiration. “Let us reflect,” said I, “and take our time. Hunting otters in submarine forests, as we did in the Island of Crespo, will pass; but going up and down at the bottom of the sea, where one is almost certain to meet sharks, is quite another thing! I know well that in certain countries, particularly in the Andaman Islands, the negroes never hesitate to attack them with a dagger in one hand and a running noose in the other; but I also know that few who affront those creatures ever return alive. However, I am not a negro, and if I were I think a little hesitation in this case would not be ill-timed.”

At this moment Conseil and the Canadian entered, quite composed, and even joyous. They knew not what awaited them.

“Faith, sir,” said Ned Land, “your Captain Nemo—the devil take him!—has just made us a very pleasant offer.”

“Ah!” said I, “you know?”

“If agreeable to you, sir,” interrupted Conseil, “the commander of the Nautilus has invited us to visit the magnificent Ceylon fisheries to-morrow, in your company; he did it kindly, and behaved like a real gentleman.”

“He said nothing more?”

“Nothing more, sir, except that he had already spoken to you of this little walk.”

“Sir,” said Conseil, “would you give us some details of the pearl fishery?”

“As to the fishing itself,” I asked, “or the incidents, which?”

“On the fishing,” replied the Canadian; “before entering upon the ground, it is as well to know something about it.”

“Very well; sit down, my friends, and I will teach you.”

Ned and Conseil seated themselves on an ottoman, and the first thing the Canadian asked was:

“Sir, what is a pearl?”

“My worthy Ned,” I answered, “to the poet, a pearl is a tear of the sea; to the Orientals, it is a drop of dew solidified; to the ladies, it is a jewel of an oblong shape, of a brilliancy of mother-of-pearl substance, which they wear on their fingers, their necks, or their ears; for the chemist it is a mixture of phosphate and carbonate of lime, with a little gelatine; and lastly, for naturalists, it is simply a morbid secretion of the organ that produces the mother-of-pearl amongst certain bivalves.”

“Branch of molluscs,” said Conseil.

“Precisely so, my learned Conseil; and, amongst these testacea the earshell, the tridacnae, the turbots, in a word, all those which secrete mother-of-pearl, that is, the blue, bluish, violet, or white substance which lines the interior of their shells, are capable of producing pearls.”

“Mussels too?” asked the Canadian.

“Yes, mussels of certain waters in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Saxony, Bohemia, and France.”

“Good! For the future I shall pay attention,” replied the Canadian.

“But,” I continued, “the particular mollusc which secretes the pearl is the pearl-oyster, the meleagrina margaritiferct, that precious pintadine. The pearl is nothing but a nacreous formation, deposited in a globular form, either adhering to the oyster shell, or buried in the folds of the creature. On the shell it is fast; in the flesh it is loose; but always has for a kernel a small hard substance, may be a barren egg, may be a grain of sand, around which the pearly matter deposits itself year after year successively, and by thin concentric layers.”

“Are many pearls found in the same oyster?” asked Conseil.

“Yes, my boy. Some are a perfect casket. One oyster has been mentioned, though I allow myself to doubt it, as having contained no less than a hundred and fifty sharks.”

“A hundred and fifty sharks!” exclaimed Ned Land.

“Did I say sharks?” said I hurriedly. “I meant to say a hundred and fifty pearls. Sharks would not be sense.”

“Certainly not,” said Conseil; “but will you tell us now by what means they extract these pearls?”

“They proceed in various ways. When they adhere to the shell, the fishermen often pull them off with pincers; but the most common way is to lay the oysters on mats of the seaweed which covers the banks. Thus they die in the open air; and at the end of ten days they are in a forward state of decomposition. They are then plunged into large reservoirs of sea-water; then they are opened and washed.”

“The price of these pearls varies according to their size?” asked Conseil.

“Not only according to their size,” I answered, “but also according to their shape, their water (that is, their colour), and their lustre: that is, that bright and diapered sparkle which makes them so charming to the eye. The most beautiful are called virgin pearls, or paragons. They are formed alone in the tissue of the mollusc, are white, often opaque, and sometimes have the transparency of an opal; they are generally round or oval. The round are made into bracelets, the oval into pendants, and, being more precious, are sold singly. Those adhering to the shell of the oyster are more irregular in shape, and are sold by weight. Lastly, in a lower order are classed those small pearls known under the name of seed-pearls; they are sold by measure, and are especially used in embroidery for church ornaments.”

“But,” said Conseil, “is this pearl-fishery dangerous?”

“No,” I answered, quickly; “particularly if certain precautions are taken.”

“What does one risk in such a calling?” said Ned Land, “the swallowing of some mouthfuls of sea-water?”

“As you say, Ned. By the bye,” said I, trying to take Captain Nemo’s careless tone, “are you afraid of sharks, brave Ned?”

“I!” replied the Canadian; “a harpooner by profession? It is my trade to make light of them.”

“But,” said I, “it is not a question of fishing for them with an iron-swivel, hoisting them into the vessel, cutting off their tails with a blow of a chopper, ripping them up, and throwing their heart into the sea!”

“Then, it is a question of——”

“Precisely.”

“In the water?”

“In the water.”

“Faith, with a good harpoon! You know, sir, these sharks are ill-fashioned beasts. They turn on their bellies to seize you, and in that time——”

Ned Land had a way of saying “seize” which made my blood run cold.

“Well, and you, Conseil, what do you think of sharks?”

“Me!” said Conseil. “I will be frank, sir.”

“So much the better,” thought I.

“If you, sir, mean to face the sharks, I do not see why your faithful servant should not face them with you.”

[iubitdracull]

Muse Biography

Name: Vladimir Dracul Tepes III

Age: 4,450 

Species: Vampire

Aliases: Dracula, Vlad Tepes, Impaler Lord, Vlad The Impaler, Dark Lord, Lord of Darkness, Son of Satan, Son of The Devil, The Sacred Ancestor, The Vampire King, The First Vampire, Emperor of The Undead, The Nosferatu. 

Family: (All with a † are deceased) Vladimir Dracul Tepes II (Father) † Justina Szilágyi Dracul (Mother) † Radu (Older brother) † Elizabetha Carmi Dracul Tepes  (Wife) †  Justine Dracul (Daughter) † Seraphina Dracul (Daughter) † Mina Harker (Spouse) † 

Lucifer/The Devil (Spiritual Father) (@ave-sxtanas ) Igor Van Lichtenstein (Adopted son) (Side muse on this blog) Rokshana Dracul Tepes (Adopted daughter) (@sxverana ) Adrian Fahrenheit Dracul Tepes (Son) Dimitri (Son)

Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Red Height: 6’10

Dracula is charismatic and aristocratic, stoic,  poised, and regal, having perfect manners and an imposing presence, a silver tongue with a poetic way with words. Though he often laces it with sarcasm and dark humor, he is a gentleman, well-spoken, erudite, and distinguished, even greeting foes kindly and discussing their motives. He is also knowledgeable, a master of warfare and battle strategy; with a capacity for cunning and manipulation, always one step ahead of those who oppose him. Occasionally he uses unwitting pawns and proxies; he is no coward and isn’t afraid to take matters into his own hands. Though to those who earn his ire, he only displays scathing spite. 

Vladimir is a warrior at heart, a brutal fighter, and a skilled swordsman regarded as the deadliest warrior of his time in his mortal days. Courageous and fearless, he can stand firm against the whole legions of his enemies in direct combat. He does not hesitate to smite his enemies. He spares no quarter and savagely slaughters his foes, preferring to impale his enemies after defeating them and leaving them to suffer a slow and painful death. Dracula fights with ferocity and often extreme cruelty, rarely killing until his enemies have been completely disabled, broken, and humiliated.

He is misanthropic, calling the majority of humankind petty, greedy, dishonest, and worthless. He states that many of humanity, including the heroes who confront him, have darkness in their hearts and should stop denying their selfish desires. He often says there is no true freedom and that people are willing slaves to their religions. He addresses his subordinates respectfully and politely whenever he engages in any conversation and even extends this trait to his enemies. He is also shown to be reasonably grateful, as he often blesses and rewards those who serve him or otherwise help him by usually offering power, a high rank within his army, or even immortality. However, he is shown to be merciless toward any minions that defect from him, executing or torturing them in the most excruciating ways. He will not hesitate to slaughter people for working against him, killing them brutally and leaving their corpses impaled among forests of spears and lances. Still, he would have no qualms sparing innocent people who never intended to challenge him.

Though under all that, Dracula is a tortured individual whose heart has become cold as ice with hatred, not only for the world but for himself. He accepts that he is a monster, the things he has done irredeemable, and doesn’t try to be anything else besides the beast that all men have come to fear and hate. Yet, in his most private moments, he stares long into mirrors, seeing no reflection, drowning in his hatred for himself and what he has become. Dracula is a sad and lonely creature, yet he never expresses himself outwardly. He believes wholeheartedly that he is beyond all hope, cursed by God, feared by the Devil, and hated by all.

Yet his most incredible pain comes from those he had lost, the loss of his first family, whose deaths haunt his every waking moment and afflict him every time he closes his eyes. 

[waywardcollective]

do you want to get out of here ? (from Asmodeus!)

Questioning Minds II Accepting

Everything in the room was softer, less pronounced, and the faces surrounding him were warm. With each slow blink, the row of lamps mounted to the walls emitted a strong, pulsating glow. It reminded him of summer when the sun was at its highest. He could feel their warmth kissing every area of his exposed skin - overcoat and blazer long-since discarded - but the heat was mainly caused by the Serenity coursing through his veins. It was exactly what he needed tonight; loss of feeling and control. Time ticked by slowly as his body completely melted into the velveteen cushions behind him, almost forcing him into a lying position. But he remained conscious enough to stay upright. It was such a waste to stare up at the dull ceiling all night when he was surrounded by beauty generated from a tiny vial of violet liquid. Through a haze of pink cigarette smoke, he watched as the wallpaper pattern came alive with a brilliant display of flowers blooming, pops of vivid colour everywhere. A sight to behold, reminding him of holidaying in the countryside with his parents when he was younger. He could almost hear the gentle rush of wind over the fields, carrying with it a scent of fresh grass. But underneath, there was still a subtle musty fragrance of the E-Bar; the experience was never perfect.

Somebody was speaking to him. There was a delay between the words and it reaching his ears, but he eventually lolled his head towards the source. How could he forget? It was the gentleman who kindly offered to pay for his dose after they chatted for a good while. Eli was a regular patron here, but it was his first time seeing the man with emerald eyes. They seemed to catch the artificial sunlight, appearing significantly brighter than they did an hour ago. But Serenity often enhanced colours, increasing their hue tenfold to give the illusion of a better world. A place where one would like to stay forever and never return to the drab life they had before. Oh, now that would be wonderful, wouldn't it? Somewhere without pain or loss -- or loneliness. He had to laugh. The only way he achieved such luxury was through a needle. But for those couple of hours away in dreamland, he was happiest. There was no hiding who he truly was, safe in the company of the ones he lost along the way.

Except they were never his to begin with. They belonged in the memories of another, and the half-Synth was merely mourning those he never truly met. But they were real to him. And time and time again, he re-visited the events that flooded him with joy and love. It made him feel fully human.

Right now, he was tranquil. His fingertips tingled and his face felt comfortably numb, as though he had drank one too many beers. Serenity was certainly a powerful relaxant -- of body and mind. It inhibited his better judgement, easily drawn into the company of a silver-tongued devil. But he had no idea how close to the truth that was. He accepted the potential for a friend, sharing more than he would sober and knowing he was being listened to. It made a nice change from being holed up in his attic. Sometimes he craved that social interaction. But despite his regular visits to this E-Bar, he avoided contact with the other patrons. They were all here for a specific reason and making connections was not one of them. So he finished a hit and returned home each night, trying to forget that tomorrow was fast approaching.

"...somewhere nice," the words sounded far away, and Eli hoped he was heard. He was beginning to think he was somewhere else entirely, but the velveteen material remained soft underneath his forearms. He was here. Breathing out a laugh, he tried again. "Will you take me somewhere nice?"

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

20k Leagues under the Sea, Jules Verne

Part 2, chapter 2

CHAPTER II A NOVEL PROPOSAL OF CAPTAIN NEMO’S

On the 28th of February, when at noon the Nautilus came to the surface of the sea, in 9° 4′ N. lat., there was land in sight about eight miles to westward. The first thing I noticed was a range of mountains about two thousand feet high, the shapes of which were most capricious. On taking the bearings, I knew that we were nearing the island of Ceylon, the pearl which hangs from the lobe of the Indian Peninsula.

Captain Nemo and his second appeared at this moment. The Captain glanced at the map. Then turning to me, said:

“The Island of Ceylon, noted for its pearl-fisheries. Would you like to visit one of them, M. Aronnax?”

“Certainly, Captain.”

“Well, the thing is easy. Though, if we see the fisheries, we shall not see the fishermen. The annual exportation has not yet begun. Never mind, I will give orders to make for the Gulf of Manaar, where we shall arrive in the night.”

The Captain said something to his second, who immediately went out. Soon the Nautilus returned to her native element, and the manometer showed that she was about thirty feet deep.

“Well, sir,” said Captain Nemo, “you and your companions shall visit the Bank of Manaar, and if by chance some fisherman should be there, we shall see him at work.”

“Agreed, Captain!”

“By the bye, M. Aronnax you are not afraid of sharks?”

“Sharks!” exclaimed I.

This question seemed a very hard one.

“Well?” continued Captain Nemo.

“I admit, Captain, that I am not yet very familiar with that kind of fish.”

“We are accustomed to them,” replied Captain Nemo, “and in time you will be too. However, we shall be armed, and on the road we may be able to hunt some of the tribe. It is interesting. So, till to-morrow, sir, and early.”

This said in a careless tone, Captain Nemo left the saloon. Now, if you were invited to hunt the bear in the mountains of Switzerland, what would you say?

“Very well! to-morrow we will go and hunt the bear.” If you were asked to hunt the lion in the plains of Atlas, or the tiger in the Indian jungles, what would you say?

“Ha! ha! it seems we are going to hunt the tiger or the lion!” But when you are invited to hunt the shark in its natural element, you would perhaps reflect before accepting the invitation. As for myself, I passed my hand over my forehead, on which stood large drops of cold perspiration. “Let us reflect,” said I, “and take our time. Hunting otters in submarine forests, as we did in the Island of Crespo, will pass; but going up and down at the bottom of the sea, where one is almost certain to meet sharks, is quite another thing! I know well that in certain countries, particularly in the Andaman Islands, the negroes never hesitate to attack them with a dagger in one hand and a running noose in the other; but I also know that few who affront those creatures ever return alive. However, I am not a negro, and if I were I think a little hesitation in this case would not be ill-timed.”

At this moment Conseil and the Canadian entered, quite composed, and even joyous. They knew not what awaited them.

“Faith, sir,” said Ned Land, “your Captain Nemo—the devil take him!—has just made us a very pleasant offer.”

“Ah!” said I, “you know?”

“If agreeable to you, sir,” interrupted Conseil, “the commander of the Nautilus has invited us to visit the magnificent Ceylon fisheries to-morrow, in your company; he did it kindly, and behaved like a real gentleman.”

“He said nothing more?”

“Nothing more, sir, except that he had already spoken to you of this little walk.”

“Sir,” said Conseil, “would you give us some details of the pearl fishery?”

“As to the fishing itself,” I asked, “or the incidents, which?”

“On the fishing,” replied the Canadian; “before entering upon the ground, it is as well to know something about it.”

“Very well; sit down, my friends, and I will teach you.”

Ned and Conseil seated themselves on an ottoman, and the first thing the Canadian asked was:

“Sir, what is a pearl?”

“My worthy Ned,” I answered, “to the poet, a pearl is a tear of the sea; to the Orientals, it is a drop of dew solidified; to the ladies, it is a jewel of an oblong shape, of a brilliancy of mother-of-pearl substance, which they wear on their fingers, their necks, or their ears; for the chemist it is a mixture of phosphate and carbonate of lime, with a little gelatine; and lastly, for naturalists, it is simply a morbid secretion of the organ that produces the mother-of-pearl amongst certain bivalves.”

“Branch of molluscs,” said Conseil.

“Precisely so, my learned Conseil; and, amongst these testacea the earshell, the tridacnae, the turbots, in a word, all those which secrete mother-of-pearl, that is, the blue, bluish, violet, or white substance which lines the interior of their shells, are capable of producing pearls.”

“Mussels too?” asked the Canadian.

“Yes, mussels of certain waters in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Saxony, Bohemia, and France.”

“Good! For the future I shall pay attention,” replied the Canadian.

“But,” I continued, “the particular mollusc which secretes the pearl is the pearl-oyster, the meleagrina margaritiferct, that precious pintadine. The pearl is nothing but a nacreous formation, deposited in a globular form, either adhering to the oyster shell, or buried in the folds of the creature. On the shell it is fast; in the flesh it is loose; but always has for a kernel a small hard substance, may be a barren egg, may be a grain of sand, around which the pearly matter deposits itself year after year successively, and by thin concentric layers.”

“Are many pearls found in the same oyster?” asked Conseil.

“Yes, my boy. Some are a perfect casket. One oyster has been mentioned, though I allow myself to doubt it, as having contained no less than a hundred and fifty sharks.”

“A hundred and fifty sharks!” exclaimed Ned Land.

“Did I say sharks?” said I hurriedly. “I meant to say a hundred and fifty pearls. Sharks would not be sense.”

“Certainly not,” said Conseil; “but will you tell us now by what means they extract these pearls?”

“They proceed in various ways. When they adhere to the shell, the fishermen often pull them off with pincers; but the most common way is to lay the oysters on mats of the seaweed which covers the banks. Thus they die in the open air; and at the end of ten days they are in a forward state of decomposition. They are then plunged into large reservoirs of sea-water; then they are opened and washed.”

“The price of these pearls varies according to their size?” asked Conseil.

“Not only according to their size,” I answered, “but also according to their shape, their water (that is, their colour), and their lustre: that is, that bright and diapered sparkle which makes them so charming to the eye. The most beautiful are called virgin pearls, or paragons. They are formed alone in the tissue of the mollusc, are white, often opaque, and sometimes have the transparency of an opal; they are generally round or oval. The round are made into bracelets, the oval into pendants, and, being more precious, are sold singly. Those adhering to the shell of the oyster are more irregular in shape, and are sold by weight. Lastly, in a lower order are classed those small pearls known under the name of seed-pearls; they are sold by measure, and are especially used in embroidery for church ornaments.”

“But,” said Conseil, “is this pearl-fishery dangerous?”

“No,” I answered, quickly; “particularly if certain precautions are taken.”

“What does one risk in such a calling?” said Ned Land, “the swallowing of some mouthfuls of sea-water?”

“As you say, Ned. By the bye,” said I, trying to take Captain Nemo’s careless tone, “are you afraid of sharks, brave Ned?”

“I!” replied the Canadian; “a harpooner by profession? It is my trade to make light of them.”

“But,” said I, “it is not a question of fishing for them with an iron-swivel, hoisting them into the vessel, cutting off their tails with a blow of a chopper, ripping them up, and throwing their heart into the sea!”

“Then, it is a question of——”

“Precisely.”

“In the water?”

“In the water.”

“Faith, with a good harpoon! You know, sir, these sharks are ill-fashioned beasts. They turn on their bellies to seize you, and in that time——”

Ned Land had a way of saying “seize” which made my blood run cold.

“Well, and you, Conseil, what do you think of sharks?”

“Me!” said Conseil. “I will be frank, sir.”

“So much the better,” thought I.

“If you, sir, mean to face the sharks, I do not see why your faithful servant should not face them with you.”

[yellowbluemoonshine]

If Akito find her true self and later fall in love with a guy, what kind of guy he would be? Like, what kind of guy Akito would really love?

Akito’s True Love;

Hmmm, i think the way we are raised has a big impact of the partners we will choose. Because people choose what they are used to and what they think they deserve.

This is why in canon story, Akito choose male version of her mother. She thinks that this is the best love she can ever get, she thinks this is what i deserve, she thinks she is not good person so this should be her punishment.

Everything about her mother, manipulative, secutive, liar, obsession, toxic, hatred, all those things that hurts Akito so she hates all of those character traits. The only reason she would choose this is simply because she is used to it, she is used to treated this way and believes this is what she deserves. (Also because she was groomed and manipulated.) Its very common for abuse victims to fall in love with people who is exactly like their abusers/people who will abuse them. They will think this is actual love because this is the ‘love’ they got, thats all they know but this is something they eventually must overcome so.

If Akito ever gain self worth, if she has more self worthh, she would hate every character trait her mother behave and she would most likely choose someone like her father. Because even though Akira is not that good father, he is someone Akito really loves. Akito would look for the kindness and affection she recevied from her father. Just like how Tohru look for the affection/love she received from her mother. Someone honest, simple, maybe not perfect, childish but very kind person, someone who will not see her as object in any way, someone who wont take advantage of her sitution someone romantic because Akito easiely affected by romance, it should be someone honest because Akito is very sensitive girl so she would believe in those words.

Edit; Also, Akito loves people who has manners. Most likely because she was raised, just like 1800's prince, she has manners and she likes people who has manners which is why she gets along with Tohru and Hanajima/two characters who use respectable speech and has manners really well.

For example, character like Henry from Baraou No Souretsu. If he had same age with Akito in normal world, i think Akito would fall in love with this guy. I can imagine them as very cute couple.

(Henry remids me a lot of Akito's father, their personality is really similar and Richard is a lot like Akito too so. I mean, even Akito have overcome her father issues, she would still choose this kind of guys. Richard and Akito are alike about this. When they have hope, they fell in love with good people like Henry and Anna but when they think they are devil, they make wrong choices).

Akito also needs someone who will accept her past, someone who will not see her as bad cause of her past relationship or the pain she caused to others Akito needs someone who can understand and accept change and growth, someone who will see her as pure, otherwise, Akito cant move on from past. She cant get over extreme feeling guilty and self hatred.

Basically, Akito's type is romantic gentleman, honest, kind, someone who wil treat girls very kindly but also someone who will specifically treat Akito kindly and most importantly someone who will see her, i think Akito would melt over in front of this kind of guy. This is what she needs, this is what she deserves. Also its a lot makes sense for her character.

[lunarsilver]

What awaits you in December? Pick a card reading

Let's see what awaits you in December. What will happen? How you'll approach it? Pick a snowflake that speaks to you the most.

Used: tarot, lenormand, astrology oracle cards + shufflemancy (the last one is something pretty new to me)

Pictures: Canva

REMEMBER

I'm not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Tarot readings will never replace meetings with them.

It's a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can't choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them and that's okay too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn't be the main reason of making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

PILE 1

King of Cups – Clover & Tower – House of Play – Pisces – Venus – Last Quarter

You will learn how to balance your heart and mind, how to be generous and diplomatic, how to understand your feelings. It is also possible that you will meet such a person. They can be older than you, mature, appear more masculine than feminine. You will find inner peace and start to enjoy time spent in your own company. Furthermore, you can awaken your creativity, remember what makes you happy or start a new hobby. You will approach situations with imagination and sensitivity. You can listen to your intuition more often, open up to small signs and joy. In December, you will let speak the part of your personality that is all about beauty, love, art and harmony. The advice for this month is "Give up what no longer serves you". Forgive yourself, cleanse yourself, open to beauty.

A song for you: Partners in Crime by Set It Off ft. Ash Costello

PILE 2

X of Wands – Child & Scythe – House of Value – Gemini – Mercury – First Quarter

You may be working hard in December - or are already doing it - but you will feel the responsibility you put on yourself is beginning to overwhelm you. Inexperience can get you in trouble. Or you may have a sudden fresh start. If you have children or younger siblings, be careful, so they won't get hurt. Your December will be focused on finances. You are working hard to get more money. No wonder, the end of the year and expenses are finally approaching. You will adapt to the situation, talk a lot and spend time with other people. You will express yourself, your thoughts, and discuss. The advice for you is "Take action". You will overcome difficulties. You will take the first step towards your goal.

A song for you: Devil is a Gentleman by Merci Raines

PILE 3

The Magician – Fox & Mountain – House of Transformation – Libra – Mars – Waning Gibbous

In December, you will turn your desire into reality. You will be driven by willpower and the will to get what you want. However, adversities and difficulties await you. Someone may not be playing fair. Your life will go through many significant changes. The Magician and House of Transformation may suggest that you'll develop an interest in magic and / or spirituality, or that you'll deepen your interest. Despite the difficulties, you will approach the situation calmly, kindly and diplomatically, seeking harmony. Your behavior will balance which part of your personality will come to the fore - the brave and passionate one, willing to take action. The advice for you for December is "Look inward". How are you feeling? What are you thinking about and why are you thinking it? How do you see yourself?

A song for you: The Good, the Bad and the Dirty by Panic! At The Disco

[cowboys-of-tombstone]

Curly Bill & Johnny Ringo: Dealing With Romantic Rivalry

In a town like Tombstone, men from every walk of life gather together in a bout for survival, like an ecosystem. And like in many such ecosystems, either you have to be brazen enough to get what you want or clever enough to. How would Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo deal with another man (brazen or clever) trying to compete for your heart?

      It seems you and (Curly Bill/Johnny Ringo) are getting along swimmingly, so much so, it seems that he’s getting sweet on you! But alas, it looks like you’ve caught the eye of another man as well.

      This man attempts to swoon you with honeyed compliments and glistening smiles. You make an attempt to kindly reject his advances, but the gentleman mistakes your rejection for coyness and continues his shot to impress you. From there, the stranger gets a tap on the shoulder. He turns around and he sees…

Curly Bill:

✭ The Devil in Red towers over his seated rival with his famous smile, “Howdy, stranger! You look like you’re new in town!” The rival returns the smile gingerly and replies, “That I am, mister. And who might you be?” The bar you three find yourselves in murmurs with quiet laughter, as even Curly Bill looks to you and the crowd with a confident grin. “The name’s Curly Bill Brocius,” he states, leaning towards the stranger, "I run The Cowboys. And you are sittin' in my seat next to my girl." Your heart skips a beat from such a stern declaration. You two hadn't fully come into a relationship, yet for Curly Billy to claim you as his so suddenly flushed your face and heart in the moment. "Is that a fact?" The man asks, taking note of your shock. Curly Bill too is aware of your surprise, and a moment of anticipation is swept over the establishment. A sense of resolve emits from him as he then turns to the stranger and says, “Why don’t we take this outside and handle this like men?”

✭ If the man were brazen, Curly Bill’s admission would fall on deaf ears. “If she ain’t your ol’ lady, then she’s fair game.” The proud rival declares with his chin held high. Gasps can be heard throughout the bar. Words being exchanged reveal the extent of the rival’s ignorance. There is a momentary sense of confusion etched on the man’s face from the whispers he hears among the patrons. “What’s mine is what I say it is.” Curly Bill growls. The stranger pauses to regain his composure and thumbs his pistol at his holster, “Is that something you’re willing to draw on?” Curly Bill flicks his tongue through his smile, “On your mark.” The stranger smugly nods as the two make themselves out to the middle of the street.

✭ Even in the dim moonlight, a flaring red aura emitted from Curly Bill. He could understand people’s proneness towards ignorance, in fact he preyed upon it. However, this man’s impudent arrogance for taking a claim over what was not his, like a cockroach declaring a man’s supper for its own, made Curly Bill want to vomit. And just like a lowly cockroach, Curly Bill intended to stomp this man out. “Ready?” the stranger calls, his hand hovering the grip. “Set…” Bang! The rival falls to the floor in agony as he clenches his midsection. Curly Bill saunters over and whispers to him, “Sorry, friend. Thought you said draw. But maybe we can learn a little somethin' about messing with my girl, right?” 

✭ If the man were more clever, he would understand the potential danger he’s in. “My apologies, I meant no offense by it.” The stranger says slyly with his hand out. Curly Bill looks down at the man’s hand, then back up with an unconvinced sneer, “Well, better that you know now before someone got hurt.” The man slowly draws his hand back with a tight smile. He nods to Curly Bill and tips his hat to you before quickly exiting the bar.

✭ You’d think that’d be the end of that, but soon, you would be showered with “apologetic” gifts from the clever stranger. All of them flattering, and more akin to sweet talking someone than simply apologizing. Massive rings of flowers and expensive designer perfumes hardly read as innocent gestures. Especially in conjunction with overly admiring compliments that are simply brushed away as gentlemanly mannerisms. Actions such as holding your bags for you, going out of his way to make conversation with you in particular, or offering to walk you around town, had brought a more conniving side out of the stranger. In time, he came across more as a reflection of Behan than anyone else. And Curly Bill began to notice too.

✭ Late one night, the stranger waved to you goodbye after walking you home. Lathered in self satisfaction, the stranger noticed too late that he was being followed. By the time he noticed the three trailing behind him, Curly Bill and the rest of The Cowboys slithered out of the shadows and surrounded the man. “Why, Mr. Brocius!” the stranger declared with a taste of nervousness, “What do I have the pleasure of meeting you at this juncture?” Curly Bill stared, unimpressed at his weaselly rival. Ignoring the stranger’s greeting all together, Curly Bill simply utters, “Hold him still, boys.” You never knew what ended up happening to the stranger, but you’d rather not worry about it. You already got enough on your plate with Curly Bill becoming your significant other and the trouble he gets into on his own.

✭ Suffice to say that Curly Bill, despite his reputation, is more than reasonable at giving someone a chance to understand the situation they’re in. Once they cross that line knowingly, is when his reputation starts to shine. Especially when it comes to letting everyone know who you are to him.

Johnny Ringo:

✭ The gunslinger watches with the interest of a hawk on its prey. His eyes squint as he passes glances to both you and the stranger who had settled in the seat right next to you. “Yes? Can I help you, mister?” the stranger asks with a perplexed tone. “You’re in my seat.” Johnny replied bluntly. The red dragon adorning his shirt is practically lunging for the man’s throat. You feel your chest pounding as Ringo shows his holster to his unsuspecting rival. The rest of the patrons go quiet with a few murmurs slipping out, “Is Johnny Ringo gonna shoot him?” “That’s his girl right there, no?” The stranger’s eyes dart to the source of the whispers then to you. “Are you taken for, miss?” You opened your mouth to answer but the tension had tightened your throat and gave the impression of uncertainty. “She is.” Johnny’s voice rang out. You snap your head to him in surprise, mouth slightly ajar. You attempt to lock eyes with him, but Johnny has his sights set on a challenge that he cannot back down from. 

✭ If the man were brazen, he’d rise from his seat next to you and stand shoulder to shoulder with Johnny. “I don’t think I asked you.” the stranger sways lightly in anticipation for a fight. “Now hold it, boys!” The barkeep called, “Let’s try to keep civil, there’s no need to start anything here!” Johnny and the man stood in deadlock before the man let out a scoff and relaxed his posture, “You ain’t worth it anyway.” Instead of walking away, the brazen stranger had the audacity to sit back down next to you. Before he can even continue where he left off, a gun cocks at the back of his head. “If you know what you’re good for, you’d get off your ass and march your carcass outside.” 

✭ The clouds blustered through the moonless sky. The brazen man now ruddy red in the face from his near death experience. A wind whipped between the two with sand and twigs. "Getting cold out." The stranger notes, "Let's finish this so I can keep your girl warm." Johnny dismissed the remark and squared his stance. Even the wind was silenced in anticipation for who would draw first. The stranger reached for his gun, but before he could pull it out of his holster, Bang! One to his drawing arm, and another to his heart. The man collapsed to the ground in shock. It didn’t make sense! The stranger could’ve sworn he’d heard Johnny only shoot once, and yet, he couldn’t feel his arm or the beat of his own heart. Was Johnny Ringo really that fast…? “That’s funny.” Ringo remarked, spinning his gun back into its holster, “How can you warm anyone up when it looks like you’re growing cold there?”

✭ If the man were clever, he would raise his hands in front of him and remark, “Now, now settle down. There’s no need to get upset. I am mature enough to know when my welcome has been overstayed.” Hopping off his chair, he tips his hat to the both of you. And as he exits he smugly shrugs at other patrons. Even though he leaves, there is a sense of uneasiness in the air. As if the events that unfolded went too well, “You lovely folks enjoy your evening.” 

✭ You hear a knock on the door and when you answer, the stranger is on the other side. “Apologies for the intrusion, miss. But I had to come and see you again, since our first meeting was rudely interrupted.” You are lost for words as you’d never expect this man to talk to you again, much less show up at your front door unannounced. There he confessed his affection for you and how you’d be much better off with him than Johnny. He’d begin to present you with the cons of being with the cowboy. There were the dangers, the risks, the sacrifices, and the suffering you’d experience inevitably. What would you do if Johnny died young? What’s going to happen when you both get older? You really think you can have a happy life with an outlaw?

✭ The silence was audible as you attempted to collect yourself. The absolute gall this man had in thinking that he could treat you better than Johnny could, when he met you only one other time, drove you up the wall. But now he had you cornered as over the course of the conversation, he was able to slink just past your door frame. You attempt to calmly ask him to leave as you clench your fists. However, the only response you get is his raised brow and a condescending smile. "Sordidum anguis." Johnny’s voice catches the two of you off guard. The stranger turns around in an attempt to explain himself, but the thunderous clap of Johnny’s pistol silences the rival forever.  “I was just stopping by to see how you’re doing and I find this snake trying to coil around you. My love, what do you think we should do with this cretin?” 

✭ While Curly Bill is more sociable, even when faced with an adversary, Johnny Ringo is a man of immediate action. With Johnny, it’s even more straight to the point. When it comes to matters of the heart, there’s no curving a bullet around it.

Hey! Just so you guys know, I have a Ko-Fi available. If you guys enjoy my work, please don’t hesitate in supporting my stuff by buying me a Coffee.🤠

[theunderneath]

Mink asker here and Ikinda want headcanons for Brook, Usopp, Lucci and Kaku (you can decide if it's gonna be Mink S/O or not) also I don't judge you for simping to Fujitora and Perospero glad to know I'm not the only one fufufu

I'm gonna mink since I can't really think of anything else RN, sorry! Also, we're done with Usopp already, so I get to choose another character!

Brook

“Such a lovely creature! Though I can't see you that well... because I'm DEAD! YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!”

Brook would kindly prefer it if you're not a dog type, for obvious reasons. He dose really like your hair, because he also has great hair and knows how hard it is to take care of something like that. He does enjoy your speed and strength, mostly because it is useful. LOVES full moon form, because more lovely hair he can look at.

He would not kidnap you, like at all. He a gentleman skeleton. Might really REALLY try to convince you to come with him on the ship. If the doesn't work he’ll beg, might even get the other involved. The other straw hats will kidnap you, not him.

Charlotte Cracker

“You remind me of one of my brothers, but... Weaker.”

He has seen Minks before, which is nothing new to him. What gets him is your strength, he’s always liked that. Your speed is a nice touch but he truly admires strength over all things. During the full moon, he’s on cloud nine. Just wants to watch you beat someone to death.

Kidnapping would be definite with him. It’s just too easy for him. He doesn't have to put work into making you, his. He just needs to convince his mama and then boom. You two will be married and his mama will have her wedding cake.

Rob Lucci

“Did you eat a zoan-type? No? Your a Mink?”

Great now there are two furrys. I feel like he would be very interested in you seeing how I don’t think he’s seen a Mink before. I could be wrong though. Anyways he mostly admires your strength and speed. He does like your knowledge of animal fur since you have a lot of it. Helps him out sometimes.

If he has to kidnap you then he'll take you by force. With his devil fruit, it'll be easy if he plans it right. He'll jump you at night when the sky is full of clouds and without a moon. He'll win, against you at least. He'll have everything ready for you at home, so don't worry.

Kaku

“A mink? Still kinda cute through."

First, again correct me if I'm wrong. I'm pretty sure he has never seen a mink before, but I don't know. Anyways he likes you and, overall finds you cute. Likes how strong you are, especially when the full moon rolls around.

Kidnapping you would probably be hard. He's strong don't get me wrong. It's just that he wouldn't want to hurt you, like at all. He'd probably drug you if anything. Slip a sleepy drug into your drink when you're not looking, probably.

[kazeton]

“Your sign was rather rude, and oh my— adopt the language of a lady, well— like I said, but to match; perhaps you should learn the manners of a gentleman.” Myeong peered around, unfazed before she chuckled. “So, this is where you call home…there’s two myths surrounding you, one that you’re a devil— fitting for this environment. And the other that you used to be some sort of prince, which I assume is why the villagers are curious about you.”

She adjusted her hair pin, seemingly unhappy with how it sat on her bun, “So, devil or prince, which is it? Although I assume if you were a devil, you’d simply lie to me anyway to get me to treat you kindly. Perhaps it doesn’t matter all that much, even onis deserve to be listened to. Will you show yourself or am I to continue speaking to the wooden plank in your place?”

Yone stood there, watching this woman speak into nothingness. How could someone be this annoying? Not even Yasuo had ever managed to piss him off immediately like this. Coming into his own home and insulting him right away. Yes, certainly a good way to get into a demon's graces.

Looking at her behaviour it seems unlikely that Yone would be able to convince her to just leave. Throwing things at her would probably be reason to get exorcised again. That most certainly is not a fun experience. Showing himself might be the only way to get her off his back. If necessary, he would just leave this place. No need to give this woman reason to return here.

Fine, fine...

Wisps of black and red whirled behind a broken beam. Hidden in shadow, they coalesced into a solid shape. 'Dusk' stared at the woman for a moment before showing himself to her, keeping his distance.

"Perhaps my mask reminds people of a crown, but I am no prince." Yone spoke to her, his voice hoarse from not having used it in a while. This 'prince' she mentioned sounded unfamiliar to him. The only thing he could think of was that they confused him for another spirit, but which one, he wouldn't know. As far as Yone was aware, there were no other spirits like him here.

"Now, you have seen me. I am a spirit. Please get out of my den."

[floatinginwords]

Saved by the Devil (13/?) - Thomas Shelby

Summary: Its time for Epsom, what could go wrong? (Sorry about my summaries they are terrible) 

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Fem!reader (romantic) 

Warning: S*xual Assault  There is a  scene where the reader is put in uncomfortable position with the general. Reader takes the place of Lizzie in luring the General. And stuff does go down but i was not graphic in writing it cause i was a bit uncomfortable writing anything beyond what i did write and i didn't want to trigger anyone. When the scene does come up i will put a another warning to let you know. 

A/N: Hello, this chapter was so so so fun to write. I am so excited for all of you to read and hopefully tell me what you think cause i think this just might be one of my favorite chapters so far... Have a lovely night and see you soon :)

It was time. And for the first moment in your life you were beyond scared. It didn’t show as you got into the back seat the Shelby boys, Arthur and John, in front. No sign of Thomas Shelby anywhere.

“Boys, its good to see you.” You say genuinely. You hadn’t seen them since the last little mission at the horse auction. This time though will be different, you had a lovely knife strapped to your thigh. All your injuries healed and you were beyond prepared for this. You liked the brothers, though you didn’t know them too well. They seemed to take kindly to you too as they nodded at your statement and asked how you were.

The ride felt short. Though it had to have been longer since you were far from London. You didn’t even know what you were thinking about the entire time. You knew that Thomas was waiting for the three of you and more. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face him. The other night when you guys had almost-

You shake your head of the memory. Remembering that you were just a second choice in all this. Grace had rejected him. Then he called you and like a dog you came running. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. But never again would that happen. He didn’t want you and neither did you. And after all this was done, you would never have to see each other again.

 You already had word with Trinity, you were leaving tomorrow. Everything was planned and ready to go. Thomas never told you about a new passport or id, you had requested. But you couldn’t wait for him. The nightmares were getting worse and you swore that when you talked on the phone the past week, you could hear breathing on the other line. There was no time to waste, it was time to go.

 The two brothers and you head up to the front of the Epsom gates, there you see Tommy Shelby and the rest of the gang. His aunt Polly in attendance eyeing you up and down but no saying a word. Her stare this time not making you nervous, instead you see it filled with curiosity.

 “Alright everyone’s, here,” Thomas says not making eye contact with you as he claps his hands together, “here’s the agenda.”

 And he takes everyone down to the plan, leaving out of course the part of the assassination of the general. All he says is that he will provide a distraction for everyone in order to take Sabini racetrack licenses. No one asks questions as he finishes the meeting. Everyone scatters to different parts as they enter the races.

 “(Y/n)” you hear your name fall out of his mouth. You look at each other and theres a pause. There’s million things unsaid at this moment that you both want to say. But don’t.

 “Keep an eye out.” He finally says moving past you, disappearing in the crowd.

 And that’s what you do. You keep an eye out. You thought you might have more significance on this day but maybe not. Maybe this is all you get to do. You remember back then when you had worked for your father. The man had always let you in on the action, no matter how dangerous. You didn’t care either because that was life, it was normal for you. Your mother, rest her soul, was the only one who had ever fought for you to stay home, go to school, date and live normal. But she never got her way.

 You watched some of the peaky blinder, the ones that you could pin point walk around the arena. They all were tailing some of Sabini’s men which you have seen maybe one or twice. You tried to keep an eye out for Sabini but couldn’t find the man anywhere. You did see an inspector Campbell, the man who had brutally beat you not too long ago. You stare hard at him remembering the moments as if it was yesterday.

 “Got a vendetta against the man?”

 You turn around and come face to face with Polly, she smokes a cigarette like a royalty into the air. Her eyes never leave the inspectors either. You can see the pain and rage in her eyes. You don’t pry.

 You turn your gaze back on the filthy man who walks with his cane, laughing and smiling with the people in the crowd.

 “Men like that shouldn’t be allowed to walk on this earth.” You say.

 She nods and for a split second there seems to be a connection between the two of you with your shared pain and hatred for the man. You both don’t say anything else as the man leaves out of your views.

Polly leaves first, without saying any other words. You stay in you spot scanning the crowd. Probably taking your job a bit too serious.

You can hear the laughter and cheerful cries of everyone. The experiment in the arena could be felt by everyone. You spot military men in a group together laughing and talking. You know that the tallest one is the general from the photos Thomas had showed you.

You also see a blonde curls and pink hat looking lost among the sea of people. It was a face you had only recently come to known. Grace. You leave your spot feeling the embarrassment from the other night all over again. You wonder around the place feeling bored and just wanting to leave.

“(y/n)?” a tall man who looked to be a preacher came toward you. You had never met him before.

 “yes?” you say cautiously, remembering your in a public space, no ones gonna do anything.

 “Tommy’s looking for you.” He says.

 “what does he want?” you ask. The man just shrugs. And you sigh and follow him through the crowd.

 Thomas stands on top of the staircase, looking anxious and pale.

 “Found her boss.” The man says leaving you with him.

 “Alright, good. (Y/n) come on. And unbutton the first two buttons.” He demands flicking the end of his cigarette he had just finished.

 “Excuse me?” you say crossing your arms and standing still.

 Thomas stares at you and looks baffled at your disobedience as if this was his first time meeting you.

 “Please, (Y/n). I’ll explain inside.” His tone quitter and pleading.

 You follow him but don’t unbutton anything of yours. He leads you into a room that looks like only the rich and royalty would eat here. You felt out of place immediately. You both don’t talk as you sit across from one another. You watch him put another cigarette in his mouth. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he talks.

 “Look, I didn’t want to ask you this…”

 “Just tell me, no need to prolong it.”

 “I need you to get him isolated.”  You hear his words and double meaning behind them. You can feel your stomach turning in disgust of what’s he asking you. Your face is kept neutral as you talk.

 “What happened to following him till he was alone to piss?” You ask

 “Doesn’t matter.”

 “Look, I’m not-“

 He grabs your hand across the table and holds it tightly. It burns but you don’t let go. You stare at your intertwined hands.

 “I don’t want you to do this. I don’t want to think of you anywhere alone with him. But right now, I trust you and only you to do this. Please. Or else I’m fucked.”

You wanted to be snarky and petty. You wanted to say “Ask Grace”. You wanted to say screw you and leave. You wanted to slap him or kick him. But you saw the sincerity in his voice. You saw the fear in his eyes that he always seemed to hide.

 “okay fine. Ill do it.” You say.

 His grip doesn’t soften as he continues to hold you. “Thank you.” He says softly.

 Thomas leaves you in the fancy room by yourself. He went over details of where to lure over the general. It was a place that would be very private, no witnesses. Thomas said that he would be there in 15 minutes, he promised that nothing would happen to you. You could tell he wanted to keep that promise but you weren’t sure if he could.

You saw the general at another table with other military men. He noticed you right away. His eye never leaves your figure as you sat by yourself.

 ‘too easy’ you thought to yourself as the general himself came over to you.

 He introduced himself, kissed your hand like a gentleman might, and sat where Thomas was not minutes ago. It was light conversation before you decide to break it. There was no other way to lure him, other than sex. And that what you did. Pretending to be a prostitute wasn't hard. You had been around some your whole life. You knew the lingo and prices and tricks. But not everyone could do it. You knew that. As you took the mans wandering hand off your knee from under the table and guided him away from the fancy room. You took him down hallways and corridors, trying to properly remember the map Thomas had shown you.

                                           *********Warning*********

“Where are you taking me?” The general asks flirtatiously.

 “Somewhere private.” You answer.

 Finally you found the spot of no witness and people. It was quite and literally no one around. You feel the Generals hot mouth on your neck, biting at you. You fake a giggle at the action but your stomach was turning in disgust. You took a quick glance at your watch. You got here too early. 5 more minutes until Thomas was here.

 You can feel the generals fingers wander to the hem of your dress, rushing to pull it up. You push it down and step away from him, laughing a bit nervously at the contact.

 “Don’t be a tease now, love.” He says

 “I just us to take our time.” You lie and smile sweetly. You had never been in this position before and you were very nervous. You could feel your hands shaking as you tried to gain control hoping to stop  it.

“I don’t have time.” The general says grabbing you harshly and turning you around.

 “Wait, wait.” You say feeling violated like never before.

 You kick him hard in the stomach, causing him to step backward from you. You run to the other wall, wanting nothing but distance from the guy.

 “You bitch.” He sneers coming toward you with an ugly smile.

 You pull you knife out of your thigh holster and point it toward him. He stops upon seeing a weapon. And then he laughs.

 “How adorable.” He says

 You glance at your watch again. Its past the time Thomas should have been here. You feel a bit of dread poor over you. You don’t know how you were gonna fight off some military man. Your skills weren’t up to par on his, you knew that. Maybe enough to cause damage and run. Maybe.

 He stalks toward you with all the confidence in the world. His face gives it off like this a game for him, he likes that you’re not giving in, that you’re fighting against him. It’s an inconvenience but he likes a challenge.

 You step forward, slashing him across the cheek. He doesn’t react to it as he grabs your wrist. His giant hand pushing it back at an odd angle. You try to use your other hand to hit him but it does nothing. You’re forced to drop the knife. He pushes you against the wall. His eyes animalistic and you cry in pain as your head makes contact, hard with the wood.

 You see black spots around your vision as you hear the man say something to you, you don’t know what. His hands roam around your body but you focus on anything but. You hear the zipping of pants and your hearts begins to race at the thought of whats to come next.  Tears slip down your eyes as you think of no one coming to save you.

 “Russell!” You hear a familiar voice yell.

 The general leans off your body, you slide down on the wall looking up to see Thomas with his pistol pointed at the general. The gun clicks.

 Nothing happens.

 “Fuck!” Thomas yells as the General rushes over to Thomas, the pair beginning to fight each other.

 You scramble to your feet, feeling awfully dizzy. You see Thomas gun on the floor. The men continue fighting each other. The general trying to reach his gun on his hip.

 You take Thomas’s gun aiming it, but nothing was coming out. It was jammed.

 You see the general push his finger into Thomas eye, you can see the gun finally in his hand. Thomas knows it too as he grabs at that arm hoping to take it from him. You think fast kicking the general’s legs, making him fall.  The gun that was in his hand now on the floor. Which Thomas quickly grabs aiming it right under the generals chin and shooting without hesitation.

 The two of you pant heavily as it finally is over. Thomas looks over at you and his shoulder slump.

 “Are you okay?” he asks.

 “I’m fine,” you say, forgetting how badly you must look with your tear stained face, “Where were you?”

 He shakes his head, “I’m sorry,” He reaches a hand toward you wiping away the tears that were still falling, “You’re crying.”

You didn’t know what to say as he strokes your cheek, catching runaway tears that you had no control over. You try to steady your breathing, staring into his steel blue eyes.

 “I will never ask you to do anything like that again.” He says.

 You nod at his words, touching the hand that’s on your face and gently pulling it away.

 “We need to go separate ways. Or else we’re suspects.” You say.

 “Meet me by the where- where they take the bets ay?”

 He stares at you like he wants to say more but again, he doesn’t. You both walk separate directions. You pick up your knife on the way out, leaving the rest of the crime scene alone.

  You walk down the way to the betting place. You can see all the police and military men rushing to where you had just come from. You know the peaky blinders, now, were threatening Sabinis men, burning the licenses at this moment.

 You stand by yourself, waiting until you see a familiar face once again. This time she notices you too. The beautiful blonde walks toward you.

 “Hello.” She says.

 “Hi,” You say, “is youre looking for-“

 “I’m not. I’m just here to place my own bet.” She says holding a ticket up.

 You both stand in uncomfortable silence.

 “I did see him earlier,” She says eyeing you from the side. You look forward as she speaks, “I professed my love, told him I would leave my husband for him and everything.”

 You swallow a huge lump in your throat that you didn’t even realize was there. She continues speaking.

 “He told me no,” You turn to her baffled as you always assumed, he was head over heels in love with the beautiful Grace, “I mean I known for awhile what his answer would be but I had to give it one last try. Oh don’t look surprised.”

 “I- “

 “You should count yourself lucky. He doesn’t love too often but when he does,” She takes a pause and her eyes though are focused on you don’t seem to be looking at you. Almost as it she’s lost in a memory. She sighs, “He just really does.”

 Before you can say anything else to the woman, she leaves with a smile. A headache begins to form on the back of your head where you had hit your head earlier. You leave the crowded betting room, the noise and smoky air becoming too much for you.

 You’ll find Mr. Shelby later. With all that has happened today, it was becoming a lot and you needed a moment to just process it all. As you walk alone you spot two men holding a man by his two arms. He had a cap on like the other peaky blinders. You follow them Noticing another man leading them. You finally see his face.

 Your mouth talks before your you can think.

 “Thomas!” You cry out.

 His head jolts up looking for the source of your voice. The men bring his neck down, keeping his face looking at the ground. All of the worst things begin to swirl around your mind. The plan didn’t work, they caught him, the inspector double crossed him, Sabini had men ready to take him out. As well as moments, the two of you had shared that now were going to be just past memories of what ifs and unsaid words that should have been spoken.

You follow them as best as you can, watch them as they put him in the back of some car, a gun pointed towards him as they close the doors. You couldn’t help him. You watched the car drive away feeling useless and guilty. Wishing to have done more. You see his cap on the ground and pick it up. You look around for someone who could save the day but everyone was in their own happy world. And you were holding on to a hat feeling a loss like never before.  

read pt.13b

Tags

@babylooneytoonz @captivatedbycillianmurphy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @evelyn-4034  @ms-dont-care  @owenniasstars @shikin83 @lauren-raines-x @cactisjuice

[oftenderweapons]

Apple of My Pie — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story

Chapter 1.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.5k words

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers, Fluff, slightest angst.

Rating: suggested 18+ (there are brief apparitions of dirty thoughts, also future episodes will contain NSFW material)

A/N: Hello my sweet poppies! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Jin and Buttercup met when she was nothing but a scared, homesick first year student. Four years later, the two share an apartment close to her university and his bakery and café, and are the best of friends, sharing the house, several meals and, most importantly a sacred breakfast ritual. However, as far as sharing goes, Seokjin’s heart has belonged exclusively to Buttercup for four years. Exhausted, Jin finally decides to let go of his unrequited feelings, or at least try.  

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Oh, this is chill. Light swearing, heavy infraction of The Silent Roommate Code (aka don’t do the nasty with your bf when your roommate is sleeping in the bed at the other end of the room. Especially if she’s a virgin, first year and very homesick). Also, there is a quick flash image of breast worship, sorry.  

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

In case you need it, here is the music companion

Enjoy! ✨💜

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

It was a slow morning at Jin’s café, only a pair of clients sitting at the small table in the corner, two girls who always met there on Sunday morning, at an illegal hour for the weekend. They had outdoor equipment with them, and probably it was just a stop for a quick breakfast before going skiing or trekking, which was strange considering the disastrous downpour outside, but who was he to debate.

Plus the usual early birds were late too, probably because of the university bonfire the night before.

Seokjin yawned and silently cried over his lost hours of sleep. He was ready to sit down, tip the back of his head against the wall and sleep — actually, rest his eyes —, when the bell at the front door dinged, announcing a new customer.

He inhaled and wore his best smile, standing up. “Good morn— Oh my god, sweetie are you alright?” He asked, seeing a drenched young girl stand at the door.

“I might use a friend.”

That girl was you, running away from your roommate and her boyfriend fucking in your dorm room. Right in the bed beside yours. With you there. And they didn’t even bother keeping quiet.

Seokjin was awestruck. You were soaked like a stray kitten left out in the rain, your hair sticking to your face, your eyes wide and your lip trembling, speaking of several degrees of trauma. “Poor thing.” He murmured, “wait, I should have a blanket back here.”

He dashed for the small cot he had in his office, in the back of the shop, gripping the fleece blanket and bringing it back to the counter, jogging around it and opening the blanket wide as he stared at you. “It’s better if you take off your robe. It’s dripping wet.” He said discreetly.

The girls at the front stared at the scene, a bit worried about you but mostly endeared at the cute barista taking care of you.

“May I use the restroom? The shirt underneath is, uh, thin... Oh, god this is so embarrassing.” You hid your face in your hands.

“Of course,” Jin blushed to his ears, offering you the blanket. “Would you like some coffee? Tea? Cocoa?”

Your lip wobbled, eyes watering and not for the rain. “Cocoa?”

“Yes, sweetie. Go get changed, the restroom is over there.” He pointed at the door.

“Thank you so much.” You said, placing the blanket in front of your chest.

Seokjin rushed behind the counter, grabbing a rag to dry up the wet patches you had left on the floor before someone slipped. Next he got your cocoa ready.

In the quiet morning, through the background music and the gentle chatting of the other two clients, he could hear you using the hand dryer, glad that it was set on hot air so that you could hopefully warm yourself in the process. He even thought of bringing you in the actual bakery, where he had a small traditional stove operated by firewood, other than the big oven working for croissants and banana bread and brownies and pies.

You emerged from the bathroom a little more composed, bundled up in his blanket.

It smelled good. Like raw sugar, butter and apples. A tinge of raisins.

It smelled domestic, like your granny.

You missed your granny.

You missed home.

Your lip wobbled again.

“Come sit”, he said, pointing at a chair in a private corner of the room, somewhere you would be a bit protected from the rest of the shop. It was also conveniently close to the counter, so he could check on you and ask you if you wanted to talk about what had happened. His first thought was that you were a teenage runaway with very bad planning skills, considering that you had run out in your pyjamas and a jacket, your shoes definitely inappropriate for the weather outside, holding only a pair of keys and your wallet in your hands, placing them on the counter once you sat.

“I’m Seokjin.” He said kindly, offering you his hand.

You caught his hand and introduced yourself.

“So, what brings you here with this devil weather so early on a Sunday morning.”

“Running away from my roommate and her boyfriend.” You said, hugging the blanket tighter around you.

“What hap— Nevermind, I think I got it.” Seokjin said, blinking repeatedly. Goodness, people were nasty. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, placing the cup of cocoa in front of you. “Cream? Cocoa powder? Cinnamon? Chocolate sauce? Marshmallows?” He asked.

You teared up. “Marshmallows.”

He poured an abundant amount of them as he pouted, noticing you had become even more upset.

“There you go, Buttercup.” He said, smiling at you so kindly.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice weak and your forehead creased as you desperately tried not to let your tears spill.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, delicately letting his hands move toward yours, moving slowly to see if you took it away. “May I?” He asked, his fingers hovering over yours.

You nodded. While your left hand held the blanket close to your chest, your right ended pressed between his warm palms, the one on top rubbing your knuckles.

“How old are you?” He asked, worried. He wore a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, you look very young, I’m just asking to see if I should call your parents or anyone adult.”

“I live at the dorms. I’m in college.” You said, frowning a little.

“As I said, you look very young. And there are some underage students here so...” He explained, his deep, dark eyes breaching through your bad mood.

“I’m a first year. Nineteen.” You said.

“Poor darling, that must be so hard on you.” He said softly, still patting your hand.

You nodded. “I miss my family. My granny.”

“Oh, buttercup.” He cooed.

If you were in a sane state of mind you would have snickered at yourself and at how miserable you looked.

Still, you were grateful for the kind and gentle Seokjin. And how easily he had brought you back home, with the scent of his café, the taste of the cocoa and the specific brand of marshmallow that your grandmother always got for you when you were little.

“It’s a three hour drive. And it’s tough here.” You said, hiding your face as you dried one tear.

“Do you have any friends here?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Not really.”

Seokjin smiled, his eyes becoming even kinder as his cheeks became round and puffy. “From today, I’m your friend.”

Seokjin, you are a strong-willed, honest man. You are a gentleman. You are a good human. He kept repeating in his brain.

You are a polite, friendly, reliable. You are her friend. He repeated as a mantra.

Still, his brain was completely drowned with thoughts of you in the shower.

The two of you had become flatmates in rushed circumstances after you found an apartment ten minutes away from your university, which allowed you to walk there without having to take the bus or end up in the decrepit dorms, sharing a room way too small with someone way too rude or too loud.

Seokjin still didn’t know what had convinced him to share an apartment with you. It was hell. And heaven too, when he didn’t keep reminding himself that you weren’t his girlfriend, that you would never see him like that, and that he shouldn’t be playing house with you.

It was torture and bliss. Bliss on your Sunday mornings, when you could have breakfast together, or random nights when you would have movie marathons together and you would fall asleep against his shoulder, when he would cook for you and you would have dinner together over a glass of wine, laughing and making jokes. The more he spent time with you like that, seeing you drink your morning cup of coffee while still half asleep, on those days when he had someone else doing the morning shift — which was extremely rare — the more he realised you were absolutely perfect for him.

And then torture.

In moments like this, while you were under the shower, when you got out of it and as usual you walked around the house clad in nothing but a towel, absolutely comfortable in your skin, or when you thought he wasn’t home and he could hear your breathy moans and little whimpers, and then again on those two or three nights you had taken somebody home — in those circumstances he felt like he was paying for an ancient crime he didn’t know he had committed.

You had convinced him to move in with you since the apartment — being close to the university — was also incredibly close to his shop, and once he saw your eyes glimmering, your pretty face begging him to accompany you to visit the apartment, he couldn’t really say no.

So, he had said yes.

And once he saw the building, and the warm, domestic ambience, he realised that even if he would never be your lover, the least he could allow himself was to live this small daydream with you.

A week later you and him had signed the papers to rent the place. And everything had escalated from there. You had become the closest of friends, trusting and leaning on each other in every moment, through every difficulty.

However, the more he got to know about the men you dated, the more he realised you would never be attracted to him.

They were all fancy preppy boys who very likely knew the entirety of the Oxford dictionary and could probably recite Shakespeare sonnets impromptu. One of them could easily have been grandson to a duchess or a marquise. And he was pretty sure the first boy you had dated — second year university — had even a trust fund.

It was basically unreal for you to look at him with anything but friendly appreciation.

In an attempt to silence his thoughts, he got out of bed and headed for the kitchen, starting the coffee machine and getting your breakfast ready.

Maybe you would have completely ignored it being January and you would have simply climbed the barstool by the counter wearing your bathrobe, your hair still wet, and the two of you could have had breakfast just like that, without any kind of embarrassment.

As soon as coffee started brewing, your nose appeared from the bathroom door, barely ajar as you slipped out in a soft-looking white t-shirt.

As he threw a glance in your direction he knew immediately that you had very likely stolen the undershirt from his freshly washed laundry.

You slithered out of the bathroom and with stealthy footsteps you occupied your regular spot in the kitchen, watching as he prepared all the necessary material for a respectable breakfast.

“Good morning.” He said as he saw you perched on your favourite seat.

“Morning.” You replied, your feet bare, your toes gripping the small bar connecting the two front legs of the chair. “I thought you were at the café.” You said, pushing your hair away from your face. They weren’t dripping, but they were still a bit damp, especially since you had stopped drying them as soon as the smell of hot coffee reached you in the bathroom.

“Lara is covering the morning shift. I’m doing tea time today. The ladies love me and Lara can’t stand them asking about her boyfriend. I can’t have her kiss and grind on her girlfriend in the middle of my distinguished bakery out of spite.” Jin placed some apple slices on your plate, together with a quite large piece of apple pie.

In a small bowl, he poured some dry fruit before placing it on the table.

“Petty, angsty thing she is.” You said, clicking your tongue. “A true hero.”

He snickered. “Not surprised you’re friends.”

“I am patience made person.” You said, playfully offended.

“Like that one time you smashed a plate on the floor because you had burnt yourself when taking it out of the oven.”

“It was an accident. I dropped it.”

“Like it’s hot.” Seokjin murmured under his breath, lightly swaying his hips as he finished aesthetically placing your food on the plate.

“What?” You asked, comically confused.

“Nothing.” He said, stopping altogether before pouring you some coffee, adding a spray of whipped cream and decorating it with caramel and crushed caramelised almonds.

Jin asked himself how many more times he’d be able to cook you breakfast; how long until he would have to teach someone else, until you would move out with another person and you start your day with crappy industrial food instead of homemade pies and organic apples and his grandmother’s dried hazelnuts and almonds and freshly toasted chestnuts when the season was right.

Whenever he was home, he spoiled you with homemade breakfast. It was the only way he truly allowed himself to show you how desperately in love with you he is. Anytime he cooked, love simply seemed to pour out of his body through the powerful way he kneaded biscuit and pie batter, and the delicate gestures he used to place each part of a dish to form beautiful works of art: crimson red wine risotto on white porcelain plates; juicy cuts of meat, perfectly cooked in that wondrous oven of his, with a deep brown layer on the outside and the most tender dark pink in the middle, laying on the freshest bed of lettuce with a thin dribble of balsamic vinegar and crushed green peppercorn on deep blue rectangular plates.

And every Sunday was sacred. Every Sunday morning he woke up like he had spent all Saturday night courting you and making love to you — minus the obvious relief and satisfaction that come from spending all night on a bed with the person who is your partner and your lover at the same time. Sunday morning was his favourite ritual. Waking you up with the smell of your favourite hot chocolate — the one you seemed to be addicted to, and that he used on you and against you very wisely — and then cake, a different one every week, and again fruit and sometimes, in summer he would go to the closest farm, buy the milk directly from the farmer, a friend of his grandmother, at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning, bring it home, pasteurise it so that it was ready for Sunday morning, when he would use it for the healthiest of smoothies.

He loves you. He has loved you for years. And after two years of living together, losing hope was a possibility.

A possibility a bit too vast at the moment. Actually — hopefully — reality.

Today would be like any other day if it weren’t for one small fact.

Two days ago it had been four years since he first realised he had fallen for you. And two days ago he had decided he would stop chasing after you.

Therefore, he had decided that from then on, he would let go of you, even if that meant losing a part of himself. And today he would actively start walking a new path.

Once the table was ready, he arranged both your and his plate there, without passing you your cup of coffee — as he usually did — and waiting for you to come to the table.

You moved your hair out of the way as you sat down, taking your fork, not even noticing Seokjin’s first sign of petty detachment. You immediately stabbed your fork inside the apple slice and bit into it.

“Do you have lessons today?”

“Romantic Philology in the afternoon.” You replied munching, pushing your hair behind your shoulders, accidentally exposing two wet patches on the front of your t-shirt.

Actually, Seokjin’s t-shirt, but you decided he didn’t need to know that: you had simply forgotten to carry your clothes to the bathroom and once you heard the bustle going on in the kitchen, you managed to find a pair of pyjama pants in the clean laundry, but not a shirt. And you had stolen one of Seokjin’s. Not like it was a big deal.

“Romantic as in love?” He asked.

“No, as in 1830s, German, English and Italian. We’re looking into Byron and Shelley. Sometimes it’s outright boring, but our professor is so hilarious, she sees right through all those pompous arses.” You said, getting started on your masterpiece of a coffee.

“Oh.” Seokjin said. One more point for the preppy kids.

“No, it’s just academic stuff. Nothing that is actually worth something in real life. Some days I just wish I could give up on Goethe and Scott and the Brontes so I could bake cookies without a care in the world.”

And every day he wished he could give you just that. Turn his bakery into your sanctuary, hold you there, half guest, half hostage.

He decided to halt his thoughts there. No more.

“So you have teatime. Do you want me to make dinner tonight?” You asked.

“Actually no.” He said casually.

You stopped munching on your food. “Oh. It’s not Tuesday, though. Are you out with the guys, random meet up? Is Namjoon in town?”

“No.” He glued his eyes to the plate. No, he had not noticed your hardened nipples, a vague halo of dusty pink appearing from underneath the thin, wet white cotton. No. He would not let his mind wander. No, he would smash the thought out of his mind. 

Smash you. 

No! The thought. His mind. Out.

Like the colour didn’t remind him of fresh raspberry ice cream, like he hadn’t imagined dragging frozen raspberries against your oh-so-responsive buds, only to warm them with his mouth afterwards, pinch the small fruits between his fingers, crush them until tiny droplets of ruby juice landed on your lush breasts, his tongue lashing out to collect the liquid and lave your luscious curves.

But this time the thought did not enter his brain. This time he let it wither and dissolve into fine, sterile dust.

“Are you having dinner with your granny? And you didn’t invite me?” You said, pouting. “Her roast-beef is—” You stopped and swooned. “The definition of perfection.”

“I’m out on a date.” He said briefly and simply.

You frowned and quickly lifted your eyebrows, not letting the confusion show. “You sure you still know how those work?”

“It’s not like I’m celibate.” He said shrugging with his humongous shoulders. Lifting all those sacks of flour… And helping at the farm— You frowned again.

“Cinnamon?” He asked, knowing that the spice sometimes bothered you.

“No, no...”

“Do you need assistance, for your date? You sure you don’t mean the exotic, typically Egyptian fruit?”

“I mean I’m going out with a girl.” Seokjin started growing impatient.

“Who is it?” You asked, out of curiosity. In two years he had never brought a girl home. And in four years you had know each other, you had never seen him with a female friend or an actual girlfriend. You didn’t even know what is his type.

“Her name is Grace. She’s been a regular at the café for a few months now. She asked me out and I thought it would be rude to say no.”

Your interest poked, you placed down your fork. “Did she invite you?” You held your coffee in your hands, trying to keep yourself from gesticulating nervously.

“No. I did.” He said, finishing his pie and starting to eat all the hazelnuts in the small cup.

“I mean. Plenty of girls give you their phone number on a weekly basis. I literally find them everywhere. There’s around thirty on top of the washing machine alone, because I can’t do your laundry and have all those pieces of papers disintegrating and infesting our laundry and the drain. Why didn’t you ignore her like all the rest?” You asked, a bit upset.

“Because she seems a nice person,” who could love me back, which you don’t. He replied, leaving half the motivation silent in his brain.

“Cool.” You said, finishing your coffee before standing up and placing the cup in the sink.

“Cool,” he replied, neutral, watching as you left all the almonds and dried banana slices in the cup, the pie on your plate. “You’re not done with breakfast.”

“I’m late with my homework.” Which you weren’t, but you felt like your breakfast had been poisoned. Maybe that’s why you felt sick in your stomach.

Seokjin pouted and finished his food before placing your leftovers in small boxes. He knew you would come back hungry from uni and finish the food you had abandoned.

He didn’t read too much into your reaction. He was done trying to understand you.

Today he was finally done being stuck at a crossroad, and although your path in the woods felt and looked lovely and smelled even better, he opted for the safe, trodden and charted way that led out of the woods, into the uneventfulness of the ordinary.

———————————————————

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

[sunflowersunshinevol6]

Tempest Oblivion

Part 2

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, abo dynamics, rutting/heat, mentions of abuse, trauma

Read part 1 here

A/N: I was blown away by the love this fic received and I always planned on making it a multi chapter fic. Thank you for the support

The first thing Gigi decides to do is give Y/N a bath. She leads the girl down the hall towards the second bathroom, opening the door and setting her on the toilet while she runs the water.

"Y....you don't have to do this." Y/N whispers shyly. Gigi smiles at her as she tests the water, making sure it's not too hot.

"It's alright. You're safe here." She smiles, everyone kept telling her that, maybe it was true. Maybe she was finally safe. "Get undressed and I'll help you in. After you can lay down, I'll bring you a cup of tea and you can rest." Gigi's breath hitches when Y/N lifts her shirt and she sees the Mark's. As she pulls the shirt over her head Gigi looks away, busying herself with adding Epsom salts to the water to help with the poor girl's soreness.

Y/N takes Gigi's hand as she steps into the bath, sighing once she's fully sat down in the warmth. She didn't realize just how cold she had been until she was immersed in the warmth of the bath. Gigi grabs a small cup from the side of the tub and begins to wet Y/N's hair. Y/N tilts her head back, letting herself relax.

"You have beautiful hair." Gigi admires as she begins to wash it.

"Thank you." Y/N sighs again, Gigi's hands scrap gently against her scalp, rubbing the soap into her hair.

"I know....I know this is all new and probably a little scary but...be patient with yourself. This is a good pack. Harry is a good leader-"

"Harry?"

"The Alpha who saved you," Gigi said. So that was his name. "He's very kind and compassionate. He is never forceful unless need be and he's protective of us all....you have nothing to fear. This is your home now."

After the bath, Gigi gives Y/N some of her clothes and leaves her to rest. Y/N climbs into the bed, snuggling down under the covers. She closes her eyes, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep for the first time in months.

Y/N stayed close to Gigi and Zayn in the following days. The morning after she'd been brought to the village Harry had met with her and reassured her of her safety. She believed hom, but Zayn and Gigi had been so kind to her and they didn't seem to mind her clinging. Gigi welcomed it, always holding her hand or wrapping a comforting arm around her. Zayn was proud of his mate. She had a tender and loving heart.

"Y/N?" Gigi tapped on her bedroom door. Y/N was sitting on her bed in meditation, trying to connect with her wolf spirit. She opened her eyes and smiled softly at her friend.

"Hey. Everything alright?" She could sense Gigi's apprehension.

"Its fine....its just....my heat is a few days from now and....well..." she didn't know how to say it. Y/N had just come into their home and now she would be asking her to stay elsewhere for a week while she was in heat.

Y/N smiled kindly at her friend. She would do anything for Zayn and Gigi already. She was extremely grateful to them and felt she owed them her life and whatever services she could offer.

"It's alright Gigi. It's natural....I'm sure I can find somewhere else to stay while you go through this."

"That's the thing." Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Harry requests you stay with him during my heat. He has some things he wants to discuss with you."

"O...oh."

When Zayn told Harry Gigi's heat would be coming, he immediately offered for Y/N to stay with him. Niall could not seem to find her former pack and he hoped, that if he could touch Y/N's wolf spirit, he could see the trauma, see the abuse and find the abusers. It was a risky thing, only Alpha Leaders could soul touch, and it could go badly, he could break her spirit. But he felt as if he had no option and he trusted that she was stronger than that. She had, in fact, survived in the woods alone in the cold until he found her.

"It's all been arranged and I promise, Harry is nothing if not a gentleman. You have nothing to fear." Gigi reassured her once more.

"I trust you Gigi." She felt her smile falter as Gigi walked away, a foreboding feeling washing over her.

She's awoken early on a Saturday morning. Startled as Niall leans over her, pressing a finger to his lips. It's then Y/N can smell Gigi's heat and Zayn's rut. Niall bundles her carefully before swiftly carrying her from the house and into the courtyard.

Harry is waiting in the foyer of his home as Niall sets her on her feet and opens the door. He's wearing a thick black bathrobe, the letter 'H' sewed in red over the breast pocket, his long brown hair pulled back into a messy bun. Y/N smiles shyly as he opens his arms to her, giving her a welcoming embrace.

"How are you pet?" He asks. Since the day he brought her to the pack he has felt a protectiveness over her, something stronger than what he normally feels for his pack.

"Fine....thank you for letting me stay." He reaches out, brushing a piece of her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear gently.

"Of course. This pack takes care of each other." He looks up, eyes meeting with Niall's. The other wolf bows before leaving the home, closing the door quietly behind him. "Shall we?" Harry asks, holding out his arm. She takes it, gently wrapping her fingers around his bicep.

She's given the proper tour, his home is large of course, being the head Alpha. He shows her the library, the garden, the kitchen, and finally leads her down a small hallway with two doors on either side.

"This will be your room," he says, opening the door on the right. A bed, a dresser and a desk with a chair sit cozily while a fire burns bright in the small fireplace. "Over there is your bathroom. If you've a need for anything don't hesitate to call someone of my staff or me." She nods, giving him a small smile. He turns to go when she grabs his hand, stopping him.

"Thank you Alpha....for everything." He's stunned when she nuzzles his palm, something only mates do, it raises his suspicions about her old pack even more.

"Y/N." She looks up, taking a step back. Her stance is immediately defensive. "Y/N I wanted to ask you about your old pack." Her shoulders relax slightly, but she still looks wary.

"Zayn told you about my punishments didn't he."

"Punishments?" She nodded, pulling her shirt up slightly to show him the fading Mark's and scars on her belly. He sucks in a sharp breath, his wolf snarling, a low growl immenating from him. "What did they punish you for?" She mumbles something, looking away from him. "I didn't catch that." He says a little louder, the only thing that seems to work is when he asserts his Alpha.

"They called me Devilrinn kind or 'devil child'. My wolf was beaten into submission. They said I was a mistake. If my wolf was allowed to be free I would destroy them." Harry is stunned. He knew some packs were superstitious, but he had never heard of them turning on a pack member.

"How old were you when this started?"

"Three." He shivers, unable to contain the rage within himself. He steps closer to her, reaching out to run his hands down her arms, she's shaking, he knows how hard this must be for her. "They isolated me. Beat me. Starved me. When I became of age is when they finally cast me out. They drove me from the village. They knew I would die because I was latent and alone." She takes a shaky breath.

"But you didn't." Harry says, he lifts her chin so she can do nothing but look into his eyes. They're soft and understanding as he speaks to her. "I found you and brought you here." She smiles at him bitterly.

"Pray my wolf doesn't break free....I'd hate to hurt you or any of the others...you're the nicest people I've met."

"I don't believe your wolf is dangerous....but there is a way I can find out." Her smile fades, replaced with a curious expression.

"There is?"

"Have you ever heard of soul touch?" She shakes her head. Of course not. If she had been isolated she wouldn't have been educated properly, thus the intiment nuzzle she had given him. It made sense. "Only Head Alpha's can do it. I can reach out and touch your wold spirit. I can see your past, everything." Y/N stared at him in awe. She wasn't sure what to say to that.

"I don't understand-"

"The way you've been treated," Harry interrupts. "Is unforgivable. I don't believe in abandoning anyone, especially due to a stupid rumor." She flinched at the way he said it. "I want to find them. Expose them. Save others if there are any in your position....but we can't figure out where you came from." She looked away again, down at her feet. "If you let me see I can help you. Maybe even find out the truth about your latency."

It is an enticing offer. She does want to know what is wrong with her. Why she malfunctioned, why she deserved the punishments, the loneliness. She looked back up at him.

"You won't hurt me?" She asks. He brushes his knuckles against her cheek.

"I can't promise it won't hurt but I'll do my best." She sighs, nodding her head.

"Whatever you can do to help me...I want to try."

Harry has her sit on her bed, back against the head board, he left briefly to find restraints. Soul touching is dangerous and she can easily be crushed. It's important for her not to move too much. She nods furiously as he explains this to her. She's curious, she wants to know what's wrong and she Hope's he'll finally be able to answer the questions she's been haunted by her whole life.

He checks the cuffs, making sure Y/N's arms are secured but not too tightly. She watches as he crawls over her, straddling her hips.

"You can still refuse.....are you sure?" He asks. He doesn't want to do this unless she's positive. There are other ways of finding her former pack if needed.

Y/N looks Harry in the eye, something Omegas are never to do, but she isn't afraid.

"I trust you." She says with certainty. Harry nods. He lifts his hand, bringing it to the center of her chest, he hears her breath hitch.

"Relax." She sighs shakily. Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and pushes his hand into her chest. Y/N screams, body arching up towards him as be reaches for her soul. He groans when his fingers graze her soul. He hisses at the fragility before he feels himself falling deep into her consciousness. Her screams fading away.

The pain is intense as Harry pushes his hand into her chest. When his fingers graze her soul she screams at the pain, her body coursing with fire. She tries to keep her eyes on him but the further he pushes into her soul the more searing the pain. Her eyes roll in her head as she slumps forward, head resting on her chest, the pain too much to bear. Everything goes black.

Harry feels himself falling into her memories, surrounded by sights and sounds. He stands in a crowded room, three figures sit before a hearth while a woman kneels at their feet, a child in her arms. The child is Y/N he realizes.

"She is....unnatural." one of the men speaks, eyes gazing at the little girl, dozing in her mother's arms. The woman says nothing, he smell the fear on her and see her body tremble. One of the men stands, walking towards the woman. He knelt, reaching out to touch the girl, only to hiss sharply and draw his hand back.

"What?" The woman asks fearfully. "What is it?" The imagery begins to shake, Harry can feel Y/N's wolf bending against him, fragile as it was, he was pushing the limits.

Harry let go, the force of which knocked him off the bed. He scrambles to his feet, climbing over Y/N and reaching out to lift her face.

"H...Harry?" She asks weakly, body still slumped forward. Harry undoes the restraints letting her lean forward against his shoulder. "Harry did you see anything?"

"Not enough, no...your wolf isn't strong enough." She pulls back, looking up at him in distress.

"I don't understand?"

"Your wolf has been suppressed for so long....It couldn't handle the stroke of an Alpha. I could have broken your spirit. Killed you." Tears begin to fill her eyes.

"So that's it? We just give up?" Her words shake as she speaks.

"No darling no," he sits up straight, reaching out to take her hand in his. "We make you strong. We let her out."

"But I already told you-"

"I don't think your wolf is anymore harmful than any other Omegas. You certainly won't be able to overpower me." He leans down, pressing his forehead to hers, looking into her eyes. He doesn't know why he does this, it's an intimate act. But he wants to be close to her.

He feels her wolf being soothed by his proximity, it makes him lean in closer, reaching out to pull her to him. She sits on his lap, straddling his hips as he begins to scent her. He doesn't know why, but it feels good.

That's when he smells it. The first wave of arousal coming off of her.

Harry pushes her from his lap. She lands back on the bed with a soft 'oof' looking up at him, he says nothing, leaving the room quickly.

Y/N doesn't have time to be hurt. Just as Harry slams the door behind him she feels a surge of arousal fill her body and a sticky wetness between her legs. She moans, tossing her head back into the pillows, squirming as she begins to go into her very first heat. Alone.

"Tend to her. Make sure she has whatever she needs. Keep her hydrated. This is her first heat and since she's latent it's going to be painful." The omegas curtsey before leaving Harry in the den. He runs his hand through his hair, trying to calm his own wolf. He doesn't understand why he's reacting so sharply to her but it's taking everything he-

"Harry!" Niall burst through the door, an urgent look in his eye. "I came as soon as you called."

"I went in. I touched Y/N's soul." Niall gives him a wary look but let's him continue. "Her soul was so fragile. I was only in maybe two minutes before it started to collapse and now-"

"She's in heat." Niall finished for him. "I can smell her." Harry runs his hand through his hair nervously.

"I don't know what to do Niall. I've never met a wolf like her before." Niall reached out, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"It'll be alright Hazza. We'll figure it out." He pauses. "But I do wonder...."

"Wonder what?" Harry asked.

"What if she were to mate? " Harry's eyes widen, he opens his mouth to respond but Niall cuts him off. "The emerging of souls, being bound to an Alpha....it might just be the push she needs to assert her own wolf....if we could get her wolf to come out, the soul touch wouldn't be as fatal."

"That's a great idea Niall. Except she's only been here a short period of time. She doesn't even know anyone to mate-" they're interrupted by a knock on the door. "What." Harry snarls as Camille pokes her head through. She looks slightly irritated.

"The girl. The one in heat. She's calling for you Alpha." Harry looked at Niall.

"Go to her Harry. If it's right, you'll know."