#Cora please forgive me (she did)

[pyralart]

A friend pointed out I tagged my most recent art as "the ow house" and given the emotional damage we've suffered as fans it might actually not be a typo

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part IX

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this headcanon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

And a HUGE thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 /

Part X >>

Lucien walked beside Elain as he continued to lead them towards the loveliest library in the Forest House. She was so unusually close that the stone hallway felt too small, the walls closing in around him. If he wished, he could have brushed the fingers of his hand against her knuckles. 

Lucien tried not to glance at his mate, but failed rather miserably. He could see Elain’s pretty brown eyes taking in her surroundings carefully, trying to track where they were going. Lucien knew from experience that it would take Elain and Cora both some time before the two females grew accustomed to the sprawling complex, a city in its own right. 

Cora walked silently on the stones just a bit behind them and Lucien wondered briefly what kind of shoes she was hiding beneath her long skirts. Her steps were noiseless, like she was floating, almost as though Lucien and Elain were alone. 

Perhaps involuntarily, Elain moved even closer to him. Lucien nearly offered her his arm, but thought better of it. He did not think she would appreciate it, but Lucien could still feel the phantom grip of her hand on his own as they had been escorted to their shared suite the night before. 

Thoughtlessly, Lucien had left her alone when he had woken up, and while he was sure Eris had slightly exaggerated Elain’s words, he knew that Elain did not like the fact that he had declined to tell her where he planned to go.  

Through their bond, Lucien could feel her frustration with him over it, a slow thrum over that bridge between two souls. It had come as a shock to Lucien when Elain had agreed to go to the library, even with her lady’s maid joining. 

Elain was clearly uneasy with their current predicament, and Lucien could not even blame her. 

“The Autumn Court is lovely,” Elain politely offered in the quiet. She did not look towards him, keeping her gaze steady and ahead.

Lucien nodded in response. The court he had been raised in was genuinely beautiful, stunning, especially for someone who had never visited before. Lucien did not mention how cruel of a place it could be. “I always thought so.” 

Lucien said nothing more, unsure if Elain was truly looking for a conversation to start between them, or if she simply wanted the awkward silence that had befallen to end. 

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a nervous habit. He caught as Elain seemingly stopped breathing, her heartbeat racing. 

With a furrowed brow, Lucien looked at her, hesitating to ask if she was alright. 

Much to Lucien’s relief, Cora spoke before he did. With hurried steps, she caught up to Elain, hardly worried. “Forgive me, but if I might speak out of turn,” her voice carried in the hall, her accent thick with the rhythm of the Hewn City. 

“That’s nonsense,” Elain mumbled, her shoulders relaxing. 

Lucien felt his lips turn up, the smallest of smiles at how Elain did not even consider that Cora was technically working for the Night Court. He could hear the way Cora’s tone changed immediately, suddenly more comfortable. 

“How does anyone manage to get around this place?” She made a careless gesture with her hand, the golden thread along her sleeve flashing. “All of it looks the same,” she addressed him with a dark brow raised. 

Lucien noticed for the first time how lovely she was, his focus almost always having been entirely on Elain since the moment he had seen his mate in his father’s throne room. Cora’s jaw was sharp, her lips full, an elegant bump just on the bridge of her nose. Her dark brows framed even darker eyes, a blush staining her high cheekbones when Lucien faced her fully.   

“You get used to it,” he responded warmly. “It takes some time, but I’m sure you’ll find your way around easily enough by the week’s end.” 

“Callum Vanserra escorted me to the servant’s quarters yesterday.” Cora tucked a long strand of hair behind her pointed ear. Lucien took note of how she did not add a title to his brother’s name and he liked her boldness, her blatant disregard for another court’s prince. “I think he led me past the library, but I can’t tell if we even walked by here,” she added with a nervous laugh. 

Lucien offered Cora a genuine smile. “Remind me, then, to take you to your room before Elain and I return to ours.” 

“Callum is your older brother?” Elain’s question caught Lucien by surprise, a knowing smile flashed along Cora’s lips as the other female turned away from him. 

Elain cleared her throat awkwardly, as if asking the question had caught her by surprise as well. Lucien could feel a small burst of possessiveness flashing along the bond, the way Elain urged him to pay attention to her with a tug on that invisible string.  

Jealousy. 

“Callum is third-born, practically ancient.” Lucien looked to see how Elain would react. Her eyes were wide with curiosity, the weight of her full regard too heavy for him. An amazing actress, she hid her emotions so well, Lucien thought. He faced away from Elain once more. “He was a child during the first war, and was raised in Xian, by my maternal grandmother.” 

Elain nodded along, interest lining her expression. Lucien could see her from the corner of his eye and decided that was much better, her beauty easier to bear. Like looking straight at the sun, painful and yet the desire was there. 

“Will you tell me about the others?” Elain asked, looking up at him, her steps in time with his own. 

Lucien shrugged, he hated all his brothers in equal measure. “There’s not much to tell.” He felt another pull on the bond and could not help facing his mate.

“I should probably know more about your family,” he watched as a scarlet blush bloomed on Elain’s pale cheeks. “We are getting married, after all.” 

A genuine laugh spilled from Lucien’s lips at her tone. “I suppose you’re right.”

“It happens on occasion,” she clipped, her blush deepening in colour. 

Lucien tore his gaze from Elain for a moment to flash Cora a concerned look, wondering whether he should speak in front of the other female about his brothers. His golden eye whirred. 

“I won’t repeat a word of this to anyone,” Cora rushed to reassure him, noticing the way Lucien glanced at her. “My lips are completely sealed.” 

Lucien ran his hand through his hair, sighing. He decided it hardly mattered what Elain’s lady’s maid knew in regards to his family. He turned his attention back to Elain, only to find her looking at him intently. “You haven’t met Felix, but he’s only a few years older than me.”

“You were close with him.” Elain’s statement suggested that was the only logical conclusion in her mind. 

“Not at all,” Lucien scoffed. “He only ever looks out for himself, silver-tongued, a perfect emissary. Felix can convince the most stubborn of nobles to see his point of view, sway their opinions in his favour.” 

Elain hummed in understanding, but Lucien still did not think she could completely grasp the twisted relationship he had with his brothers. 

“Felix is on good terms with Ronan, I think.” Lucien could never be too sure where the loyalty of each Autumn prince lay, or how quickly they might turn on one another if the right circumstances were to arise. “Ronan works closely with my father, his flames strong enough to make him a worthy contender for the crown.” He frowned as Elain silently coaxed him to go on with only her eyes. “Like I said, there’s not much to tell.” 

Lucien continued walking, the library’s carved wooden doors only a few steps away. He did not need to raise his hand to open them, despite how heavy they were, glad that they were still unlocked and open to anyone who wished to enter.

“And Eris?” Elain asked, her brows raised. Surely she had heard about his eldest brother’s reputation, Lucien thought, but he was the only one of his brother’s Elain had truly interacted with. It made sense that Elain would want to know more.  

Lucien almost stopped in his tracks as he considered her question. “Eris is…” 

A snake. 

The male who raised me. 

My favourite brother. 

“Eris is Eris,” he said with a shrug, the gesture and his statement so ridiculous he winced. With his eldest brother, everything was achingly more complicated. “The best and worst of Autumn, sure to be my father’s heir.” 

“When you scowl, you look like him.” Elain’s statement was a throwaway, hardly considered, but Lucien frowned. He slowed his steps so that she could walk past him and into the library, Cora still at her side. 

Lucien followed after them just in time to catch Elain marvelling at the sight before her. 

There were countless towering shelves pushed against the walls and in neat rows all around the large room. The golden spines of some of the rarer books glimmered in the light of the torches, all of them carefully spelled by librarians and priestesses against catching alight. Lucien knew that these were some of the only books in all of Prythian that remained untouched after Amarantha’s reign, and he felt a strange sense of pride for it. 

In the middle of the library, between a pair of shelves, stood the remains of a hollowed tree. The leafless branches seemed to hold up the ceiling, the gnarled trunk shaped in a way that resembled a fireplace. Thick roots created nooks near the trunk, perfect for private reading, before they disappeared like waves on a beach beneath the stone of the floor.  

Lucien waved his hand and flames came to life in the emptied space of the ancient maple. 

Wonder shone bright as sunlight in Elain’s eyes as she turned to Lucien, all sincerity. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she breathed. 

Lucien smiled at the sight, the way her walls had come down. “Some say that this library rivals even the ones in the Day Court.”  

“I can imagine how that might be the case,” Elain shyly smiled, shaking her head as she walked deeper into the room. 

Lucien watched as Elain reached out, careful fingers tracing the leather bound books on the shelf nearest to her. Brown eyes skimmed the titles of each one, she bit her lower lip as she went on the tips of her toes, peeking at some of the scrolls on a higher row. 

Lucien felt like he was intruding. 

He tried to turn his attention to Cora, but the Night Court female had silently scurried away, leaving Lucien and Elain alone. Lucien decided that Cora was perhaps a meddlesome busybody before he simply followed Elain further into the library. 

Elain pulled a scarlet book off the shelf, the pages yellowed with the passage of time. Lucien raised both his brows as he stood behind her, as he read the looping script on the cover. 

A Complete History of Autumn’s Blood Duels. 

“Looking for some light reading?” 

Elain did not look at Lucien as she flipped through the book, lifting her shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I’ve heard the term once, just curious.” 

“It’s probably full of some very gruesome details,” he warmed. A memory flashed in Lucien’s mind, one from his childhood. He had stolen a similar tome off Callum’s nightstand as a boy, and had had to sleep on the armchair in Eris’s room for days as a result. 

“I’m sure I can handle it.” 

Lucien recognized that there was a bite to Elain’s words, as though she was not simply speaking about the book in her hands. It was a hidden anger, a crack in her ever so carefully crafted mask. All her pleasant smiles, all her words dripping with honeyed falsehoods were no longer directed at Lucien, and he was surprised to realise that he was glad for it. 

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Lucien offered quietly, hoping Elain understood the full meaning behind his response.

Elain’s head snapped up quickly as she turned to look up at him, their eyes locking. The full force of the mating bond was a knife to his chest as her scent washed over him, sweet like blooming jasmine. 

Lucien wondered if Elain felt the same overwhelming pull as her eyes darkened a shade, as she leaned closer only to breathe in deeply. 

Their hearts were beating steadily in a matching rhythm, and Lucien forced himself to take a step back. 

Like a curse shattering, Elain whirled on her heel faerie-quick, holding the book tightly against her chest. 

As though nothing had occurred, Elain went back to focusing solely on the books on the shelves in front of her. Lucien watched her for a moment, before he too turned his attention to a different shelf. 

With a weary sigh, Lucien concluded that if he and Elain could survive their time in Autumn, he would suffer the most torturous two weeks of his immortal life.

[ouatsqincorrect]

hey i saw your headcanons about david/snow/regina and i was wondering if you have any about regina and coras mother/daughter relationship and/or regina and rumples twisted father/daughter/mentor relationship

sure! (but a real quick disclaimer: if you like cora, don’t read this. if you think rumple did not harm regina in any way, don’t read this. do not get mad at me for having my own opinions on them, please and thank you) ALSO tw for abuse.

i am a firm believer in the fact that regina needs therapy. this woman has been through hell and back and you can’t convince me that forgiving herself in 6x14 was all it took to “move on” from everything

she starts going to archie, even though it’s not ideal. (he’s still the only therapist in town and one day, regina will fix this, but for now he’s the only option she’s got) and she begins to work through her past for the first time

this involves accepting that cora harmed her much more than she’s ever been able to admit to herself

she still feels like she’s forgiven her, but forgiving your abuser doesn’t take away the years of trauma they caused

this goes the same for rumple. he may be an actual member of her family now, but he did manipulate her when she was just 18 and broke her down until he could use her to do his bidding (not to mention the whole “no one will ever love you” and “you’re weak when you’re not evil” mindset he introduced to her)

cora is gone. regina has to deal with that trauma without her because there is no bringing cora back, but rumple is still here

and he’s an active part of her life in a very different way then he used to be

rumple never becomes a hero, not really, but he’s also no longer a villain and even though he’s not necessarily getting any professional help anywhere like regina is, he is learning how to articulate his thoughts about his past and what he did

and rumple, just like regina, is willing to admit there are some people who are never going to be able to forgive him and that’s ok

he knows he hurt regina. he’s always known that. even back in the EF, he knew what he was doing to her was wrong

which is why when they actually end up being a part of the same family, he doesn’t pressure her to forgive him or start treating him like they���ve been good friends forever

instead, he shows he cares for her in little ways. he’ll magic over some coffee on rainy days because he knows regina hates when the weather’s bad or he’ll put an extra protection spell around her house when there’s a villain in town because even though he knows she can take care of herself, he still wants to protect her (and henry and emma)

they never talk about these things he does and rumple knows they probably never will

also, he never touches regina without her permission. (i can go on for years about how regina feels about close contact with each member of her family but anyway)

more so than almost anyone else, he understands what she went through back during her “marriage” to the king and he refuses to break any boundaries she might have

(this is different than what happened between him and the evil queen. and he regrets that immensely)

regina, for her part, knows rumple is trying and although she’s certain a part of her will always be a little pissed at him, she does slowly start to forgive him

they never won’t butt heads though. there will always be a lot of unnecessary sass between them but that’s just who they are as people and they both know that, at the end of the day, they’re there for each other if they need it

[adoracora-elizabeth]

Drabble - Wedding Coat

I wrote another drabble.

"Darling, do not let this upset you. You did not mean to be harsh towards Mrs Hughes. You just did not know and also just came back from that horrible meeting." Robert leaned forward in his chair.

Cora was seated on the settee, sighed, her shoulders were bent forward and as far as her clothing let her, she leaned forward. She rested her head in her hands. "Still, I acted badly. Especially Mrs. Hughes does not deserve that.

"Try to let it rest. What is done, is done." Robert saw Cora was stubborn.

Cora shook her head and put her shoulders back. "No, I cannot let this rest. I need to fix what I did. I think, I remember what coat Mrs. Hughes was wearing when I stepped in." She got up and walked to her closet.

"What are you going to do?" Robert asked surprised.

In the meantime, Cora found the right coat and walked to the door. She turned half around and said. "I am going to make a mend."

+++

Cora walked downstairs, it was already late, and most staff had gone upstairs. She hoped Mrs Hughes would still be downstairs. To her relief, she heard her voice and that of Mrs. Patmore through the door. She knocked and waited for an answer.

"Yes?" Mrs. Hughes voice sounded.

Cora opened the door and said: "May I come in?"

"Please." Mrs. Hughes stepped back.

Cora started. "Mrs Hughes, I won't beat about the bush. I behaved badly earlier." She paused. "I hope you'll accept my apology."

"It must have been strange to find us all there, My Lady." Mrs. Hughes answered as kind as she always was.

Cora now only felt more guilty for the way she treated her. "Nevertheless, I have no excuse to behave as I did." She said and then made sure to look Mrs Hughes in the eye. "Not to someone who deserves our loyalty as you do. Please forgive me."

Mrs. Hughes answer was quick "Of course."

"I can only say I was angry about something quite different. I allowed it to cloud my judgement."

We've all done that, My Lady." Mrs. Patmore chipped in.

"Finally, I'd like you to have this coat." Cora handed Mrs. Hughes the package she was holding.

"I… I'm not sure it was a good idea." Mrs. Hughes stuttered.

Cora smiled. "Please. Or I'll feel I've spoiled the day, which is the very last thing I'd want to do." She looked at Mrs. Patmore and back to Mrs. Hughes. "Furthermore, I want you to keep it."

Mrs. Hughes hesitated "Well, I…"

Cora did not let her finish her sentence. "I've asked Baxter to fit it for you tonight. She's happy to do that." She smiled again.

"Very well, My Lady. I am very grateful. I am not sure when I will wear it again. But you never know." Mrs. Hughes stroke with her hand over the coat.

Cora chuckled. "You never do." She started to turn around and opened the door. "I'll say good night."

"Good night, Your Ladyship."

Cora walked back upstairs; she was happy with this gesture. Mrs Hughes deserved her kindness. The hospital business did not make her a nicer person and she hated that about herself.

+++

"How did she take it?" Robert asked when Baxter finally left the room. Cora had entered her room with her lady's maid. He was already in bed on his side and had waited in silence for Cora to finish her night routine.

Cora got up from her dressing table and walked over to the bed. She dropped her dressing gown at the end of the bed, pulled the covers back and sat down to take off the rest of her jewellery. "I think I was able to make a mend."

Robert hummed.

Cora´s shoulders bent forward, and she let out a deep sigh. "I truly was out of line today towards our staff. This hospital business needs to end."

Robert got up on his knees and got closer to Cora. He put his hands on her shoulders and started massaging. "You could pull out of it?"

Cora turned halve around. "What?" her tone was hard.

His movements stilled; he had not calculated she would react in this way. "I mean, you can let Isobel and Mama fight this out themselves." He felt Cora stiffen.

"It is also my hospital, and Mama need to learn that not everything will go her way."

Robert tried to calm her down by starting his movements again, but she shrugged his hands off.

"Robert, I mean it." Now Cora looked him in the eye. "Mama thinks she can rule the world."

"That is my Mama." Robert laughed.

"You can laugh, but I am serious. This time I am not backing down. This change can be good for our hospital and the system." She pulled on the duvet cover. "Can you move? I want to lay down."

Robert quickly scooted back to his side of the bed and waited for Cora to lay down. She turned on her side facing away from him and turned off her light. Robert waited a minute, but Cora stayed in that position. He moved closer again and put his hand on her upper arm, softly he kissed the back of her head. "I will support you in this."

Cora did not react, she knew he was only trying to calm her down and when it came to it, he would stand behind his mother, as always.

Robert squeezed her arm and moved his hand up and down. "I promise you; I will support you."

"Do you mean that? Can you do that? Can you actually not back your mother up, but face her?" Cora's voice was full of disbelief.

"I know, I have let you down a lot in the past, especially in the first years. But I believe you are right, and the hospital needs this to survive the changing times." He wrapped his arm around her and pressed her against him. "You made the right decision by giving Mrs. Hughes your coat, she will look wonderful tomorrow when she marries Carson."

"Mr and Mrs Carson, that will be weird."

Robert let out a deep sound, what made Cora chuckle. "Another change, no more Mrs. Hughes." She felt Robert breathing out. With another chuckle she turned around in his arms. "We will also survive that change."

Robert gave her a smile. "We will get used to it."

Cora stroke with her hand over his cheek. "Now, let us get some sleep, tomorrow will be a long day with the wedding." She kissed him and nestled against his chest, safely in his arms.

[ohtobealady]

Love your latest cobert drabbles😘🥰please write more soon dear! They are perfect!!🤓❤️

(This request was in a comment somewhere that I cannot find! Please forgive me.)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Oh,” Violet stood from her chair as her butler showed her daughter-in-law into her sitting room. “So you are back.”

And Cora entered, smiling, owning the room as she nearly always seemed to do, in her soft way—her face partly shaded by her kettle brim hat that covered one brow. Violet lifted her chin in greeting as her son’s wife drew toward her, her purple skirts rustling quietly.

“Hello, Mama,” she cooed, and Violet let Cora gently lean toward her, pressing her cheek quickly against her own, kissing the air beside her ear. Her perfume, always a little too strong for Violet’s taste, tickled her, and she blinked. “It’s lovely to see you.”

“Is it?” Violet answered, putting her finger to her nose, and then as Cora leaned away—straightening again to her full height—Violet cleared her throat. “I’m glad to hear it.”

She watched as Cora narrowed her gaze at her playfully, and shook her head. “Of course it is.” Her eyes were bright against the deep purple she wore, and there was a certain fullness in her cheeks that her tight grin made ever fuller.

She looked well, Violet thought, and she waved a hand toward the small couch near them, inviting her to sit.

“London seems to have agreed with you,” she said aloud as she watched her settle onto the seat. “You look quite refreshed.”

But the compliment wasn’t immediately accepted; Cora only looked down into her lap where she worked on taking off her gloves and chuckled.

“I’m not sure if it’s London, but thank you.”

“Perhaps not,” Violet answered, settling herself into her favorite chair. “Though having the last presented must certainly be a weight off your shoulders.”

“Well,” Cora looked up, and Violet saw her smirk. “We’ll see.”

Nodding, for she wasn’t quite sure how else to respond, Violet adjusted her hip in her seat.

“And how was it all in the end?” Violet lifted her chin, “After I returned. Did much happen?”

“Oh, it was wonderful,” Cora’s grin deepened. “We lost count of the invitations Sybil received.”

Violet was pleased at this and smiled. “Yes. Yes. She was charming, wasn’t she?”

Across from her, Cora nodded once, closing her eyes.

“And Mary and Edith?” Violet added. “Did they enjoy themselves?”

Cora took in a short breath and lowered her head. “Fewer invitations, but then, they have been out for so many seasons.”

“Yes,” Violet agreed. “The shine does dull slightly after the first one or two seasons, it’s true.” She shook her head and then leaned away. “I must say, after everything that’s happened these last months, your note to come to tea did raise a bit of an alarm.”

Across from her, Cora let her lips part slightly, “Oh?”

“After all, I wasn’t expecting you to call until tomorrow. You know, once you’ve settled in again after your journey. I thought if you wanted to see me so soon that the visit would come with some urgent message.”

“Well—“

“I imagined all manner of things. That Rosamund wouldn’t have Mary stay on. Or that Sybil had been arrested.” She chuckled. “Or even that Susan had written another letter. To the Turkish embassy! But I can see that nothing seems to be amiss, and of that I’m glad.”

“Well,” Cora’s voice was an octave lower than before, and Violet watched as she tipped her head, “There is something that I’ve come to tell you.”

“Oh dear.” Violet let her eyes go wide. She’d spoken too soon.

“Robert did suggest I simply include it in the note so as not to shock you, but I thought I’d better tell you myself.”

“So something has gone wrong,” Violet’s own voice grew higher. “If it has, please do just say what it is. I do hate suspense.”

“No. Not wrong. Perhaps a bit unexpected.”

Violet detected the smallest blush rise in her daughter-in-law’s cheeks.

“But nothing’s wrong at all.”

“I see,” Violet felt herself nod, blink. She lifted her head. “Then what is it?”

Across from her, Cora drew in a deep breath, her shoulders rising. Her cheeks grew pinker. “It seems that you’re to have another grandchild.”

“Am I?” She blinked again, and then tried to smile, for her daughter-in-law was smiling, though Violet’s mind struggled placing the words. “And who might that be?” she heard herself say, and then, just as soon as the words left her mouth — just as soon as she saw Cora’s features falter slightly — Violet’s mind finished its arithmetic. “Oh! Oh, you mean you?”

Cora’s smile deepened. She nodded.

“You and Robert?” She nearly gasped. “Oh, my dear! Well it is a bit unexpected, I admit.”

Across from her, Cora laughed. “Yes. Though you’ve reacted better than Robert. He nearly fainted.”

Violet didn’t doubt that in the slightest.

“I don’t think he would’ve believed me if Dr Clarkson hadn’t reassured him.”

“I can imagine,” Violet laughed, too. And then, looking over at her daughter-in-law again, she softened. “And the girls? Have you told them?”

“Well,” again, Cora’s head tipped as she spoke. “We’ve told Edith and Sybil. And we’ve written to Mary.”

Mary.

“And she’s not been in touch with Cousin Matthew?”

“Not that I’ve heard.”

It was impossible to miss the change in her daughter-in-law’s eyes at that—a cooling of the sparkle that had been there before—and, feeling her chest grow a little tighter, Violet smiled again. And this time, she felt it deeply.

“Wonderful news of course,” she repeated, and found herself reaching out to her son’s wife, images of the last birth flickering in her mind’s eye. Terrible images that Violet quickly pushed aside. “You must look after yourself.”

The glow washed over Cora once more. “Don’t worry.” She smiled, and Violet found that her thoughts must’ve been plainly obvious. “O’Brien has me wrapped in silk and feathers.”

[juliasdowntonstuff]

Intoxication

I've written a new one shot (it's slightly too long to be considered a drabble, I think)

This one was loosely inspired by James Blunt's song “Bartender” and takes place a few weeks after the entire Bricker-incident came to a head that evening in Cora´s bedroom.

This is also the first time I've written something as explicitly M-rated as this (please let me know what you think of it). The second half of this contains said explicit parts and I will try to divide that off with that line feature for people who might not want to read that.

For now, I hope you enjoy some drunk Cobert on a night out in London...

It was a cold, yet still rather pleasant, evening when Robert and Cora walked along the pavement in London Mayfair. Their destination, the grand hotel and restaurant Robert had chosen for them that night, was already in plain view ahead of them. He had not told her where they were headed, but the familiar sight of the red brick facade with its many nooks and balconies was all she needed to see to know. He had selected their favourite restaurant, Claridge's - a decision no doubt influenced by the last time he had tried to take her out to dinner and failed because of a stupid decision she had made. 

What was supposed to be a nice surprise on his part had turned into a night both of them regretted, or at least she hoped so, for she certainly regretted every aspect of it in hindsight. He had said quite a few things she found hard to forgive when she had returned to Rosamund's house in Belgrave Square and found him waiting there for her, but she and her behaviour were the reason he had uttered them, she knew that.

Their entire exchange from that night was still very much present in her mind as they silently walked in the direction of the grand entrance. It was unusual for them to talk so little, they always found it quite easy to talk to each other about anything and everything. Cora would have been more than happy to listen to him rant about the next problem the estate was going to have to face or what the farmers had said the day before when he had visited them together with Mary on his rounds, but he stayed silent and kept to himself. They were not on good terms, that much was certain. He had even taken his hand back after he had helped her from the motor, letting it fall back to his side instead of holding it out for her to put her hand in the crook. Things had been amiss for weeks now, months even, and she did not know what to do or say to get her Robert back. They had talked about it and things had seemed to be looking up, but that had been an illusion.

She looked over at him and saw his eyes fixed on some point ahead of them, almost as if he were ignoring her entire existence next to him. She could almost swear that she even saw his jaw clench when he saw her face turning to him out of the corner of his eye. Cora felt as if she was still not forgiven, even though weeks had passed since that night, and he had apologized for his behaviour with a beautiful set of pearls the last time they were in London for Rose's wedding. Things had returned to normal in the weeks after that - apart from the aspect of their marriage that she usually described as terrific fun. They had been better, or maybe she had just thought they were. The palpable tension between them as they walked to the restaurant was almost too much for her to bear.

Cora was shaken from her musings when they were greeted by a young man in uniform and she suddenly found herself in the restaurant that held so many happy memories she shared with her husband. But she couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment well up inside her while they waited for the young man to find their reservation in the book. The prospect of a rather frosty dinner - if their journey here had been anything to go by - did not seem too enticing to her.

“Excuse me, Mister Crawley, but I can't seem to be able to find a reservation made under that name.”

Her head snapped up, looking at the young brown-haired man in uniform, who was somewhat frantically running his finger down the list of names with reservations for that night. He must have been rather new to this post, judging by the sheer nervousness his entire being exuded.

“Please check again, I definitely called in a week ago,” Robert said calmly, even managing a small smile. It was clear that he was not at all used to being in a situation like this one. He had never had any problems at restaurants or hotels to find reservations. The mention of his title would always be the winning argument, even though he tried to refrain from using it too much. 

When the young man still couldn't seem to find their reservation in the book, Robert sighed and decided to play his trump card: “Try Lord Grantham then, maybe whoever put it down used the title instead of the family name.” He was getting impatient and it reflected in his tone, even though he still stayed cordial and polite.

It only took a few seconds and another run of his finger down the extensive list for the young man to look up again with a smile and exclaim:  “Ah yes, there we have it, Lord Grantham, sir. I am very sorry for this hold-up. If you please want to follow me to your table, milord, milady?”

Robert had to put a lot of effort into not wincing at the younger man's wording. Proper etiquette must have been a lesson taught in his no doubt costly education he had missed for one reason or the other. Or maybe the war had changed more things than Robert could fathom. 

Cora wasn't sure if he had truthfully spied their title on the list of reservations or if it was the mention of said title that did the trick, but she was grateful nonetheless. The situation was becoming quite embarrassing the longer it had seemed to stretch. 

The mutual silence continued well into their main course, only disrupted by Robert ordering their food and drinks and some pleasant and rather polite small talk about the food in front of them, which was an unknown sensation to her. This might have been more than acceptable for most couples in the peerage - couples who did not love each other. But Robert and Cora did - they had for more than three decades until their relationship had taken a turn for the worst without either of them seeming to be able to find a way back to the other. This evening proved it. The last time they had had a shared dinner with just the two of them in an atmosphere as uncomfortable as this one must have been on their honeymoon, while they were still trying to get to know the other.

The lack of talking, however, caused a spike in their intake of alcoholic beverages with their food, each of them taking a sip when they would have usually said something that could potentially interest the other. Cora couldn't remember the last time she had this much to drink with her dinner or in general, and she could already feel the inebriation starting to get the better of her judgment. The background noise droned on, washing over her repeatedly and in combination with the wine was making her feel slightly dizzy.

Robert might have been more used to drinking alcohol than she was, or at least he could stomach it better, but the alcohol slowly got to him as well by the time their dessert arrived. The music playing in the background was not quite to his taste - jazz was too modern for the traditionalist in him - but the longer the dinner stretched, the more he couldn't help but want to take his wife's hand and guide her to the dance floor in the middle of the classy dining room with the art deco interior.

She looked beautiful that night - not that she was ever anything but beautiful to him - but something about her dark hair in that intricate coiffure and the different shades of blue fabrics of her dress complimented her features even better than usual. 

He reached out his hand, waiting for a response from her. All he got, however, was an arched eyebrow in question, her gaze flickering between his big hand and his face.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked when he realised she had no idea what his outstretched hand was alluding to.

“Really, Robert? Here, with the jazz music you hate?”

He nodded his head yes. Some part of him was aware of the hesitance in her question that offered him a chance to retract his invitation, but his slightly intoxicated conscious mind couldn't care less. 

Hesitantly, she abandoned her bombe glacée that had just arrived together with his Eton mess and gingerly put her much smaller hand in his, letting him guide her to join the handful of other dancing couples.

He had never experienced a dance feeling so foreign and yet so familiar in his more than 50 years of existence, not even when he had not yet been taught all the different traditional dances a future Earl had to know. The music that softly filled the vast room lacked any sense of regular and danceable rhythm, at least according to him at that moment, and he struggled to think of steps that fit this particular piece of music. The tall and slender figure in his arms, however, was most familiar to him. He had spent hours upon hours twirling his darling wife around so many different ballrooms over the course of their long-standing marriage. Robert had never enjoyed all these grand balls, had hated the need to socialise with other Earls, Barons and Dukes whose names he could barely remember at the end of the night while his wife was at the other end of the room, talking to the wives of other members of the peerage. Many a night was spent like that, him nursing his drink while listening to the boastings of the other men about their last successful hunt or the new mistresses they had found to keep them happy and occupied in their loveless marriages, while he could only stare at the source of all his happiness across the room, waiting for a chance to excuse himself from the situation. It was their way of finding the joy in these long nights that always seemed to stretch incredibly long, twirling around the room to the familiar rhythms of waltz after waltz. 

At first, Robert stumbled around the dance floor more than he danced, Cora merely following his lead, or rather lack thereof. However, at some point, she must have taken over and started manoeuvring them skilfully around the floor under the grand chandelier illuminating the equally grand room, without it looking too obvious to anyone who might have been watching them. Robert should have kept an eye on their surroundings to prevent them from bumping into other dancing couples, but he could not get himself to drop his gaze from her face. He studied it even though he knew her features better than the back of his hand - he knew her mouth that formed a hint of a smile at that moment, and he knew how her lips felt pressed to his in a fiery kiss. He knew her elegantly sloped nose and how it scrunched up when she was not holding in her laughter at something, completely disregarding etiquette and propriety when it was just the two of them. He knew her brilliantly twinkling blue eyes and how they always conveyed her innermost emotions, no matter how hard she tried to be stoic upon his mother's countess' training she had had to undergo after their wedding. Her eyes were not simply blue, but Robert couldn't name all the shades of that colour represented in them. Cora, or any other woman for that matter, probably could have. 

He couldn't care less about the names of the hues present in her eyes - what he cared about was the love for him he always saw reflected in them. It had been a while since he saw that love, and this time it had all been entirely his fault. He had pushed her away and into the arms of another man. Nothing had happened though, and for that he thanked God and whoever else might have listened, but it bugged him beyond belief nonetheless. How could he have been so incredibly thick? 

Maybe it was the dancing, or maybe it was the amount of alcohol they had both already consumed, but he could have sworn that he saw that love in her eyes again as they danced on the black and white checkered floor.

Before long, the current song came to an end and gave them the chance to return to their desserts. While they were gone, a waiter had refilled their glasses without so much of a question.

“When did you learn to do that?” he asked before taking a bite of his dessert. He relished in the sweetness of the meringue combined with the fine acidity of the berries. How anyone could prefer some heavy chocolatey dessert to the lightness and freshness of his chosen dessert was beyond him. Cora had, years ago, tried to explain to him that she just preferred the heavy sweetness of a chocolate cake or mousse after all the savoury dishes of earlier courses, but her point had never stuck with him - they had simply agreed to disagree.

“Do what?” she replied, cutting into the small dome covered in chocolate on her plate.

“Dance to this sort of music?”

She looked up from her sweet and chocolatey ice cream-filled cake at his question, a forkful of it coming to a halt mid-air.

“Do you remember Rose's stay with us and her surprise for your birthday? Well, I asked her to teach me one or two things afterwards. It never hurts to stay up to date with new things, be those fashions, foods, or dances.”

“Quite right. Rose did a splendid job then. I do not know why I asked you to dance when I had no idea how to do it, you saved me from quite some humiliation, my dear.”

The words slipped from his mouth before he could think. He had not used any term of endearment for her in months, given their strained relationship, and he had no idea how she would react. This evening was planned to hopefully bridge the deep divide between them, to mend what had been broken for too long and he knew he could not afford to take a wrong step. The fact that she had agreed to dance had signalled him that he had chosen the right path, but would this jeopardize it? He waited for a response with bated breath, deciding instead to stare down at his plate.

“I should like to think you asked me to dance because you wanted to.” Her tone was hard and matter-of-fact, it was an unfamiliar sensation to hear her speak to him like that. 

He looked back up at her, a slight blush on his cheeks, while he finished the last of his dessert.

Robert saw her cheeky smile and the twinkle of mirth in her eyes. She was mocking him, he should have known she was. She was his wife, and he had spent more of his life with her by his side than without. Of course, she would find a way to lighten the mood with her humour.

Her gaze changed, no longer challenging him. Instead, her eyes softened further and she smiled gently at him. Her enticing, disarming smile that brightened even the darkest of rooms enchanted him. It reminded him of the smiles she used to give him while they were sat around a dinner table when his mother had once again made everyone feel uncomfortable, most especially the two of them. No matter how crude his mother's remarks had been, she would always make sure that he knew that she supported him and would take in stride whatever was thrown at her.

“The rest does not matter, Robert, not to me. And I could not care less about what the other people thought of me leading the dance - if they noticed at all, which I doubt. People are rarely interested in things that do not involve themselves.”

She finished the last of her dessert, followed by another sip of her wine.

Robert felt the tips of his ears warm further, no doubt they must be flaming red by now, much like his cheeks. After gulping down the last of his beverage, he said: “Would you like to go home?”

Not long after, they both found themselves in the back of the motor taking them home to Grantham House in St. James's Square. It would have only been a twenty-minute walk from the restaurant, but both knew that they had had too much to drink to think it sensible to walk the entire way.

The butler had taken their coats and bid his goodnight upon their late arrival, locking the grand wooden doors behind them as they made their way up the many steps. Both, Robert and Cora, stumbled one or two times as they ascended the stairs leading to their rooms in their London home, giggling quietly while trying not to garner any more attention in the mostly empty house.

Cora was still holding his hand, which he took as a good sign. She had taken it in hers on the short ride home from the restaurant, letting it come to rest in her lap. He had chosen not to comment on that gesture, afraid he could ruin that understanding that seemed to have formed over the course of the evening.

They walked along the scarcely-lit, long and narrow hallway leading to both, her bedroom and his dressing room, with her walking slightly ahead of him, almost as if she were dragging him. When they had reached the door to her bedroom, however, he rather forcefully turned her around, hindering her from reaching for the golden doorknob. She gasped slightly at the suddenness of his action, her entire body stiffening in shock.

The next thing she saw was her husband's face mere centimetres away from her own, his blue eyes staring at her intently. She could feel his hot breath on her face and she saw his dilated pupils, her hand still firmly held in his while his other one found its way to her waist, pulling her closer to him. Before she knew it, she felt his lips crashing down on her own in a hot kiss that knocked the remaining breath out of her. Soon, his hand let go of hers and found its way to her face, caressing her jaw as he continued to kiss her hungrily.

The sudden sensation of his touches and kisses made her entire body tingle, it awakened a desire for him she had not felt this strongly in months. Cora wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself even closer than before, her body now pressed flush against his as she stood on the tips of her toes. Her hands wound themselves into his grey hair, playing with the slight curls at the back of his neck, tugging at the locks ever so slightly. He always kept his hair nice and tidy, mostly shorter than this so that it would not curl, but she had always adored his curly hair and the boyish charm it had added to his appearance.

Robert broke their kiss, drawing his face back a few centimetres to look at her flushed face while she was gasping for air. His hands were still on her neck and waist, with seemingly no intention of letting go and he smirked naughtily at her, aware of the effect his ardent kisses had on her.

“Maybe we should go inside before someone finds us out here,” she whispered in response.

Robert did not respond in so many words, but kissed her again, pushing her backwards closer to her bedroom door so that she was pressed firmly between the white lacquered wood and his body while he tried to find the knob to let them in without looking.

He kicked the door shut with his foot once they had entered the smaller room that was already tinged in warm hues of orange and red emitted by the crackling fire in the hearth. After turning the lock on the doorknob to keep any possible intruders outside, his hand once more encircled her waist, the other one running over her back, fumbling with the top buttons of her dress, trying to pry them open without tearing them off. 

She pushed his dinner jacket from his broad shoulders before her nimble fingers quickly worked on his already crooked bow tie and waistcoat, discarding the items in a pile on the bedroom floor. His kisses became even hungrier, his tongue exploring her mouth, dancing an all too familiar dance with hers. He could still taste hints of the red wine he had ordered, mixed with sweet notes of chocolate left from her dessert of choice.

Cora broke their kiss again, turning around in his arms while pantingly whispering: “This should make it easier. I do not want to have to explain any ripped-off buttons to Baxter in the morning.”

Robert only chuckled lowly in response, thankful that she made the hard work of undoing the countless buttons of her dress just a tiny bit easier. Once he had undone all of them, his hands ran up and down the sides of her body, coming to rest on her waist and shoulder. He bent down, placing a trail of soft, feathery kisses on the exposed skin of her neck before he started to take out the many pins holding her hair in place. While he was amazed by the sheer amount of pins stuck in his wife's hair to make her elaborate coiffure stay in place, she let her dress fall to the ground, her arms reaching for his head behind her back, pulling him closer to her, urging him to continue his kissing ministrations on her neck.

He also made quick work of her undergarments and chemise that joined his already discarded jacket and waistcoat on the floor.

Her hair now let down from its prior intricate up-do, she turned back around to face him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Before he knew it, she had unclasped his cufflinks faster than he ever could have - he had always struggled with them and was thankful for his valet who always did the fastening of them for him -  and just as quickly undid the buttons on the front of his shirt, which then piled on top of the rest of their clothing.

He bent down to kiss her again and he was met with her wandering hands roaming his chest, arms, and back before she broke their kiss yet again. Robert had to suppress a groan of annoyance at the interruption, only to be pleasantly surprised when she walked to the bed, her hips swaying from side to side. He couldn't help but stare at her naked form. If she only knew the effect she still had on him. Well, she must have had an inkling of it, otherwise, she wouldn't have tried to tease him like that. 

Gulping, he quickly rid himself of his polished leather shoes and discarded the rest of his clothing and joined her on the canopy bed. 

Robert kissed her, his mind feeling hazy as his hands wandered over her delectable body and hers ran over his chest, only to find their way back into his hair, further mussing it. He knew that whatever this was they had started was not going to take long to finish that night - he turned them over so that he was hovering above her, stilling his kisses to look at her, silently asking for her consent, just like he always did. No matter how intoxicated he might have been or how much she had teased him up until that point - he would always ask, not wanting to force her to do anything she might not want. It was a remnant of the early days of their marriage when he had had trouble distinguishing between his desire for her and his duties as a husband while not taking advantage of his wife.

She knew he would ask, he always did. When they were younger, she had thought this to be his guilt making a reappearance every time they shared the bed, which had annoyed her more than anything. But she had grown used to it and had come to find it very endearing, she had realised that this was just his true, gentle nature and it was another aspect of her husband that made her feel like falling in love with him all over again every single time.

Cora's back arched upwards, her chest pressed close to his, when he finally entered her. Her arms came up to keep him close as he filled her out, waiting for her to adjust to him again. It had been months since they last shared their marital bed in that way, but it felt so good and familiar, the both of them quickly finding their shared rhythm in bed again.

Their heavy breathing filled the room, joined by moans and whispers of endearment by either spurring each other on. Her hands continued to roam his upper body and ruffled his once-tidy hair, while he alternated between kissing her mouth hungrily and nibbling at that sensitive spot on her neck, which he knew to be one of her weakest spots. 

They moved together as one as he sped his rhythm up, knowing that both of them were close to their highest high. He softly kissed and nibbled at that sensitive spot just below her ear and heard her moan his name in response. When he felt her walls convulse around him, he couldn't help but get undone himself, kissing her fervently as his motions stilled.

He opened his eyes a few moments later, panting from their exertions, and looked down at his beautiful wife lying still beneath him. Her chest was rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath herself. She looked so serene with her eyes closed, and her long wavy hair splayed out on the pillow beneath her. Robert would almost describe that view as angelic and it hit him yet again.

He had been so blind, Bricker had been right - it pained him to acknowledge that fact given the history, but it was true. Robert had all he could ever wish for and more, and he had taken her for granted, had passed her over and ignored her when she had started to get more involved with the things she truly liked to do, simply because he was afraid of what might or might not happen. And in all his caution of changing things too much, he had almost destroyed the very thing he cherished the most by not trusting her like she had always trusted him. He had been such a fool to ignore his wife, his darling Cora, and had almost lost her and her love in the process.

Cora opened her eyes as he let himself fall to her side. She watched him, her eyes still darkened by desire, as she turned on her side to face him.

“You know, I almost forgot what this feels like, to share a bed with you in this way. I almost forgot why I told the girls ahead of their weddings that things like these between two people who trust and love each other can be the most terrific fun, but tonight reminded me of that. Tonight reminded me of how much I love you and miss you, and that extends to before as well. The dancing reminded me of our little sneaky routine to get out of socialising at balls, it reminded me of easier times, when we navigated calmer seas, and I am sorry for ruining that for u-”

His hand came up to still her hand, which had been drawing small circles on his chest while she spoke softly into the quietness of the room.

“Cora, I told you before. There will never be a single thing you could ruin for me, never. I did not trust you when I should have. I know that I apologised before, but I will do it again and again and again until the end of my days if that is what it takes. I am truly sorry for the way I acted, for pushing you away and for saying those nasty things - I did not mean any of it. Tonight, I promised myself, was to be my last try to get the affections back I know I lost months ago. You accepted my apology and we got back into our daily routines, but I still felt that the fissure in our marriage had not magically disappeared after that simply because I uttered the words I'm sorry. I wanted tonight to make up for it all, I wanted to put this chapter in our lives behind us, once and for all. Maybe it was the wine or the food, maybe it was the dancing, or maybe it was just that sparkle in your eye that hinted that you still loved me, despite all my previous shortcomings. I do not know what it was, but it gave me the courage to be bolder than I probably should have been. Nevertheless, I am glad it led us here, back together, at last.”

Cora giggled, it was rare for her husband to talk this much about feelings and the reasonings behind the things he did or said. “Well, if this is anything to go by, then I would say that the wine played quite a big role. And I want to thank it from the bottom of my heart for giving me back what I cherish most in life - my darling husband.”

“I quite share that sentiment, my dear. But I think we will both be talking differently about our gratitude for the wine influencing our decisions tonight come morning. I suggest we both ask for some powder first thing, God knows we shall both need it.”

Cora nestled into his side, after which he pulled up the blankets to cover their bodies. They both started to feel the effects of everything that had contributed to their present situation: the late hour, the vast amounts of alcohol consumed that evening and the most terrific fun they had had - it all made them feel quite drowsy. 

Robert pressed another light kiss on top of her head, murmuring: “I love you, my dearest one.”

“I love you, Robert,” Cora replied, her voice starting to slur considerably more than before.

Just when she had finished that short sentence, she fell into a deep slumber. He could tell by her deep and even breaths, even in the darkness that had fallen over the room since the fire had died, that she was asleep in his arms.

With a satisfied smile on his face, Robert, too, fell asleep, knowing that they finally bridged the divide that had kept them apart for far too long. Things would finally all look better in the morning - if one was to ignore the imminent pounding headaches they would surely be experiencing.

[daughter-of-melpomene]

For the plot bunny ask game: Lucy Hale + Twilight, please??

@dancingsunflowers-ocs ✨💛✨

Oooh, this is fun, thank you so much, Alexandra!! (Also gonna tag @manyfandomocs and @luucypevensie. <3)

NAME: Cora Mallory.

LOVE INTEREST: Alice Cullen.

SUMMARY: The daughter of a disgraced politician, Cora had wanted nothing less than to moved to the tiny nowhere town of Forks, Washington, but it wasn’t as if she’d had any kind of choice in the matter. However, just because she’d been made to move here did not mean she had to like it or make it easy for anyone, and so she was determined to become the biggest bitch in the halls of the town’s high school, strutting around with her rich girl fashion sense and tendency towards cruel snark and making enemies of almost all of her fellow students. But for some reason, there’s one girl who refuses to let Cora alienate her: the dark-haired, gorgeous daughter of Forks’s resident weirdo family, who seems to notice everything - even things she shouldn’t be able to - and who has the most beautiful smile Cora has ever seen.

OTHER INFO:

Finally I get to give my beloved Alice a girlfriend, everybody cheered!

So, yeah, Cora is basically a Santana Lopez variant, just with more money - fashionable, bitchy, and in relative denial about being a lesbian. She’s basically in the midst of a long-lasting tantrum when she first starts at Forks High, constantly getting in trouble for picking fights with teachers and other students and refusing to make one single friend, purely because she hates that her family was forced to run away after her father got thrown out of office and she doesn’t want to live in Forks at all.

But along comes sweet Alice, who of course sees how sad about this sudden change Cora is under all the anger she feels and hides behind (with some help from Jasper, of course, because if they’re not gonna be together he might as well be her ultimate wingman), and makes it her mission to be kind to Cora and not let the other girl push her away. Cora doesn’t appreciate it at all at first, but eventually she starts to warm up to Alice and is even able to come to terms with her sexuality and confess her feelings to the other girl.

Not exactly happy when she finds out that the Cullens are vampires, because she hates being lied to or having secrets kept from her, but it doesn’t take that long for her to forgive Alice since she understands why she would have had to keep that secret. She never allows Alice to turn her, but she still loves her girlfriend exactly how she is, fangs and all.

She kind of becomes besties with Bella, since they can bond over the “plain old humans who fell in love with Cullens” thing, and she’s even named Renesmee’s godmother when she’s born. She’s less than pleased about the whole thing with Renesmee and Jacob, to say the least, but she still makes it her mission to spoil that little girl rotten and protect her with her life.

send me a fandom and a faceclaim/love interest and i’ll make an oc!!

[mizusswordtip]

Down The Rabbit Hole ⚝ Killian Jones x Reader (14)

find the story on wattpad

summary: Alice's plan to overthrow the Queen of Hearts is thwarted by a dashing pirate with a hook. Years later, after the curse is broken, they reunite once again.

masterlist

After climbing out of the pit we're led by some guards who keep their watchful gazes on us the entire time.

"Why couldn't you have just listened to us?" Snow asks with an undercurrent of hurt in her voice as opposed by my annoyance. I can imagine that having your own daughter not being willing to trust you would be hurtful. I can't exactly blame Emma, after all, they're both about the same age and she probably feels like a fish out of water in the enchanted forest.

"Why couldn't you have trusted me? I was just trying to find a way to get us home." Emma asks back, exasperated.

"Trying to find a way to get us killed." I correct, unable to hold my tongue. She shoots me an annoyed look.

"I could've handled her." Emma says confidently. I scoff.

"Cora? Don't be so sure." Snow says, disbelieving.

"Cora was able to rule over an entire land because of how powerful she is and you think going to her for help is a good idea?" I ask rhetorically. She looks slightly embarrassed but tries to hide it.

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?" She asks defensively."You not, that's the whole point. You know nothing of this world and yet refuse to listen." I say firmly.

"We've lived here, Emma. I know this world and its dangers." Snow says pleadingly, trying to get through to her.

"Wait here." One of the guards says before walking off. We stop and Emma turns to look at her mom with a look of contempt.

"Is that why you came through the portal? Because you thought I was helpless here?" She asks.

"No." Snow whispers with a shake of her head. "I came through to be with you." her voice sounds heartbroken. Her face switches suddenly, her face becoming joyful at something behind us.

"Lancelot?" Snow asks, a smile forming on her face. I turn around to find a handsome night, dressed in all black armor.

"Snow?"He asks in disbelief before the both of them run to each other and tightly embrace. "If I had known that you were the prisoners Mulan had brought back, I never would have locked you away. Please, forgive me." He explains with a sympathetic look.

"Of course." Snow immediately says. Shoulders sagging slightly, I feel a bit relieved. I may not know this man but I trust Snow enough to trust her judgment.

"Lancelot? Really?" Emma asks in annoyance.

"He's an old friend. We can trust him." Snow reassures with a nod of her head.

After a little while of catching up we're sat at a table and one of Lancelot's men brings over large plates of food. All my better judgment leaves my body at the sight of freshly cooked meat. I haven't ate since leaving the hospital. Having been fed nothing but a strange, mushy, creamy substance for twenty eight years, I'm practically drooling.

"What the hell is that?" Emma asks, picking at the meat hesitantly with her fork. Without asking I cut off a large chunk and plop it onto my plate. Emma and Snow give me weird looks but I ignore them.

"That is chimera. An acquired taste, but all our hunting party could bring back. One part lion, one part serpent, one part goat." Lancelot explains with a small laugh. I shove a large piece into my mouth and my eyes roll to the back of my head with a grin.

"Like a turducken?" Emma asks.

"It's delicious!" I exclaim. Lancelot raises an eyebrow at that.

"I don't understand, we were told this land didn't even exist anymore. How did you all escape the curse?" Snow asks, not bothering with the food.

"It is a mystery. The curse struck, and when the smoke cleared, most of us had been torn from this land. But some of us here, in this particular region, were left behind. We don't know how and we don't know why." His answers gives me pause, I drop my fork, studying his expression.

"What do you mean you don't know? The answers pretty obvious." I say, brows furrowed. Every one looks at me expectantly and this time it's my turn to roll my eyes. "Who's the only person in this land powerful enough to counteract the strongest curse ever made?" I ask, a suggestive brow raised.

"It's possible but I doubt she'd ever admit to doing so. Finding this safe haven wasn't easy. It took some spilt blood. But worry not, you're safe here." Lancelot reassures with a smile. There's something off about him but I can't quite put my finger on it. His answers just seem too... perfect. Rehearsed.

"We can't stay. My husband's back there. Emma's son, my grandson. We have to get back to them. Can you help us find a portal?" Snow pleads.

"No, leaving is unwise. The enchanted forest is not as you remember it. The ogres have returned." Lancelot warns. I shove another piece of meat into my mouth."Ogres? Like, as in 'Fee-fi-fo-fum'?" Emma asks, clearly finding the idea funny.

"Those would be giants." Snow corrects and Emma shoots her an annoyed look.

"Ogres are far worse. That's why we live here on this island, where it's safe." Lancelot explains to Emma before turning his attention back to Snow. "Please, Snow, stay here. There are no more portals left."

"I might know of one." Snow says, a look of realization coming over her face. I feel my heart skip a beat hopefully.

"Really?" I ask.

"You do? Where?" Lancelot cuts in hastily. Snow opens her mouth but I grab her hand before any words can come out.

"Don't. Cora's near." I remind her lowly.

"She's right, I don't feel comfortable voicing my plans. She's powerful." Snow tells Lancelot.

"Not anymore. The curse stripped her of her powers." He tries to reassure with a soft smile but I'm not buying it.

"That doesn't make sense." I speak up. He gives me a questioning look. "If the curse avoided these lands then how did it affect her?" I ask. He looks down for a moment before sighing heavily.

"I wish I knew. Perhaps that was the price she had to pay to protect herself from the curse." He says, lifting his head.

"That's a price she'd never be willing to pay." I say knowingly. He doesn't seem fazed by my clear suspicion but that doesn't mean anything.

"Perhaps she didn't know what the price was before paying it. Either way, given her reputation, we've kept her locked up as a precaution." He says, gesturing toward the pit.

"Nevertheless, I'm not taking chances. Trust me, I may have a way. Let us go." Snow pleads. He looks conflicted for a moment before making up his mind.

"I'll allow it. But on one condition, take my bravest warrior with you. Allow Mulan to defend you." He says, gesturing toward the dark haired woman who had dragged us here to begin with.

"We can defend ourselves." Emma says.

"Deal." Snow intervenes, causing even more annoyance from Emma.

"Extra swords never hurt." I tell her with a little nod but it doesn't seem to help ease her irritation. "Well they do but it doesn't hurt us." I joke under my breath.

"Thank you, Lancelot. For always looking out for me." Snow says before standing up. I grab a piece of meat and shove it in my pocket.

Mulan opens a chest filled with a variety of weapons.

"Choose wisely. We must be vigilant if we hope to survive the journey." She says firmly with a determined expression. Snow bends down and picks out a bow and quiver. I kneel down and rifle through the chest.

"Where's my gun? I want it back." Emma asks Mulan while shoving a dagger in her boot. Mulan pulls out the gun, examining it with a confused expression.

"Is it magic?" She asks. Emma holds out her hand expectantly and Mulan hands her the gun.

"Depends on who's pulling the trigger." She replies. I see a little glimmer in the chest and I feel my heart race. My mouth goes dry as I pull out the Vorpal sword. I hold it with both hands out in front of me.

"How did this get here?" I whisper to myself but I must have caught the attention of Mulan.

"Why?" She asks.

"It's... mine." I whisper back, looking up at her. Her confused expression matches my own.

"It was with Cora when she was captured." She explains with a small shrug.

"Curious. Very curious." I murmer, grabbing the sword by the hilt before standing and sheathing it. I feel a sensation I haven't felt since Wonderland, a sense of belonging.

"You know her then?" Mulan asks with a raise of her chin.

"A prophecy long ago said we were to be enemies. This sword was made for me to defeat her. It protects the user from any and all magic. At least that I know of." I explain to her with a rueful smile at the memory of Hook blackmailing me into the portal.

"If that is so, how did you manage to become cursed?" Mulan asks suspiciously.

"It was stolen from me." I reply bitterly. "But that's not the question you should be asking." Mulan raises a brow. "You should be asking yourself how the curse took Cora's powers away if she had this on her." She clenches her jaw, clearly unnerved by my words but I continue anyways. "So the question isn't how you captured her, but why she let you."

"Get to the point." Mulan snaps.

"Lancelot, he has to be helpi-"

"No."

"He wouldn't." Both Snow and Mulan speak at the same time. I shake my head with a humorless smile.

"If you say so." At my word, Mulan seems all too happy to change the subject. She straightens up.

"Follow my lead. Step where I step. Do exactly as I say, and we might survive." Mulan orders. I can tell she's not trying to be hostile, I think that's just her natural state of being.

"Thanks for the pep talk, but I think we're okay. We have a dragon slayer in our group." Emma says, gesturing to me. Mulan doesn't even spare me a glance as she steps closer to Emma, her face somehow more severe than before.

"Have you ever seen an Ogre?" She asks.

"Pretty sure I've dated a few." Emma Jokes.

"Legend has it that when they kill you, the last thing you see is yourself dying in the reflection in their eyes." Mulan says, clearly trying to scare her. I roll my eyes with a sigh.

"Riveting. Let's go now." I say, gesturing in the direction we're going. Before Emma can pass by me I step in front of her. "She's right, but it is possible to kill them. The key is to aim for the eye." I say with a nod of encouregment. She swallows hard.

"Have you ever killed an Ogre?" She asks a little breathlessly.

"Oh! I thought we were still talking about dating." I joke. Her nervous exterior cracks and she laughs a little. "No, I've never killed an Ogre."

[nehswritesstuffs]

How Dr. Hart-Steeler Saved the Logue Town Royal Revue

I literally had the idea for this in the shower during summer, so congrats.

9835 words; full disclaimer in that I’ve never watched a single drag competition, mostly because I don’t like reality/competition shows in general (except sports, and I wouldn’t say this is a sport while still acknowledging how Serious Business it can be), so please forgive me if something’s off or I did something weird like used your fave irl queen’s name or whatever bc I don’t even know how to cosmetics correctly let alone be this fabulous; tangibly related to Double Date from Hell (FFN/AO3), but I guess you don’t need to know much other than that Law and Nami are dating the same time as Cora-san and Bell-mère, to hilariously mortifying results; this took me so long to write partially due to Secondhand Mortification and a serious case of the Giggles or y’all would’ve had this back in, like, August lol; shout-out to Gen for suffering through me and this fic all these months, because ooohhhhh they be suffering

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Having never really considered himself weak in the ankles, Law was beginning to rethink his lifelong self-assessment as he slipped his feet into the absolutely terrifying shoes that had been shoved in his direction. With Nami on one side of him and Perona on the other, Law shakily attempted to stand, not enjoying the extra wobble he gained by simply standing still.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people,” he grumbled lowly. His girlfriend, however, scowled.

“You live in heels—I don’t want to hear it.”

“I wear boots, Nami-ya, not whatever torture devices these are.” He looked out over the rows of shoe racks and saw that the difference in height was… concerning. “Fucking hell—these have three extra inches than normal.”

“Well, yeah,” Perona scoffed. “You need to look your best, and they’re already doing wonders for your ass.” She hummed. “Well, what little you’ve got, anyhow.”

“Why are we even here?” Law groused. “Can’t I just order some online?”

“We are not,” Nami said, “because I am not going to have to deal with ordering shoes for your massive man-feet and then them not fitting properly. Turnaround is way too quick for us to need to worry about shipping.”

“I feel like a fool,” he grimaced as he continued to curse the integrity of his legs.

“We did not drive to the only shoe store in Greater Logue Town that carries wides in-stock for you to chicken out,” Perona scolded.

“I’m not chickening out,” he insisted sourly. “I just have way too much coordination to know first-hand why Cora-san practices walking in these things.”

“Well, you’re about to get a lot more familiar with them if we’re going to get you anywhere,” Nami said firmly. “Now go ahead and try to walk to that rack there.”

Two steps and Law went sideways into a shelving unit full of narrow-widths. Nami and Perona stared at one another—they had a lot more work ahead of them than they had feared.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

One month earlier…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Pulling into the driveway, Law was glad to finally be home. He had been covering in Emergency for the past week, meaning that he was practically living between Logue Town General and Penguin and Shachi’s couch for exactly that same amount of time. Now all he wanted to do was relax, eat something, and fall face-first into his bed and not wake up until Nami came over in the morning. It was honestly all he could do to not head on over to 1000 Sunny Rd and fall asleep in her bed there instead, but knew that there wasn’t an amount of money in the world he’d accept to sleep in that house without her protecting him. He didn’t care what was going on—extremely loud sex could be happening right at that very moment and Law was certain that it wouldn’t even register with him.

…because, yeah, even though it was extremely weird and awkward that Cora-san and Bell-mère-ya were fucking, he wasn’t going to allow that possibility to deter him from sleeping in his own bed.

Instead, however, when Law entered the house, he heard the telltale click of heeled shoes against the kitchen tile. There were only two reasons as to why heels were in the kitchen, and since Nami’s scooter wasn’t parked outside…

“Practicing already?” he mumbled as he shuffled into the kitchen. A glance over at his foster father showed that, yes, the older man was in his highest pair of heels, looking ridiculous in his skinny-jeans and bedazzled mega-pumps.

“Hey, you know how long it takes me to get used to these,” Cora replied. He shakily took a mug of coffee from the counter to the table and sat down, breathing a sigh of relief. “Izou says this time is gonna be big.”

“It’s just the charity drag show,” Law noted. He shrugged off his jacket and began to root around in the fridge, wondering what had appeared in it while he’d been gone. “It’s the same thing every year: you and your friends dress as women and do skits and ticket sales go to whatever organization doesn’t hate you at the moment. What makes this year so special?”

“We’re expanding, for one,” Cora said. Law found some store-bought onigiri hiding in the fridge and put it on the table before grabbing himself coffee as well, his mug ceramic instead of Cora’s silicone. “This year we’re going to have not just Queens, but Kings and Enby Royalty as well. You’d know this if you attended the meetings.”

“I don’t need to attend committee planning meetings to know it sounds like the perfect thirst trap cocktail; Penguin and Shachi will be more conflicted than usual.”

“Belle’s participating.”

“Good for her.”

“So is Izou’s kid sister.”

“Isn’t being trans, but also a drag king, cheating according to some people?”

“She’s the one who demanded there be a non-aligned Royalty category, to alleviate that potential problem while still shaking things up,” Cora shrugged. “If Nami-chan didn’t already have your dick on lockdown, I’d say…” He stopped as Law gave him a deadpan stare. “What? She’s tall, she’s cute, she likes swords, she literally can’t be weirder than us…”

“This conversation is getting worse with each passing word that comes out of your mouth.”

“…andthewinnersoftheRevuearegoingonImpelDragRacenextseason.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to him, but Law stopped shoveling tuna salad into his onigiri and stared at Cora and the whiplash-inducing topic change. “Come again…?”

“The winners of each category are going to be featured on Impel next season!” Cora repeated, stars in his eyes. “A chance to meet Iva themself…!”

“You know, I can just haul you over to Strawhat-ya’s next weekend if that’s what you want to do.”

“Now that’s cheating,” Cora said decidedly. “I want to meet Ivankov on a professional level, not as ‘your godson considers my son one of his besties against his will’. It’s lame.”

“…and you were going to tell me all about this when…?”

“Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“Eventually.”

Law took a deep swig from his coffee mug, glad he was long-past the point where caffeine wasn’t going to do jack fucking shit except paradoxically soothe his nerves. “I should plan to go camping that weekend.”

“You wouldn’t!” Law simply stared at him and bit into his onigiri, too tired to banter. “We’d be down four of our most long-term staff!”

“It’s bad enough that every year Penguin and Shachi are in a weird philosophical rut about ‘what even is gender and sexuality’ for three weeks after the show,” Law reasoned. “You might get them for a few hours but I have to deal with the lasting fallout.”

“Fallout that is worth it considering we get a handful of normies who are trained medical staff and willing to beat up troublemakers to defend our honor.”

“Mmhmm—you can defend your own honor just fine,” Law scoffed.

“Not in these shoes I can’t.” Okay, he had a point there. “Please, son… for me…?”

Law sighed, his tank well-past empty. A grown man and he was still trying the pity card from back when he was a teenager freshly rescued from both the system and his brother���s grasp…

…because of course he was going to help. It was on his calendar, wasn’t it? Law took another bite of onigiri and sighed through rice and tuna. Only Cora-san.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a few days later in the house at 1000 Sunny Rd and Law knew he was in trouble. Although she did greet him with a kiss when he arrived, his girlfriend was pointedly ignoring him as the afternoon went on. It was unusual for Nami to act as such, and he simply let the situation stew as he got roped into her friends’ other antics. Zoro had even pulled him into a sparring match in the backyard, which was even more of a rarity.

“Do you know what I did?” he asked as they were cleaning up. The younger man shrugged.

“It’s hard telling with the witch,” Zoro scoffed. “I get in trouble with her by breathing, so who the fuck knows? All I do know is that she’s been spending more time here than usual, so it’s probably something to do with something not-here.”

“I’m sure we’ve dealt with worse,” Law replied, exhaling heavily. “I don’t know how any of you handle her platonically…”

“By reminding myself that she’s the one who fronts bail,” Zoro reminded him. Law nodded; good point. They threw the equipment into the shed and trudged back to the house, where a plate of onigiri each was waiting for them on the counter. “Ah, shit-cook, how did you know?”

“It’s called not wanting your miasma of body funk hanging around my kitchen any longer than it has to,” Sanji deadpanned. “Now scram, both of you, before I kick your skulls in. You can only come back after you’ve showered.”

“Shower Day isn’t until tomorrow,” Zoro reminded him. Sanji cringed and flipped him his middle finger—clearly he was far from the mood for pleasantries.

“That is nasty, I hope you know,” Law said. “As a medical professional I’ve got to side with him on this one.”

“People aren’t designed to wash that often,” Zoro grumbled. He took his onigiri with him as he retreated to his room, muttering the entire time about Sanji being things such as ‘prissy’ and ‘high-maintenance’. This left Law to his own devices in the unusually-quiet house; most of the regular crowd was either at work or off chasing after Luffy somewhere.

Sighing, Law decided to at least take advantage of the quiet and get some stuff done. He went into the office area with his onigiri and found where he had placed his work bag. Sitting down on the pleather couch (all the better to wipe his excess sweat off later), he opened his laptop and began reviewing patient charts. He had a ridiculous amount of procedures quickly approaching to accommodate his time off to help with the Revue and he wanted to make sure there were no surprises. About an hour had passed when Nami came into the room and staggered in shock at the smell.

“Fuck… you reek like Zoro,” she grimaced.

“We were working out together,” he explained. Law watched as she grabbed her own laptop and hesitated, staring at him. “Like what you see?”

“A bit annoyed at what I see,” she replied. “Your dad has my mom being weirder than usual.”

“It’s no different from cosplay,” he shrugged.

“Usopp cosplays. Bell-mère is stomping around the house acting like she drives an extended-cab-short-bed pickup truck.”

“That’s different from how she normally acts how…?” he asked. Nami folded her arms across her chest and scowled sourly at him. “Hey, I’m not the one who was raised by the woman.”

“True, but it doesn’t change the fact that her practicing her act is more than aggravating.” She frowned as he shrugged at that; it wasn’t his fault that their parents were the way they were. “It’s one thing having some of the goobers around here get into it, but Bell-mère is another.”

“…and you’re going to take it all out on me? I’m insulted, Nami-ya.”

“You don’t look much insulted.” She ran her eyes up and down her boyfriend, trying to calculate how long she could stay cross with him specifically before her libido gave way. “You’re allowed in my room, but only if it’s to go straight to the shower.”

“…and where might I be allowed after that?” he asked, already standing up and reaching for the sanitizing wipes on a nearby table.

“Bed, where we can finish our work,” she wiggled her laptop for emphasis, “and then we’ll talk.”

He shrugged and popped the canister open with his thumb; he’d take it. “I’ll see you up there.” He threw in a wink for good measure, only for her to roll her eyes in exasperation.

“It’s like I’m dating an old man,” she whined playfully before leaving. She knew full-well he’d only try to prove her wrong later for that comment. In fact, Nami would almost place money on it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Later that night, as Law resisted going to clean up his condom in lieu of being too damn comfortable, he was alerted to the concept of something being wrong as Nami sighed heavily. He hugged her hips a bit tighter and nuzzled her chest, glad at least she hadn’t stopped carding through his hair.

“What’s the matter?” he wondered cautiously.

“Just… still thinking about Bell-mère,” she admitted. “She’s been really happy since she hooked up with Cora-san again.”

“I can almost guarantee that is reciprocated.” He felt the gentle scrape of her nails on his scalp and nearly melted. “You know… this drag thing… it’s pretty harmless…”

“Oh, I know that much,” she chuckled lowly. “It’s just going to be a pain in my ass, like everything about you weirdos.”

“I resent that.” He took a playful nip at her breast and let her roll them both over as she giggled. She then sat on his midsection, partially pinning him. “What? I thought this was a thing because I bring just as much braincells into this house as you do.”

“Doesn’t make you not a weirdo,” she smirked. She gently pressed her knees against his shoulders and hummed as his inked hands found her thighs. “Good thing I like weirdos so much.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“It’s going to cost you.”

Something told Law that he was going to enjoy paying the price.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It had already been a long day at Logue Town General when Law, Penguin, and Shachi took their lunch break. Bepo had lost the impromptu rock-paper-scissors competition, meaning the charge nurse was stuck back on the floor while the other three were jammed into their usual booth at Don Silver, the restaurant empty aside from a few other sets of scrubs and the occasional delivery courier.

“Cora-san wants me to remind the both of you that the charity show is coming up,” Law said. He was stretched out on his own side of the booth while the goobers sat on their own as they demolished the breadbasket. “He signed us all up again.”

“Should’ve known this was how our life was gonna be,” Penguin muttered through a mouthful of bread. Law raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “The first time we were allowed over to your dad’s, he was literally practicing his routine.”

“Can you fault him for taking advantage of his semi-androgynous profile?”

“No, but I feel like we’ve worked every single one of these charity shows since we met him.”

“Not to mention the fact that we can’t even meet women at these places because something, something, something, no fraternizing with the customers for our own safety on orders of Cora-san,” Shachi mentioned. “Come on; this is, like, a complete drag. Figuratively. And literally. And several other qualifiers.”

“Besides, we show up with a literal bear; how can we compete with that?”

“That’s your problem, not mine.” Law eyed Gin as he came over with their respective meals—burgers for the techs, a shawarma wrap (no pickles) for the surgeon, and a giant plate full of fries—and put his legs down so the proprietor could slide into the booth next to him.

“So, I hear there’s a ripple in your old man’s charity show,” Gin grinned. It would have been menacing if it weren’t for the fact that Law could probably flip the guy over with one hand.

“Since when have you cared about my dad’s charity show aside from letting us put up a flyer for it?”

“Since it’s apparently a really big deal this year, but also will make Blackleg extremely uncomfortable if I show up.”

“If your place wasn’t so tasty and conveniently-located, I’d say you’re an ass for that comment and several others,” Shachi frowned around his burger. Gin shrugged.

“You know my beef now; like I give a shit.”

“You’re such a sore weirdo,” Penguin added. With his sight line towards the door, his eyebrows shot up and he kicked Law in the shin to get his attention as the other man was picking at the fries. “Look alive: Bepo’s about ready to have a crisis.”

“You people are going to be the death of me,” Law groaned. He heard the sleighbells on the door chime and before long Bepo was standing at the booth, looking indeed as though he was about to break into hysterical sobbing. “You know I have a pager and my cell phone, right?”

“I don’t think this is something that you want to hear over the phone,” Bepo said, wringing his paws. “I just got a call from Marco down in the ER, and… and…”

Shit—that wasn’t good. “…and…?”

“He says your dad’s being less dramatic than usual…?”

Panicking, Law pushed Gin out of the booth and ran out of the restaurant, glad that it was literally in the hospital’s shadow. He hurried past security and into Emergency, where he found one of the most horrifying sights possible:

Cora-san. Laid up in a hospital bed. While Marco instructed some sap doing clinicals on how to properly wrap a freshly-set broken leg in a cast.

Oh hell.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was two days after Cora-san had been released from the hospital and Law suddenly found that his father’s milquetoast cookie-cutter suburban house had suddenly become Drag Central earlier than normal. He didn’t mind his foster father’s friends from the drag circuit—in all honesty, they were some of the nicest people he’d ever known—but at the same time, there was way too much overreacting going on and he did not wake up with enough wherewithal, mana, or general patience that morning to deal with much more than the drama queen he actually lived with.

“There has to be something we can do,” Izou frowned as Law was bringing a tray full of drinks into the living room. It was only Izou, his younger sister Kiku, and Marco at that point; the three of them plus Cora-san were essentially the core of the planning committee and had shooed out the others by that point. “Our regulars are going to expect Rosi Thoughts—if she doesn’t show up, then it could be a disaster.”

“This one imagines there must be some sort of way to do a routine from a wheelchair,” Kiku said. She pondered the concept carefully. “The venue is handicap-accessible, after all…”

“Only for the patrons,” Izou noted. “You haven’t been behind stage yet, but the back wasn’t built with this sort of thing in mind. We’re just going to have to figure something else out.”

“I can do the routine in crutches,” Cora-san offered. He accepted his no-spill tumbler from his son and pouted. “I don’t want to let down any fans!”

“No,” Law said firmly. “Marco-ya showed me your break—it won’t be well enough for a walking cast by then.”

“Patient confidentiality!” Cora-san gasped, pointing at Law in horror.

“You’re my foster father, not my patient. Besides, it would be Marco-ya you’d have to point that finger at… if I wasn’t listed as your emergency contact, that is.”

“He’s got you there, yoi,” Marco chuckled. He was about to continue when the front doorbell cut him off. “Huh… I wonder if that’s Thatch coming back…”

“I got it; I got it…” Law grumbled. He went to the front door and opened it, only to be met by a person in a baby-pink suit, a bowlcut, and a trowel of makeup. “Auditions are closed; they’ll get back to you.”

“Where are they?!” The new person barged their way into the house, pushing past Law and not even caring that he was there. They caught sight of the group sitting around the living room and their face lit up. “Ah! Here must be the belles of the ball—Shenix Fyre, Ganmodokidoki, and…” their eyes landed on Cora-san, “Rosi Thoughts.”

“…and who the fuck are you?” Law asked. Another person came in, this one dressed in orange and white while looking decidedly feminine.

“My name is Inazuma, and this is Bon-chan,” she replied. “We’re here as representatives of Impel Drag Race. We have reason to believe that your production might be in jeopardy?”

“What ever gave you that idea?” Kiku giggled sweetly, trying to throw them off the scent. Bon-chan gestured at Cora-san’s leg with a flourish.

“We’re not here to call the show off, but we are here to inform you that you need to make sure the show goes on with the same amount of contestants,” Bon-chan replied importantly. “We are planning on doing an entire episode revolving around local and independent events like the Logue Town Royal Revue and to have anything less than the nine contestants we were promised is a breach of contract.”

“…but this isn’t someone dropping out because they’d rather go on vacation,” Izou frowned.

“Indeed, yoi,” Marco chimed in. “I work at a hospital—what if I came down with something two days before the show?”

“It doesn’t matter—it’s in the contract,” Inazuma replied. “We’re here as a courtesy to make sure you are aware of the stakes and know that it’s no offense and standard procedure. Iva wants to have a contestant from your revue, so they’re giving you a fighting chance.”

“The show is only a few weeks away,” Cora-san frowned. “We can’t just cook up a replacement that fast! Auditions were months ago! We’d have to contact everyone again!”

“Then you might have to go on an accidental breech of contract and try again next year,” Bon-chan said. “It would be your first infraction, so it’s not like it’s a weighted disqualifier…”

“I’ll do it.” The entire living room stared at Law and all the breath felt as though it left his lungs; fuck, he said it out loud. “I… I’ll take his place. Make it three in the category again.”

“…and you aaarrreee…?”

“Law, kiddo, you don’t have to…”

“I’m his kid—if I take his place in the show, will it still be a breech of contract?”

“No.” Bon-chan pursed their lips and looked Law over. “Ever perform?”

“No, but I’ve been helping out with the show since I was fifteen, and that has to count for something. If I win, then he gets to go on Impel.” He gestured at Cora-san, who was too choked up with tears to say anything. “Let me be a stand-in—it’ll work.”

“A child sacrificing for their parent in order to keep the show going… I love it!” Bon-chan squealed, mood shifting violently. They spun around, nearly knocking over drinks in the process. “We’ll let Iva know right away!”

“We’ll look forward from hearing from you soon,” Inazuma nodded. She deftly dodged Bon-chan as they somehow pirouetted out of the house, leaving the committee more startled than anything. They all turned towards Law, who went deathly pale as his brain caught up with him and the events of the past ten minutes actually sunk in.

Oh… oh no… what did he just do…?!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Nami parked her scooter outside the well-kept inner-city apartment complex that served as Goober Central; for some reason she was summoned here and not her boyfriend’s dad’s place. Why, she had no idea, but she entertained it for the time being, since it was Bepo who called. She couldn’t say no to Bepo, not really. It was kind of like saying no to Chopper—it just wasn’t done.

Heading into the building and up the stairs, she went to the second-from-topmost floor and over to the door at the end of the corridor, it opening before she even had a chance to knock.

“Good, you came,” Penguin said. He looked out past Nami, attempting to see if she’d been followed. “No one else?”

“You said it was ‘of the utmost importance’ and that Law was ‘in danger’,” she deadpanned. “What sort of nonsense do you have him roped into this time?” Nami entered the apartment to find her boyfriend laying face-down on the living room floor, Bepo and Shachi attempting to coax him out of some sort of rut.

It was a damn good thing the sex was so good or this would be ridiculous.

“Alright, what’s going on that I have to fix?” she asked as she sat down on the couch. Law remained still, though she could feel him cringe at her voice. “I take it has to do with Cora-san, since we’re here and not at his place?”

“More than just Cora-san,” Shachi said gravely. Nami rolled her eyes.

“Well, since it doesn’t involve Bell-mère dropping out of the Revue, I don’t know what it could possibly be about.” She watched as Law shifted his head so that he was looking at her shoes.

“People from Impel came to warn the Revue’s organizers about a potential breech in contract with him switching to being a judge,” he grumbled.

“…and this has you laying on Penguin and Shachi’s un-vaccuumed carpet because…?”

“I volunteered.”

She blinked at that. “You volunteer every year…”

“No: I volunteered without thinking about the consequences.”

Oh.

“He might’ve well as called himself a sacrificial goat the way Cora-san told it over the phone,” Penguin said blithely. “Man’s fucked.”

“…and what does that have to do with me?” Nami asked. She knew, of course, but wanted to hear it from her boyfriend’s mouth.

“I need your help, Nami-ya,” he groaned. He shifted his head so that he could look up at her, all sad and pathetic and absolutely delightful. “I need help.”

She grinned at that and pulled her phone from her purse. “You’re going to need a lot more help than just me.”

“So… you’re not angry…?” Bepo wondered. Nami smirked as she fired off a couple texts.

-----

Shopping trip?

I got a project. You’re gonna love it.

-----

“Angry? I might just get some entertainment value out of this whole debacle yet.” Her phone chirped and Nami shifted her weight from one hip to the other as she snapped a photo of her puddle-boyfriend and sent it off. Less than ten seconds and she got a reply.

-----

Ooooh… finally accepting pointers?

-----

Not the kind you’re thinking. Still have those trial palettes from when you got the idiot those beauty boxes for the hair dye?

-----

Yes but…

…

…pick me up in hald an hour

*half

ykwim

-----

“We’re in luck,” Nami chuckled. “We’re going to be accompanied by an expert.”

Law wasn’t sure whether that made him feel better or worse.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Shopping with Nami and Perona had been an interesting experience, to say the least. Law had no idea who the cavalry was until they rolled up to the weird mansion that was in a densely wooded plot in the middle of what was otherwise zoned for commercial property. Haunted land bought cheap enough to afford the zoning board’s subsequent bribe, so the story went, and it honestly made sense given who lived there. When the distinctively large pink ringlets came bouncing out of the house and down the circular drive, it became apparent that he was going to be in for a time.

“It’s a good thing you got a hold of me,” Perona said importantly as she got into the back seat of Law’s car. “It’s bad enough your dad tapped the rest of Zozo’s weirdo friends to round out his revue, but this? This is a project I’m definitely interested in making happen.”

“Just tell me where we’re going,” Law grumbled.

“That depends on what your persona is going to be,” Nami said. Her boyfriend stared at her, seemingly confused. “What? You mean you don’t have a persona picked out?”

“I was thinking we could just get stuff for me to imitate Cora-san’s act…?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…” Nami tutted. “Rosi Thoughts might become a legacy character, but only after the original retires, not gets temporarily sidelined as one of the judges. We need a brand-new queen for this scene.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Perona smirked. She looked smug as a fed cat in the rearview mirror. “We have to come up with something with glamour and pizzazz if you’re going to even have a shot.”

“I’m not glamour or pizzazz—I’m a disturbingly young surgeon who still lives with his foster father and has a bunch of weird friends who are way too cheerful and energetic and loud to be worth it if it weren’t for the crucial facts that A) they actually put up with me, and B) that’s how I met Nami.”

“How about we go with that?” Perona offered, refusing to unpack all that. “The surgeon thing.”

“Marco-ya is also a doctor and his thing is a pineapple-phoenix.”

“…and it’s not like we have a lot of time to develop a distinct act for you,” Nami reasoned. “Maybe if we had two months, but not under two weeks.”

“I draw the line at Halloween-store ‘sexy’ outfits,” he warned. “I don’t care what it costs me; I will leave you both behind.”

“Who do you think we are? Amateurs?” Perona gasped in false indignation. She leaned back into her seat and buckled up. “Just drive, loser. I’ll tell you when we need to make a turn.”

So he did, and Law was taken to all manner of stores in the hunt for supplies. Between his girlfriend and… their… mutual friend’s… sister (…? Their femme style consultant…? Nami’s torture expert…?) he had all sorts of things held to his face and body and even had to try on no less than ten pairs of hellish shoes. By the time they walked into the final store of the afternoon—the scrubs store—he was desperately thankful for the normalcy involved.

“Now this is more something I’m familiar with,” he breathed in relief. He took solace in the rows upon rows of women’s scrub tops that were no different in make and design than the men’s on the other side of the aisle. The only real differences were the patterns and how they were sized. “They probably shouldn’t be the same as what I wear at work, so it—”

“They need to be cute,” Perona insisted as she idly sorted through some patterned tops. “We’re already trying to negate the not-cute things about you, so we’re gonna need to try hard.”

He glared at her, suspicious. “What about me isn’t cute?”

“Those tattoos, that scowl, the fact you look like a scarecrow…”

“Izou-ya has a tattoo sleeve and Cora-san is even scarecrowier than me.”

“…and you’re still not cute!” Perona huffed. She flitted her way over towards some bat-print scrubs while leaving Law to sulk. Nami giggled quietly at the entire thing.

“What…?” he grumbled. “I bet you’re enjoying this.”

“I am, but not in the way you think.”

“I thought you enjoyed torturing me, Nami-ya.”

“What we do in the bedroom has nothing to do with it,” she smirked. His face went red at that—busted. “It’s just nice having a day like this, where I get to go around and dress you up.”

“…but Ghost-ya…”

“You know it has nothing to do with Perona, even if she is giving us a neat perspective.” He rolled his eyes and she playfully nudged him in the side. “What? She can sew and Usopp is too busy with helping both Sanji and Robin…”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted quietly. “The guys just… they aren’t really equipped for this. Working the show, yeah, but…” He rubbed a piece of fabric between his fingers as his eyes lost focus. “Not just any girlfriend would call in the cavalry when she learns her boyfriend is taking his father’s place in a drag show.”

“When you put it like that, you’re absolutely correct,” she said. Nami popped up on her toes and kissed the corner of Law’s mouth. “Just be glad I’m not charging you for my time.”

“I know my payment is going to be how I least expect it,” he said. “You just have that way about you.”

“…and you know it,” she grinned. It made him feel a little better, admittedly, and he bent down to press a proper kiss to her lips. He was nearly there when they heard Perona clear her throat; she was holding up a tight-cut scrub top that was hot pink and decorated in black hearts.

Not just no, but fuck no.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was two days before showtime and everything was in a panic. Law was already off work, meaning he had been chasing Cora-san around the house all morning and afternoon as the taller man tried to wander around on his crutches doing things for the Revue. He eventually needed to threaten his foster father with packing everything up to go to Izou’s tiny apartment in Logue Town-proper. Since they all had sworn that they’d never do that again as long as Cora-san still had his house, the man sulked on the couch with his leg propped up all until Marco left carrying the last tote of decorations. Law helped his coworker out to the car and swore to be at the venue the following day to help unpack, retreating back into the house once the vehicle revved up. He couldn’t help but let out a little laugh as he saw Cora-san pouting right where he left him.

“Your face will stick like that if it’s not careful,” he teased as he closed the blinds.

“It won’t.”

“You’re not going to listen to a medical professional?”

“Sometimes they’re wrong.” Law looked at his foster father and sighed, already regretting what he was about to offer.

“I’ll get together some snacks and maybe you can watch me figure out my makeup?”

“I’ll do it, but I’m still angry with you,” Cora-san grumbled. Well, it was progress. Law helped him to his feet and went to the kitchen while his dad attempted to navigate the stairs with crutches. By the time he brought the tray of tea and sandwiches up to his room, it looked like Cora-san was already nursing two extra bumps to his head and elbows. “The turn in the hallway moved.”

“Mmhmm… now you sound like Roronoa-ya,” Law hummed. He balanced the tray on a stack of boxes and handed Cora-san his tea before filling his own Sora, Warrior of the Sea mug. “So what do you think of the palettes Ghost-ya and Nami-ya got?”

“I think I like this one best,” Cora-san said, handing his son one of the makeup palettes that was sitting on the bed. “Brings out your eyes, I think.”

“Thanks.” Law sat down at the vanity mirror and turned on the lights, preparing to put on more cosmetics than he’d ever had on in his life.

“Can I ask why your cute girlfriend isn’t helping you with this?”

“She’s helping Ghost-ya with my outfit—wants the final product to be a surprise,” he admitted. Law dug through the debris that was littering the vanity and found his old foundation, shaking the bottle well before opening it back up. “Shachi showed her pics of me as a teenager already—she knows I’m not helpless.”

“You were really cute then,” Cora-san recalled. “Do you remember why you had me teach you?”

“…to hide my Amber Lead spots.”

“No… it was because you wanted to have the coolest Halloween costume in your new school. Hiding the spots was only a bonus.” He watched the younger man put on concealer and foundation, layering slightly thicker than he normally would. Blush came next and Law glared at his reflection.

“I feel ridiculous,” he seethed.

“For lack of a more… dignified term, we’re essentially a modern variation on clowns,” Cora-san offered. “Feeling ridiculous is baked in—it’s just all about how comfortable you feel while ridiculous is the thing.”

“…but I have never worn makeup like this.”

“No, you haven’t.” The older man chuckled quietly as he watched Law put on eyeshadow up to his eyebrow, scowling at his own efforts. “You know… I’m very proud of you for doing this. I know it’s well out of your comfort zone.”

“You’ve done similar for me, and would do it again.”

“That’s… that’s not the point.” He placed a hand on Law’s shoulder, the younger man stopping to turn and look at him directly. “You barely wanted anything to do with this when we first moved here.”

“I was a young teenager who had just gone through hell; I didn’t want anything to do with anyone.”

“…and now you’re here, doing this, while your cute young girlfriend helps get your costume together. I never thought we’d get anywhere near this.”

“Don’t get too sappy on me or my makeup will run and then I’ll have to start from scratch,” Law warned. There was no venom in his voice, simply experience. “Now, what do you think I should do with my eyelashes? You aren’t going to get out of this easy, Rosi.”

…and oh, ideas were had.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was finally Revue Day.

Despite the fact the show was going to be at seven in the evening, Law pulled up to the back door of the venue just before eleven in the morning, car full of the last bits of costuming, decorations, prepwork, and Cora-san. Penguin and Shachi were already there, very clearly faking a smoke break as they leaned up against the wall of the building.

“Who all is here?” Law asked, rolling down his window. Penguin shrugged.

“Some of Pops’s gang was already here with Marco when we showed up,” he said. “If Izou and Kiku are here they just came in through the front door, Straw Hat’s crew beat us all here…”

“…even the kid; he’s doing homework at the bar,” Shachi interrupted. “Marco’s about ready to kidnap and adopt him.”

“A common sentiment,” Law nodded.

“…yeah, and, at least most of the contestants are here,” Penguin finished. He took his unlit cigarette and handed it to Shachi, who put them back in the pack and pocketed them. “I think all we’re really missing is the two of you, the Drag Sibs, two other contestants, and Bepo, but the buses are running late due to that festival in Shells District.”

“That’s probably what’s keeping Kiku,” Cora-san said, leaning towards Law’s window. “Izou got his motorcycle fixed, so if anything’s keeping him it’s traffic.”

“Try telling that to Pops’s gang,” Shachi droned, rolling his eyes.

“Alright,” Law put the Polar Tang in park and killed the engine, “I’m gonna get Cora-san in while you two start unloading. It’s all the usual stuff from the house, so nothing too weird.”

“Weird today is a bare-faced businessman in a cheap suit,” Penguin quipped. Law pretended to not hear that and popped the trunk before getting out of the car and grabbing Cora-san’s crutches so the older man could attempt to support himself while he got the costuming supplies.

“Boys, Law is bullying me,” Cora-san whined.

“You don’t even know the definition of bullying, you wet cat of a man,” Law sniped. There was no venom in his voice, however, as it technically fell under the auspices of pre-show banter.He heard twin engines and sure enough: Bepo and his moped and Izou and his pristine vintage Shandoran motorcycle came into the alleyway. “About damn time.”

“Sorry I’m late!” Bepo cried. He and Izou parked their rides in the same space, looking nearly comical next to one another. “Had to pick up batteries on the way and the line took forever.”

“You know we have batteries here,” Law replied. “Marco-ya alone should probably switch to a twelve-volt.”

“Yeah, I know, but I still feel weird taking them,” the bear frowned. He adjusted his backpack full of photography equipment before offering a paw to Cora-san as the man wobbled dangerously on the edge of a pothole more a crater of rubble than anything. “How are you feeling today, Cora-san? Have you been keeping your leg elevated at home?”

“As much as I can,” he replied, with Bepo seeing right through the lie. Law stood next to the car as Penguin and Shachi quickly ran some stuff in, with the pair coming out so they could all grab the last of the stuff together.

“If it’s any consolation, Sanji’s set himself up in the kitchen and has been cooking and baking since five so we can all stay fed with his cooking specifically while he’s competing,” Shachi offered. Law raised his eyebrow at that.

“How’d he get in at five?”

“That’s for Straw Hat to explain, not us,” Penguin scoffed. He stuck his foot into the ajar door and swung it open, careful to not disturb the piece of concrete that was serving as a stopper. “It’s best not to think about it, right?”

“Yeah, true.”

Once Law got into the building he knew it was going to be a much more exhausting time than the year prior. He could smell Sanji’s cooking in the air, which was all sorts of heavenly that they were going to need to filter out before the doors opened at six. Marco and Izou’s extended friend circle all seemed boisterous as ever, the Straw Hats and their crew mixing together well. Even the ones who Law had only seen in passing due to the auditions and last-minute materials pickup were having a great time as they helped set up, with both Luffy and Ace latching themselves onto the two non-Kiku Royalty contestants.

“Oh, it’s Torao!” Luffy gasped as he saw him put down a box. He bounded over, a young rose-haired man in-tow. “Torao, this is Koby!”

“I know… he’s been at my house.” He then turned to the newcomer, who seemed quite nervous. “He’s not giving you a hard time, is he?”

“Luffy-san’s really nice… I don’t mind…”

“Yeah! Koby and Yama-bro are our friends now!” Luffy gestured back to Ace and the other non-Kiku Royalty contestant, both of whom were laughing at something Thatch said. “They’re both gonna come over to the house next weekend! Won’t that be fun?”

“It will be if you don’t scare them off first.” Law looked and saw Nami frowning as she went up to them. Luffy took that as his cue to bring Koby over to the snack table, where Sanji was setting up a new round of food. “I swear, if he keeps this up, he’s going to adopt the poor guy into the group against his will.”

“Strawhat-ya wouldn’t do that,” Law chuckled. He leaned down and pecked a kiss to Nami’s lips in greeting. “Please tell me you remembered my costume.”

“I didn’t, mostly because Perona did,” she replied. He raised an eyebrow. “She was the one who decided to do some down-to-the-wire adjustments. All I did was approve them.”

“Then let me drop off Cora-san’s stuff in his dressing room and we’ll do the grand reveal,” he said. She agreed and helped take everything labeled “Rosi Thoughts” to the closet-sized space that its occupant had not yet gotten to, getting distracted by the spread to rival any professional craft services team.

“Alright,” Nami said as they stopped outside the door with Law’s name taped to it (permanent marker on copy paper; very professional), “close your eyes.”

“Nami…”

“Humor us, alright?”

“Fine…” he groaned. He closed his eyes and held out his hands, which she took in both of hers. “Better?”

“Much.” She opened the door and led him in, Perona’s giggles of glee preceding her. “Okay, you ready?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not much, no,” Perona replied. “Go ahead. Open.”

Law opened his eyes and almost gasped when he saw what was sitting on the costuming dummy. It was a sparkling disaster, with the bright yellow scrub set having been taken in to better contour to his body and blue rhinestones outlining where his chest tattoo sat. There were no sleeves and barely anything left of the pant legs, a bright blue feather boa stethoscope, and his eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the heeled shoes on the vanity counter, which were so thoroughly covered in their own rhinestones that he couldn’t even tell they had been brown.

“Well, yeah,” Perona said. She turned the dummy around to show that there were more rhinestones to mimic his back tattoo, as well as have two hearts styled like the ones on his shoulders sitting on the ass. “I think it’s going to be stunning. You couldn’t be cuter.”

“…but you hate yellow.”

“I hate what yellow does to my complexion,” she scoffed, swatting the words away with a limp wrist. “It looks fine on you.”

“You two are both enjoying this way too much,” he groaned. A glance over at Nami’s beaming expression confirmed his suspicions—he was going to pay for this, and it wasn’t just going to be letting his girlfriend sit on his face. “Where’s my makeup bag?”

“Oh, shit, I left it at Cora-san’s dressing room…”

“…then I’ll get it,” he insisted, glad for an excuse to escape. Law did not move quickly as he walked down the narrow corridor towards Cora-san’s room, wondering how the community theater company’s kitchily-large costumes ever tolerated such a narrow walkway.

He only had the door open for two seconds before he saw that the tiny room was decidedly occupado with Cora-san and Bell-mère, the latter with her shirt off in the process of stripping them both for an activity they really should have locked the door for; crutches had been hastily abandoned and the noises coming out of the injured man were fucking indecent.

Law shut the door as quickly and quietly as he could, face beet red, and decided to see what sort of snacks Sanji had put out. The makeup bag could wait.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Alright, everyone!” Penguin called out as he meandered down the corridor. “Emcees are on in five! Glam it up! Last call!” He stopped in front of Law’s room and knocked softly. “Captain? You alright in there?”

“I am going to die,” Law announced from behind the wooden barrier.

“No he’s not!” Perona’s voice insisted. She popped her head out and scowled at Penguin. “He’s just being difficult.”

“Who’s being difficult?” Shachi asked as he appeared around the corner. Perona opened the door and stepped out in order to present her project.

If it wasn’t for the fact they knew it was Law who was getting roped into things, they almost would not have recognized him. Heels and fishnets, well-hidden padding in the chest and rear, a short-cut wig with face-framing bangs, and expert makeup that covered all his tattoos except his shoulders and contoured his face into something leagues more feminine… he was honestly drop-dead gorgeous.

“I thought you were going with more… erm… traditional makeup for the occasion,” Shachi noted. Law simply seethed.

“That apparently was not part of the plan,” he hissed. Ah, shit, his goatee and sideburns were gone. Nami and Perona, however, were ignoring the exchange.

“I think he’s ready,” Nami said, nodding sagely.

“Yes,” Perona agreed. “She is ready to take her place as the Queen of Queens.”

“You know that’s Strawhat-ya’s auncle,” Law replied. He wobbled slightly as he realized that Bepo had appeared behind Penguin and Shachi, snapping a pic with his DSLR before he even had a chance to react. “I said: minimal pictures!”

“You look great, Captain!” the bear beamed. “You better get to your station! The show’s about to start!”

“Good luck,” Nami smiled sweetly, kissing Law on his left shoulder, right over the exposed tattoo she knew would not smudge. “I’ll be helping Zoro contain Luffy. You know who my votes are behind.”

“Oh, is it me, dearest Nami-swan~?!” Both Nami and Law glanced over to see Sanji nearly pirouette out of his dressing room as he saw them. ‘Never took ballet’ his ass—the surgeon could almost bet his tucked balls on Sanji having had a secret life where he had done all the stereotypical rich kid bullshit like ballet and fencing and had been good at them.

“My cheers belong to my beau,” she teased. He picked up her hand and delicately kissed the back of it, which Law found fairly ridiculous in his garish makeup and skirted chef’s outfit.

“Then I shall promise a dessert for tomorrow evening guaranteed to be a petite mort?”

“Stop trying to seduce my girlfriend, Kitchin Bitchen,” Law growled. Sanji glared at him, which he returned, only for Nami to groan and punch them both in an arm.

“Ladies, you’re both pretty,” she insisted. “Now get going!” She smacked them both on the ass and left, Law taking it more as the sort of smack a sports coach would give, while Sanji threatened to bleed out of his nose.

“I am not performing emergency medical procedures on perverts tonight, so be careful,” Law warned as they joined the other contestants in the staging area just out of view of the audience. He blanched when he realized that a very crucial part of the whole show was missing. “Where’s Cora-san?”

“Usopp took him around the back to get to the judges’ booth,” Bell-mère said. Fuck, she looked like some washed-up trucker whose long-hauler broke down on the outskirts of Greater Logue Town and hoofed it the entire way there instead. “He’ll be seen, don’t worry.”

“Think about it,” Izou said, doing one final check of his hair before taking a microphone from Thatch. “Are we going to let him out of our sight with crutches if there’s a chance he can ruin the coat that took me murdering how many feather boas because he can’t be trusted with needles?”

Unable to refute that logic, Law shrugged and watched as Izou and Marco looked at one another, took a deep breath, and slap-slap-slap-slap-slapped their hands together in a quick secret handshake of brotherhood (or in this case, sisterhood) before they stepped out onto the main of the stage, the spotlights quickly finding them.

“Hello and welcome to the Annual Logue Town Royal Revue! Can I get a ‘yoi’?”

“YOI!” the crowd shouted back.

“Excellent! You all know me, yoi. I’m Shenix Fyre, and this is my sister-in-heels Ganmodokidoki. We’re your mistresses of ceremony for the night, where we’ve got a stunning display for everyone!”

“That’s right!” Izou grinned. “Our most steady crowd will know most years it’s just us and our sister Rosi Thoughts on the stage, cracking jokes and being our silly selves, but tonight we’ve got a special treat for you all!”

“That’s double-right!” Marco shifted so that his feathered wings shimmered in the lights, showing off the glitter and beadwork better than just the internal string lights could afford. “We have a brand-new, high-stakes format with a cast full of fresh meat for us to devour tonight!” The crowd cheered. “Now, is everyone ready for a transcendent time?!”

The crowd clapped and cheered; it was always a corny line, but Law found it somehow worse this year. He had to hand it to them—they really knew how to fire up and engage the crowd.

“Then let’s get started,” Izou said, “and begin introducing the fine and fabulous who are going to make up the teams! Each team gets a member of Enby Royalty, a King, and a Queen, who all have to cooperate in order to complete our grueling tasks!”

“First up in Royalty, we have Rose Marina, yoi!”

Shakily, Koby hobbled out onto the stage, almost tripping on himself; Killer scoffed at the sight.

“Poor lad’s about to piss himself,” he grunted.

“Well, yeah,” Bell-mère replied. “I don’t think he’s been even exposed to this before and now he’s in it.”

“Meeker than a wee lamb, that one.”

“Let’s give it up for Snowy Mum!”

“Now you’re just being mean,” Robin smirked, edging herself over towards the next spot. “Don’t let Luffy hear you say that about his new friend.”

“Tch…” Killer shrugged and tried to drop it.

“…and give a hand to our final member of Royalty, Kozuki Oden!”

“Is it usually this tedious?” Sanji asked. He was bouncing his leg and fidgeting. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed a smoke break more.”

“Give it a moment and you can run out the back for a hit,” Law deadpanned.

“Now to start off the Kings, yoi! Here we have Devil Ray!”

“Life really turned to shit when you stopped being able to smoke inside.”

“Bell-mère-ya, that’s a lie and you know it.”

“Eh; what are you gonna do about it, kid?”

“Time to meet Smartea Pants!”

“Flex my medical degree at you?”

“You’re a cardiothoratic surgeon on the best of days—you couldn’t tell me shit about anything else.”

“…and here he is, the Beast of the East!”

“See you out there, kids,” Bell-mère chuckled before she walked out under the lights of the stage.

“God, I hate this already,” Law groaned.

“There is no God here,” Killer stated. Law opened his mouth to explain it was just an expression and there was no reason to be a dick about it when Marco’s voice cut him off.

“Now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, yoi! Here are this years Queens!” He paused to let the crowd applaud—they knew what they were here to see. “First up is Killer Queen!” Killer sauntered onto the stage and ate up the applause and cheers, some of the loudest coming from the man’s personal cheering section.

“If there is a God,” Law sighed, “then he’s making sure those two fuck.” He pointed out the punk with cherry-red hair and a prosthetic arm.

“Mmm… who knows,” Sanji shrugged. “I know I don’t want to.”

“Here’s a special gal who will cure what ails you, Dr. Hart-Steeler!”

“You’re up.” Law felt Sanji’s hands on his back and the younger man push him our towards the stage. The whole crowd clapped as he found himself under hot lights. He smiled awkwardly and quickly searched the crowd, finding not only where the Impel representatives were, but also where Nami-ya was with the rest of the non-participating Straw Hats. Law was so concentrated on his girlfriend, however, that he let the heel of his shoe slip and he rolled his ankle, landing hard on the worn lacquered wood of the stage floor to a round of gasps and one fairly annoying “faffaffaffa”.

Oh, they were off to a great start.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was two days since the Revue and Law was laying on a couch in Luffy’s sus-as-fuck party house at 1000 Sunny Rd, his feet propped up on the far armrest and his head in Nami’s lap as she idly carded through his hair. Her weather data-crunching laptop was balanced on the other armrest as she used it one-handed, not wanting to stop touching her boyfriend’s fluffy hair.

“How are your feet feeling?” she asked. He grunted in response, leaning into her touch.

“Better,” he admitted. “Ankles not nearly as sore either.” His eyes were closed as he simply enjoyed her touch and company. “I do still think I bruised my hipbone.”

“Did you now?” she wondered idly. “I guess this means that it might need some attention later…?”

“Possibly,” he smirked. “You’ll have to check for signs of contusions.”

“Hey, time to play doctor later,” Zoro warned as he walked into the room. He had his reading glasses on as he squinted at a newspaper—the Foosha Free Press—sourly. “It looks like they even did an article about you all the way out here in the fucking sticks.”

“They did not need to do an article about any of us out this way,” Law said, hoping the glare he was giving would help Zoro take a fucking hint.

It didn’t.

“I guess the editor is an old friend of your dad’s or something,” Zoro replied nonchalantly.

“Between your adoptive pain in the ass and mine, who don’t they know?”

“Boys, you’re both stupid, now what does it say?” Nami frowned. Zoro adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat before peering down at the paper, attempting to find where he’d left off. When it took him too long to find his spot, Nami tore the paper from his hands. “Silly me thinking you could read.”

“Witch! Can to!”

“Mmm… sure.” Nami opened up the paper and found the article Zoro had been hunting for almost immediately. “Huh. ‘The Logue Town Royal Revue, always a show that surprises and entertains, mixed things up to the extreme with their all-new drag show in their attempt to woo support from Impel Drag Race. With the goal of raising money for charity, it felt as though this year one got a lot more for their ticket price. Was it a change in budget? The novelty of new contestants? No one can say for certain.’ At least it seems like they really liked you.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Law whined. Nami grinned wickedly at that, knowing precisely what to do.

“‘The Revue,’” she continued reading, “‘was emceed by the two show founders, with their longtime third helping them with the judging portion. Anyone who knew of Shenix Fyre, Ganmodokidoki, and Rosi Thoughts’s prior acts came in with expectations that were delivered on. They were able to handle a rowdier-than-usual crowd that was there to support the fresh performers.’”

“Oh, get to the good shit already,” Zoro whined. Both he and Nami tried to not snicker as they watch Law curl up and try to hide his face in his girlfriend’s lap—no sale.

“Let’s see… blah, blah, ‘Royalty was a unique model the contestants brought to life’, blah, blah, blah… oh, good, nothing about Bell-mère. I was worried about that. It’s all about the one we didn’t know. Devil Ray…” Her eyebrows raised in amusement as she continued. “‘…but the true crowd pleasers were the Queens, especially Dr. Hart-Steeler, whose klutzy act reminiscent of her mother Rosi Thoughts endeared her to myself and the entire crowd.’ Law! They loved you!”

“…no…” he whimpered.

“Who knew your old man surgeon was sexy enough for that,” Zoro laughed. Nami silently dared him to try harder. “At least you know you can go back if you want to do it again.”

“Maybe if Cora-san had gotten into stunt kites… or maybe historical reenactments…”

“See?” Zoro pointed at Law haughtily. “Old man. He’s so old he doesn’t even have an ass.”

“Be nice; his ass suits my needs.”

“Nami, his ass needs implants it’s so flat.”

“Can you please not talk about my ass?”

“Mmm… too bad,” Nami hummed. She skritched his scalp with her nails and smiled at the photo included with the article: Dr. Hart-Steeler making an unintended dive towards Inazuma’s chest, limbs flailing and expression one of pure panic.

She was going to take what she could get.

[jarita123]

The Essex Serpent

I finally managed to rewatch the show. The first time I watched it, was a week by week and I think this one was made to be bingewatched.

Spoilers will follow for the show AND the book. Also, please forgive errors, English is not my first language but I just wanted to share some of my thoughts and it is easier to write it in English :)

I read the book before it was announced that they are making it into the show and before Tom was even cast. I just like reading, basically everything and when Victorian era is involved, with mystery elements, I am all in. I did not read it in English but in my language so I may have missed some nuances but I think the translation was spot on.

I don´t think it was Tom´s best work, in the sense that the show did not make waves but was not bad at all. But it seems to be the case with many Apple+ shows. They invest money, give the directors and writers freedom, don´t care much about ratings and produce a lots of quality content but somehow, they still shake a bit behind Netflix, D+ or Amazon as far as the audience appreciation goes (with noteble exceptions like Ted Lasso, I guess)

And I think the way they streamlined the story for the miniseries worked, tbh. The book is OK but it had a lot going on, with an uneven ending and with most characters unlikeable to the point that I felt was not too realistic. It also dealt with too many romantic angles (how many love triangles can one story get, especially with a few characters like these?), had too much going on without solving it and the ending was open ended.

However, one may argue that the book is basically - or from how I understand it - just a window into a life of a few people. You go into their lives, follow them for a while, and then just leave them and go on. As if you were a part of some group or was in a job for two years and then left, went on with your life, without knowing how they are doing.

I have to also appreciate how they turned letters into scenes. A big chunk of the book happens in letters and it must have been tough to adapt it.

Let me start with characters. Cora is obviously the main character but I have to say, they made a remarkable progress with her on the show. The book made her look immature, never growing up, hurting people around her. it was briefly explained that she married young and never had a chance to grow up emotionally but the thing was, she never learnt. She is the same person and still thinks she has it the worst in life. On the show, Cora knows this, she changes and settles her relationships with others, apologizes to Martha, knows she hurt Luke and gets to be with Will in the end. The story with her son, however, is well done in the book and on the show, despite this being mostly described through her inner thoughts in the book.

Will is not that well flexed in the book and however you can read about his emotions and confusion that he can love *two* women at the same time, the show works a bit better here. I am glad they left the scene where he gets angry with the sculpture of the serpent in the church, or his despair after he cheats on his wife. Him sitting at his wife´s dying is strong and sad. But there is just too much going on the show and Will is not that well fleshed out as he should be, I tink. But Tom does a remarkable job and his way to find anything in any character he plays, is just a proof that he *gets* it. Plus, let´s be honest here, camera loves him (again) because he just looks fantastic. I love how Tom works with women directors a lot and they can use his presence :) i am also glad they made Will a bit more likeable on the show as well. I disliked the angle in the book, where he sent his kids to town to friends to take care of them, while he could be with his sick wife. I mean, it would be understandable for first few days but in the book, it seemed like a permanent thing and made Will look not only as a cheating husband but also a bad father.

His chemistry with Clare Danes is there, it is slowly building and the dance scene is kind of a peak of that. But Tom can have a chemistry with a plank of wood. And Clare does a great job here as well. She must work real hard to make Cora likeable and get her through all the emotions that were described in the book so we can understand why she behaves the way she does. To add some scenes with her dead, abusive husband definitely helped.

I am glad they got rid of the bit out of nowhere romance between Martha and Nev (that is the one love triangle part I mentioned above) and they let her only working for Spencer, not marry Nev with Spencer left hanging...the way they hint Cora and Martha relationship on the show is also interesting and works better than in the book. Also, as someone who despises communism (as post communistic country, we know well what it does to the country), I am glad they tuned her down a bit into just a socialist with some sensible demands.

As opposite to book, I would probably drop the story of Naomi entirely. It is not properly explained why she did what she did til the very end and the best part in the book is her friendship with Jo, which is not really discovered here and her actions are briefly explained only in a "blink and miss it" moment. What I was sorry they dropped for the show, was Jo herself. She was described as a mini version of Will, with the same calming and strong presence as her father and it was not properly done. Except maybe the scene at the funeral where she was singing (a beautiful scene, btw.)

I know I am in the minority with this, but I disliked Luke actively in the book and on the show. i feel like Frank Dillane was honestly a bit creepy and maybe he nailed it because Luke was, kind of, exactly that. Stalkerish, a bit patronistic over Cora, because as much as he respected her, she was "still only a woman", misguided and emotional in his eyes and needed a protection from him (which she did not need or want). I did like how his friendship with Spencer was done in the book and on the show.

Both, Spencer and Stella, were the unsung heroes, btw. Both pure souls, maybe too pure for this world (and theirs). What I find interesting about Stella is, that in both cases (book and show), it is hinted she knows about Will and Cora and on the show, seems to be supportive because she knows she is dying and Will and her kids will need someone. It is a nice sentiment but not sure a realistic one. Especially when he has these feelings for another woman now, when she is alive and here.

The main difference is the ending. In the book, it is hinted that Stella recovered, Will had no intention to go to seek Cora, however he remained in contact with her via letters. On the show, Stella dies, and they give Will an "acceptable" time for mourning before he is reunited with Cora. I am not sure which ending works better but I think the show worked better for all characters, notebly Cora, Will, Martha and Luke, who all found purposes in their lives.

Of course, the production design of the show was beautiful. It helped the atmosphere, it looked fantastic, sounded fantastic and as someone who loves long, wide shots, I had no problem with it even slowing down a pace a bit.

I do recommend the book AND the show, both for different reasons. i don´t believe The Essex Serpent is the best book ever and as I said, the show is not the best thing Tom did but it is definitely in his better work and I will happily come back to it. It just went a bit unnoticed because it is still a stream and Apple+ was just starting its streak of good and successful shows. He definitely does not need to be ashamed he did it, on the contrary and as it is his most recent work (Loki excluded), it is a joy to see him more recent. Now when covid and strikes are over, let´s hope he will do more. I am already excited for The Life of Chuck (as Stephen King´s fan, I knew the story...it is kind of an odd choice, he does have more interesting stories but I get what Tom or Mike Flanagan mean by "there is warmth to it" or that it is "celebrating life")

One last remark from my side - Tom seems to love doing book or play adaptations (probably because he can get a "source material" for the character and can dive into it), I just recently read two books where I think he would be perfect and it somehow follows the pattern he likes in his characters.

One of them is a book by Darcy Coates (who I love and read everything she does). Her haunted houses books are amazing, some better, some worse, but thrilling and atmospheric. And however her main characters are in 80% women, with men being a bit of a "type", when she has a man as a main character, they are very interesting.

"The Haunting of Rookward House" is one I would love to see and I can perfectly picture Tom doing it. Guy, the main character, is an example of a man who was unlucky in his life, just went through some tough times and now he gets to be stuck in this haunted house. Also, spoiler...there is some (however scary) dancing involved :)

The second one is "The People next door" by Tony Parsons. The main characters are Lana and Roman Wades, each chapter is written from a perspective of either Lana or Roman, and however the ending is a bit far-fetched (it can be always amended for a movie), Roman is an interesting character who has an unusual trauma behind him (unusual for a man, you get the hint...) and it is interesting to see the life he lives in denial for the most part of the book because of it.

But I am sure Tom does not need any suggestions from me :) These are more of my "fancasting" for books I like. Also, to get adaptations right is hard so, if it never gets made into a movie, maybe it is better. As a big reader, I prefer for a lots of stuff to stay in the books because it does not work every time (Ender´s Game, I am looking at you)

If you managed to read this far, thank you and forgive my grammar.

[endlessly-cursed]

WWTG22, Supper Time at Winbourne

The moment Primrose entered the room, all of her guests had been seated: her aunt, the Dowager Viscountess Alina, presided the south part of the large table, her father the Lord Gray beside her as the second most senior member, meanwhile Primrose led the northern side, Lord Stolberg-Burke with her beside her and Henry to the other as the highest-ranking man of the event. The moment she picked the spoon for the soup, everyone else followed suit, eating and starting to chat to the people assigned to their left and right. To the other side of Alina, the Earl of Wexford chatted with her. Primrose squared her shoulders and gave Malcolm a well-rehearsed smile, a charming and alluring one “I hope the event has been to your tastes so far, my lord?” 

He nodded “It has indeed. You are a most curteous and charming hostess, my lady.” 

Henry added “Indeed. The Somersets outdo themselves each year, do they not?” 

Malcolm nodded in agreement and chatted back-and-forth chatting about trivial things, though his sister, the Lady Estelle, did not look pleased. Meanwhile, to the other side of Henry, the Lady Hastings decided to start speaking to him, and Elian watched on the other side curiously, next to Malcolm. He was well-aware of his high eligibility, and the fact that she was one kind of woman his parents would adore. Lady Cora then asked Henry if Primrose had been afraid when facing the Duke of Buckingham “If she did, she hid it well. I like to believe her duty to protect her family and birthright overcame that fear.” 

She smiled at him and Primrose watched closely how they conversed. She had done her best to seat men with a woman and a man to their left so they could switch from court intrigues to politics while the women gossiped and shared secrets, so no one would be out of place. 

The moment it came for the women to go to the drawing room, she bowed to her male guests and discreetly looked at Malcolm, who chatted with Elian. She then led the ladies through and took out her most favourite champagne “Ladies, this one is for you alone.” 

She watched as Miss Wakefield and Miss Balinor chatted in an intimate way. Curious to see how they had fared since last year, she positioned herself with Miss Fawley as both observed closely how they spoke. 

“You look wonderful tonight, Cecy. You do, truly.” Miss Wakefield commented. 

“And you look great too. I’m pleased you liked the dress I sent for you.” She stroke with her fingers discreetly the fabric and noticed Miss Wakefield’s flush. 

“I--I did. My mother thought it was a suitor...” 

“Am I not a suitor, Miss Wakefield?” Lavinia blushed and Cecilia giggled, pinching her nose “I am teasing you, dearest. Now, I believe that Lady Gray has a fine winery down there... I’ve been meaning to show you something in private. Follow me.” She passed past the hostess and smiled charmingly “Do excuse us, my lady, but my corset is unadjusted and Miss Wakefield will help me.” 

Lady Gray nodded and both went their ways. She turned to Miss Fawley “They make an adorable couple, do they not?” 

Selina nodded “They do. It’s heartbreaking that they can’t show it in public.” 

“One day, Miss Fawley, someone like them will break the mold and society will be more tolerant and accepting. I only hope my descendants can contribute to it.” 

Selina raised her glass and excused herself. The moment the men joined them, Lady Gray scanned through to find Lord Stolberg-Burke, wrapping up a conversation with Henry. She cleared her throat and bowed to the men who outranked her “Do forgive me, gentlemen, but I was wondering if I could have a word with Lord Stolberg-Burke?” 

Henry smiled and conceded, and soon dragged Elian with him. Primrose led Malcolm to the hallway and fidgeted with her fingers before clearing her throat “My lord, I hope that you have been enjoying yourself in these events despite not being your strong suit.” 

“They were exquisite, my lady, thank you again for inviting us this year.” 

Primrose smiled and cleared her throat “I do hope your guardian is in good health, alongside your family. You see, after these events I would like to ask your permission to visit your estate for business.” 

Malcolm frowned “May I know the reason, my lady?” 

“...To propose an alliance between our great houses.” 

Adonis tried his best to play it cool with Minerva beside him. She, though, seemed annoyed at the fact that some force was making them find each other. Perhaps that force was on his side “How is your mother? I hope she’s in good health.” 

“She is. Thank you.” She responded flatly. 

“You may not believe me but... I like your dress today. Blue suits you to perfection.” I daresay you’re a vision tonight. 

Minerva frowned “Thank you... I suppose. How is your family? All in good health?” 

“Yes. Thank you, Mimi.” 

Minerva blinked “Mimi?” 

“Forgive me if I was too untoward.” 

“No, but... it is not terrible, I suppose.” He was serious when he said that he no longer wanted to fight. 

“Ahem. Eddie wrote to me yesterday. He has invited us to Christmas year. I hope you’re alright with that. Irene has been dying to ask you for more book reccomendations.” 

A small smile came to Minerva’s mouth “I’m pleased she liked my reccomendations. She has taste, unlike you.” 

He chuckled, fondness in his eyes “Perhaps. I took the liberty to read Wuthering Heights. Truly a remarkable read.” 

Minerva frowned “Do you think so? I thought those were not to your taste.” 

Adonis smirked “If I read any other theory of Machiavelly, Ovid or any other poem of Shakesperare, I shall start climbing my bedroom’s walls out of madness.” 

Minerva bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to giggle, but something told her she could no longer fool Adonis of all people. Not anymore. What else didn’t she know about him because she was too busy antagonizing him in her head? 

“What do you read when you’re tired of classic poetry or dead politician’s theories, then?” 

“I quite like Ancient Roman comedy. Though I warn you, it is quite... a crude humour. Not suitable for ladies.” His blue eyes twinkled. 

She raised her chin “I can handle crude humour.” 

He got a bit too close to her and, still smirking, murmured “Oh, I know.” He winked at her and she flushed, glaring at him. 

Emmeline waited in a secluded hallway as Abe instructed her, asking her to wait there, for he had something important to say to her. She looked around cautiously, to see if any member of the staff were over there. She didn’t notice her fiancé sneakinh up on her, only when he grabbed her waist and surprised her with a cheerful and passionate kiss. At first she was shocked, then proceeded to return it, and he soon backed her against the wall. Emmeline broke the kiss and whispered “This is the important thing you wanted to tell me? Sneaking up and kissing like we’re some sort of criminals?” 

He chuckled “I’ll let you know that, despite being engaged, we are still under scrutiny. And I promised Primrose no scandals on her events, and I also promised your father not to tarnish your reputation.” 

Emmeline smirked “I’m sure it won’t be the end of the world if we share a little and sweet kiss.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if there was people here who believed that you should kiss me for the first time on our wedding day.” 

Emmeline did her best not to giggle “Oh, good heavens. Do you aristocrats have so many rules for love?” 

“Our marriages had never been about love. I think I disappointed some daughter of a marquis by not looking at her or considering her proposal.” 

Emmeline pecked him on the lips “She can stay mad. She should’ve been quicker with conquering your heart.” 

Abe smiled and tried to kiss her again, but her nose scrunched “Abe, I love you, but you stink of smoke and ale.” 

He pouted and started to give her ticklish kisses on her face and shoulders, making her wringle and giggle, trying to take him off her “Stop! Someone will hear us!” She teasingly punched his shoulder “Off without you before they send someone to look for you!” 

“Hmm, it seems that I already tired my fianceé of my company. Very well, I’ll go and will hope to steal you another kiss, my dearest fianceé.” 

Emmeline giggled, getting back to the drawing room. She was looking forward to never dismiss his company and hide gestures of affection with him. She knew she had promised herself to have an average engagement, but the romantic in her wanted to follow her mother’s footsteps. 

Shaking off the urge to ask him to elope, she gave her female friends a smile as she joined the conversations again, hoping her lips weren’t too swollen. 

Malcolm Stolberg-Burke belongs to @gaygryffindorgal​ 

Elian Goldcrest belongs to @potionboy3​ 

Cora Hastings belongs to @camillejeaneshphm​ 

Simon Battersea and Minerva Kennedy belongs to @unfortunate-arrow​ 

Abraham Alden belongs to @cursed-herbalist​ 

[angelswing236]

The latest chapter of In You I Trust is up and it's a long one. Here's an extract:

‘Mary must see Branson,’ Violet said bluntly as soon as Spratt had left the room.

Cora stopped pouring milk into her tea and stared at her mother-in-law, caught completely by surprise. ‘What?’

‘She must see him before he goes,’ the Dowager repeated, firmly.

‘But… but Robert and Rosamund are firmly against it,’ Cora said, gathering herself a little and continuing to pour the milk.

The Dowager sniffed. ‘So I understand, and that is why I did not invite them to this little tête à tête. You should not listen to either of them, Cora. Tell me, what do you think?’

Cora put the milk jug down and handed a cup and saucer to her mother-in-law, thinking through her answer before giving it. ‘I think Mary will never forgive us if we do not let her say goodbye to him.’

Violet nodded, pleased that Cora was thinking clearly about this matter. ‘Precisely. We must not drive a wedge between her and the family. We need to keep her close, not push her away.’

‘I agree,’ Cora said, thinking of how stubborn Mary could be when it suited her.

‘There is also another reason why I believe she should see him,’ Violet said, casting an appraising look at her daughter-in-law, wondering if she had perhaps had the same thought she was about to voice.

‘And what is that, Mama?’

Taglist: @starryeyes2000

[when-they-write-stuff]

3. I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that?

- -

IF DEREK THOUGHT ABOUT IT, he couldn’t remember the exact time he changed. 

It might have been gradual. It might have been slow, like each step of a waltz moving closer and closer to what he never wanted to become. The glow of bright blue eyes, the plumes of smoke rising into the air, the look in his sister’s eyes as they gradually bled to red. 

If Derek thought about it, he couldn’t remember the exact time he changed. It was some kind of dance, slow footsteps to the music of one thing becoming another. Act one was the mistakes and act two was the consequences. The pain, the death, and the ruin.

It was the steps— one, two, three. One, two, three, and then he was alone in the world. He was alone and there was no one left to tell him what happened next.

For a little while, at least.

It hadn’t always been like this. No, once Derek’s life had been his family, his friends, and the feeling of right, safe, and home. All of that was long before the smell of perfume on his clothes, the imprint of red lipstick on his cheek, and every horrible thing that continued to happen after that.

At some point in his life, everything changed. Derek changed.

And it was all bad until it wasn’t.

“You know what they call people like you?” Stiles asked, plopping down onto the couch at his side. Derek gave the boy a flat look, closing his book slightly, but Stiles didn’t seem to notice, shoveling a handful of chips into his mouth as he flipped on the TV. 

Derek sighed. “No, Stiles, I don’t. What do they call people like me?”

Stiles glanced over at him, eyes going from the book in Derek’s hands to his face, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Nerds.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah,” Stiles said, smirk growing. “Derek Hale, the big bad Alpha of Beacon Hills, is a nerd. Whoever would have thought?”

Derek rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his book. Beside him, Stiles snorted and returned to crunching chips obnoxiously loud, flipping to the first channel that was playing something superhero-y. Derek tried to ignore all of that, glaring down at pages. 

Once upon a time, he just would have growled or maybe shoved Stiles off the couch in retaliation. Or, most likely, Stiles never would have been allowed to hang out in his loft at all.

But it’d been a few years. And Derek didn’t feel like doing any of that. Instead, he suppressed a smirk and focused harder on his book.

Then Isaac came into the room and gave them both a strange look. “The energy in this room is so weird. What did I miss?”

Derek instantly tensed and he gave the beta a warning look; which Isaac didn’t even seem to notice. But Stiles’s scent just flared with confusion and he glanced away from the TV, giving the beta a look that was one of pure judgment. “Energy, scarf-boy? Really?”

Isaac’s eyes flashed gold. “Watch the nicknames, Stilinski.”

“Oh yeah? Or what?”

Isaac bared his teeth. “I’ll rip your throat out.”

“Oh, wow,” Stiles said, barking a laugh. “You’re as scary as a rabbit, scarf-boy. But Stilinski throat-ripping is Derek’s job, remember?”

This time, the look on Isaac’s face was one of mild horror and when he glanced over, Derek just rolled his eyes, burying his face in his book again. And his ears totally weren’t burning just a little. They weren’t.

“Yeah,” Isaac said, voice a bit smaller as he inched toward the kitchen. “Sure.”

Stiles snorted in triumph at that, stuffing another mouthful of chips into his mouth. And sometimes, Derek wasn’t sure if he was awed by how easily the boy could ignore certain things around him, or if he were slightly worried.

Maybe relieved. Relieved made more sense.

“Dude, Derek,” Stiles said, elbowing him in the side. Derek snapped out of his thoughts, giving Stiles a red-eyed look, but the boy ignored him. “This is my favorite part of the movie. Now tell me honestly, Batman or Superman?”

Derek didn’t answer, giving Stiles a flat look. But Stiles just elbowed him again, pointing toward the TV, and Derek slowly followed his gaze.

“I don’t know, Stiles. What’s the difference?”

“What’s the difference? What’s the difference?” Stiles gave him a wide-eyed look. “Oh my god, you’re the absolute worst, Sourwolf. I can never forgive you for that sentence. Did you really just say that to me?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Fine. Superman.”

“I’m so offended.”

“You wanted an answer.”

“No, correction, Sourwolf, I wanted the right answer. And that was Batman one-hundred-percent.”

Derek shook his head, trying to return to his book. Except, he couldn’t remember when he had gotten another ten pages in and Stiles was pressing up against his side much too close now, still muttering his displeasure. The boy’s scent was an unfair distraction and Derek swallowed a growl, glaring at the words that didn’t make sense anymore.

What had Isaac even meant? Strange ‘energy’ in the room?

“I need some air,” Derek said, shoving himself up. Stiles floundered to the side and shot him a look of pure confusion, but Derek ignored it. Because dammit, he couldn't think clearly and— and fucking Stiles.

“I’ll be back,” he practically growled out, grabbing his jacket and keys. And Stiles’s protests were left at his back as the door of the loft slammed.

Derek didn’t know when exactly he changed. It might have been gradual. It might have been slow.

Right now, it was fucking Stiles.

-

Stiles found him in the diner all the way across town.

Derek was honestly more than surprised to see the boy poke his head in through the door, grinning when his eyes landed on where Derek sat in the furthest booth. He didn’t even have a chance to react before Stiles was plopping down opposite him, that stupid grin still on his face.

“If you were hungry, Sourwolf, you could’ve just said something. My dad’s on a shift tonight so I’m making dinner alone.”

Derek’s chest automatically tightened at that. But Stiles didn’t even seem to notice, picking up the menu in front of Derek and surveying the options.

“And I have to point out that the curly fries at Mel's Diner fifteen minutes down the road are way better than here, but I’d still be down to split a plate. This place does have better milkshakes, though, if that makes you feel any better. Which— hey! How do you feel about ordering milkshakes too?”

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

The boy finally looked up, scent sparking with surprise. Derek clenched his jaw, holding the amber-eyed gaze, and Stiles dropped his eyes after a long moment, wetting his lips. “I’m bothering you?”

Yeah, Derek nearly said. But the word caught in his throat at the last moment and he settled for a flat look, to which Stiles squirmed under.

“I can totally go, dude. I think I’ve got… something in my freezer at home.”

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

Once more, Stiles looked surprised. But this time, a little amused too. “I had Isaac sniff you out, Smartiewolf. Then I kicked him out of the car and I’m pretty sure he’s still moping on the side of the street somewhere.”

Derek blinked. Stiles grinned.

“Dude, I’m joking. You forget that I have to keep an eye on my dad and the meals he sneaks during work. You literally come here all the time.”

“You… what?”

Stiles shrugged. “I hang out in my car around lunchtime over the weekend. My dad thinks because this place is across town, he’ll get away with it. But let’s be honest, that only worked for like, three weeks. He always looks a little too pleased when he comes home after sneaking a burger.”

“I don’t even know what to do with that information.”

Stiles’s eyes danced. “The point is, you’re always here. And I’m definitely the smartest one in the pack, Sourwolf. Besides Lydia. But I put two and two together!”

Derek stared at him for a long moment. His head spun but no words formed. But then thankfully, thankfully, someone cleared their throat to the side and his attention snapped sideways to see the waitress.

She smiled, eyes going between them. “And what can I get you two?”

Derek didn’t even open his mouth before Stiles was handing her the menu, that little grin back on his lips. “A plate of curly fries and two vanilla milkshakes.”

The waitress nodded, turning away. And as she moved back across the room, Derek turned his attention back to Stiles. “What?”

“Er… was that okay, dude?”

Derek honestly didn’t know what to say. So he just nodded and Stiles sat back, scent flooding with satisfaction. 

“Great. Cause I’m also like, seventy-percent sure my dad might attempt picking up a grease-filled meal for his shift tonight and if I can catch him in the act, then that's another victory in my book.”

“Right.”

There were a lot of things about Stiles Stilinski that Derek just didn’t understand. From the first time he’d met him— and been oh so tempted to rip his throat out— to all these years later when he was still figuring the boy out. And this was definitely one of the moments.

But sese, it wasn't the distance or the milkshakes that had brought Derek here. No, it was the memories of Cora messing with the jukebox that used to be across the room, or Laura moving around, taking orders in her waitress uniform. It was homework spread across the table in front of him while he waited for his mom to come pick him up for basketball practice.

It was the prelude before act one. All the memories of a life he’d nearly forgotten in the years that had passed.

Stiles was talking about something, but Derek was barely listening. Instead, he looked at Stiles and wondered why nothing about the boy’s presence felt… wrong. It wasn't intrusive, Derek didn’t want to flash the red eyes or rip his head off.

It was the memories of the past. The smell of vanilla and fries as the waitress came back with their order. And then Stiles, looking at him with bright amber eyes.

It was the strangest of changes.

Derek glared down into his milkshake and tried to tell his stomach to stop feeling so weird.

-

Avoiding Stiles Stilinski really wasn’t as easy as Derek had hoped it would be.

Or, avoiding might not be the right word. Derek just made sure he wasn’t at the loft when Stiles was supposed to come over. He steered clear of the boy at pack meetings and made sure to pair him up with Scott or one of the other betas during the weekly patrols. He claimed the chair furthest from the TV during pack movie nights and excused himself to bed early when it seemed like no one was going to go home that night.

But he wasn't avoiding Stiles. And it wasn’t weird.

Boyd told him it was weird.

“In three years, I’ve never been put with Stiles on a patrol,” he said. “Do you know what we talked about all night?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Boyd crossed his arms.

“The weather.”

Derek couldn’t help but wince at that. Though, to be fair, that wasn't the worst pairing choice he'd ever made. He’d put Erica and Isaac together due to separating Erica and Boyd, and that had ended with Isaac coming back to the loft with a broken tennis racket stuck around his neck. Derek hadn’t even dared ask for the story behind all of that.

“You’re avoiding Stiles,” Boyd continued, bringing Derek back to reality. “And everyone knows it.”

“I am not.”

“Even Scott knows it. And he’s generally clueless.”

Derek clenched his jaw, glaring at the opposite wall. Then, reluctantly, he swallowed his pride. “And Stiles?”

“Have you even caught his scent lately?”

Derek had been doing his best not to. Not to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Boyd sighed. 

“You should pay him a visit. And bring curly fries.”

Derek really didn’t want to do that. But before he could say anything, Boyd was walking away. And wasn’t Derek the alpha here? He scowled at the beta’s back and then slowly glanced toward the loft door, fishing the Camaro keys out of his pocket.

He was the alpha here. He would make the decision whether or not to visit Stiles— and it wasn’t like Boyd had made any good points.

One hour later, Derek pushed open Stiles’s window and climbed into his bedroom, a bag of curly fries in one hand.

Stiles was working at his desk, muttering under his breath. But the moment Derek placed a foot on the floor, he was jumping up with his pen pointed out threateningly. Except, then recognition flashed through his eyes and the boy’s shoulders slumped a little.

For less than five seconds. And if remembering himself, Stiles’s eyes suddenly flashed again and he straightened right back up.

“What the hell are you doing here, Derek?”

Derek pulled himself the rest of the way into the room and wordlessly offered the bag of curly fries forward. Stiles hesitated for a moment before taking it and giving the contents a sniff. Then his eyes flicked back up, narrowing, and he pulled the bag protectively into his chest.

“Okay, so you brought food. Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“Why would I apologize?”

The words slipped out before Derek could stop them and he instantly hated himself. Stiles clenched his jaw and Derek finally caught the scent in the room— that other than fries.

Dejection was probably a pretty good word for it. Dejection mixed with anxiety and a hint of anger.

Derek swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles didn’t say a word, still glaring at him. Glancing down at the floor, Derek shuffled his feet.

“I shouldn’t have started avoiding you.”

“What the hell was up with that?”

Internally, Derek fought the urge to turn around and pull himself right back out the window. He figured that would probably cause more problems than it would fix and he really didn’t want to have to go through this again. Ever.

“Derek—”

“I just needed to think,” Derek said, cutting him off. Stiles drew back a little, gripping the bag of fries tighter, and Derek sighed, jamming his hands deep into his pockets. “It wasn’t you.”

“It— it wasn’t me? What is that even supposed to mean, Derek?”

Honestly, Derek was still figuring that out.

“I swear to god,” Stiles said. “If this is some sort of ‘it wasn’t you, it’s me’ speech, I’m never going to talk to you again. I’ll probably be confused as hell and more than a little concerned about what’s going on in your wolfy brain, but I’ll still never talk to you again.”

That was one option, Derek figured. Then he hated himself for that thought.

Stiles stared at him as Derek stayed silent. And it was like the boy was pleading with him now; silent and strained, knuckles white and eyes searching Derek’s face for any hint of an answer.

Derek’s mind spun. Stiles’s shoulders drooped.

“Go away, Derek.”

Fuck.

Before Derek could stop himself, he took a step forward. Step one. Hands in fists in his pockets, heart thudding against his chest. It had been weeks since he’d been in Stiles’s room and it all crashed over him as familiar, and home, and right.

“I don’t want to,” he said, then hesitated. Stiles blinked.

“What?”

“I don’t want to,” Derek said again. “Go, be gone. Not be around you.”

Stiles’s heart audibly skipped a bit. Derek swallowed hard.

“I like it,” he said. And why the hell was this so hard? Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Derek took another step forward. Step two. “I like being around you.”

Stiles’s scent was anxious and confused now and the boy nervously licked his lips, not moving from the spot where he stood. Derek tried not to follow the action, gathering himself up to take one step closer. Step three.

“I like you, Stiles.”

Silence.

That’s what crashed over the room as Stiles stared at him. The urge to flee the room struck Derek the moment the words came out, and he stuffed his hands right back into his pockets, hunching in on himself.

Silence was all there was. Stiles continued to stare at him and Derek couldn’t even hear the boy’s heartbeats over the white noise filling his ears. 

Fuck.

“Never mind,” Derek said, the words suddenly spilling out. “Never mind, forget it.”

Before he could stop himself, he was turning around and heading back to the window. Forget the avoidance strategy— he might just have to leave Beacon Hills altogether. Go back to New York, find a job fixing up old cars again.

But then there was a hand on his sleeve, keeping him from taking another step and Derek froze. The window— his escape— was only a few feet away.

Slowly, Stiles pulled him back and Derek didn't fight, turning around to face him. Amber eyes and a mole dotted face.

Soft lips that were barely containing a small smile.

“Derek,” Stiles said, the smile slowly growing bigger. “Did you just say what I think you did?”

But Derek was rooted to the spot and just like that time back at the diner, all those weeks ago, he had absolutely no voice.

“Derek,” Stiles said again, stepping closer. “Sourwolf?”

“Your fries are going to get cold.”

Yeah, that’s the first thing that left Derek’s mouth.

Except, Stiles’s face just lit up and he laughed, the sound like wind chimes in the breeze. There was a new scent in the room and Derek could have melted as feelings of happiness washed over him. Stiles’s hands slipped down to Derek’s own and the boy's fingers brushed against his, before threading through them carefully.

Derek’s chest tightened and it felt so weird.

“Derek,” Stiles said, eyes dancing. “Do you know what they call people like you?”

“No,” Derek whispered. Where had his breaths gone? “No, Stiles. What do they call people like me?”

Stiles beamed, bright and wide. He tilted his chin upward before leaning forward, breaths warm against Derek’s skin. “Adorable.”

Had it been any other day, any other moment, Derek would have fought tooth and nail against anyone ever calling him adorable. But then Stiles’s lips were brushing against his own and Derek all but fell into the touch, the feeling, any rational thought leaving his brain.

Adorable. Huh.

Maybe he could be that for Stiles.

-

If Derek thought about it, he couldn’t remember the exact time he changed. 

It might have been gradual. It might have been slow, like each step of a waltz moving closer and closer to what he never wanted to become. Losing everyone he loved, turning into something he didn’t recognize. It was the steps— one, two, three. One, two, three, and then he was all alone in the world.

He'd been alone for so long.

But then one day, Stiles Stilinski took his hand. Took his hand, kissed him softly, and showed him how to dance again.

- -

A/N: so, I’m very late to these prompts, but I finally have some motivation again! I hope this prompt came out (late) but alright @jbbarnes​ <3 

[adoracora-elizabeth]

The truth always comes out, chapter 21

Robert was looking at his hands, this was the moment they would talk about their future. He had dreaded it the entire day, and when during their walk, there was no talk about Jane he had felt relief. Was Cora able to step over it? Did her time away do her good? But her last words had made him question every good feeling he had. She was not going to forgive him, was she?

"Cora." He still did not look up. "I have thrown that letter away. It is no longer in my possession." He waited for a reaction, but there was none. "I regret every move I made with Jane. I regret even having feelings for another woman. You are the love of my life, and I do not know how I lost track of that. I let disappointment clutter my mind and acted on it. You do not deserve that. You are allowed to give your time to Mary or anything else that interests you. I." He fell silent. There was again no reaction from Cora. He heard her breathing, but she sat there very still. He dared to look up and saw she was looking at him, with a look in her eyes that he did not recognise. "I have been a fool, and I hope you can forgive me." He got up and sat down in front of her on his knees. He refrained himself from taking her hands in his. "Cora? I made a fool out of myself by wanting another woman."

"You made a fool out of me too, Robert." Cora's voice was soft and without emotion. "You made me believe you loved me and only me."

"I do only love you, dearest."

Cora huffed. "Clearly not. If you loved me, you would not have shared the bed with another woman."

"I never slept with her, I stopped."

Cora pierced her eyes into Robert's. "You wanted too."

Robert could not bare to look into her eyes, and he averted his face.

"I am right, am I? I know, I had been absent for a long time, and yes, I should have noticed the pain you were in regarding Sybil and Tom. But all that does not excuse you from sleeping with another woman."

"I did not sleep with Jane. We only kissed."

Cora shivered. "The only reason why you stopped was because you got interrupted."

Robert looked back at Cora. He could see the pain in her eyes, and he hated the fact that he was the reason for that pain. He lowered his eyes once again. "In that moment, I indeed wanted her."

"While I was fighting to stay alive, you played around. All the while playing the worried husband, but as soon as you got the chance, you went to her. Didn't you?"

Cora's tone made Robert look up. "No, it wasn't like that." He reached out his hands, but Cora pulled hers back. "The moment I realised what I was doing, I stopped it. I told her repeatedly; we could not be together."

A tear escaped Cora's eye. "You still want her, don't you?"

Robert gasped. "No, no, there is not one fibre in my body that wants her. Not one! Cora, please, you have to believe me." Robert felt his heartbeat rising. He was losing her. No, he had already lost her. There was no way she was coming back to Downton with him. He had blown it. His happy marriage was gone, just because he made one stupid mistake.

"You know, it does not really matter if you want her still or not. You wanted her in that moment. And if you truly regretted what you had done, you would have sent her away and, most of all, never held on to that letter." Cora's voice broke.

"I cannot explain why I hold on to that letter. I can explain why I did not fire her."

"Robert, stop this. You could have sent her away with a good recommendation and made sure she would find a job elsewhere. But no, you were happy with her close to you, so you could still fantasise."

Robert sighed. In this whole ordeal, which was the biggest mistake he made. Keeping her on, not wanting to let go of that feeling of something new. His long marriage with Cora had been a wonderful one. She knew how to please him in every aspect of his life, especially in the bedroom. But the feeling of something fresh and young had aroused him to the core. He felt most guilty about that. "She is gone now and will never come back."

"Jane is gone from the house, but she will linger around in your thoughts, and what will you do when a new young and attractive woman comes to work in the house? Are you going to explore again?" Cora heard how hard her tone was, but she could not care. Robert had gone too far, and there was no return possible. He had damaged her, her belief in a faithful marriage, her belief that she was loved and the number one in his life. The only ones who had outshined that love were their three girls. The day they were born, there had been so much love for the girls, but most of all, for each other. If nature had let them, there would have been more children. They loved each other like she had never seen before. She had read about this kind of love in books, and she had counted herself lucky to have that in her life. But it all had shattered.

"You are leaving me." Robert stated incredibly soft, he sunk against her knees. "I lost you." He started sobbing.

Cora did not know how to react. The last time she had seen him cry was after the loss of their baby boy. Something deep inside wanted her to wrap her arms around him and forgive him. She needed him in her life as much as he needed her. But she could not do it. She could not get rid of the image in her head. Robert kissing Jane.

They had vowed to be faithful to each other, and he had broken that vow. "You have broken my trust." She said, her voice thick from tears.

Robert looked up and reached towards her cheek. He softly touched her skin, which was wet from tears. "I am sorry, my love."

Cora had to fight the urge to rest her head against his hand and let him comfort her. Was she able to go on without him? She had always needed him to ground herself. She was her rock. After her father had died, he had been there for her. His strong presence, always there for her to lean on. "Please, leave." She said very softly. "Go back home."

Robert took Cora's hands in his. "Are you asking me to leave for now, or……?" He could not say the words.

Cora did not pull her hands back. She was too exhausted. "I want a divorce." She said, almost inaudible https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14247899/21/The-truth-always-comes-out

[bella-caecilia]

#21 pink please!

Thank you so much for the prompt! You sent this a while ago so please, forgive the late response. Here is finally some young Cobert angst! Contains (light) smut. Probably M-rated

Pink – Immature, Timid, Unconfident

1890

Cora had to leave. She had to get out and walk; walk away. Ideally, she would like to run. But she knew best that this wouldn’t do. It was pity enough that she had had to call her maid and wait for her to make her ready to go outside. Everything was so unnecessarily complicated in this world.

The tea with the family had grown to be unbearable. Being there with him as he nibbled the tiny but countless teacakes so totally unbothered. Mama displayed her practised cheerful tone whenever a topic was discussed that excluded Cora for the mere fact that she didn’t understand enough context to be a part of the conversation. If the discussion did include her though Mama’s eyebrows arched high on her forehead and her voice was monotonous and grave. As if everything regarding the young daughter-in-law was a touchy and serious topic. Papa usually stayed silent during these discussions. Sometimes his jaw clenched visibly. A sign that he was thinking about something that posed a difficulty, a challenge. Robert either averted his look, glancing out the windows across the carefree land or mustered Cora with a critical expression. His brow furrowed, sometimes his eyes squinted a trifle, and he regularly took sips of his tea to avoid having to add something directly addressed to his wife. It was so plain and it didn’t hurt less with every day it was repeated. Cora was a problem nobody quite knew how to handle.

She huffed and clutched the fabric of her coat with both hands, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her breath escaped her lips in tiny clouds of warmth. She stalked down the path leading away from the estate. She didn’t want to believe it. She was no problem. They didn’t say it out loud. None of them did. But, oh, how she felt it in their looks, their tones, their sighs. Cora was hard to integrate and hard to teach. Cora was slow on what she was expected to deliver. Cora wasn’t easy to love.

She pressed her lips together as her pace quickened. A futile attempt to run away. Away from her thoughts. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they thought like this. Because it wasn’t true. She easily integrated and learned. She did her best to quickly realise every request and task directed at her. And she tried so hard to be loveable. She blinked her eyes. She was not a problem.

No one said so, she told herself. But why then couldn’t she help but feel as if she was whenever in the presence of her new family?

“But you were raised to be a mother one day, weren’t you? It’s not that they taught you something different in America, right?” Violet had asked dead serious, her eyebrows raised in a challenging expression. Cora hadn’t anticipated such a low dig and had turned her slightly open-mouthed face to her husband. What was she to say? Was this really how a daughter-in-law was treated here? But Robert’s reaction had stung even more. He had looked at her curiously, seriously considering Mama’s inquiry an interesting question. It had taken all of Cora’s well-trained composure to suppress an outraged gasp.

“Well, of course,” she had given back simply and calmly. She had tried to chew on one of the pink-iced teacakes but the crumbly sponge cake had gotten stuck in her dry throat. The sweet sticky icing had tasted traitorous as she observed Robert casually licking it from his fingertips, thinking no one was looking at him. She just hadn’t been able to stay a minute longer in this room. So, she had put the pastry aside instead and had smiled a sugary smile at Mama while saying, “You’ll see it when the time comes. If you may excuse me now. I’m tired.”

She was tired. Tired of it all. Still, she wandered the grounds restlessly. Because she couldn’t bear the stifling silence of the spacious halls. She couldn’t comprehend how there could be such a huge distance between Robert and her. How was it that they hadn’t managed to grow closer by now? She tried to push away the rising images of last night but after the first flash of his bare vision hovering over her, she was lost in the spiral of still fresh memories.

There had been the usual knock on the adjoining door. Brisk and inquiring. Cora knew he wouldn’t come in if she gave no response. He didn’t disrupt her sleep and wouldn’t invade her privacy. One time she had been dozing already, and rubbing her eyes it had taken her a while to realise she must have been woken up by his knock. Her reply had been groggily, and he had only popped his head in tentatively. “I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll let you sleep.” She had told him he didn’t have to but he had insisted. A few times she had considered not letting him in. Being on her own would maybe be less alone. But she hadn’t had it in her. If she was awake, he was welcomed in her room. It had been the same last night.

“Come in!”

He opened the door soundlessly and pulled the strings of his dressing gown belt tighter as he closed the door behind him. Cora sat propped against the headboard of her wide bed, her hands clasped over the closed book on top of her covers. Her full attention was on him, her gaze following his every move. Robert’s eyes didn’t meet hers. He took quick steps towards the bed and sat down on the edge with his back to her.

“Do you have a new dressing gown?” Cora inquired. She couldn’t stand the silence in the room. It seemed he was avoiding her at all cost. He was about to take off his slippers but paused to lift his right arm and muster the fabric of his dressing gown.

“Could be,” he gave back with a shrug of his shoulders. “Have you never seen it?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Cora kept her tone light. The dressing gown founds its place at the feet of the bed. Finally, Robert turned to her. He looked at her for the first time. Shortly, he acknowledged her face, sweeping his eyes over her features, before he settled his gaze on the book in her lap.

“Did I interrupt you? We don’t have to if you don’t like to.” He stayed seated on the edge of the bed. A safe distance between them.

“No, I haven’t even begun reading yet,” she quickly replied. “And of course, I like to have you here.” She smiled softly because it was true. No matter how awkward it sometimes was (mostly because of his absence of mind) she preferred to have him with her. That maybe was the problem.

“Well, if you say so,” he sounded little enthusiastic. His former question seemed a bit like an excuse to her. As if he was looking for a way out. But he got onto the bed fully now, and she was quick to put her unopened book to the side. She brushed the loose curls of her dark hair behind her ears, trying to push them into the night coiffure her maid had applied with a simple silk ribbon at the back of her neck. Robert moved over the mattress, lifting the light upper covers to slip beneath them. Suddenly, Cora felt a hit of his breath at her neck as he shuffled closer and a rosy blush spread on her features. She lowered her gaze. God, he wasn’t even doing anything and she was flustered already! What this man did to her!

“You look nice tonight, Cora,” Robert spoke softly. His palm cupped her cheek and slowly wandered down under her chin, lifting it lightly. She looked into his pale blue eyes cautiously. Her lashes fluttered as she was searching for some warmth there. His gaze dropped instantly when his hands wandered to her waist. His touch was gentle and distant. But she had missed the opportunity once again to come closer to her husband’s warmth. She knew it was there, enveloping all his tender feelings. But for whatever reason, she was being kept away.

Robert now fought with the constricts of Cora’s dressing gown. The dusky pink garment was wrapped at least once around Cora’s slender body. She had gone to bed with it for the chilliness of her room. The smouldering fireplace was much too far away from her lonely spot in the big bed. Robert huffed when he didn’t get the soft material from his wife’s torso.

“Let me help you,” she whispered and struggled from the offending piece of clothing less elegantly than planned. With a sweet and encouraging smile, she turned to her husband beside her and reached out her arms to start unbuttoning his nightwear but as if it was a serious battle, he grasped one button after the other, trying to do it faster than she. When he was about to untie his lower garments, Cora’s hands laid idly in her lap.

“May I?” he turned to her and his hands hovered over her thighs. She only nodded. Robert pushed down the blankets a little and grabbed the exposed material of her nightgown. He gathered it in his hands until he had reached the lower seam and one of his hands sneaked underneath, seeking the waistband of her drawers. His lips connected with her cheek as he loosened the string of her waistband. He pressed a kiss to her lips as he pulled down her underwear. Cora returned his kiss heartily before she helped him getting the drawers off her legs. Now Robert moved above her, taking off his pants completely and then pushing her nightdress up, revealing her full nude vision. Right before Cora took the dress to pull it over her head, she saw his eyes wandering over her body as unrestricted as nearly never. She was very eager to throw the nightgown aside if he was to devour her with his eyes like this. His hand dropped between her legs again, cupping her down there and gently beginning to stroke. Cora sighed. He could do this more often she thought. His eyes had locked with her chest and he seemed to be considering something. She could practically see him taking heart. And then, his mouth descended on her breasts, kissing them extensively one after the other. Cora closed her eyes. Her head sank weakly back into the pillows. Her silent sighs turned into soft moans. At first, she laid there passively and savoured his passionate attentions. After a moment, her hands found his head and her fingertips disappeared in his sandy curls. She drew light circles on his scalp, gently scratching the back of his head. His lips travelled up her chest and neck and connected with her open lips. Cora pressed her mouth to his hard and sucked his lower lip between her teeth. She felt him shuffle between her spread legs until his hardness pressed against her. He broke the kiss and his eyes searched hers questioningly. She returned his intense look and nodded.

Pushing inside her, his eyes fell close and his lips parted slightly to let out a low moan. Cora tried to relax, wanting to give in to the pleasurable experiences that, at this moment, were right in her reach. Being this close for her to grasp. But since the moment Robert had broken their fiery kiss, he was distant. Their skin only touched barely. They were about to absolve this task with minimal contact she feared. He began moving above her slowly but Cora felt cold. With his hands and lips on her, it had been as if her body had forgotten the freezing temperatures of her room. But now, his hands were pressed into the mattress on either side of her chest and his lips were up there, high above her. Far from her reach.

Cora didn’t want to force more closeness on him. She didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. So, she did as she did so often and laid there beneath him, trying to make it work the way he predefined. But today, the cold took hold of her and it made her panic a little. It had started out so nicely. So much closer and more intimate than usual. She had liked it. It had been thrilling, it had made her nervous but she wanted to explore it. As the fear formed in her head that he might not touch her again during the whole act and that it would turn out less satisfying than ordinarily, her hands sought at least the slightest contact and wandered up his tensed arms. Her grip grew tighter around his biceps, and he looked into her eyes. For a second, she wanted to ask him for a kiss because she felt like this was what his pink lips called for. But she didn’t. Instead, she pushed her hands onto his back as he began moving faster. And it worked. Robert buried his head into her neck for a moment and she held him in her arms as he rocked them both closer to the brink. It felt better this way. Cora was able to enjoy it more. And then, he started kissing her shoulder, and the warmth spreading from her core expanded with a much quicker pace. Cora mirrored his actions and his skin felt so good beneath her lips. When he was close, Robert lifted himself and they were able to look into each other’s faces again. And everything Cora saw from that point on was his flushed nude body moving eagerly above her. The blood rushing through his body coloured his skin light pink. He groaned. She only saw the rosy colour of his skin. She moaned. Skin on skin. Low moans and breathy sighs. Pale pink bodies holding on to each other so close… until… It was over. It was done, and the closeness was gone. A few moments later, he was gone as well.

“Goodnight,” he said with his back to her. How could he get back into his clothes so fast? “Sleep well.” He stood up. Only a brief look over his shoulder. So fleeting he couldn’t have seen anything at all really.

“Goodnight,” she breathed silently into the sound of the turning door handle. Over and done with. That was how they went to bed so many nights.

And now, as she walked down the gravel path, all she saw before her inner eye was skin. Rosy skin. A pale pink body. An innocent colour. She snorted. Innocent yet intimate. And in truth, it was none of it. Again and again, she herself created the appearance of intimacy between them. Yet there was none. Not for real. But she was sure that every time they had been a little closer last night, he had enjoyed it just as she. And still, he had escaped her. Cora was hurt. She opened her arms for him again and again, and he was running away cowardly. She saw glimpses of longing in his eyes, she was sure. Why when it sometimes seemed as if he did enjoy her company as if he revelled in her closeness, why did he chicken away like a moody young boy? Cora was frustrated. What made him doubt? What made him insecure?

Cora halted when her feet had made enough steps away from the estate. Her thoughts paused for a moment too. She looked into the pink sky, illuminated clouds drawing pictures of her lost home. Cora had spent endless moments marvelling at the spectacular Ohioan sky and practising her painting hand at the romantically pink and lilac cloud formations only a few years back. The vision now, hanging over her who she stood on the cold and harsh English land, made her eyes glassy with a yearning for a time lost. She used all her willpower to keep her lip from trembling. It would mean defeat and perhaps – a tiny but growing part of her mind feared it – it would also mean regret. She didn’t want to regret her marriage. She didn’t want to regret any of it. But more often than not it felt like everything she needed for her heart to be filled, filled with energy to live, had been taken from her.

And then, as her mind and eye resumed wandering, there was again skin, only skin for as far as her eye could reach. His light pink body being close to her. He was the only thing on her mind. And she wanted him to be her energy to live. Craved to be his energy, his reason for living. But she had to get these presumptuous dreams out of her head if she wanted to survive here.

...

if you want to send another prompt, here is the prompt list: Colour symbol prompts

[enigma-im]

Nineth day of Christmas...

Trope: Royal/Servant (NSFW) Relationship: Naga x Human Word Count: 5,137

I walk through the overly ornate halls with a breakfast tray in my hands. I pass a few coworkers on the way, nodding to them all with a polite greeting. The morning is peaceful and quiet. Nothing hectic is planned for the week and the thought makes me giddy. With a pep in my step, I turn down another hall. I catch sight of a slithering tail sneaking into a room. As I pass the door I see the prince heading to his office. Our eyes meet before he starts to close the door. He passes me a kind smile and a flirty wink. I snap my head away, staring down at the carpeted floor with a blush.

The prince is a handsome man, some even say more handsome than his other siblings. His scales a mottled red and blue that is an envy to all. He takes after his father on that front, only taking after his mother with his soft features. The prince is a kind man, a great pick for a king. Though he is not considered The prince, that would his eldest brother, Calcifer, he has been brought up to be respectable and wise as a king should. We all adore the royal family, from their eldest to their smallest babe of a few years, they all rule with honor.

I set the tray down in My Queen's room. Hearing her off in her closest I arrange her morning meal in a presentable fashion. Fish, insects, and water, a simple meal for her majesty.

"Cora, that smells delicious. Did Helen make it this morning," the queen asks as she slithers from the closet.

"Why yes, you have quite the nose for her cooking," I grab the unloaded tray off the table.

"She has a very particular style that I like and it's a smell that always has me salivating," she looks at me with an easy smile," good morning, Cora."

I bow," Good morning, queen Malika."

With breakfast served and pleasantries exchanged I make my way towards the kitchens to help prepare for lunch. With a household so big and busy it's best to do prep work now than later. The family doesn't make it so easy as to all eat at once in the dining hall. No, no, no. they all have their afternoon responsibilities that must be dealt with separately, thus beginning the great hunt of finding them all to deliver their meals.

Pleasant conversation is exchanged as we all rush around the kitchen. Mary tells of her firstborn speaking their first words, a joyous event for the first time mother. Helen educates us younger staff on and ins and outs of toddlers. Stephanie steals the attention away from the children to share the hot gossip of the palace. The king's preparations for visiting a neighboring kingdom to speak diplomatically. The eldest prince's date with his betrothed. Even how littlest Amare's first day of schooling.

With lunch in hand, I redo my walk through the ornate halls, passing others with similar trays to mine. I'm filled with giddy as I turn into an office, shutting the door behind me with my feet. The middle prince looks up from his work, giving that heartwarming smile.

"Afternoon, Cora," my name rolls off his tongue like a purr.

"Afternoon, my prince," I curtsey. I shuffle in to set the tray down near his reading chair.

"You know I do not care for such formalities," he scolds facetiously. I bite my cheek to stop the smile curling my lips. Taking the plate off the tray I twist towards him.

"Apologies, Keita," I say. He watches me walk around his desk, setting his dish on the edge. I bow, ready to depart to finish other chores. Before I'm out of reach he snatches my wrist, tugging me softly towards him.

"May I be so bold as to make a request from you, sweetest Cora," he pets the back of my hand.

"A prince does not have to ask for permission from someone like me," I answer. He smiles with a tilt of his head, his dark eyes catching the light.

"But what sort of prince would I be to not treat all my people with the utmost respect," he clarifies," I wish to see you tonight, in my chambers for a bedtime snack."

"a bedtime snack," I playfully mock," now what sort of treat are you hoping I'd bring?"

He grins salaciously," a creamy tart or perhaps a stuffed pastry?" I giggle, heating up at such words.

"a dessert before bed, have you not heard of sugar giving one nightmares," I ask.

"Then good thing you will be there," his tail curls around my ankle," with a beauty such as yours surely you can ward off any and all treacherous dreams."

I playfully swat his hand away," too many sweet words from such a sweet prince. Shouldn't let me get any ideas."

His tail twines up my calf," may I ask what sort of ideas is coming forth in that head of yours?"

"oh, Keita, a woman shouldn't say such immodest things," I take a step back, feeling his scales glide across my skin as I make my exit. His eyes follow me as I grab the tray and make my way to the door. With a final look back I smile at his affectionate gaze.

"Till tonight, Cora," he says.

"Can't wait," I answer.

With the moon high in the sky, I make my way through the ornate halls for the third time. The way is dimly lit with gas lights. It feels scandalous to walk through these halls like a stranger in the night. I nearly giggle at these events waiting for me. Stopping before a door I right myself, adjust my hair and clothes. With a huff, I knock and twist the knob.

Walking into the poorly illuminated room I don't see signs of anyone here. Am I early? I take a timid step in, looking around cautiously. Opening my mouth to call out for him I feel a familiar touch to my ankles. Quickly I twist around, tugging into a comforting embrace. Lips slat against my own with a rewarding glide of pointing teeth against my skin.

"Evening, Cora," he greets as he peppers sweet kisses down my face.

"Evening, Keita," I pet at his hair," rather eager tonight, aren't we?" he suckles on my clavicle, stretching my collar to reach more of me.

"It's been weeks since I've got to have you, forgive me for being more excitable than usual," he answers in a rush. His cold tail curls around me, squeezing me in a comforting embrace.

"it's been merely days, Keita, no need to be so dramatic," I try to scoff. He steals my thoughts with a well-placed tail peaking up my skirt. The strong tip pets at my clothed heat with practiced ease. I nearly melt at the contact.

He perks up away from my neck with a smug face," a day without seeing your beautiful body is like a hundred to my weary self."

Keita drags me away from the door, laying me upon the bed before attacking me like the beast he is. Love bite where one would not see, touches that set my body aflame, and kisses that make even the soberest feel drunk. He discards me of my clothes quickly, attending to himself after a thorough examination of my bared chest. His cocks stand proud, both weeping just for me. It's an intoxicating sight that can make any woman feel like a queen.

I take him like I've done many nights before. Taking the pleasure he gives and giving the pleasure he demands. Silent cries echo just for us, gentle praises were spoken specially to one another. For tonight his body is mine, to please and worship. The reds and purples are like a painting that God has graced him with. The design was made to be admired by all and cherished by me. I adore this prince of mine, will adore him till my last breath.

We lay together, I curled up in his long tail. His head rests against my bosom, pressing lazy kisses to me. One of his cocks still nestles against me, taking it's sweet time to shrink after decorating my stomach. I pet at his hair with a content hum.

"I must be leaving soon, it would be bad to fall asleep here," I mumble. He groans in answer, squeezing me tighter to himself.

"Just a moment longer," he kisses my breast," let me know this peace for another second." I nod, just as reluctant as him to let go.

I sneak through the halls once again, thinking back on the night with a girlish smile. The prince and I have been nursing this affair for a while. Perhaps nearly a year, since the last snowfall. I look out the window, the next winter is soon. We never planned for it, never truly needed one another as we do now. Keita isn't a prince in line to become a king, he is but a son who was born after one wasn't needed. He doesn't care though. He enjoys his life, enjoys his luxuries. Enjoys me.

My room is quiet when I enter, too cold without someone to lighten the space. I fall into bed with a lonely sigh. We didn't think it would get so far. It was just an agreement to warm one another without risk. Now it's more. I agreed with Keita to keep things a secret, that stress of being in the spotlight nearly too much for me. I'm not a royal or someone of great importance and I'm keen on keeping it that way. For now, we are allowed this, to have fun without problems. That's the way I like it.

At the end of the week, the king returns from his trip with gifts for the family. All it bright in the castle with everyone accounted for. As I walk the halls delivering the queen her afternoon meal I see the king take Keita to his office. Keita passes me a quick sweet smile, nearly distracting me from my task.

I drop the tray off for her majesty, exchanging pleasant conversations. She raves on and on about little Amare. It's sweet to hear a mother speak so excitedly of their child. I've heard terrible things of sister kingdoms who don't have this familiar love for one another. It's heartbreaking to think these other royals can't have such a pleasant dynamic.

Dinner comes around with me tasked to feed prince Keita. With a pep in my step, I make my way to his office. When I enter he seems distracted, staring off into nothing with a contemplative look.

"Are you alright, sir," I ask as I set his plate down. He jumps from his thoughts, finally acknowledging me.

"Oh, sorry," he straightens himself," a bit busy today." I nod, watching him either way. With the conversation seemingly done with I bow before making my way back to the kitchens.

The week is lonely without Keita. He hasn't extended any invitations this week, keeping to himself in his office for most of the day. His mother even tries to express concern for him, asking a favor of me to check on him after lunch. I agree, my motives syncing with hers.

With a treat in hand, I rush off to Keita's office. The dessert is but an excuse, it being rather rude to come into a royal's room uninvited. I look at the chocolate pastry on the small plate, hoping that even something as simple as this could boost his mood. Entering his office I see him staring off into space again.

"Afternoon, sir," I bow," I have come with desserts." he snaps from his focus to look at me.

"Hello, Cora," he glances at the plate," my favorite? Have I done something good I don't know about?"

I smile," not that I'm aware of, but we all deserve a treat once in a while just because." I take the plate to him, setting it on the table as the silence begins to get awkward. He looks at the dessert for a moment too long.

"I'm sorry for being strange this week, I have a lot on my mind," he answers, all formality gone. I relax a bit.

"Your mother is worried about you," I say," and I'm starting to get a bit concerned as well."

He nods," Sorry."

We stand in silence again. I think about making my retreat, report back to his mother on the strange behavior.

"Alright, sir, I should be on my way now," I bow. As I step away he snatches my wrist.

"Can I see you tonight," he asks. I look at him, trying to pick any emotions off his features.

"yes, I'll see you in your room tonight," I nod. He lets me go, watching me as I leave his office.

I sneak into his room to be greeted with the familiar rendezvous. We tangle in the sheets once again, no words being exchanged. Tonight feels different though, slower and more intimate. It's an odd pace that warms my heart and twists my stomach. He is attentive with his affections, prying as many whimpers and cries from me as he can. Even as we lay in post bliss he just watches me, studying all of me. I meet his contemplative gaze.

"You are burdened," I reach out and pat his cheek. He cups my hand.

"I am burdened," he answers. I twist on my side, nearly touching foreheads with our nearness.

"Will you tell me," I ask. His body sags, his eyes dropping with a sigh.

"I rather not," he mumbles," but it will hurt us both if you heard it elsewhere." I sit up, brow furrowed in worry.

"What do you wish to tell me," I look between his beautiful dark eyes. He looks glum, dejected. Sitting up with me he watches for a moment longer.

"My father has given me news that brings sorrow more than joy," he says cryptically," I want you to know it's not my idea, I would have never agreed to this if I had a choice."

"Keita, you're worrying me," I recoil a bit. He reaches for my hands, tugging me closer to him.

"I know, dearest Cora, I just don't want you to be angry with me," he says," I couldn't bear to see your face twisted up in disgust when you look at me."

He speaks nonsense. How could I look to my sweet prince with hate? Only admiration can cross these features when I look at him.

"please tell me, Keita," I squeeze his hands," I can take it." he sighs, dropping his head.

"Father has promised me to another," he finally says," The eldest princess of Stezia. He arranged it on his visit."

I still at his words, feeling my heartbeat like a waterlogged drum. Promised to another? I hiccup as a sound tries to escape my throat. He is to marry? He squeezes my hands and tries to tug me closer, I twist away. I stare off into the room feeling dejected as he looked.

"Please, dearest Cora, I did not choose this," he tries to convince. I wither away at that moment. I'm to lose my sweet prince to another kingdom. How do I collect myself from this? Surely this pain will be my undoing.

Keita shakes me," say something, Cora, please." I look at him emptily.

"Princess Lilian is a fine woman and I think you would be a proper king to her," I answer formally," now if I may be excused, it is getting late." like an empty vessel I grab my clothes and redress myself. Keita tries to reason, saying words that I cannot hear. Without a word, I escape out the door, walk the halls, go to my room, and fall into my bed.

As my head hits the pillow all his words come rushing past my ears. I hiccup, a tear rolling down to my ear. With the first drop to lead the way, the dam is released. I curl into myself, crying like a woman who lost her love. I guess I am that woman. I wail into my pillow for the ignorance I've kept with me during this affair. I'm no princess, how could I ever pretend to be with a prince?

It's my turn to be distant and strange. Keita tries to catch my attention, tries to bait me with his words. I remain formal and proper through every exchange. He is a prince, how can I try to be unprofessional around him? My coworker takes notice of the hollow interactions. They too try to bait me into a conversation, even inviting me out for drinks. I decline with a curt smile, though they never meet my eyes.

I deliver the queen's dinner, sorting the plates onto her bedroom table. She sits in the chair by the balcony, gazing off to the setting sun.

"You have been withdrawn lately, Cora," queen Malika says casually.

"Don't mind me, Ma'am, I'm just a bit lost in thought as of late," I answer. She hums in answer, slowly turning her gaze to me. Malika watches me sort her meal, watches me pretend to have life in my bones. She hums again.

Standing from her chair she walks over, sitting at the table," would your suffering be because of some boneheaded decision my husband made?" I stiffen, gritting my teeth before plastering a smile back to my face.

"What ever choices my king makes is no worry of mine," I answer kindly. Her stare is heavy.

"You know the responsibility of a king is to protect his people," she asks. I nod," do you know the responsibility of the queen?"

"To be a guiding hand for the king," I answer.

"That is one," she eats a roasted insect from the bowl," the biggest responsibility is making sure their people are happy. I know everyone who works here, I've spoken to them all like treasured friends. Many royals have told me that is pointless but I believe to lead the people is to know them. So I ask you this, Cora. Do you love my son?"

I choke on my words, feeling cornered at this moment. I hurriedly grab the tray, ready to make an excuse to leave. She holds her hand up, pausing my attempt at a rushed departure.

"I just wish to know your intentions before I do anything," she clarifies," if you do not hold my son as dear as he holds you then I suggest you make your peace now."

I stumble on anything to say, floundering like a fish. The corner of her lip twitches towards a smile.

"I see," she look towards the window," then I suggest you meet Keita by the gardens tomorrow. He has much to say to you."

I gulp, nodding my head. She smiles, waving me off so she can enjoy her meal in peace. I shakily walk to the halls, nearly falling to my knees with nerves. How the hell does she know about Keita and me?

The next day is a rush of frazzled actions. I can't think straight, can't work, can't walk. Did Keita tell his mother? Did he plan this meeting in the gardens? I Malika the one who is orchestrating it all? What is to be said, what is to be done?

The time clicks away till sunset. My body is eager but my mind won't let me get ahead of myself. Surely this will all go terribly, who am I to wish for something pleasant with the prince? Surely this will all go well, the queen pulling strings and getting Keita out of this marriage. My brain won't rest.

I walk out to the gardens, admiring the flower wilting with the coming winter. The path is littered with petals, all varying shades of decay. Though dour, it's a lovely sight. I sit near the fountain, a chill going up my spine. Should have brought a jacket.

"You're here," a voice calls from behind me. Twisting around I see Keita slithering his way towards me. As he nears I stand from the bench, taking a step back. He freezes before the stone seat, shoulders dropping.

"as a suggestion from your mother do I sneak here to meet with an engaged man," I swallow hard," speak your peace, and I will mine."

"I-I'm sorry, Cora, I had to see you," he tries to get closer but I step back," my mother has spoken with me a lot as of late. It seems she is right when she says she knows all that goes on in her castle." he chuckles, half-heartedly.

"She is a good queen, was foolish of us to assume she wouldn't find out," I say, looking to the side. I can't bring myself to look at him, to allow myself a moment to adore his beauty again.

"Well, she has offered me much to think on," he slides around the bench," she doesn't give me direct instructions on how to war this battlefield but she guided me to do as my heart wishes." he continues ever closer, forcing me back against the fountain. As my calf knocks the edge and I nearly fall back he grabs me. Stealing me closer he presses his sweet lips to mine. In a moment of weakness, I allow him, missing his caresses like a removed limb.

I push him away," You are betrothed, please show some decency."

He grabs me again," Screw the marriage. I haven't asked for much as the middle child, I think I deserve to have this one thing I want." he kisses me again, forceful and rough. I wiggle in his hold, ripping myself from his grip.

"No," I shout," I will not be a mistress to you any longer! This game we play is not without rules, I will not be the one to suffer while you get what you want. I can't stand by and let you marry someone else while you string me along!"

"But, Cora," he reaches for me," I don't have to get married, we can run away together. We can go somewhere else and start a new life for us without the rules and restraints of here." I want to scoff at his suggestion, truly seeing his age now. He is a prince but he still has much to learn in the ways of being an adult. Twenty years of life in a castle hasn't shown him the harsh reality of life outside the walls.

"Keita," I sigh," that won't work."

He finally grabs me," Why not? I can provide for you, take care of you. We can start a family out there where I don't have to be part of arranged marriages and foolish things like that."

I shake my head," you don't know the first thing of being outside pampered living. I won't let you even if you did."

"Won't let me," he scoffs," Cora, you are being stubborn."

"And you're being daft," I chuckle bitterly," we have to end this. I can't be strung along and you can't be forced into this situation. I want you to continue living this life with your family. To have connections to them because they would be distraught without you." I pet at his cheek.

"Don't," he clenches his eyes shut," don't, please."

I stroke his scales," I will treasure our time together but we can't be. I'm not what you need."

"Yes you are," he barks," stop saying that."

I bite back tears," It's true. Your father would never allow such a thing. You are part of a proud family that is adored by all in this kingdom. I'm not worthy of standing beside you and being a princess."

"no," he shakes his head," no! you are worthy and I will do whatever I can to prove that. Mark my words, Cora, we are not done till I've exhausted every option."

I try to argue with him, try to get him to see reason but he fights back. Reluctantly I give. I let him believe there is a chance, let him believe we can actually be together. We depart with another forced kiss that has our teeth nearly clanking against each other.

I lay in my bed that night feeling worse than before. A seed of hope settles in my chest, the smallest rotted seed. Maybe he can figure it out. I try not to nurture that thought.

The week I try to forget about Keita and work as usual. I barely see him in passing, perhaps once or twice as he storms out of sight at the end of the hall. The queen is kind, more so than usual. Her request is improper for a maiden like myself. She asks to eat lunch with me, telling me to fetch my own food and bring it to her room. I have to reluctantly agree, enjoying some lively conversation.

I'm doing my best. It's all I can do at this point in time. The man I love is fighting tooth and nail for me in a battle I'm almost positive he can't win. Too many rules forbid such a thing, too many traditions and promises stop us. I sigh as I walk down the halls. Ornate and beautiful like always.

"You," someone snaps at me. Twisting around I find Keita slithering up to me. I take a step back in surprise as he snatches my arm and makes his way down the halls.

"What are you doing," I try to jerk my arm out of his grip," where are we going?"

"We are going to my father," he sneers. I turn cold.

"T-The king?"

"Don't have any other fathers beside him," he snaps. If I wasn't so afraid I would be scolding him.

Keita drags me towards the main hall, shoving the doors open unceremoniously. We both walk to the king who stands near a window surrounded by couches and tables. The main room hosts lots of meetings. The king looks to us both, quirking a brow at his son.

"I'm tired of all this sly bullshit," Keita starts," I'm not a subtle person, and trying to be has gotten me nowhere. So I speak plainly to you now, father, I do not want to marry princess Lilian. I want to marry maiden Cora."

The room is heavy with silence as the king turns his attention from Keita to me. His eyes study me, making me want to curl up and die. It a feeling I never wish to have again. I've worked with the family for a while now but the king has remained an intimidating man. His wife is the only one known to speak with him as an equal, even his children pay his respect in all regards. Except now, clearly.

"Do you bring this woman here as an alternative to Lilian or as the original interest," the king asks.

"I love her," Keita growls," she would never be a substitute." I would fluster at his validation if the king was watching me with those piercing eyes.

"In love? That's a heavy declaration," the king nearly smiles," You plan to ruin a relationship with Stezia with some childish crush?"

"Some childish-," Keita scoffs," I mean what I say. I love Cora more than any man can love a woman. More than any man can love anything. She is what brings me the most joy and I cannot bear to let that be taken away."

The king nods, looking out the window," Heavy declaration with passionate claims. I hope you are prepared to deal with whatever consequence may arise from this breaking of union with Stezia."

"I'll take whatever comes, as long as Cora is by my side," Keita says proudly. I'm left to gawk at the two, hopeful and fearful all at once. Is the king suggesting what I think he is?

"Then you get to be the one to tell king Dagda," the king looks back to us," if you agree then my next visit you are coming along to apologize to Lilian and her father. If that is all then you are dismissed."

"May it be my punishment for keeping quiet for so long, father," Keita bows," I speak truthfully when I say, thank you."

I get to see the king smile as he approaches Keita," I want my sons to be happy, there are no reasons to thank me for that." he presses a kiss to Keita's head before slithering out the room. I watch them both in awe.

With the king gone and me left flabbergasted Keita turns to me and lifts me in his arms. I yelp, holding his shoulders as I'm spun around. Keita litters my face with kisses, utterly engulfed in joy.

"Grow a backbone and take what you want, my mother said," he laughs," she tried to tell me and I took it the completely wrong way."

"She told you to confront your dad," I ask.

"Not exactly. I thought she meant to be determined with you, not my dad," he answers," either way, I'm ecstatic and I cannot be without you another moment."

Before I can ask he is whisking me away to his bedroom, laying me upon his sheets with the widest grin. He leans in, kissing me all over as he begins the task of removing my clothes.

"You know, I never said I agreed to any of this," I tease. He freezes, lifting off me with a quirk of his brow.

"Do you," he asks," agree to this?"

I scoff," Is this how you plan to propose to me?"

Realization strikes him as the smile comes back to his face. "Of course it's not. I will plan something grander than a romp in the sheets. For now, I need you, later we can share our love with the rest of the castle."

Keita rids my clothes and his own. His beautiful twin cocks stand to attention for me, sliding down my stomach before prodding at my entrance. I look up to him, reaching up and cupping his face. His gaze is filled with devotion and affection, it's almost alarming. He fills me, the second one resting on my stomach. We sit there, at peace finally being together.

I pet his cheek," I love you, Keita."

He kisses my palm," I love you, too, Cora."

We make love through the day, laying together exhausted that night. I let myself finally drift off in his arms, feeling full and delighted. Tomorrow will hold its own challenges but tonight, I'm happy.