#I didn’t trust my own translation skills

[malachitezmeyka]

High school literature is actually extremely detrimental for me because I will inevitably come across the most annoying character and immediately make them my entire personality. Like.. we’re studying Woe from Wit by Griboyedov and ever since we covered Act 2 it’s become an endless pattern of-

Any one of my relatives barring my dad’s SIL and her son: *says anything even remotely judgemental to me*

Me, immediately: I WONDER WHO THE JUDGES ARE!! With age they show hostility to freedom, they read the press that dates as far back as the Crimean war, they call it wisdom. They’re quick to criticise and curse and always sing the same old song, they never think they can be wrong. The older these men are, the worse. Where are those- *gets told to stfu, I’m a smartass, they get it*

[notafunkiller]

tying you to me

Summary: When your boss, Bucky, apologizes for being rude to you once again, things take an unexpected turn.

Pairing: boss!Bucky Barnes x marketing director!female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, sir kìnk, breasts insecurity, protected séx, bøndage, a little degrading, praising kìnk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

He’s well aware he went too far. He noticed right when he finished talking and took a look at you, but what is said is said. And the last thing he wants is Steve annoying him about the meeting.

“I don’t question the way you deal with employees, do I?” Bucky snaps, tired and really wanting this day to be over.

“What has gotten into you? What bothers you so much about her? I just don’t get it.”

Bucky sighs deeply, rubbing his hand across his face in frustration. “It’s not just one thing,” he mutters, his tone weighed down by a mix of tiredness and anger. “It’s a culmination... She’s fucking impossible.”

“Bucky, I get you’re upset, but taking it out on her isn’t fair. She did an incredible job, but you didn’t even listen to her. What’s really going on here?”

“I feel like she’s not seeing the bigger picture. We disagree constantly, and it’s making things difficult. Maybe I overreacted, but it’s been building up for a while.” Bucky leans in as he speaks, with his shoulders slightly hunched forward. His voice carries an edge that Steve notices immediately. He knows there is something about you that affects Bucky, but he can’t quite put the finger on it. Ever since he hired you, Bucky’s been angry with him too, which has happened only two or three times over twenty years of friendship.

“I can see this is really affecting you, Buck. If there’s something personal or if my decision to bring her on board has caused you any discomfort, talk to me. I just wanna make sure everything’s okay between us.”

He leans back a bit, surprised. “Personal? No, it’s not… it’s not about that,” he stammers, searching for the right words. There’s a subtle shake of his head, almost as if he’s trying to dismiss his own thoughts. He wishes there was a personal connection so badly that it messes with his head…

“Then what is it? I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. I know you hate when things are not under your control, but I made the right call to hire her. And you were really unfair to her, look,” Steve waves around as he speaks, and Bucky turns to look at you through the glass door. You’re still there… working. “She’s not just smart and creative, but also ambitious and hard working. I know how much you value this as well.”

“I didn’t mean to come off unfairly. It’s just…” Bucky sighs, moving to shift his gaze back to Steve. “Our ways clash, and it’s hard to manage it. I value her skills, but finding a middle ground seems impossible sometimes.”

“Look, Buck, I understand it’s tough, but it’s important to listen to her ideas too,” Steve responds, his voice carrying a firm yet empathetic tone. “Today? You didn’t even look over the outlines. Try giving her ideas a chance or just suggest new things without trashing all of her work. You’d be offended too.” He pauses, and Bucky’s focus is back on you. His eyes narrow slightly, studying your determined expression as you delve into whatever you are working on that he dismissed today. And for a few seconds a pang of guilt flickers across Bucky’s expression, which Steve immediately catches. He clears his throat and continues. “I understand it’s not easy to step back and apologize, but it’s not about who’s right or wrong. And, to be honest, you were wrong anyway. It’s about ensuring a healthy workplace.”

“I appreciate your perspective, Steve,” he begins with a calm voice. “But I don’t think it would make a difference.” His gaze briefly flickers towards you before returning to Steve.

“Trust me, it’ll make a difference, not just for her but also for the team. Give it a shot.” Steve smiles, patting him on the chest before standing up. “I’ll leave you to it. It’s so late.”

“Alright, lovebird, off to your nest?” Bucky teases. “Natasha’s waiting for her captain. Better not keep her waiting too long.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, someone’s got to keep the romance alive around here. Good night.”

“Night...”

*

The audacity of this man is unbelievable. After all that shit he pulled on you today, he has the nerve to order your food! He’s the reason why you’re still working at eight pm instead of lying on your couch.

You are so close to crying out of exhaustion and anger, but you won’t give him this satisfaction. And you won’t eat his food.

“Are you seriously gonna starve yourself?”

“I’m not hungry,” you retort, your voice sharper than intended as you give him an annoyed look.

Bucky’s expression softens instantly, a hint of concern flickering across his face. “Come on, you’ve been working the whole day” he insists, trying to reason with you. “You need to eat something. Did you even drink water?”

You shake your head weakly.

“Look, I-”

“If you don’t like Pizza, I can grab you something else.”

You raise your hand, waving around. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine. I’ll eat something when I get home.”

The idea of accepting anything from him like this feels wrong. You don’t want his pity.

“Stubborn as ever,” he sighs, muttering under his breath, and you look up to meet his gaze. For a moment, there’s a silent understanding between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension lingering from earlier.

What did Steve tell him to make him actually try to have a decent conversation?

“Look, sir,” you say through your teeth. “I don’t want your pity. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll manage. I just need to finish this.”

“This isn’t about pity.” His tone is firm. “You’re exhausted, and I’m just trying to help.”

“I said I’m fine. I’ll be done with these.” You lift your papers to emphasize. “And get home.”

“You’re not fine!” he shoots, surprising you. “And you’re too stubborn to see it!”

You’ve never seen him screaming before. Even when he is angry, he’s always the silent type.

“Don’t you dare!” you fire back all of a sudden, unable to hold back. If you’ll get fired, at least you should speak your mind properly. You can’t take more of this. He can’t step on you without consequences. “You are the reason why I am here anyway. Don’t play the concerned hero, just take your food and eat it...” You pause for a second before sarcastically adding. “Sir.”

“This isn’t just about the food, is it?” Bucky’s voice softens slightly despite his impulse to raise his voice again. “It’s about the meeting.” You keep looking him in the eyes, not denying the obvious. Of course it’s about the meeting. “Look, I am sorry, I know I should have handled things differently, but I’m trying to make it right.”

“You think a wannabe apology and food make everything okay?” You ask bitterly, standing up. “You humiliated me, Mr. Barnes. You didn’t even hear me out, you didn’t even listen to my ideas, what the team and I managed to do in the last few months. You disrespected them too! And I don’t get it...” You hate how tall he is. How perfectly his suit is ironed. How nice his hair is. Fuck him! “Ever since Steve hired me, you refused to communicate with me. It’s like you have decided who I am and what I’m worth without even giving me a chance, without acknowledging my efforts and results!”

“That’s not true,” he begins, trying to defend himself even though you both know you are right. “I made a mistake, I admit it, but I want to fix it.”

“A mistake?” You laugh humorlessly. “For months you’ve been treating me like shit, excuse my language.” You shake your head. “Actually I don’t. You should be the one apologizing! You look at me as if I am a scum, as if my presence bothers you. I come to you only when I have to, and you act as if I want to waste your time. Well, I wasted mine for months in this company. With you!”

Bucky snaps, feeling the frustration taking over him. “My decisions are based on what’s best for the company. It’s nothing pers-”

“That’s just a bullshit excuse to maintain the status quo!” you interrupt him, the tension escalating. You don’t care about this job anymore. Whatever will happen, let it happen. “You’re a stuck-up asshole, resistant to change and blind to new perspectives! My perspectives only, to be clear.” You see him clenching his jaw before his left hand covers his jaw. Oh, he’s angry. Good! “And it’s not even out of misogyny since you get along just fine with Shuri. So what is it? What is it, Mr. Barnes, that makes you hate me?”

“It’s not about you,” he insists, his voice strained with the effort to keep calm. “It’s about maintaining stability. It’s about-”

“Bullshit! You’re threatened by anything that challenges your authority! You’re just frustrated and insecure. You’re scared that someone else can do better things in their own way. You’re just a tyrant! I don’t know how Steve is friends with you. He’s such a great man, and you’re a dick.” You laugh. “God, I wanted to tell you this for so long. And if it’s not clear, I fucking quit!”

You’d smile widely if it wasn’t for his snort.

“You’re not quitting,” Bucky’s voice is low, but you still hear it.

He doesn’t believe you, clearly. But he will because you’re not joking or backing off. You can’t take another humiliation session, especially when you did nothing to deserve it. As much as you admire Bucky’s intelligence and company policies, he’s a fucking douchebag. To you.

“Watch me,” you retort instantly. Your heart starts racing as he takes another step toward you. He’s so close that you only need to get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“No, you’re not quitting. And you’re not walking out that door until we settle this.”

“Settle what, Barnes? Your ego?” You try to maintain your composure, but the closeness makes it hard for you to focus.

He sighs, and your eyes find his lips again. They are pink and wet from his tongue. If only he was less of an asshole and not your boss, maybe you would...

“This isn’t just about me and my authority.”

“Then what is it?” You're confused.

“It’s about you challenging everything I’ve built here,” he admits, looking straight into your eyes.

“And you can’t handle that?” Your voice is filled with sarcasm, but for once he doesn’t focus on that.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple, Mr. Barnes.”

“I... I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Deal with this... with you.”

“Deal with me?” You puff. “You’re insufferable, I am the one who has to deal with you and your constant checkups. With your: that’s not good enough, that needs to be changed, do this, do that over and over again.” You mimic his patronizing tone. “You don’t give me real suggestions-”

“I just... struggle with change.”

“And I’m the change you can’t handle?” The question hangs heavy between you, and his eyes drop to your lips this time.

“You challenge me,” he admits, his voice barely above the whisper. “You and your crazy ambition, your undying dedication, and your incredible ideas...” He pauses just to take a deep breath. “I feel like I’m suffocating every time I look at you.”

“Suffocating?” You roll your eyes. “How am I suffocating you? Just because I have an opinion and give you arguments-”

“I am fucking attracted to you, woman!”

You shake your head. He cannot just pull this lie and expect you to fall for it as if you are dumb. “Yeah, sure. Can you be a man for once and fucking take responsibility for your real thoughts and feelings? Just admit that you hate me!”

“Jesus Christ, are you that blind? For a woman so perceptive, you surely don’t see what’s right in front of you.”

You feel the anger take over your whole body. “Fuck you!”

“I wish! This is the whole point, the whole fucking point...”

“You want to fuck me for real?” You gasp, surprised and take a step back so you can look at him properly. He doesn’t seem to be joking.

“Deadly serious. And no matter how many times I tried to push this desire away, it just doesn’t work. You suffocate me. I imagine taking you all over my desk and couch. I imagine so many things, and I cannot focus.”

Before you can stop yourself, you slap him on the face lightly. Your palm is itching and gets red instantly, but you don’t care. As much as the info makes you happy, the context makes you super angry.

“So my team and I had to be humiliated just because you’re mad you want to get laid?”

“W-what? No!”

“No?”

“No. I deserved that,” he says referring to the slap. “But I meant what I said earlier. These are separate things.”

You cover your face with both your hands, not knowing what to say. What can you say? What should you think?

“I am sorry,” he sighs, and you hear him slowly walking away from you. “I should have said nothing. I am sorry. Please, don’t quit. You won’t have to work with me or even see me after this. Steve can take over, and you like him. I apologize not only for this, but also for my lack of… skills. I should have been more open to your ideas. And about tonight, I will wait for the HR email. I am sorry once again.”

Your head is spinning with all the things he’s just said. He wants you, but he’s also a bitch who cannot handle other opinions.

But you also want him. And you’ve wanted him despite how annoying he was. And he’s genuinely apologizing.

“Fuck it,” you whisper before going straight to him, pulling him by his tie toward you to kiss him.

He doesn’t hesitate at all, bringing his hands to your ass so you can feel each other better as he deepens the kiss instantly.

You shamelessly try to thrust your hips up a little as you let go of his tie, and his tongue feels like heaven in your mouth. His moan is low and hot, but you don’t let him breathe more than a second before you kiss him again, making sure to grab his hair and pull with force.

“Fuck me, Barnes. Fuck me right fucking now.”

He groans in your mouth once again, and you shiver.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fuck you so well you won’t remember or think about anything else but my cock for days.” You instantly drop your hands so you can reach for his pants. Unbuckling them isn’t hard, but the zipper gets a little stuck, so Bucky has to finish the job for you.

“God, James,” you moan at the sight. “You’re leaking.”

He’s not embarrassed by this at all. On the opposite, he grabs his briefs too and pulls them down, letting them fall along with his pants.

You’re staring, but you can’t help it. His cock is so hard, and it even twitches as he grabs it to show it to you. It’s so thick.

“For you. This is all for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he suddenly grabs your shirt by the front placket and rips it in two. The buttons fly everywhere, one almost hits him in the face, but you don’t care. You’ve never been more turned on in your life. He’s so hot!

“Oh god, James,” you whisper, unclasping your bra before he can destroy it. It’s your best one, and you still need it.

“Yes,” he groans at the sight of your breasts, but you cannot ignore the wave of self-doubt that takes over you. They’re a little bigger than they should be for your height, so the sight is not the prettiest, in your opinion. This has always been an insecurity of yours, and even more after your last boyfriend made sure to emphasize this before you broke up. But Bucky seems fascinated. With his eyes glued to them and his mouth semi-open, he leans in, bringing his hands to both of your breasts before cupping them. You get goosebumps as he folds them eagerly, and you hear him groan when they spill over as soon as  he tries to pull them together.

“James!”

But it’s like he can’t hear you, too engrossed in watching your nipples hardening even more, and before you tell him what you wanted to, you feel his wet mouth sucking in one of your nipples.

You’re taken aback, so he uses his gloved hand to make you stop moving by placing it on your waist firmly.

He’s suckling at this point, making low whimpers as he’s looking at you.

You swear you never saw a more beautiful man in your whole life. His blue eyes are hypnotic.

“F-fuck,” you curse, bringing your fingers to his hair. You need to grab something before you fall.

He switches to the other nipple, and you feel yourself throbbing. You need his cock so much. You need his mouth... you need him to make you come. And you want to do the same to him. He’s driving you crazy.

“F-fuck me! RIGHT NOW.” You’re screaming, but he’s not surprised, rather amused as he takes his mouth off your breasts with a pop.

“Easy there, you sound quite desperate,” he giggles as if he’s just made the funniest joke ever. You are desperate.

“Fuck me or I’ll finish myself off, and you won’t be able to touch me as I do. Your choice.”

You know he doesn’t like or do ultimata, but you have no alternative. You crave to be taken on his desk as hard as he can go.

“How can I fuck you if you still have your pants on?” He asks you extremely calmly, and you’re shocked. You expected a more... intense reaction. “Earth to you?” He waves his hand when he sees you zoning out.

“You didn’t take them off.”

“I don’t take your clothes off, love.” He smirks. “I rip them, so if you want them intact, you better do it yourself.”

You nod, enjoying how raspy his voice is, and take them off without looking away from his cock. Not that he could stop staring at your breasts. His eyes are glued to your nipples. Your underwear falls, and only when you step out of the pool of clothes and finally free your legs from the high heels, he brings his hand to your pussy.

“Oh God, look at this… drenched!”

You moan, moving a little into his palm as if you’re trying to ride it. You need him so badly.

“James-”

“I know.” He smiles, spreading your lips more. “I know. So needy, my poor baby needs her cock so she can relax.”

You whimper loudly as you close your eyes. “Take me, sir. Make me your little fuck toy. Take out your frustrations. You can... you can show me how I was wrong for quitting by fucking me until I feel your cock every time I walk. I need to,” you moan again as you keep grinding onto his hand. “Come on! Show me!”

Bucky’s eyes get so grey as he suddenly pulls his hand away, making you whine. You’re about to curse him, but what he does makes you stop. He starts to take off his tie quickly, and you smile.

“Good boy.”

That remark makes his snort, and he cryptically replies:

“Ah, ah, we’ll see about that later.”

“Take off that shirt faster, and your glove, too.”

That surprises him, his eyes immediately widening, so you decide to do it yourself since he’s not fast enough.

He freezes as soon as you pull off his glove, revealing a black with golden accents  prosthetic hand.

“This is so fucking pretty, oh my God! Why do you keep this hidden?” You turn his hand around, and you gasp, realizing what you’ve just said. “I am sorry if I seem insensitive, it’s just that...”

Bucky snorts, amused, not hurt, which makes you feel like you can breathe again. The last thing you wanted was to bother him.

“You got a kink for my arm now?”

“You talk too much,” you murmur at the same time you start to unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. Your hands are trembling.

When he’s finally naked, you let out a whimper, instantly reaching to touch his chest with both of your hands.

“You shave,” you say, surprised.

“Come on, love.” He smiles. “Touch my arm while you still can.”

You don’t question what he means by that, not wanting to worry too much. You expected this to be a one-time thing anyway, so you better enjoy every second of it. The arm is seamlessly integrated into his shoulder, and it's colder than the rest of his skin.

You trace a gold pattern all the way from his shoulder to his hand.

“I have a kink now,” you giggle when you see the sides of his neck getting pink.

“Well, I hope you have this kink, too, because…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he reaches for the tie he had on today and smiles. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“W-what?”

“Hands behind your back.”

“You want to tie my hands?” You ask, taken aback by his demand.

“Did you try it before? Do you hate it?”

No, you didn’t try, but it doesn’t sound bad, surprisingly.

You usually hate not being in control, but it’s Bucky, and as annoying as he might be as your boss, you trust him. Plus, you quit after all, you should enjoy this as much as possible. The thought of him tying you up is really sexy for some reason, so you simply turn around and bring your hands together above your ass.

He doesn’t hesitate and quickly makes a knot.

“Too tight?”

“No,” you whisper. It’s not tight at all.

“You can tell me to stop any time, okay?” He wraps his hands around your waist and turns you toward him. “I’ll stop immediately.”

You nod, trying to get used to not being able to raise your hands.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, James.”

“Good girl.”

You’d lie if you said it doesn’t turn you on like crazy. You’ve been indirectly fighting with him for so long without getting any kind of approval or praise for your work. He made you angry and stressed more times than you could count, but you still respected him. You wanted his approval and you craved him...

You got yourself off thinking about him, you imagined choking him out of anger, but then it turning into a completely different thing. And it feels surreal this is actually happening, and he finally calls you a good girl.

“Are you clean? Anything-”

“I always used a condom, and I do checkups every six months. I assume the same about you.”

You nod, not bothering to tell him you don’t remember the last time you had sex, all thanks to him and his impossible to please ass.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask, moving closer to him again.

“In the car,” he curses, but before you can tell him that you can try without one since you are on the pill, he speaks again. “Wait!”

You giggle as you watch him run out of the office with his ass wiggling. No way he goes to his car naked, right?

You jump on top of his desk, pushing a few docs on the floor with your knee. It’s quite difficult because your hands are tied, but you don’t mind. You wait excitedly for his return just to tease him, but you’re speechless as soon as you see him unwrapping the condom package with his teeth before he quickly rolls it on.

“Won’t the neighbor mind?”

“What he doesn’t know,” he grabs your legs as he speaks. “Won’t hurt him. You’re not gonna run your mouth now, are you?” There is something about his patronizing tone that makes you hornier. Maybe because you know you’ve been on his mind so much he couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Why? You want to keep my mouth occupied with your cock?”

You don’t expect to be turned around on the table instead, with your ass in the air. Holy fuck!

“How about I keep this pretty wet pussy of yours occupied, hmm?”

You close your eyes when you feel his cock at your entrance before he finally pushes in.

He’s crazy, he must be crazy if he thinks you can take all of his cock like this.

“B-Bucky!” You arch your back without realizing, fighting against the material of his tie so you can get free. The impulse to touch his back is absolutely overwhelming, and the coldness of his left hand drives you crazy.

“What happened?” His other hand goes up until it’s in your hair. “You got nothing else to say? Are you already cock drunk?”

“More!” you whimper. “I can take more of you, please.”

“Ah? So greedy for my cock.”

“Need it deeper, James. Need you to move faster.”

You don’t care how desperate your voice is or if you’re pathetic. “I just wanna be stretched open until I cry. P-please.”

You don’t realize he is holding his breath until you hear him exhaling loudly against your back before kissing the same spot.

“You wanna be fucked like you’re my good little toy, baby? You want-”

He stops speaking when you moan, trying to move your hands so you can touch him and push him deeper inside you by grabbing his ass.

That hot ass…

“Want you, sir. Please, make me a mess.”

And he does. He fucks you harder, making your eyes roll back, and you can’t help but try again to touch him.

“Just like that,” you cry out when your face hits the desk more forcefully than before. You can sense Bucky’s hesitation so you shake your head. “I’m fine, I’m... k-keep going.”

He doesn’t stop, he even goes faster yet somehow deeper than before, a combination you’re not used to, that makes you feel like he’s splitting you in half. Neither of you can properly talk anymore. You can hear him cursing and saying your name along with: your pussy’s drowning me, so wet, think you can t-take it harder, but there is a long break after every word so he can thrust back inside you. You can’t even call him James, your voice is so hoarse, and he’s so deep you cannot even breathe.

You don’t need anything more the second he pulls your hair harder than you’d ever expect. Before you know what’s happening, the pleasure explodes inside you, making you scream. You don’t even realize that’s your voice at first, too focused on trying to prolong this feeling as you push your ass back frustrated you cannot grab his thighs, while he keeps thrusting inside you. His balls hit your clit, and you moan, a little sensitive.

“Sir, please, c-come,” you whisper, turning your head to the side on the desk. “Come for your little fuck toy. U-use me.”

You flinch, shocked, when you feel a light slap on your ass all of a sudden, but it doesn’t hurt at all. Quite the opposite. You don’t have time to say something about it, though, because Bucky’s already burying himself inside you again as deep as he can, and you moan at the same time he does.

“J-James...”

He pulls your hair even harder while he comes, groaning your name and a low fuck, that almost makes you giggle.

“Jesus...” It’s the only warning you get before you feel his chest on your back.

“Barnes, you’re heavy!”

His laugh is adorable, but he’s indeed heavy, plus you also have your hands tied. When he finally moves, you hop off the desk, almost falling since your knees are weak. Now you can feel your thighs aching too. But it was all worth it.

Quickly, Bucky unties you, without saying a word, which only makes you more nervous.

“Thanks,” you whisper as you turn around to face him. Then, you watch him take off the condom and place it on top of one of the papers you knocked over with your knee earlier.

After wiping his hands on his thighs, he grabs your wrists gently, making you almost moan at the feel of his cold hand. You’re not hurt, but they’re quite red, probably from the times you tried to get free.

“Gonna buy some cream.”

You shake your head. “No need, I am sure I have something for this.” You try to sound as casual as you can, not wanting to be clingy in his eyes even after you quit. Even after this. “Can you hand me my underwear and pants, please?”

Bucky freezes for a second, but he still gives them to you. “Are you back to hating me?”

“What?” You ask as you start to get dressed. You don’t have the blouse, but your coat is warm. You won’t freeze.

“Why are you so cold now? Did I hurt you? Did I do anything wrong?” His concerned voice and look surprise you. You know he is nice, but you didn’t expect him to be attentive after.

“No, you didn’t. I assumed this is,” you wave around when you finish zipping up your pants. “Just wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

He doesn’t laugh.

“I told you, you’ve been on my mind for so long. Why would I... and even if it was just a one-time thing, why would I treat you like trash? Especially since we work together.”

“Worked,” you correct him before he hands you his shirt. You raise your eyebrow surprised.

“I’m not gonna help you get dressed, Barnes. You’re a big boy.”

“Put it on, it’s freezing.”

“I have my coat,” you protest, but he won’t take no for an answer, and you know it.

“On.”

“Fine!”

He helps you with it since your hands are, for some reason, still shaking. “Look, I was gonna invite you over to my place, but if I make you feel uncomfortable, or if you don’t want to see me...”

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows.

“Really?”

“We have some things to discuss, and I have a bath to run for you.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile as he finishes buttoning the shirt. “You want me to sign a contract to fuck you again?”

“Ha, ha. No.” He leans in a bit to kiss your forehead. “We have many things to talk about that don’t involve a contract.”

“Yeah? Like what?” You start to collect the documents from the floor. “The process of writing my resignation letter?”

You hear Bucky puff behind you. “You’re not quitting.”

“No?” You bite your lip as you look at him. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Me.”

“Hmm,” you whisper playfully before placing his papers on the desk. “How?”

“Let’s get home and we’ll see about that.”

[judesmoonbeauty]

Miss Fairytale Keeper, Come Have Fun With Us: Nica Schwartz EPILOGUE

Translations will not include screenshots or CGs as mentioned here. Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

Nica: She truly is a cute robin.

I heard a muttered voice and turned around, but he just smiled and waved.

Kate: Did you say something?

Nica: Nothing at all. Anyway, if you don’t go home, then will you keep doing naughty things with me?

Kate: I won’t!

When I turned away from him, Nica began to walk ahead, chuckling.

(I’m so tired today…..)

(It’s all because of Nica’s teasing me)

As I watched his nonchalant back, I felt a little irritated, but I didn’t feel any regret about taking his hand.

[Transitions to the Palace.]

One day, a few days after the mission —

(I’m glad the issue was exposed because there was evidence of illegal gambling.)

It was thought that the evidence had been lost in the fire, but a ledger left at the scene revealed illegal gambling, and was delivered to Her Majesty the Queen.

(This is just the tip of the iceberg.)

I recalled Nica’s words and came to a halt.

(Still, I think we need to solve the problems in front of us one at a time.)

With a changed mindset, I started walking,

(Maybe I should talk to Nica about it?)

I turned on my heel to search the entire palace to lay out the facts.

Nica: I found a cute robin looking for me.

At that moment, Nica appeared before me and I jumped in surprise.

Kate: How did you know I was looking for you?

Nica: Heh, so you really were looking for me.

(I’ve been taken along for a ride…..)

Nica: Is there something you wanted to say to me?

Nica: How about some tea?

When I accepted the invitation with a nod, he escorted me to the drawing room, where I sat down on the sofa.

Nica: So, you wanted to have a chat about the casino the other day?

Kate: How’s that….

Nica: I’m a staff officer, right?

Nica: Information gathering is a skill.

He takes a sip of his tea and begins cutting the deck of playing cards he has in hand.

Nica: The core of the aristocrats were arrested, but the children of the upper class were released on bail.

Nica: Well, they’re nothing more than debauched sons and daughters.

Kate: …..People who’ve lost everything because of gambling.

Nica: At best they’ll go to a rescue institution, otherwise won’t they die in ditch somewhere? [1]

Nica: I don’t care what happens to the gambling addicts.

I frowned at his skillful shuffling.

Kate: They certainly brought it upon themselves.

Kate: But I don't believe that all of the people who attacked me had ill intentions that were beyond the point of no return.

Whatever the reason, it was a crime to cause an explosion and attack so many people.

Kate: I don’t approve of methods that do not allow room for rehabilitation.

Nica’s eyes widened and he blinks repeatedly.

Then, there’s a loud laugh.

Nica: I’m jealous that a kind young lady is worried about them.

Nica: Would you like to gamble to find out how they feel?

Kate: Huh?

Nica: You might understand if you experience the thrill of not knowing if you’ll win or lose,

Nica: The exhilaration of winning and the despair of losing.

When I gazed at him who was dealing the cards alternately,

Nica: What will you bet? Money? Your body?

Kate: I won’t bet that!

Nica: The bigger the stakes, the more intense it is.

When he picks up the cards dealt,

Nica: If I win, show me around the city.

Nica: Of course, without telling Crown.

Nica discards a pair of matching cards, and I realize this is a game of Old Maid.

Nica: You might not be trusted as a fairytale keeper anymore.

Kate: What’s in it for me?

Nica: If you win, I’ll tell you all about us.

Kate: What?

He flashed a card,

Nica: What’s our aim, what we’re going to do, I’ll answer all your questions.

Nica: What will you do?

He smiled meaningfully and crossed his legs.

(Maybe I can learn about “their lies” that Harrison was talking about.)

Kate: I’ll do it.

Nica: Now you’re talking.

Taking a deep breath I faced it.

Nica: Ladies first.

As he said that, I reached and pulled out a card, but

(Ah,)

I drew the joker, and resisted the urge to make a facial expression.

Then Nica smiled widely.

(Maybe he knows what I drew…..?)

Nica: Why are you staring at me like that. Have you fallen in love with me?

This battle may have been decided who’d lose from the start.

Ftn [1] 野垂れ死に 'Notarejini' - Literally, to die in a field or die a dog’s death.

[Master List] Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko Please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tags list!

[mothwingwritings]

Save The Date

F!Reader X Jean Pierre Polnareff

Today is my birthday!!! Yaaay! To celebrate, I wrote this self-indulgent, out of left field, Polnareff-kidnaps-you-on-your-bday-and-tries-to-force-his-love-on-you story because why not? I’ve been wanting to write more Jojo and I love Polnareff’s himbo ass sooo here it is. :D I decided to go back to my roots with this one, it was therapeutic loool.

This was a bit rushed because I want to get it finished by today, but I hope you enjoy!!! Thank you for reading and for being here! Love y’all~ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Warnings: Kidnapping, imprisonment, reader is restrained this whole fic, forced/nonconsensual touching and kissing, brief mentions of sex, delusional Polnareff, probably horrible butchering of French pet names (I am sorry any French speakers, forgive my google translate indiscretions (；´∀｀))

Everything was perfect.

From the varying balloons and streamers that dotted the room, to the bows he had placed so lovingly in your hair, Jean Pierre Polnareff had worked hard to make this presentation immaculate. It was what his baby deserved after all-it wasn’t like it was your birthday every day.

It took weeks of planning and organizing to get everything just right. He’d spent countless hours calling the best caterers and bakers in town, and spent all his down time consulting with party planners to make sure this soiree would go off without a hitch. He was even able to score the perfect dress for you from the fancy boutique down the street-the very same dress you had been casting wistful (yet furtive) glances at for quite some time. The moment the ornate frock had gone on sale he could barely conceal his excitement and ended up purchasing it right away. He was sure you would be thrilled to receive the gown as a gift, and also be touched by his intuitive nature, his knack for picking up on the things you desired.

It was just your style, and he knew as soon as you donned it you would look nothing short of gorgeous. Envisioning you in it made his heart flutter, the smile that would engulf your face as you twirl around in it, giggling in sheer delight as the fabric swirls prettily around you, was sure to be a sight for sore eyes. It was hard waiting to see the dream become a reality.

When he finally got the chance to slip it on your body, he needed a moment to compose himself before he proceeded with the rest of the party setup. He had been correct in his assumption-you looked breathtaking, exactly like a princess in your new frilly, satin, dress. He wished he could have arranged to also have someone do your hair and makeup to really complete the look, but it was too risky to chance it. As much as he would have loved for you to wake up to a complete makeover, he couldn’t trust anyone to not be suspicious of the arrangement he had currently setup for you, and he dared not muck you up with his own mediocre skills.

But at the same time it didn’t really matter that he couldn’t have a cosmetologist stop by, you always looked perfect and ethereal, dolled up or otherwise.

Everything was splayed out before you, not a single item out of place. The table was neatly set with his finest dishes and cutlery, set at the ready to be topped with the feast that he was preparing for you. Vibrant bouquets comprised of only the fullest and brightest blooms of your favorite flowers sat on each end of the table, and fragrant candles cast flickering light over the scene, exuding a very romantic aura. Dinner (one of your favorite meals) was nearly done cooking in the kitchen, and its scent had begun to enticingly fill the room. He could practically hear your stomach rumble in anticipation.

The centerpiece of it all was an elaborate cake, decadent and rich, your name and a sweet birthday message sprawled on its surface in a pretty, curving script. It was far too large for just two people to consume, but that just meant there would be more to look forward to in the future. Maybe you would want to freeze some of it to share with him again on your next birthday, like some couples do with their wedding cake. The correlation made him blush as he fixated on it, giddy as he fantasized about all that lay ahead for the two of you.

With everything assembled, all he had to do was wait. He parked himself opposite you at the table, dressed to the nines to try and match you. As impressive as his finely tailored suit was, he didn’t hold a candle to your radiance. He sighed dreamily as he took you in, his eyes roving over your peaceful face while slumber still claimed you. You had a habit of incessantly frowning or shooting him questionable glances while you were awake. Whenever you noticed that his attention was turned your way, a grimace inevitably followed. This moment of peace where he could drink you in without any backlash was bliss, and as much as he was excited for you to wake up, he couldn’t help but relish this serene alone time he was sharing with you.

No kicking and screaming, no crying, no unnecessarily hurtful words flung his way when all he’s trying to do is show you love. Right now there was just you, him, and this lovingly crafted display of his affection that he prepared just for you, the love of his life. A small mountain of presents towered behind him, waiting patiently to be picked open by your delicate fingers. Most of them were little things he had picked up for you here and there that he thought you would like, trinkets and baubles he felt exuded a very ‘you’ aura and thus needed to be brought home to you. He used to try and give them to you the moment he purchased them, but you would always turn them away, telling him that he was spending way too much money on you. Silly girl, no amount of currency could ever be a waste on you.

The gift pile was a veritable array of goodies sure to delight you, teeming with big things, small things, and one very important thing that had been weighing heavily in his pocket for the past week. He had always planned on presenting it to you on your birthday (there was no greater gift than a perfectly cut rock signifying your eternal union, after all), but carried it around with him as a good luck charm of sorts, keeping it near till the moment he could give it to you. He kept it in his breast pocket as close to his heart as he could, childishly hoping that the placement would infuse it with the immense love he felt for you, each heart beat coursing through it making it shine more dazzlingly.

Though he enjoyed carrying it around with him, the time was soon approaching for it to go to its intended home, sitting prettily on your ring finger. Musing on it made him glance down at your hands as they rested daintily on the chairs arm rest. He tried not to focus on the straps he had placed around your arms, holding you in place to prevent you from bolting the moment you woke up. You were such a jumpy, shy thing, inclined to run and hide the moment you spotted him. He knew this setting would be overwhelming for you, that you would not take all the extra attention so easily, hence why the sedation and extra restraints were needed. As much as he wanted to do a more natural approach, there was just no way to keep hold of you otherwise. It was a necessary measure, but it was one he hated nonetheless.   

Knowing you would be upset when you awoke filled him with dismay, but ultimately the drugs and confines were all just a means to an ends. After the initial shock wore off, you were certain to be pleased by all his effort.

Hesitantly, he reached out to grasp your hands, holding them gently in his own. His thumb slowly grazed your knuckles, tracing small circles over your soft skin. Were they not strapped down, he would have chanced giving your hand a kiss, his lips yearning to make contact with you in any way they could. It truly was a shame that you were so adverse to touch, for he constantly longed to handle you tenderly, treating you so lovingly you would become putty in his hands, melt at his ministrations. He could clearly picture the expressions you would make while he busied himself, running his fingers gingerly across your flesh, memorizing every inch of you in faithful reverence, kisses following where his fingers once tread.

It was his most avid desire, but he had yet to act on the fantasy. His dream would come true someday, but first you had to get used to him. Ease into your new life.

It was a torturous process, waiting for you to warm up, but he knew it would be worth it in the end. Besides, with how bashful you were he figured he would be your first time for so many things, and that was exhilarating in its own right.

Suddenly, you stirred. Polnareff perked up, his eyes darting to your face as he watched your own slowly blink open. You scrunched your face in discomfort, groaning as your head gradually rose from its lulled posture. The after effects of the heavy drugs made your movements sluggish and groggy, another small groan slipping past your lips as you rotated your shoulders in an attempt to stretch.

Your gaze eventually landed on Polnareff, his face lighting up when you didn’t immediately look away. Still heavily sedated, confusion dominated your features. At this point, you were unsure where you were, what was going on, and probably perplexed by Polnareff’s presence, maybe even so bewildered you didn’t yet fully remember who Polnareff was. A warm smile graced his lips as he watched you come to, your befuddled state too cute to resist.

“Ma chérie,” Polnareff purred, his voice drawing you further from your hazy state, “I’m glad you are finally awake. It wouldn’t do to have you sleep through your whole party now, would it?”

Disorientation was giving way to realization, a look of fear and agitation morphing your lax expression into a sharp scowl. You began to pull against your bindings, your tugs becoming sharper the moment   you felt resistance, alarm mounting when you realized how trapped you truly were. Your eyes locked onto Polnareff’s, the haze that had clouded them gone, replaced with resentful animosity. It was painful being at the end of your enmity, but he reminded himself it was to be expected. You would be filled with contentment very soon, he just had to get you there.

“Jean what the hell,” Your words came out listless and slurred. As the final dregs of the drugs wore off, you struggled to get your baring’s. “Where am I? What is all this? Did you… did you fucking drug me?”

 Panic was starting to course through you, wide blown eyes filling with tears that you tried desperately to blink back. Your breathing grew labored as you started to thrash, trying your hardest to free yourself from the man who had imprisoned you, despite your compromised state.

Concerned you would hurt yourself, Polnareff gripped your hands tightly to try and sooth you, but it only caused your struggling to grow in intensity. Noting this, he quickly relinquished his hold, instead opting to cup your cheeks in a manner he hoped you would find more reassuring. Your skin was moist from your freshly fallen tears, his thumb easily sliding across its delicate surface, trying to wipe them away as best he could. You attempted to recoil from his touch, but the restraints and his firm hold kept you in place.

“Please amoureuse calm down,” he shushed you, worry reflected in his eyes, “You’ll end up hurting yourself if you keep pulling like that-“

“Fuck off,” you seethed between clenched teeth, “Let me go NOW Polnareff, or I swear I’ll-“

He clamped a hand over your mouth, halting any further commentary. A deep frown etched itself into his face as he stared you down, patience waning at the immediate vehemence you directed his way. Today was not supposed to go this way, he expected some backlash sure, but you weren’t supposed to recover from the medicine he had given you so rapidly. It was supposed to take time, fester a bit so that you would slowly come around, giving him plenty of time to explain things to you and have you get used to the arrangement naturally.

All the extra precautions were to help you see this for what it was, a true celebration to exhibit his unwavering dedication to you, and not whatever horrific falsity you had concocted in your anxiety addled brain. He cursed himself for not giving you the larger dose as he originally intended, he was just so concerned you may sleep too deeply and miss out on your special day altogether.

“You need to be quiet now, (Name),” His voice was low, a serious edge to it that froze your thrashing, granting him your full regard, “I know you are upset and confused, it’s only natural with how you woke up, and I don’t blame you for it. But there is no need for your ire ma cherie, look around you,” he released his hold, sweeping his hand across the room to show off his handiwork, “This is all for you bella. I worked so hard to make everything perfect for you because you deserve nothing less. Each decoration, accessory, snack, present-they were all assembled lovingly with you in mind. I’ve been preparing this for months, so please don’t be-“

“I don’t want any of this,” you once more cut him off, your voice choppy as you forced it out through shaky sobs, “I never wanted any of this. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t feel for you this way Polnareff? What you are doing is wrong, this entire ‘party’ is wrong! Please, if you really care about me at all just let me go and-“

Swiftly, he slammed his hand down on the table before you, rattling the dishes so violently it was surprising that none of them broke. Startled by the sudden upset, you lurched in your restraints, instantly shutting up out of fear. Your body quivered in distress, worried that if you said another word it would only further enrage him, and the assault next go around may not stop at just a whacked table.

“Stop it,” He annunciated each word, his eyes holding a sharpness that sent chills down your spine, “You don’t know what you are saying mon cœur, you are just blindly judging things before you even try them.” He took a shaky breath before continuing, “I have been patient, I have been kind, I have given you nothing but love, yet you constantly keep me at arm’s length, turning away from me in disgust even though I worship the ground you walk on. Please for one minute stop being so damn ungrateful and just be satisfied with all the hard work I have put in to meeting your lofty, unreasonable standards, or else you may actually have something to cry about.”

Tears continued to pour down your cheeks as your panic-stricken eyes drank him in. Your bottom lip quivered, sniffles punctuating your breathing, but you didn’t speak another word. He felt momentarily guilty for going off on you (on your birthday, no less), but seeing the success his rare instance of harshness awarded him quickly overshadowed any negativity he felt, instead washing him in a feeling of victory.

Now that he got his point across, hopefully you could proceed as planned and things would be smooth sailing from here on out.

In the other room the oven started to noisily beep, signaling that dinner was ready to be served. He rose to his feet, hovering over you before making his way towards the kitchen.

“Ah, perfect timing,” he forced a smile, doing his best to hide the hurt your brusque behavior had inflicted upon him. He squared his shoulders, composing himself before continuing. “Here is how the night will progress, amour. I will prepare our meals and then we will enjoy them peacefully in each other’s company. Once we are done, we can dig into this cake I ordered especially for you from the gourmet bakery down the street, the one that’s so popular it has a wait list.”

He sighed dejectedly, hanging his head in defeat before continuing, “You may not care, but I think it’s important that you take into consideration just how much of myself I poured into this celebration before you make another snide, thoughtless remark.”

His eyes flicked down to the cake, a brief look of sadness wavering within them before he directed his attention back your way. “It’s lovely though, isn’t it? I am sure it will taste just as good. Don’t worry, if you haven’t calmed yourself in time to be let loose I will gladly feed you chérie. Even when you are being particularly… bratty, I would not want you to miss out on such a delicacy. Then, once our bellies are full you can start unwrapping this mound of presents behind me, and we will just pray that it doesn’t take us through the entire night.”

He chuckled, his demeanor beginning to soften as he spoke, appreciative of the obedience you were displaying and the lack of unwarranted commentary as he got through the itinerary for the night. “Finally, we will end the party with a gift that has been a long time coming, one that is a truly significant mark of our eternal bond. I know you will love it ma chérie, just as much as I will.”

He saw a shiver course through you at his words, a small, sad whimper tumbling from your lips as your shoulders sagged. The gravity of his allusion bore down on your small frame, shrinking you down in a poor attempt at hiding from your inescapable fate. He tutted when he saw your attitude shift, his hand again finding your cheek to give it a gentle stroke. This time, you didn’t flinch away. 

“I know this is a lot to take in ma beauté and I am sorry it frightened you at first,” he leaned down, planting a lingering kiss to your forehead before proceeding, “But you will come around very soon, I know you will. You are my sweet girl, and after you experience what a great time we are about to have you will be so overcome with joy that you will barely be able to stand it. In fact, you may already feel a little silly for giving me such a hard time, am I right?”

Suddenly, his expression turned bashful. A rosy hue illuminated his cheeks as he started to fidget uncomfortably, a slightly embarrassed looking smile gracing his lips. Your body turned cold as his hand slid from your cheek to your shoulder, idly toying with the thin strap of your dress. His roving eyes fell to your chest, a hungry look flashing through them before they found their way back to your gaze.

“And then, after you have finished going through all your gifts, to thank me for what a gracious lover I have been maybe… maybe I can unwrap something too?”

You shudder at his insinuation, a look of pure dread donning your features.

“Polnareff,” you choked out, strained words struggling to form one final, soft plea, “please.”

Before you could utter another word, his mouth aggressively claimed your own. He pressed hard against you, as if to engrain the scorching feeling of his lips on to your flesh. You whined, squirming against him until he pulled away, staring at you with longing, love struck eyes.

“Happy birthday, ma chérie. Let’s make this one to remember.”

[nightghoul381]

Dark If ~ Jude Jazza

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

CW: Needles

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Bitter End | Premium End | Epilogue

I calmly pretended to be hiding in the castle and explained everything about the curse to my father.

However--.

King: “You’re sick and will die soon? There’s no way you can trust that!”

King: “Poor thing… you must have been brainwashed by that wizard.”

Kate: “No…! Please believe what I’m telling you…!”

King: “You are prohibited from leaving the room until the chaos has subsided. All right.”

Father didn’t believe my words and locked the room several times.

(I don’t know what to do… I have to somehow get out of this room and find the spinning wheel.)

I tied together all of the dresses in my closet, tied it to the pillar, and opened the window.

Around the same time—

When the prison guard saw a prisoner in the cell leisurely smoking a cigarette, he panicked.

Prison Guard: “W-where did you get that cigarette from… did someone lend this guy a light!?”

Guard: “N-no…! I don’t know!”

Jude the Wizard: “Blah Blah, you’re so loud. It’s just one cigarette.”

Jude the Wizard: “If the princess is more important than anything else, it would be better for you to prepare a spinning wheel.”

Guard: “? What are you saying?”

Jude the Wizard: “Your precious princess is suffering from a disease that cannot be cured, even if the incompetent court doctors tried for a thousand years.”

Jude the Wizard: “If the curse is activated, time in her body will stop. During that time, I will treat her.”

Jude the Wizard: “I’m sure I gave the same explanation ten years ago, but those idiots didn’t listen.”

Prison Guard: “You’re just spouting nonsense because you want to be spared! Ignore him!”

Jude the Wizard: “Haah---”

Letting out a deep sigh along with deep purple smoke, Jude pressed the cigarette butt against the cold floor.

Jude the Wizard: “Would it be okay to say then, if ya did that everyone would want to be turned into mincemeat?”

Kate: “This is the spinning factory… or it’s supposed to be.”

(There are so many layers of barbed wire, so it seems impossible to get in.)

(If I try to enter through the side entrance, the security will find me right away… and I won’t have time to save myself.)

Kate: “If this is how it is, I have no choice but to break through the barbed wire even if I end up covered in blood—”

???: “I don’t think thorn princess means a princess who gets torn to shreds by thorns, does it?”

Kate: “…!?”

When I turned around in surprise, a man with mint-colored eyes was standing there.

Kate: “Who are you���? If you know my father, I won’t be returning to the castle, so please take care of him.”

Liar Fox: “I’m just a liar fox.”

Liar Fox: “I happen to know the location of what you’re looking for. Now, is that the truth or a lie?”

Kate: “…! How did you know I was looking for something?”

Liar Fox: “I don’t know. But, why not? You look like you’re looking for a spinning wheel and you’re ready to go to sleep.”

Liar Fox: “If that happens… you won’t be able to return to your original world for 100 years.”

Liar Fox: “If that ‘person’ can’t find a cure, it’s possible to die in your sleep.”

(This person…seems like he knows everything about the situation.”

He might be similar to that Victor person I met before coming to this world.

I looked straight back into his mint-colored eyes.

Kate: “That person is trying to keep the promise he made to me.”

Liar Fox: “Hmm… then I’ll take you to the place where you can find what you’re looking for.”

The liar fox guided me to a clock tower that overlooks the country…

Kate: “Jude…!?”

Jude the Wizard: “Tsk… Why weren’t you in your room?”

Kate: “How did you escape from prison… or rather, how did you break into my room!?”

Jude the Wizard: “Your castle is guarded by shitty monkeys. No wonder they raised a princess with no crisis management skills.”

Kate: “Um…? But, Mr. Fox, what I was looking for wasn’t Jude, but the needle of a spinning wheel--”

Kate: “…Huh? Mr. Fox isn’t here…”

When I looked back, the man with mint-colored eyes had disappeared without a trace.

Jude the Wizard: “You’re talking about foxes and other things that don’t make any sense. You’ve gone crazy.”

Kate: “T-that’s not true…!”

Kate: “After I was separated from you—I made a promise to the old you.”

Jude the Wizard: “Ah…? What are you saying—”

Jude the Wizard: “—You’re saying you made a promise to ‘me’ in the past?”

Kate: “It seems like that… I don’t even know how I went back in time.”

Jude the Wizard: “There’s a magic that can stop time, so I guess that kind of thing could exist, I don’t’ know.”

Jude muttered as if he were about to vomit, and frowned in displeasure.

Jude the Wizard: “…Ha, I see. I thought you had forgotten about me.”

(You thought I had forgotten…)

--Flashback—

Kate: “You’re the wizard who put a curse on me, aren’t you?”

Kate: “I’m sorry for barging in on you so suddenly. I came to ask if you could lift the curse.”

Jude the Wizard: “…Ah?”

--End Flashback—

(…maybe)

Kate: “Was the reason you were so mean when we first met because you were angry…?”

Jude the Wizard: “I don’t remember the old days anymore.”

Jude the Wizard: “So, did you find out why you were cursed?”

Kate: “Yes…That’s why I was looking for the needle of a spinning wheel.”

Jude the Wizard: “Then here you are.”

Kate: “Eh…What!?”

Jude took out a sharp needle from his pocket.

Kate: “Why are you carrying that…?”

Jude the Wizard: “So I could stab you.”

Kate: “I-isn’t that too sharp to be used as a spinning wheel needle…?”

Jude: “If it doesn’t pierce, then what’s the point?”

Kate: “Well, I had asked the old Jude this but,”

Jude the Wizard: “Tsk… You’re a young lady who asks a lot of questions.”

Kate: “Why do I have to be pricked by a spinning wheel…?”

Jude the Wizard: “It seemed right, I don’t know. Besides—you seem to like pain.”

(…Ah, I knew it.)

(That was Jude.)

The moment I thought that, my heart became warm.

There’s a phenomenon where people fall in love with their kidnappers, and that kind of thing can’t be explained in any way—

I’m attracted to this man.

I came from London, England, and I have lived in this world…both of them.

Kate: “…Please, tell me one last thing.”

Jude the Wizard: “This isn’t the last thing, I told you I wasn’t going to let you die, don’t piss me off.”

Kate: “Why are you going to such lengths to help me…?”

Jude the Wizard: “…”

Jude the Wizard: “Of course, it’s because I have to pay back what I owe.”

(…I see.)

Kate: “…fufu, that’s very like you, Jude.”

Jude the Wizard: “Oh, and…”

Kate: “…?”

Jude the Wizard: “When I met you in the alley that day… even though you could’ve gotten into trouble, you didn’t even think twice about putting your nose in it,”

Jude the Wizard: “You’re such a good-natured person that you’d get angry on behalf of a kid you just met,”

Jude the Wizard: “And even when you were confined to the castle with your life in your hands, you bit the bullet because you’re a princess who refuses to give up, you know.”

Kate: “…Are you making fun of me…?”

Jude the Wizard: “I’m pretty sure I’m praising you.”

Jude the Wizard: “But, well—If you think about it, 100 years isn’t cheap, right?”

Kate: “Eh…?”

Jude the Wizard: “I’m ‘saving a life’ same as you, while you just happened to shelter me in the alleyway,”

Jude the Wizard: “I’ll spend 100 years looking for a cure, and I feel like that’s not a fair exchange.”

(Ah, is this the grave I’ve dug…?)

Jude the Wizard: “Assuming you saved my life, that’s worth about 50 years—”

Jude the Wizard: “If you wake up after I cure this stupid disease, why don’t I use you as a useful laborer for another 50 years?”

(--!)

Kate: “Does that mean, you’ll still be with me when I wake up…?”

Jude the Wizard: “Tch, that’s a creepy way to say it.”

Jude the Wizard: “Will you pay me back exactly what you borrowed?”

Kate: “Okay… I promise I’ll pay you back for 50 years!”

I never thought I would feel so happy right before I fell asleep due to the curse.

I close my eyes tightly while suppressing my heart, which is pounding like crazy.

Kate: “…Go ahead, just one quick prick, please.”

Then I heard the sound of the chains on his clothes shifting—

I felt a sharp pain in my neck.

I can feel the needle slowly sinking into my skin.

Kate: “…Oh,…Ngh”

Heat slowly emanates from the sting and spreads throughout my body.

The feeling of being poisoned is scary, but…

(When I think about it, this pain… This curse, it’s all given to me by Jude--)

Jude the Wizard: “…Does it feel good?”

Kate: “…!?”

When I open my eyes, Jude was smiling.

Jude the Wizard: “I guess you like pain, don’t you… a woman with bad taste.”

(Ah…)

I feel my consciousness begin to slip away.

It feels like falling asleep with a pleasant feeling of fatigue.

Kate: “J…Jude…”

Jude the Wizard: “—good night, princess.”

As soon as I heard that gentle voice, my consciousness was swallowed by the darkness.

After that—The time until I felt the light on my eyelids felt like a moment, but also felt like it had been a very long time.

When I slowly opened my eyes… I saw that I was in neither the castle nor a clock tower,

I was in a castle covered in thorns.

Thorn Ellis: “…Ah, Jude, Miss Kate.”

When I looked to where I heard the sound of footsteps steadily approaching,

A sadistic, twisted smile was looking down at me.

Jude the Wizard: “Are you awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

Kate: “…I, did I die?”

Jude the Wizard: “Ah?”

Kate: “But—Even though 100 years have passed, neither you nor Ellis are old men.”

Jude the Wizard: “…”

Jude the Wizard: “Idiot.”

Thorn Ellis: “Wizards can manipulate time, so they can do whatever they want with their physical age. Both for themselves and others.”

Thorn Ellis: “Unless you’re fatally injured, you won’t die of old age.”

Jude the Wizard: “You went in my library and studied this, you moron.”

Kate: “…My disease, is it…?”

Jude the Wizard: “I’ve had 100 years, there’s no way I couldn’t cure you.”

The triumphant and arrogant smile made my heart ache again.

“Even if I die, I won’t break my promise.”

I’ve known for 100 years that those words were true.

Kate: “Thank you, Jude.”

When I thanked him, just like Jude from 100 years ago,

He hooked his fingers under my collar and pulled me closer.

Jude the Wizard: “I’ve already repaid my debt… I’ll make sure to collect what you owe me.”

Kate: “Yes…!”

The budding love that began 100 years ago, when time had stopped, began to unravel in my heart once again.

Feeling that kind of premonition, I nodded enthusiastically.

Something that was missing in this twisted fairytale world, I don’t know that that is yet…

(…If possible, I’d like to keep searching for it forever.)

Because, in this world, I fell in love with him.

--I can’t go back to my original world.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Bitter End | Premium End | Epilogue

[whump-tr0pes]

To Die Without Flinching

Many thanks to @newbornwhumperfly for being so generous in letting me put their boy Morja in Situations, and many apologies to them as well for holding onto this story for so many months while waiting for me to finish it.

My masterlist

Morja is a diathésimos, one of a class of indentured servants owned by society’s elite - though some would call them slaves. He has been tasked with a mission of critical importance by his anóteros: to infiltrate a dangerous family that has taken refuge in the north, and kill the criminal that they are harboring: Gavin Stormbeck.

“It is your part to kill me, mine to die without flinching.”

— Epictetus, from Discourses (Translated by Robert Dobbin)

Your Part to Kill | My Part to Die | To Die Quietly | Despair | Dawn | Breakfast Part 1 | Breakfast Part 2 | To Die Without Flinching

Contents: recovery, PTSD, conditioned whumpee, tied up, blindfolded, attempted murder, false execution, rescue

~

After weeks with this family, Morja now moved freely among them. When they left the house in the morning to do their chores, he left with them, eager to help. When they returned in the evening to cook dinner together, he joined them, learning the skill of which spices to mix together to create the flavors that pleased them all. When he returned to his room at night, he went without a lock on the door. He slept in the bed, now. He didn’t fear what might happen to him in it. 

This team, this family, they were kind to him in a way he had never experienced before. He knew they were dangerous, but he wanted - so, so badly - for them to trust him, so that they might always turn their kind eyes on him forever. Their patience for each other seemed to know no limits, and they always seemed to want to be together. They never raised their voices or their hands to each other, or to him. Even when he could tell they were angry, they never did what he knew in his bones should happen; they never tied his wrists and whipped him until their tempers were eased. That always made his anóteros feel better. And yet, they refused to do it to him. 

He didn’t understand it. 

Still, when Isaac Moore called him to the barn one day, he couldn’t help but feel a prickle of unease. A few weeks of strangeness could not undo a lifetime of lessons, after all. But when Isaac called him, he went. He obeyed.

“Yes, Isaac Moore, is there something you need?” he said, keeping his gaze on the floor of the barn. Even if Isaac was a diathésimos like him, he was still uncollared and freed. Morja must always show him deference and respect. 

“Yes,” Isaac Moore said, his voice flat. A shiver moved up Morja’s spine as Isaac moved to block the barn door. His eyes were dull, his hands in fists at his sides. 

The hair on the back of Morja’s neck stood up. “Please… tell me what it is I can do for you,” he said, though lips that were beginning to go numb. His lungs were too large for his ribcage.

Isaac Moore finally raised his gaze and met Morja’s. Isaac’s eyes burned into Morja’s as he said, “Put your hands behind your back and get on your knees.” His right hand was behind his back, reaching for his waistband.

Morja did not even consider disobeying. His fell to his knees with a crack, crossing his arms at the wrists behind him. “Y-yes, diathésimos,” he croaked. 

Isaac’s face hardened as he stepped forward. Morja sucked in a breath and forced himself perfectly upright. His hands quaked behind him, despite the fists he was making. When Isaac Moore stepped behind him and bound his wrists together, he let out a terrified breath. When a rough strip of cloth was tied over his eyes, he uttered a shameful sound of fear. 

His throat was too dry to swallow with. His chest was too tight to breathe with. His mouth hung open and he tilted his head, desperately listening for Isaac Moore’s next move. When the cold metal of Isaac’s gun pressed against the back of his head, he folded over his knees with a shudder.

“Don’t move,” Isaac ground out.

“Y-yes, diathésimos,” Morja sobbed dryly. He understood, now, he saw it all. It had all been a test somehow, and he had failed. This was the cleanest end he could hope for: a bullet in his brain, a shallow grave behind the farmhouse that had been his unwitting prison for all these weeks. Had the test simply been to see if he could figure out that he had been a captive at all?

Had his anóteros set this all up to punish him for his failure?

One thing was certain: he was going to die with his anóteros’ collar wrapped tight around his neck.

He pressed his lips together and waited for the white-hot blast, and then the oblivion after. It didn’t come. It didn’t come. Despite Isaac’s admonition, he rocked minutely forward and back, drawing in breaths too shallow to provide enough air. He tried to wait silently. Pitiful whimpers made their way past his lips anyway. 

He was failing.

“I-I need to do this,” Isaac Moore murmured.

Morja nodded frantically, at a loss for what else to do. The gun pressed harder into the back of his head, and he froze.

“You’re a fucking threat to my family. A threat to Gavin.”

Morja couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t deny that he had harbored some small hope that he might one day carry out his mission and make his anóteros proud - but he wanted something else, too, something he couldn’t name. The clash made him sick. 

“You can’t change. You can’t fucking learn, I’ve been watching for the switch to flip and it hasn’t. I need to put you down. I… I see you watching him… and I know that everything he taught you is still in there, because… because for the longest time, it was like that with me…”

Morja couldn’t deny that, either.. He squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold and waited to die. 

“I… I have to fucking do this.” The gun pressed harder, then harder still, until it was pinning Morja’s head against the wooden floor between his knees. He felt Isaac adjusting his grip. He heard Isaac shuffle his feet against the floorboards. He drew in a terrified breath, could barely let it out without a groan escaping him. He was trapped, unable to move, unable to speak. He heard Isaac Moore sniff. He was crying. 

“Isaac?”

Morja flinched hard when Gavin Stormbeck’s horrified voice filled the barn.

The gun eased its pressure on the back of Morja’s head. 

“Gavin.” Isaac sounded frightened. 

“What… oh, fuck, did you…? Isaac, what–”

Morja couldn’t help it; when Gavin Stormbeck fell to his knees beside him, when a hand settled in his hair, right next to the gun, he let out a muffled wail of terror.

“Tell me you’re not doing this,” Gavin breathed. His hand was shaking on Morja’s head. “Tell me you didn’t… lure him here so that you could execute him in cold blood.”

“He came here to execute you in cold blood, Gavin,” Isaac snarled. Morja’s body tensed as the gun jammed hard into him. “Don’t–”

“This isn’t you,” Gavin said. “Isaac… this isn’t you. Please tell me this isn’t who you are.”

No one moved or breathed for a long moment. Then Isaac said, “You know this is who I’ve been for a long time.”

Gavin’s hand tightened in Morja’s hair. “Not anymore.”

“But he–”

“He stopped! Like you! How can you look at him and not see you?” Gently, Gavin’s fingers smoothed through Morja’s hair. Horrified, desperate, Morja found himself pressing the side of his head against Gavin’s knee. 

The gun on his head pressed harder, harder, hard enough that Morja knew it would leave a deep bruise. Then, all at once, it disappeared. Isaac Moore stepped back. Heavy footsteps left the barn. 

Morja took a deep, shuddering breath and shook apart into dry, tearless sobs. His head rested on Gavin’s leg, and the syndicate son’s hands rested gently in his hair. 

“Shhh,” Gavin Stormbeck soothed. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

Morja could no longer pretend. He could no longer be silent. He was so frightened, and confused, but most of all he was so, so tired. He didn’t much care if the syndicate son had a knife waiting for him. All he could feel was the gentleness of the boy’s hands in his hair, the solidity of his leg, and the beat beat beat of his heart that threw itself against his ribs. Gavin slipped the blindfold from his eyes and tossed the cloth into the corner of the barn. Slowly - he used his fingers, not a knife - he worked the knot tying Morja’s hands free.

“You’re safe,” Gavin said again. 

Morja’s fingers clutched at Gavin’s pant leg. “Y-yes, anóteros,” he stammered, desperate to be good, to obey - anything to keep Isaac’s gun from pressing against his head again. “Yes, Gavin Stormbeck–”

“Please don’t call me that,” Gavin whispered. 

Morja’s stomach heaved. His eyes went wide and he buried his face against Gavin’s leg. He shuddered in the moment between inhale and exhale - in the moment between mistake and correction. 

“I… I apologize,” Morja rasped through numb lips. He pushed away from Gavin and pressed his forehead to the floor in front of him, shaking, broken, cold. “Please,” he could not stop himself from saying. “Please.”

Gavin’s hand landed on him again. Morja made a horrible, humiliating bleat of fear, but he did not move. He did not move. He waited. 

“My name is Gavin Uriah,” came the quiet voice. It sounded like Gavin was in pain. 

Morja’s throat worked around a swallow. “I-I…”

“I’m not what they made me. And neither are you.”

Then Gavin’s hand was in his hair again, moving slowly, gently. The touch was so soft that it undid him. Morja crumpled, leaning forward into the touch until his head was in Gavin Uriah’s lap. Dry sobs heaved through him as the fear and pain moved over him and out. He pressed his face into Gavin’s thigh and allowed the touch, allowed the hand in his hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Gavin said quietly. “I’m so sorry.” 

Morja could say nothing in response. His throat was too strained. 

Gavin sat with him in the barn for a long time. He held Morja, waiting until his great, awful sobs had stopped, before he took his arm and led him back toward the house. 

Continued here

@womping-grounds , @free-2bmee , @quirkykayleetam , @walkingchemicalfire , @inpainandsuffering , @redwingedwhump , @burtlederp , @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments , @whumpywhumper , @stxck-fxck , @whumps-the-word , @justplainwhump ,  @finder-of-rings , @inky-whump , @thatsthewhump , @orchidscript , @this-mightaswell-happen , @newandfiguringitout , @whumpkitty , @pretty-face-breaker , @cinnamonflavoredhugs , @pebbledriscoll , @im-just-here-for-the-whump , @endless-whump , @grizzlie70 , @oops-its-whump , @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite , @carnagecardinal ​, @annablogsposts , @suspicious-whumping-egg , @starfields08000 , @morning-star-whump

[mrs-apocalypse]

Hi! How are you? I hope you’re doing okay!

I have a few questions about your game theory series! 🥳 First of all, it’s the first fic i’ve read in months because i kinda stopped reading after awhile since I couldn’t find anything that caught my eye as a reader, some fics started to feel the same to me 😭 I saw yours on twitter and I thought it was really interesting. and it didn’t disappoint!! 🤩

My questions are: Are you following the series’ plotline or book? Or are you creating your own universe(?)/plotline? I mean will you include the events in the series and the book in the future? Safehouse, torture, coup etc? I feel like your story is different than any of I have read so far that is why I wanted to ask😭 Very unique plot! I have to admit I never thought Pete became Pete since neither the book or the series mentions it. He was the main bodyguard and Tankhun’s and Kinn’s most trusted bodyguard, but how did this happen? 🤔 So your story is really refreshing!

Second question: I know many authors might not know the ending of the story they write since it comes as you write, but will it be happy ending or sad ending? 😭 May I ask you could you tag if there’s a mcd before it happens🥹 Third question: will we be seeing Vegas and Macau in the second book again? I think we’re getting closer to ending right?

Third question: how did you start to write this story? Was it something that came to your mind and started writing? Or was it something more planned?

Last question: what will the last book’s name be? And what would you say about the theme of the book? Is it more angsty?

I am sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language. So I have to think in my own language and translate it as I write🥲

And I hope I am not too annoying. Please feel free to tell me if I am. And please skip the questions you don’t feel comfortable.

Have a nice day 🥰

Hi there! Wow, thank you so much for your question! I'm so so glad you've enjoyed my story. It makes me so happy that you like it so much! Also, please do not apologize for your English skills. I think your English sounds great and even if it wasn't, it's still impressive to speak in a second language!

As for your questions:

Question One: I plan to follow canon nearly 90%. I did my best to make Prisoner's Dilemma a prequel that would make logical sense with the canon story, so that is what I want to continue in the next book (Trolley Problem). That said, I will be adding some things. As much as I adore Kinnporsche, I think VegasPete's storyline would have done better with some expansion. For example, I think that the safehouse arc would have been perfect if there had been just one or two more scenes, or if the time Pete spent at the safehouse were just a few days more. So, while the story will mainly follow canon, I'll be taking some liberties on what 'happened' during the time we didn't see in the show!

Question Two: I know exactly how this story will end! I always know how my stories will end before I write them and I also never like to write a sad ending. To me, angst is the most fun to write, but only if there's a worthwhile ending to reach. It will be happy, and what I think is an appropriate ending for the all characters in the show (if you look back on my profile, you'll see that I think certain endings from canon aren't appropriate 'happy' endings for characters). But I think what I've planned will be pleasing to everyone!

Question Three: Second book is finished as of today, and it ends with a nice little scene between our favorite brothers. To be honest, any scene with Macau is my favorite to write (that's VegasPete's first son!).

Question Four: So, there's lots of reasons I came up with this story. First, I love Pete dearly, but there is so little known about him and the more I know, the more I just don't think he fits with the main family. And so to me the most logical conclusions was that he would have had to learn in a harsher environment (sans his father). I also love reading fics with Vegas being obsessed with Pete, but I do't see that logically happening unless there was some grand event that put them together, and so I was like 'what if Pete worked for him first?' Just. UGH, I think that a lot about their personalities and obsessions with each other can be explained much better with a backstory like this!

Question Five: The last book will be called 'Dictator's Game', which I think says a lot about what the contents is. The theme is basically 'What really happened between Korn, Nampheung, and Gun?" and how that affects the boys in modern time. Aka, Theerapanyakul War 2.0. There will be angst, but universally. And VegasPete will not have any extreme fights between them because I wanna focus on them being the sanest couple in the bunch.

Please let me know if you have any more questions! I love love LOVE getting to talk about my fic and also just VegasPete/Kinnporsche stuff in general!

[nekoannie-chan]

No where to go

No where to go

Title: No where to go.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 421 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: None wanna deal with you, except Steve.

Major Tags: The reader is an ex-HYDRA agent.

Additional tags: This is my entry for the @lives-in-midgard 1K Follower Celebration Challenge with the prompt:

1.- “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

It had been weeks since the HYDRA uprising, weeks since you had made the hardest decision of your life: to come clean. You had been a HYDRA agent, not by choice, but by obligation, so when you saw the time, you cooperated with S.H.I.E.L.D., sharing everything you knew.

However, your cooperation seemed like it wasn't enough, you could notice the whispers in the hallways, the looks of distrust, the outright rejection, all of it was now part of your daily life. There was no place in S.H.I.E.L.D. where you felt safe, no person you could trust, or so you thought.

Until the situation was so unbearable that you ended up in front of Steve Rogers' door. You didn't know if he would receive you or if he would reject you like the others. But you had nowhere else to go.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the trembling in your hands, and knocked on the door. The door opened slowly, revealing to Steve the surprised expression on his face.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I didn't know where else to go... I don't have anyone.” You felt your eyes fill with tears.

“Come in,” he said after looking at you for a moment that seemed like forever.

You sat down on the couch, and Steve closed the door behind you. He stood for a moment, watching you before sitting down in a chair across from you.

“What happened?” he finally asked.

 You told him everything, how HYDRA had forced you to join, how you had lived all those years, how you finally decided to cooperate with S.H.I.E.L.D., hoping it would redeem you, but found rejection instead. Steve listened quietly, his eyes never leaving you. He didn't interrupt, didn't ask questions.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, lowering your gaze, unable to bear if he led you to look disappointed.

“You did the right thing.”

“But the others don't see it that way,” you muttered. “They don't see me as someone who did the right thing... They see me as a traitor.”

“People often judge what they don't understand. S.H.I.E.L.D. is full of people who have seen terrible things, who have been betrayed before. It's hard for them to trust. But that doesn't mean you should give up.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“You can stay here tonight,” he said.

“Thank you, Steve...for everything. But why are you being so nice to me? After all that's happened...you could have kicked me out like the others.”

“Because I believe in second chances.”

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

birthday bomb bash!

a birthday gift for @hobiebrownismygod 💝 💗💗

Pairing: Maitreyi Jokhar (spidersona [not mine]) x Hobie Brown (romantic), Maitreyi Jokhar x Nikita Raina (spidersona [mine]) and the rest of the spider-gang (Pavitr + Gayatri, 1610!Miles, 42!Miles, Gwen, Margo) (platonic)

Type: Oneshot - Fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: translated Telugu, one cuss, less dialogue more description, mentions of eating & food, if you’re allergic to birthdays and mild chaos then this is not for you, and I didn’t even attempt Hobie’s accent this time lol

A/N: HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY ONCE AGAIN POOKS 😁 also let’s assume that Nikita and Maitreyi can understand each other when they talk in their own languages though Niki speaks Hindi and Maitreyi speaks Telugu <3

“Pavitr, stop giggling! You are a plant. Plants do not giggle.”

An unaware onlooker might have observed the scene — Nikita and Gwen struggling with neon banners and brightly-coloured streamers, Hobie trying his best to lay the table without dropping the cutlery piled up in his arms, Gayatri cursing loudly in the kitchen every time she spilled hot oil or got the recipe wrong, Miles using some sugary edible spray-paint to graffiti the cheesecake while the other Miles watched critically, and Pavitr posing as a plant with leaves in his hair and modelling Margo’s holographic wreath-like projections while she tapped away at her computer — and chalked it up to a regular day in a mental asylum.

But today was not a regular day, far from it. And they all didn’t belong in a mental asylum. Probably.

How do you tell someone you appreciate them for looking out for the entire group time after time? And yeah, she had done that, faithfully and patiently.

From small things like tucking someone into bed and helping them when they’re sick to larger instances like fighting to protect them and training with them to improve their skills so that they didn’t fall victim to a persistant villain.

Maitreyi Jokhar was no ordinary human being - though in a way, none of them were - and so she deserved a completely extraordinary birthday surprise.

The only problem? None of them knew how to plan a surprise birthday party.

Pavitr had called to wish her and almost spilled everything right then and there, only stopped by Gayatri clapping a hand over his mouth. Hobie had insisted on making his girlfriend’s favourite foods himself before realizing he had no idea how to cook Indian food (though Gayatri’s totally unintentional trash-talking might have played a role in that). Gwen tripped over the same damn low-hanging banner three times in a row somehow, and both Miles and Miles got into an argument about who should decorate the cake (Miles won).

Nikita had put herself in charge of wrapping the presents after a small mishap — turns out, none of them could be trusted with a sheet of wrapping paper and a roll of tape, because when she got back into the room she saw Pavitr and Hobie sheepishly standing next to 4 suspiciously people-shaped wrapped ‘statues’.

Gayatri bellowed another loud Hindi curse and Pavitr audibly gasped while Nikita covered her eyes. “What does that mea-” Hobie eagerly started, but Nikita cut him off with a glare. “Hobie, focus. If you break my plates I’ll break your knees.”

He turned his attention back to arranging the plates and spoons with a little bit of added caution.

Margo let out a loud whoop of satisfaction as she finally worked out the bugs in her code. She hit a button on her keyboard and strings of lights flickered around Pavitr, the little shining orbs slowly changing into little versions of them. And in the centre, mini-hologram-Maitreyi wore a neon purple crown and a bright yellow banner slung across her torso that read ‘BD@Y B!TCH’ in big block letters.

Nikita pinched the bridge of her nose to hold back a comment about the… interesting title. “Pavi! Ao aur meri madad karo please.” (Come and help me)

Since his amateur modelling job was done, he walked over and sat down cross-legged on the ground next to Niki. They both surveyed the gifts - a customisation chip that could be inserted into her wristwatch from Margo, who insisted that Maitreyi’s watch needed to look ‘classy’ and not boring, a new pair of gloves from Gwen, a set of knives varying in size from Gayatri and Pavitr, and a customised (spray-painted) suit from both Miles’.

Nikita and Hobie had schemed together for well over a month to figure out what to get Maitreyi. Of course, since they had basically inducted themselves into her found family - Hobie as her boyfriend and Nikita as somewhere in between her sister and the family pet - they wanted to make sure she would absolutely love their gifts.

So Nikita had decided on a more sentimental gift. She worked for a whole month, filling the biggest, thickest scrapbook she could find with photos of all the spider-teens (and more than just a few embarrassing texts Maitreyi had sent her in the first stages of her massive Hobie-crush) and little colourful annotations - poems, notes, references, and other random stuff.

On every photo of her, Maitreyi and Pavitr, she signed the words ‘the 3 idiots’ in the bottom corner - a reference to the movie she had convinced both of them to watch. There were more than half the pages left blank, ready to be filled in with more memories. She wrapped it up in purple wrapping paper and tied a (slightly messy) green ribbon into a bow to secure it.

Hobie had gone all out and bought Maitreyi all the clothes that she so much as looked at when they were walking along together, both in his universe and hers (and Nikita’s, on the times when she was third-wheeling with them).

“Hobie? Niki… Pavi? Where is everybody?”

Everyone’s eyes snapped towards voice that called out from behind the closed front door.

Fuck, Nikita thought, frantically glancing everywhere. Everything had been done properly — the banners were finally in place, the table had been laid with the food Gayatri had made, and the gifts had been wrapped, but they hadn’t thought far enough ahead to get to the actual reveal yet.

Everyone dived behind various objects in unison as a key turned in the lock and clicked open.

“Pavitr, ow,” Nikita hissed as he promptly sat on her toes. She moved slowly, using her stealth to sneak up on her best friend before leaping and covering her eyes from behind.

“Surprise! Happy birthd- MAITREYI! IT’S JUST ME!”

Maitreyi had spun around as she felt Niki’s hands on her eyes, grabbing her and almost swinging her into a wall before she recognised her.

“Niki? What-”

“Oh, that’s our cue,” came Hobie’s voice from behind a large potted plant. He and the others all leaped out and yelled, “Happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday, Maitreyi.” Nikita lunged forward and crushed her in a hug, drawing back to kiss her cheek affectionately. “We organised a whole surprise party for you! And got pani puri!”

“‘Ey, quit hogging her,” Hobie grinned, coming up to both of them. “Happy birthday, dove.”

“You know she loves me more than you, right?”

“Bollocks.” (for those of you who’ve never heard this word before, it’s another word for bullshit)

“But she does! Right, Maitreyi?”

They both turned expectantly to her, and she raised her eyebrows. “Nope, not getting involved in this one. Hi, Hobie.”

The lovestruck tone of her last two words made him shoot a smug smirk at Nikita as he stepped forward and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug, planting a kiss on her forehead before making a show of having to bend down — so very much, since she was so very short — to kiss her lips.

“Worth a shot,” Nikita chuckled, pushing Maitreyi toward the table. “Look! Pani puri! And pav bhaji!”

Maitreyi’s eyes widened at the crisp mini-puris, the large containers of tamarind chutney and jaljeera pani, the neatly laid-out pav bhaji, and the large glass bottles of goli soda.

“We’re all going to have horrible stomachaches by the end of this but it’ll be so worth it.”

She turned and gave Nikita a large hug, affectionately ruffling her hair, which looked a little funny since she had to reach up a quite a bit to get to Niki’s head. “Thank you so much for all of this, I love everything and I love you for putting this all together.”

Nikita grinned at her. “Of course. And I love you too.”

“Anything for you, darlin’,” She added in an exaggeratedly suave tone, giving her a badly-executed wink.

“Stop trying to platonically rizz up your best friend in front of her boyfriend and come eat,” Pavitr interrupted, standing beside the pani puri and impatiently raising his eyebrows at all three of them. “I’m hungry. Being a plant model - which I absolutely crushed, by the way - isn’t easy, you know!”

“10 bucks that Gwen or Hobie are going to lose their shit when they try the food and realise how spicy it’ll be,” Margo murmured to Miles, who smirked slightly. “Deal. Which one?”

“Well, how about both?”

Nikita and Maitreyi shared a look and both burst into giggles.

“Meeru food order chesaaraa?” (Did you order the food?)

“Nahin. Gayatri ki sab banaiya.” (No, Gayatri made all of it)

“Appadu chaalaa kaarangaa untundi!” (Then it’ll be very spicy)

“Haan. Jab ve khaayenge to aashcharyachakit ho jaayenge!” (Yeah, they’ll be very surprised/get a nasty shock when they eat)

“Manam chaalaa cheddavaallam, kaadaa?” (We’re pretty evil, aren’t we?)

They both cackled deviously, and Nikita threw an arm around Maitreyi.

“Chalo, let’s get this party started!”

@l0starl @therealloopylupin2099

[scarabsinthestardust]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 11

MASTERLIST

Well, here we are. Time to meet the parents.

Word count: 7300+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Language; talks of depression, suicide, and anxiety; strained parental relationship; talks of crime, murder, drugs/drug cartel, running from the law, and minor talk of sex trafficking (nothing too graphic); mentions of death of a parent; injuries sustained from a shooting, blood, removal of a bullet, stitches (I'm not a medical professional and have zero medical training. I'm making it up as I go.); some probably really bad and vulgar Spanish retrieved per Google and Google translate (and I can't for the life of me figure out how to do the accents so we're just going to ignore that for now); I also might be tiptoeing real close to 'No Country for Old Men' fanfiction 😅

Two and a half years. Two and a half years, countless ups and downs, and I was finally taking the love of my life to see an important part of me, a part of what made me who I am. He was going to get to see where I grew up.

I don’t know what made me want to go back, but when I proposed the idea to Jake, he eagerly jumped at the opportunity. Soon enough, we were packed and on the road to Thomas, West Virginia.

It was about a nine-hour drive from Nashville. Jake tried to convince me to just fly, but I felt like I was due for a good road trip. We could travel at our own pace, and besides, Jake was good company for the drive. Richie had reached out to Vivian, an old family friend, arranging for us to stay with her instead of one of the shitty, middle-of-nowhere hotels (which were few and far between).

Vivian technically lived in Coketon, a coal-mining town just outside of Thomas that was almost abandoned. Mining activity flourished in the early 1900s, and the 15 coal mines in Coketon shipped out a million tons of coal annually. But by the mid to late 1950s, pretty much all underground mining had ceased. Most of the residents left shortly after that, only a few deciding to remain. Vivian’s family was one, not far from where Finn’s family had put down roots.

I spent a good chunk of my childhood at Vivian’s house. It was one of the “safe houses” my dad would drop us off at, Vivian being one of the few people he trusted. It was where I met my best friend, and where I lost my brother. There were a lot of bad memories associated with the place, but enough good to lure me back occasionally. Vivian could be… tough, a little abrasive, but she took care of us when our dad was gone and taught me most of everything I know. I mostly missed the horses. Jake expressed his unease at being that close to a 1,000-pound animal, more so at the idea of trying to ride one.

I smirked. “I will definitely get you on a horse before we come home.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

~

It was almost sundown by the time we turned down the dirt road that would take us to Vivian’s house. The trees on either side of the road loomed darkly, appearing much taller and thicker than the last time I was here. It had been almost five years, after all. Everything still felt so familiar, though, as if I was only here yesterday. The house came into view as we rounded the corner. It hadn’t changed a bit. The two-story brick house with its worn white molding and wrap-around porch had seen a lot, witnessed me and Finn grow up, and Luca not quite make it out.

“It’s a little creepy out here. Quiet.” Jake eyed the thick woods wearily. He had gotten so used to city life in Nashville. This was such a big jump from that.

“At least I’m not freezing my ass off,” I huffed.

“Sounds like a skill issue,” he joked. I narrowed my eyes and poked at his side, causing him to squirm away.

“I’ll remember that.”

As we unloaded our bags from the trunk, I heard the front door creak open. “Glad to see you remember your way here.”

“I wouldn’t ever forget it, V.” I gave her a quick hug. Jake stepped up behind me and I introduced them to each other. Vivian eyed him distrustfully, as I expected, but Jake didn’t seem put off by it and maintained his polite demeanor.

Vivian led us into the house and directed us to the spare room upstairs we’d be staying in. The inside was just as I remembered. A collection of paintings, created by Vivian, decorated the walls over gaudy wallpaper. The ugly blue carpet was still in the bedrooms, and even uglier striped, red carpet covered the stairs, which creaked under our weight. The innards of the house were worn, and needed some serious upgrades in my opinion, but it had good bones. The double bed with the brass headboard had a fresh set of sheets and a yellow floral blanket that was probably older than me. And as outdated and musty as the house was, it was home to me.

After dropping our stuff off and heading back downstairs, Vivian gestured up the stairs with a tilt of her head. “I’ve got one right now, so keep your voices down.” She offered no other information and Jake looked at me quizzically.

“There’s someone else staying here. I’ll explain later.” I pretended I didn’t notice the way Vivian narrowed her eyes at me. She would have been livid if she knew I’d told Jake anything. It was her secret to keep, too. And she didn’t trust him, not yet.

She set the table for dinner and took a plate to whoever was upstairs before we all sat down to eat. We took the time to catch up, her inquiring about Nashville and Richie, and asked after Finn when I told her he’d come to town for a visit. She asked Jake about his career, not bothering to hide the judgement in her eyes when he told her was a musician. All these people I grew up with seemed to think if it didn’t involve physical, manual labor, it wasn’t a ‘real job.’

“Oh, your pa’s gonna love that,” she said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, which earned me a scolding from her. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, girl.” I found it annoying that even as an adult, she still knew how to make me feel like a child that had done something wrong. Jake, on the other hand, was doing his best to hold back his laughter.

Exhausted from the drive, we decided to call it a night after dinner. I filled Jake in as we got ready for bed, keeping my voice down to a whisper. “Viv’s in the business of taking in girls, young women, that don’t have anywhere else to go, or got pulled out of some shitty situation. Chances are, they’re probably traumatized and terrified, a lot of times of men, if you get my drift.”

“Like, victims of sex trafficking?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

He exhaled a puff of air. “Your life just keeps getting more and more interesting.”

“Hah. This one is all Viv.”

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” he said as he got into bed.

I crawled in and snuggled up next to him. “Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like much of anyone until she gets to know them. She’ll warm up to you.”

“You don’t think your dad would warm up to me eventually?”

I snorted a laugh. “No, because he’s just an asshole. It’s a good thing you won’t have to be subjected to that. At least during this trip.” That wasn’t true, but I didn’t know that yet. I had no idea how much Jake would learn while we were here, much less how much I would learn.

~

We spent most of the next day in town. There wasn’t much to do, but we checked out local shops, got lunch, and I took Jake to the Purple Fiddle Coffeehouse and Market, a staple in the town of Thomas. In the late afternoon, we took a walk around Vivian’s property, showing him all my little hangout spots and secret hideaways.

“That was Finn’s place,” I pointed out the small, now abandoned house. I’d never been inside and had no idea what happened to his parents. Perhaps that was for the best.

There were several pathways through the woods, some of them quite overgrown now. I can pretend I didn’t really know where we were headed, which path led to where, but that would be a lie. I grew up here, under the aspen canopy, weaving between these tree trunks like I was born for it. Maybe some sick part of me needed to see the place again, to remind myself that it was real.

Jake had been talking but he quieted when I stopped walking. “You okay?” He cocked his head.

I didn’t speak right away, worried that my voice might betray the peace of this place. The forest knew death. It had seen it many times over the course of thousands of years. I wonder if the trees remembered it, though, if they remembered his death, or if they heard my scream as it echoed through the leaves. My vision zeroed in on the spot. There wasn’t anything that stuck out, nothing that distinguished it from any other place in this vast expanse of wooded ground, but I knew it. I wouldn’t ever forget it.

“That’s where Luca died,” I whispered.

I heard a sharp inhale of breath from Jake. His hand gently rubbed my arm as he stepped closer to me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I just shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. Jake didn’t push. He guided me to a fallen log nearby and we sat, seemingly understanding what I needed without words. His hand didn’t leave mine. There we stayed, letting the leaves and the light wind do all the talking, us playing the role of mere witnesses, just bystanders.

As the sun sank lower over the horizon, casting deep shadows over us, Jake gently nudged me. “Do you know how to find your way back in the dark?”

It was a genuine question, but I laughed anyways. “Would you be scared if I didn’t?”

“I mean, we could camp out, but you might need to protect me from whatever cryptids live in these creepy ass woods.”

I nudged him back with my shoulder. “What do you think I was doing as a kid running around in the woods at night if not making friends with the cryptids?”

“I dunno, committing crime?”

“A little arson never hurt anyone.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Okay, Josh.”

My hand came to my chest, and I feigned offense. “Well, I never,” I exclaimed with an exaggerated southern accent. Our laughter seemed to fill the empty air around us, drastically lifting my own spirits.

The porch light was on when we made it back to the house. I sighed contently. “She always left the light on for us.” I didn’t miss the scamper of footsteps running up the stairs when we came in the door. I didn’t get a good look at the girl before she closed herself back up in her bedroom, her safe space, I imagine. It was mine, too, on some nights.

~

“Oh, c’mon, he doesn’t bite.”

“That is a blatant lie, and you know it.”

I giggled, slightly menacingly, as Jake eyed the animal in front of him wearily. He reached out slowly to pet it but jumped back when the horse stomped and huffed at him. The stable hand holding onto the lead rope couldn’t hide his amusement. I shrugged and sighed from my spot in the saddle of another horse. “Guess I get to tell your brothers you were too scared to ride a horse with me.”

It was a low blow, taunting him like that, but it was the results that mattered to me. He glared at me. “You’re the worst,” he muttered, before moving to grasp the saddle horn and sticking his foot in the stirrup. He took a deep breath and held it, hoisting himself up and swinging his leg over the other side. When he was confident the horse wasn’t going to bolt or immediately buck him off, he exhaled. “Happy now?”

“Yep!” I beamed at him, ignoring his grumbling. The stable hand adjusted Jake’s stirrups and gave us the okay to ride.

Jake was fidgety and white knuckling the reins, but he started to relax as the ride went on. I’ll go so far as to say he might have started enjoying himself a little bit. I even caught him talking to his horse once or twice, little admonitions of praise.

“So, what do you think, grumpy gills? Think I could talk you into doing this more often?”

“I could perhaps be persuaded,” he said as he winked.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure there’s lots of places around Nashville we could ride. Maybe we can make it a regular thing?”

“Sure. And with enough practice I’ll be riding circles around you in no time.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “You’d have to catch up to me first.” I spurred my horse to run ahead, wondering if he’d be brave enough to commence the chase. After a few moments, he finally did, and I heard the patter of his horse trotting up behind me.

We slowed to a stop at the edge of a creek, and I laughed at the grimace on Jake’s face. “That is… fuck, that hurts.” He fidgeted in the saddle, adjusting to get more comfortable.

“Oh, just wait until after. You won’t be able to walk straight for the rest of the day.”

“Thanks for the warning,” he mumbled. At my smug look, he said, “Payback’s a bitch, babe.” I huffed in faux offense.

We took our time finishing up the trail, which looped around and led us back to the stables. I snickered as Jake attempted to walk, his legs and rear end sore from the saddle. I felt it, too, having gone so long without riding, but my stubbornness would never let me admit it to him. Before getting back in the car, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. “Thank you for making me come do this. I really did have a good time.”

~

I was woken up to the sound of a door slamming down the hallway. At the sound of cabinets being slammed downstairs I sat up, listening. Jake reached out for me and mumbled sleepily, “What’s goin’ on?”

I checked the time on my phone; it was a little after midnight. “I don’t…” I got out of bed and padded to the door to listen closer. I wasn’t hearing as much noise, but could hear Vivian’s voice, along with a man’s, a voice that was unfortunately all too familiar. “Shit.” I turned on the lamp and hurriedly threw on some clothes. Jake started to do the same and asked me again what was happening. I was suddenly very worried; I did not sign up for this. “I think my dad’s here. And if he’s here, then something’s wrong. Just… stay here.”

Vivian was bustling around in the kitchen gathering supplies. “Good, you’re up. You can help. My hands ain’t as steady as they used to be. Wash your hands.”

I didn’t argue or ask questions. I knew better than that. The living room light was on, and I silently prepared myself for what I might find.

My father sat in the light, shirt off, his arm awkwardly bent to hold a bloodied towel on a spot just below his left shoulder blade. His hair was longer, but he didn’t look much different than the last time I saw him. He also didn’t seem surprised to see me; Vivian probably already told him I was here. Whether or not she told him about Jake was still unclear.

“Mija.” He nodded at me. He never was one for heartfelt greetings or hugs.

I sighed, moving to his side and pulling away the towel to examine the wound. “Bullet?”

“Still there.” If he could take care of a wound himself, he would do it. But this was in a hard-to-reach place, so it made sense he would need help. The problem was that there weren’t a lot of people he trusted to help, so he would suffer as long of a drive as he needed until he reached one of his “safe spaces.”

“How long?”

“Four hours.”

That checked out. Infection was already starting to set in the edges of the injury, redness and inflammation spreading, but it wasn’t necrotic or life-threatening. Yet. Judging from the fact he drove all the way here (from wherever) and was still awake and alert, it was safe to say the bullet missed anything important. He was always lucky like that. I pulled out some of the supplies Vivian had already brought out and set to work removing the bullet. I’m sure the act of digging around with the forceps was painful, but he didn’t make a sound. He never did.

I was so focused on the task in front of me that I didn’t hear the creak of the stairs as someone came down, and I didn’t hear Vivian’s voice as she addressed them. I know I told Jake to stay put, but he either didn’t hear me in his half-asleep state or chose to blatantly ignore me. I’m gunning for the latter. Dad tensed up, and it wasn’t because of pain from the bullet I finally found and was carefully removing. I followed his eyes as they focused on the man he didn’t recognize, hackles raised and on guard.

“Can I do anything?”

Bless him. Despite the whole situation probably being unsettling, Jake was still here with me, offering his help. He got plenty of brownie points for not freaking out. With the bullet out, all I had to do was clean and stitch up the wound. “No but thank you.” I offered him a soft smile. Everything was under control. Except for the fact that Dad was staring daggers at him, and that was just how he handled strangers. We hadn’t even crossed the ‘discussing my relationship’ threshold yet.

“Dad,” I started cautiously. “This is Jake.” Bite the bullet, no pun intended, get it over with. “He’s my boyfriend, and I trust him. Jake, this is my dad, Antonio.”

Jake kept his distance, but wanting to be polite, as he usually is, said, “Nice to finally meet you. Wish the circumstances were a little different.”

“Give me one good reason I don’t gut you like a fucking trout.”

I was suddenly feeling very protective. I pressed my thumb as hard as I could into the edge of the bullet hole I had begun to stitch up. He hissed at the unexpected feeling and turned to shoot me a glare. “Knock it the fuck off,” I growled through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to show up out of the blue after however many years and be an asshole. Especially not to him.”

Of course, my father was incapable of knowing when to move on or walk away from a fight. And God forbid he actually apologize for anything. “Se ve como un imbecil. Pelegatos.”

“Yeah, real classy,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “You can’t even insult him to his face, in English.”

“Que te la pique un pollo,” he spat at Jake. I’m sure he could figure out it was an insult, even without understanding Spanish, but he didn’t shoot back any retorts, which I was grateful for. It only would have exacerbated the situation.

I jabbed another finger close to his wound, careful not to mess up my stitch job. “I said knock it off. Unless you want to stitch yourself up. I love him, whether you like it or not. So, get over it. The least you can do is be civil.”

He mumbled something else, no doubt another insult, but I stopped listening, and cut him off with a frustrated yell. I stomped my foot, much like a petulant child, and jammed the needle into the next appropriate spot, leaving it there. “Viv! I need you to finish this before I kill him!”

She quickly took my place, shaking her head. “You two…”

“He’s the one acting like a fucking child!” Everything felt too confined, too bright, too loud. The air felt thick, and my chest tightened with anxiety. I needed out. I rushed out the front door without another word. Jake followed. I paced back and forth, my fists balled up tightly as I tried to focus on the wood creaking beneath my bare feet. “He’s so insufferable! Can’t even pretend to act like an adult for two fucking seconds! He thinks he’s so tough ‘cause he can go out and get shot! It’s probably his own fucking fault, probably was being reckless because he thinks he’s invincible or something. Then he shows up out of the blue with a bullet lodged in his shoulder and has the fucking audacity to talk to you like that? What gives him the right? What is he gonna do the next time he gets hurt? His luck will run out eventually. You’d think he’d be a little more conscious of the fact that he faces death every single day, that any one of these days will be the last time we get to talk to each other, to see each other. But instead of just accepting that and just, I don’t know, being happy for me, for once in my life, that I found someone that makes me happy, he has to act like a fucking animal!”

Jake reached out and grabbed my arms, forcing me to stop my pacing and rambling. “Hey, hey, just breathe for a second, babe.” He gently placed his hands on my cheeks and used his thumbs to wipe away tears I didn’t even realize I’d been crying.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to meet him ‘cause I knew he was gonna be like that.”

“Shh. You don’t need to apologize. He’s an ass, but I don’t think that’s what this is really about.”

“He just makes me so mad, and-“

“I think you’re afraid of losing him.”

Well, that was absurd. “What? That’s not… what are you talking about?” I stared at him, blinking away tears as I tried to process what he was saying.

“You’re mad at him for acting like a dick, I get that. But is it possible that you’re upset he got hurt? I mean, he got shot. That’s a big deal. I… maybe that’s nothing new for you. If I had to take a guess, you’ve probably seen it a hundred times. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be worried about him.”

“You’re insane,” I mumbled.

“Am I wrong, though?”

He wasn’t. I always worried, it was just my nature. Every time Dad got hurt, I always worried if this would be it; each bullet, each stab wound, each broken bone threatened to be the one that would take him out. Life is never a guarantee, but death seemed to taunt him, dangling the thread of fate in front of his face as a warning. You’re next. Most children don’t think of death often, much less worry about it creeping up on them. We weren’t most children. I don’t remember losing my mom, but when it took Luca, I realized how close it was. Death rode our trail like the dust I kicked up on the dirt roads I ran down. Every time the phone rang, I imagined it was someone calling to tell Vivian “Antonio’s dead. He isn’t coming back for his daughter.” Realistically, there probably wouldn’t even be a phone call. He just wouldn’t come home, and we would know.

I fell forward, burying my face in Jake’s chest. “He used to be so good at it, whatever he did. And smart. Or maybe it was just dumb luck. But now it seems like every time I see him, he’s hurt again. And it scares me.” That last sentence I whispered. It made my heart clench. I pulled away and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “And for once I would like to have a nice conversation, without him threatening my boyfriend’s life.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.” He nudged me toward the door. “Go talk to him. Say what you need to say. I’ll give you some space.”

I sighed. “You know I hate it when you’re right.”

He smirked. “But you love me anyways.”

“I do,” I grumbled as I wrapped my arms around him again. “I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not going to let him scare me off. Other than threatening to gut me like a fish, I don’t even know what he said.”

“And I absolutely won’t be repeating it.”

“Pft. I’ll get it out of you eventually. But for now, go talk to your dad. I’ll wait for you upstairs.” He planted a kiss on my forehead.

“Thank you, Jake.”

I led him back inside and gave my hand one more reassuring squeeze before parting to walk back upstairs. I waited until I heard the door shut to approach my dad.

He was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, while he spoke quietly to Vivian. They both went silent when they saw me. Vivian didn’t speak; she didn’t have to. She shot me a look that said, “Figure it out,” and left us alone.

I crossed my arms and looked around at anything other than him. In a perfect world, I’d wait for an apology, and we’d make up, but as I mentioned before, my father never apologizes for anything. And maybe it’s my inherited stubbornness, but I certainly wasn’t going to apologize to him; I didn’t do anything wrong. So instead, I would just wait for him to say something that would inevitably piss me off all over again.

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anyone.”

“I don’t think he’s good for you, mija.”

“You don’t even know him. And how would you know what’s good for me, anyways? You haven’t been around enough to know I even had a boyfriend, and we’ve been together for over two years.” He seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you in over four years. Let that sink in.”

“It has to be like that, sometimes. You know that.”

“Still wouldn’t kill you to check in every once in a while, let me know you’re okay.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Clearly someone does!” I gestured toward him and his freshly stitched up bullet wound.

“It isn’t your responsibility, it never was. I taught you to take care of yourself only. And that also means not relying on some bastardo."

“It’s not about relying on anyone. I found someone that makes me happy, happier than I’d been in a long time. I found somebody that I can see myself spending the rest of my life with, and I want that with Jake. He sees me for me, not just some weird, damaged girl with a fucked-up childhood and without an actual family. Shit, even his family made me feel loved. His mother texts me more than you do! So, you don’t get to decide if he’s ‘good’ for me. I love him, dad. I know you know what that’s like because you loved my mom at some point, right?”

His jaw tensed and he avoided my eyes. “Don’t,” he warned.

“Don’t what? Is it so wrong of me to want to talk about her? My entire life you’ve done nothing but shut down when I try.”

“Let it go, Kya.”

“No! Stop fucking shutting me out! I can’t talk about mom; I can’t talk about Luca.” His breath hitched when I said my brother’s name. “I’m not asking you to be some perfect, therapeutic, emotionally available well of information, because I know that isn’t you. I just… sometimes I just want my dad. I know it hurts to talk about her, just like it hurts me to talk about Luca, but it feels worse to keep everything bottled up like that.” I rubbed my upper arms nervously. “Jake’s the first person I’ve talked to about Luca, outside of Finn or Vivian.” The fact that it was technically Josh I told first was irrelevant to this conversation. There was no need to introduce more strangers to my dad right now.

“Cuanto sabe el?”

He wasn’t just talking about Luca. He wanted to know how much Jake knew about him and his career. “Not much. Not enough for it to be a problem.”

“I don’t-“

“Trust him, I know. But I do, so just maybe you can trust me for now.” For some reason, I felt the need to reiterate, “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

He stayed silent except for the deep breath he took in. He never was great at handling confrontation, at least when it came from me. In his line of work, he could typically deal with it via some kind of violence. He would choose to die before ever hurting me in that way, so that option was off the table. I don’t think he had ever even raised his voice at me. Instead, he’d struggle to find the words until he gave up, shut down, and walked away, leaving me back at square one. I don’t know why I expected anything different tonight.

His expression was unreadable when he looked at me. “You should go get some sleep.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, so you can disappear before I wake up to avoid talking about anything. I’d bet money you won’t even say goodbye.”

It was then that I noticed how tired he looked. The dark circles under his eyes seemed more prominent than I remembered, and the air of arrogance and confidence he normally carried with him almost seemed completely dissipated. I tried not to dwell on it too much, blaming it solely on the late hour, his injury, and the amount of time that had passed since I’d last seen him. He stepped forward, held my face between his palms, and leaned in to kiss my forehead. “We’ll talk in the morning.” And with that, he walked away, leaving me standing in the kitchen, alone and dumbfounded. Did he mean that, or was it just another empty promise that would be broken by morning?

I’m sure it wasn’t for lack of trying to stay up, but Jake had fallen asleep by the time I made it back upstairs. I managed to get back into bed without waking him. I laid there in the dark, listening to his steady breaths until my thoughts finally quieted enough for sleep to take me, too.

~

Jake wasn’t there when I woke up, and the sun pouring in through the curtains seemed exceptionally bright. I checked the time on my phone and groaned; it was almost noon. I forced myself out of bed, and after a quick shower made my way downstairs.

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.” Vivian was bustling around in the kitchen, cleaning things up as she went. Jake was helping prepare lunch. He smiled sweetly and greeted me good morning.

“Sorry, guess I just really needed that beauty sleep. I… oh, hello.” I didn’t notice her at first, the unfamiliar face sitting at the table. She was quiet, and I imagine really good at making herself seem small. Dirty blonde curls hung messily in her face, nearly concealing her eyes. She couldn’t have been more than 14 or 15. She had significant bruising on her wrists and neck, giving me an idea of what she went through, and also letting me know she hadn’t been here very long. “I’m Kya.” I kept my voice low and movements slow as I introduced myself and sat at the table.

She didn’t panic and bolt up the stairs to safety, so that was a good sign, but she avoided my eyes. “Sara,” she whispered.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sara.” In my experience and based on all the trauma this girl had obviously been through, it was better to let her come to me and call the shots. She would talk when she was ready, and nobody liked forced conversation and small talk. I glanced around the kitchen and into the living room, not sure what I was looking for or what to expect.

“He hasn’t left yet,” Vivian said. She never missed a beat. “He’s outside, I think. After you eat, you can go find him.” I wondered if dad had said anything to her about our conversation the night before.

Jake waited until we had a minute alone after lunch to ask how things went last night.

“About as good as I expected, I guess. In other words, I got absolutely nowhere.”

“Well, he didn’t threaten my life when I saw him this morning, so maybe you made some progress.”

“I’m shocked,” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “He said we could talk more today, so I’m gonna go corner him and see if I can’t hold him to that. Before he disappears again.”

“You’ve got this, babe. And I’m sure Vivian will find something to keep me busy with.”

“She absolutely will,” I grinned, hugging him and stealing a kiss before venturing out to find my dad.

At the northernmost edge of the property, there was a trunk from an old oak tree laid across the ground. That tree had been there before any of us, like an ancient forest spirit watching over the land it casted shadows across. Then one night when I was eight, a storm rolled through. I remember being fascinated by the flashes of lightning and rolling thunder, harmonizing with the heavy pelting of rain against the windows. We lit a bunch of candles after the power went out. Most kids would have been afraid. Finn hated storms when we were kids; he would hide in the closet until it passed. But I thought it was beautiful. I liked to think the sky sent the rain to clean the earth up a little, and that it would wash away all the bad stuff that haunted us.

It was during that storm the oak tree decided it had enough, and it couldn’t fight to stay strong anymore. It shook the entire house when it fell, shook it so hard I thought there was an earthquake. The next morning, while we surveyed the damage, I studied the splintered wood and the torn roots sticking up from the soil, and I felt… sad. I remember putting my hand on the rough bark and apologizing like it was a person. “I’m sorry it got too hard.” I didn’t understand at the time how much I would relate that oak tree to Luca, and eventually my mother, too.

My dad was seated on the fallen trunk, like we did often as kids. Luca spent a lot of time there; I think the sounds of the woods quieted the noises in his mind. I took a seat next to my dad, waiting to see if it would quiet my mind, too.

“He has an accent.”

That was a weird way to start a line of questioning about Jake, but I’d play ball. “He’s from Michigan.”

“How did you find him?”

“He came into Richie’s shop.”

Dad let out an exasperated sign. “Don’t tell me he’s a musician.”

“He is, and he’s a very good one. He plays guitar for a band. They have three albums and play sold out shows all over the world.”

“That isn’t a real job. It isn’t stable-“

“And working for a drug cartel is?”

“Kya,” he started. “I only want you to be taken care of.”

“He takes plenty good care of me,” I huffed. My next words came out before I could stop them. “Did my mom know what you do, who you are? Or did you shut her out, too?”

The silence that followed was deafening. I didn’t expect an answer, much less any kind of explanation, but after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “Yes, she knew everything. I never told you how we met, have I?”

I stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. Who even are you right now? “No, you never told me much of anything.”

“She killed a man.” I’m sorry, what? “A preacher that was hurting children.” I didn’t need any clarification on what that meant. “I was in custody when they brought her in. She fought them every step of the way. She wasn’t afraid, and she was full of fire. I was intrigued, so when I left, I took her with me.”

“How’d you get her out?” I’m sure the details were nothing good. Richie once told me that when my dad was younger, he would let himself get arrested on purpose, just to see how long it would take for him to get out again. It was all a game to him. At least, it was before he became a father, and everything changed. When I first read ‘No Country for Old Men,’ I swore Cormac McCarthy wrote it about my father. Even the names were similar.

To answer my question, he said, “It was a different time in a small town, and much easier than it is now.” And he was good at running from the law.

“Did you… kidnap her?” I asked through narrowed eyes. I don’t know why I asked. I know he had done a lot of bad things, but I didn’t really think he would have done that. He was a criminal, a killer, but he had some morals.

He chuckled, an actual laugh. This was so surreal. Maybe these years apart changed him somehow. “No one could make your mother do anything she didn’t want to do. You’re a lot like her in that regard. She could have left whenever she wanted, but she chose to stay.” He sighed sadly. “She was a good mother, and she loved you.”

Now why did he have to go and say that? My eyes welled up with tears and I looked away to hide them. “What happened to her? I’ve only ever been told she got sick,” I whispered, barely audible. The quiet that followed made me wonder if he even heard me. I thought I’d cut my losses and be grateful for what he did give me, but then he surprised me once again.

“She did, and I couldn’t… she was sick, like Luca.”

I didn’t expect that, and I was suddenly feeling extremely nauseous. “How did she…?”

“It doesn’t matter how.”

“Tell me.” I’m not sure why I needed to know so badly. Knowing the gory details wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring her back. But still I pushed him until he caved. This was the most progress I’d made with him my entire life; I didn’t want to give up yet. “Please, just tell me what happened to her.”

He took a deep breath and straightened his spine, steeling himself. “She drowned. Whitecap in Corpus Christi. She went out into the ocean and kept going, until she couldn’t get back. She let the waves take her.”

My head was spinning now, and I had more questions but couldn’t figure out how to ask them. As the quiet settled between us again, my mind started to wander down a darker path, one of anger. He knew. He knew mom was sick, he saw what it did to her, and yet he still abandoned Luca when he was in trouble. He let this happen, left me to deal with it alone.

“Did you see it happen?” I asked, not waiting for his response. “Because I saw Luca die. I saw it happen right in front of me and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t… why weren’t you here?”

“You’re strong, Kya. You always have been. You didn’t need me.”

“I was a kid for fuck’s sake! I was a kid who just watched her brother die, and who needed her dad! But you weren’t there.”

He clenched his jaw but didn’t respond. I didn’t expect him to say he was sorry or feed me some line of bullshit about wishing he could go back and do things differently. Every single choice he made in his life was thought-out and meticulous. It’s just that most of those decisions were made for him, not anyone else. I know he cared about me, on some level, in his own backwards way, but he made it so easy to be angry with him, to blame him for all the shitty, horrible things that happened to me.

The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry. I spared him one last glance, one more opportunity to say something, before standing to walk away. I’d only gotten a few steps when he called my name. I stopped but refused to turn around and face him again.

“I am proud of you, Kya, who you’ve grown up to be. She would be proud, too.”

I squeezed my eyes shut to fight the onslaught of tears. It didn’t help, and his words did nothing to take the pain away. He didn’t try to stop me as I continued the trek back to the house.

By the time I made it back, I forced myself to stop crying but I’m sure I’d rubbed my eyes raw. Vivian was outside doing some work in her garden. She saw me as I walked by, but she didn’t say anything. She knew how conversations with my father usually ended; she was used to the tears.

I found Jake in the living room, seated on the floor by the coffee table, playing a board game with Sara. It surprised me to see her not only opting to sit in here with a man she didn’t know, but also letting herself have fun. It wasn’t lost on me that there was no way in hell Vivian would have left them alone if she didn’t trust Jake.

I watched them for a minute, how he seemed to connect with her so easily. She clearly felt some sense of safety with him, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. He made her laugh so effortlessly, like it came naturally to him. He’s going to make a good dad, someday.

When Jake realized I was there, he beamed at me. “Hey! Wanna join us for a game? We-“ His face fell once he got a good look at me and how red my eyes were. He pulled himself off the floor and came to me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I offered a weak smile. Part of me just wanted to take a nap; I was emotionally exhausted. But I didn’t want to worry him, so I sucked it up and pulled myself together. “I’ll tell you later, I promise. For now, I’ll take you up on the offer. What are we playing?”

~

Things were bittersweet when the time came to make our departure. We were ready to get home, but I always missed West Virginia when I was gone. It was my first real home and would always have a special place in my heart, even when I was hundreds of miles away.

Vivian was never big on heartfelt goodbyes, so she made it short and sweet. “Drive safe. And don’t forget to come back one day, ya hear?” Even Sara waved her quiet goodbye from the safety of the porch.

My dad, of course, left sometime in the middle of the night. I tried to push down the hurt; he didn’t bother to tell anyone he was leaving. What a surprise. Our conversation was still fresh in my mind, creating newly opened wounds I would need to work through. But as always, I would push it down, and bottle it up, at least until I saw him again in a few years.

I gripped Jake’s hand as I said a silent farewell to the memories that filled this place.

TAGLIST

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@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389

[lutiaslayton]

Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva

ＰＡＲＴ　１７

〚ＦＩＲＳＴ〛〚ＰＲＥＶ〛〚ＮＥＸＴ〛

Disclaimer: This is a fan-translation for the Japan-exclusive novellisation of the movie Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva. The original novel was written by Aya Matsui under the supervision of Akihiro Hino, and belongs to Level-5.

This translation only aims to be a pleasant read for non-Japanese fans, nothing more: I made a few deliberate changes while translating in order to get the writing style closer to what is usually found in English fanfictions, as the Japanese storytelling can sometimes be different than what we are used to.

＊ The Immortal Kingdom, Ambrosia

“Professor, I have to help Melina!” I shouted.

She was hanging on to the Detragigant as best she could. We had to hurry!

“No, it’s too dangerous!” he replied bitterly.

Melina’s grip loosened and one of her hands gave way. She lost her balance and swayed wildly, ready to fall. Time was running out!

“It’ll be alright! Trust me, Professor! I…”

She needed help!

“I’m a future gentleman!” I exclaimed at the top of my voice.

After a moment of silence… the professor nodded.

“You can do it, Luke!”

He changed our small helicopter’s course and we chased after the Detragigant, still heading out towards the sea. We sped up and slipped between its legs, then turned around and approached it backwards.

“This is the best I can do!”

“That’s good enough!”

To my own surprise, I was not scared at all. I timed my jump out of the helicopter and towards the Detragigant… and the next thing I knew, my body was leaping into the air.

I screamed.

I missed my target by a long shot, and barely landed a considerable distance away from Melina. What happened after that was just out of sheer desperation. I would be sent rolling off, or a pipe I would hold on to would be dislodged and detached…

“Hang on, Melina! I’m coming to help you!”

I shouted this, but maybe I was the one who had to hang on better too.

Getting stuck on a rotating excavator disc and forcing me to run in circles for a bit made me dizzy. But I managed to get out of it, and little by little I got closer to Melina.

The only thing my eyes were set on was the image of Melina hanging on with one hand, and her looking back at me anxiously.

There’s no need to worry, Melina! I will make it and help you!

Gradually, I made it closer and closer to her. I was almost there… Almost…

I heard Descole’s voice in the distance.

“Luke Triton… You cheeky little brat!”

The huge drill of the Detragigant flew towards me at tremendous speed and hid Melina from my view. But I wouldn’t let it get in my way! I would save Melina, no matter what!

Somehow, even in that moment, I felt no fear.

The drill was right in front of me.

“Luke!”

A split second later, the small helicopter hit the drill, forcing it to change direction.

Now!

I rushed to Melina at once and finally helped her back to safety.

“Th—thank you, Luke…”

Hearing her words, I naturally smiled.

“I-I didn’t do that much, that was nothing!”

Unfortunately for my image, I was pretty out of breath.

But then, above our heads, a huge explosion occurred. Both the small helicopter and the drill went up in flames…!

“P-Professor!”

No… With that explosion, he couldn’t…?

“Ha ha ha… Shattered to pieces it is, then,” Descole laughed darkly.

Professor… Professor!

At that moment…

“Luke, look!”

I followed Melina’s pointing finger. There were many pipes hanging from the Detragigant, and at the tip of one of them… the professor held on. I was so relieved…

He swung back and forth, until he could gather enough momentum to reach the top of the Detragigant.

“You were lucky.”

Descole pested, then drew his sword and ran to attack. The professor pulled out a pipe and used it to defend himself.

A sword against a pipe… The battle began. The professor’s fencing skills were impressive, but Descole’s seemed to be at least as good. Perhaps even greater…

“You lack experience…”

In response to Descole’s words, the professor replied:

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Descole.”

“What?”

“The crest’s puzzle.”

The puzzle? What was he talking about?

“Indeed, you solved half of it,” he continued.

“Half… of it?”

Descole’s tone had changed.

“The songs of the stars and sea are not enough.”

“W-what!?”

“Three keys are needed to revive Ambrosia, Descole!”

As he continued talking, the professor walked up to a sheet of music that had a drawing of the crest on it.

“Your mistake lies in the fact that you only looked at the crest under one angle.”

He took the music sheet, showed it to Descole, and slowly… he rotated it.

“There is a third song, which appears when you turn the Song of the Stars upside down…”

Descole’s eyes widened.

“The Sun!?”

“Indeed. The third key is the Song of the Sun!”

I finally understood. So this was the puzzle that the professor had been thinking about earlier!

“Unless the sun sings as well, dawn will never rise on Ambrosia, Descole.”

Having said this, the professor turned his back and began to play the first melody, the Song of the Stars.

“Melina, sing the Song of the Sea!”

“Y-yes!”

Beside me, Melina started singing. The two melodies mingled and resonated together… So far, this was the same thing as what Descole had played earlier.

But then, the professor turned the drawing of the crest upside down, and then began to play a third melody with his free hand. The Song of the Sun…

Stars, Sea, and Sun. The three symbols on the Ambrosian crest overlapped, as rich and beautiful music filled the surroundings.

Then, something unbelievable happened. Deep below the sea, some lights started to flicker. It was weak at first, but their brightness gradually increased and spread across the surface of the sea. As if those lights were responding to the music…

As he continued playing, the professor looked over his shoulder and at the glowing sea. Melina continued to sing, focused on her performance.

Eventually, the glowing sea rose up, and ruins emerged from the waves. At the same time, the light from the sea burst forth, and then fell on us like a rain of light… I had never seen anything so beautiful before.

These ruins were the Kingdom of Ambrosia. I thought back to how it used to be, in the distant past… Where did the queen sing of her love for her subjects? And this puzzle about eternal life, what could it be…?

The remains of the kingdom came to a silent halt once they finished surfacing. The professor and Melina also slowly stopped playing.

As he put his hand on the lever of the Detragigant once again, Descole’s sword struck him.

“Laytooon!”

Descole had completely lost himself in his anger, and attacked the professor relentlessly.

“Move!”

The two struggled to get on top of the Detragan, and during their fierce battle, pieces of it were destroyed one after the other. Completely unbothered by this, Descole kept attacking.

“Ambrosia…”

The professor was struggling to keep him under control.

Descole yelled: “I’ll search Ambrosia with my own hands!”

Finally… a spark ran through the Detragan, followed by many others that spread all over like opening cracks. The Detragigant started attacking, launching its weapons aimlessly, damaging itself, causing internal explosions all over the place.

With the Detragigant unstable, both the professor and Descole lost their balance. The professor collapsed on the spot… while Descole looked around for a place to escape, only to stagger and fall.

A desperate scream rang out.

“Descole!”

The professor hurriedly peered downwards, and I also tried to look at the general area where I thought he had fallen… but he was nowhere to be seen. Could he have survived…?

I noticed that Melina was also looking down, with a frozen expression on her face.

“How on Earth did he…?”

“I don’t know…”

That was all I could say. So instead of words, I took her hand and smiled to cheer her up.

“Come on, let’s go see the professor.”

She nodded, and we ran to him.

“Professor!”

This was Emmy’s voice. When I turned my head, I saw that they had caught up with us and were running after the Detragigant.

“The way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before that monster explodes!” Inspector Grosky shouted.

Indeed, the Detragigant was now on the verge of collapsing completely, bursting here and there with sparkles… and going in flames. Parts of it started to turn to rubble and fall off.

“Hurry up, run!” Amelia shouted in panic.

“What are we going to do, Professor!?” I asked, turning towards him.

He was trying to operate the levers that were still active. Somehow, he managed to change the Detragigant’s route significantly… with cliffs now becoming visible right ahead of us.

“Alright! Luke, Melina, let’s go!”

I was overjoyed that he had found a way out. In the meantime, the Detragigant continued its path straight ahead, slowly but without interruption… and no doubt, it would soon step over the cliff.

We jumped from its shoulders just before it sank into the abyss. As we landed, a massive explosion burst from behind us.

We had managed to land on the ground, but the impact had hit hard.

“Are you alright!?”

Emmy rushed over to me. When I recovered enough to get up, it was Mr Whistler who shouted next:

“Melina…! Melina!”

Following his gaze, I realised that she had fainted.

A moment later, the Detragigant roared… or at least, that was what I thought it sounded like. A howl of despair and agony…

Part of the remains of Ambrosia had impaled it all the way through. The light running throughout its machinery disappeared, and all movement rapidly stopped. At the same time, its debris fell out… and into the sea.

Somehow… It felt as if the remnants of the Detragigant that sank to the bottom of the sea were offering prayers to the kingdom.

I remembered the people who would pray to the Queen, just like in the opera about the Eternal Kingdom.

　⇚　　　　　　　⇛

[pr0serpinas]

Some wee writer thoughts on chapter 7 of oceans brawl.

Man, I agonized so hard over this. I actually ended up combining two shorter chapters into one very long (for me) one because I just needed Sebastian to get on the road to picking himself up and was sick of dwelling on it myself. Haha, sorry, Sebastian.

But really, for how long I have been working on this (I actually started writing it in June and didn’t publish til August), it’s really…not as long as I thought, and I’m feeling a bit disappointed? I’d tell you the word count, but I’m on my phone. I had the very stupid (seriously, very stupid, don’t do this) idea to put the entire fic in one document that I just continually add onto, and it’s got to the point where the app hates it/me and won’t give a word count anymore, I’ve got to be on my computer. But I have, eh, maybe 4 chapters already written and an idea for more. I guess I just started with the aspiration of writing to the scale of some other works in the fandom, ones that have 6-figure word counts, and I’m not going to get there, most likely. If I had to guess, I’d say I’m somewhere between half and 3/4 done, which would be 34k-50k? I understand this is still a perfectly respectable number! It’s just like, man, the amount of brain space and time I have put into it doesn’t translate into a word count as much as I thought 😭 I digress!

Really struggled with the decision over whether to include Anne. My impression is that a lot of people in the fandom prefer that she is dead, either showing it for plot purposes or having it offscreen. And it was a decision that made me a little nervous because I don’t want people to be disappointed. But I’ve just spent some 24k words showing that Ominis can’t be Sebastian’s anchor. This is because of my own personal feelings and experiences: someone can love you more than anything (and Ominis does, whether he fully realizes it or not), and it isn’t enough to pull you out of your own head. For me, this is especially true if it’s someone whom I know will always be there for me: my mom, my fiancé, etc. When I’m in a certain mood, words from near-strangers are almost more impactful because they’re least expected. Because Sebastian has had this incredibly fraught, tenuous correspondence with Anne, actually seeing her in person would be incredibly powerful in ways that Ominis’ gentle consistency isn’t. But what I mostly want to show going forward is Sebastian making the choice to take ownership over his own life and being responsible for his actions. Bring alive is a choice—sometimes a conscious one. He has to reconcile that he cannot erase his past actions or magically wave a wand and get rid of his addictive tendencies. Ominis will have to learn to live with the fact that he can’t be responsible for Sebastian’s self-esteem, and the unconditional trust that he always placed in Sebastian as children is going to look different now.

I also felt nervous about cursebreaker-Ominis and Unspeakable-Sebastian. Cursebreaker-Ominis has been really well received! The people I’m close to are really, really good about not imagining sebinis to fit any one binary (top!seb and bottom!om, for example). That said, I see a pretty solid preference for Sebastian to do work that’s more physical and Ominis to do work that’s more cerebral in nature, and I know quite a few people who love the idea of Unspeakable-Ominis. Here, I’ve totally reversed it. Sebastian will possibly have the opportunity to explore the nature of dark magic and his addiction (he’s still very much an addict, albeit a non-practicing one), and Ominis can use the skills honed in his family to undo some of the damage they’ve done. It also adds another layer of “things they do not talk about.” Unspeakables can’t talk about their jobs—unless I’m mistaken, I don’t think they’re even really allowed to say they’re Unspeakables. Some readers have pointed out that Ominis has never actually told Sebastian what he does. They are correct, and this is on purpose. It will not get better any time soon.

These two really don’t communicate well, do they? My dearest and most excellent Plums made a very compelling argument that the relationship between them in oceans brawn is toxic. I didn’t intend for it to be, and it has a happy ending. But I can definitely see how it is, at least right now. Their lack of communication will continue to be an issue for a while.

[judesmoonbeauty]

The Past Records: Ellis & Jude Chapter 4

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do NOT post my translations elsewhere.

Translation notes are marked with ***

At Liam's suggestion, we decided to teat Jude and Ellis.

Liam: In the end, what you're worried about is if they won't betray the Crown and sell the information somewhere, right?

Liam: If that's the case, why not leave some important documents around and see what happens?

Harrison: So, where did you leave them at?

Liam: I put a list of targets I’ve eliminated in the hallway in front of Jude’s room. 

Harrison: That’s too obvious.

Liam: There’s no point if it’s not noticed, right?

While we were having this conversation, Jude showed up in the dining room.

Liam: Ah, Good morning, Jude!

After glancing at Liam's bright smile that captivated everyone, Jude threw the documents in front of Liam.

Liam: Eh? Wow, I was looking this, thank you………

Jude: This is confidential information, right? 

Liam: Yea, I was just crying to Harry about what to do because Victor would be furious if he found out.

Jude: Look for ‘em before ya cry.

Liam: Ah-ha, right? Thanks for picking it up for me.

Jude: If I expose this to the outside world, it’ll be the end for ya and Crown, right?

Liam: !

Jude: People who can’t keep secrets shouldn’t speak.

Liam: Yea….ok, I’ll be careful. 

Liam: He left. 

Liam: What should I do, Harry, I think he hates me?

Harrison: No, he’s always had that kind of attitude. Don’t get discouraged.

Liam: But just now, wasn’t that a warning, “Don’t put the Crown at risk”?

Harrison: That’s what it sounds like. 

Liam: The fact that not only did he return the documents, but also gave a proper warning means bonus points for trustworthiness.

Harrison: Well, maybe it was worth it for you to be hated.

Liam: Ah, so you do think he hates me after all!

That night - 

Ellis: Oh, it’s Harrison. 

Harrison: Oh, it’s you. How unusual for you at this hour.

Ellis: I thought I'd have something to drink before going to bed. Did you have a tough mission Harrison? 

Ellis: Shall we make a sweet cocktail? I heard from Liam that you have a sweet tooth.

Without waiting for a response, Ellis took things out of the shelf, deftly made a grasshopper, and handed it to me.

Harrison: Are you a bartender or something? Mmm...Tasty.

Ellis: I’m glad.

Harrison: Liam was working so hard, so it wouldn't be fair if I didn't get dirty too.

Ellis: Did you say something?

Harrison: No, not really. You’re pretty skilled….

Ellis: Really?

Harrison: Moreover, you were kind from our first meeting with everyone. 

Harrison: So……that’s why I’m a little suspicious of you. 

Ellis: ?

Harrison pulled a gun from his pocket and placed it on the table.

Harrison: I've been following you and Jude for the past few days. On top of that, if I say I want to play a game with you, will you play along?

Ellis: Game? 

Harrison: Oh. The rules are simple. 

Harrison: There's not a single bullet in there.

Harrison: If you can trust my word, and pull the trigger six times at your own head, you win.

Ellis: Six times to the head. 

Harrison: If you have nothing against us, you can do it, right?

Ellis: Yeah, okay…

Ellis quickly picked up the gun and nimbly pulled the trigger at least six times, click, click, click, without hesitation.

Harrison: Wha-

Ellis: Do I win?

Harrison: Uh, yea. 

Ellis: Do you have one less thing to worry about?

Harrison: Haha.

Harrison: There was no hesitation.

Ellis: There isn’t. Because you’re kind Harrison.

Ellis: You wouldn't use live ammunition to test someone.

Ellis: Am I wrong?

Harrison: In other words, you’re saying I didn’t fool you enough?

Ellis: Hmm…..maybe that’s the case.

Harrison: So just because you pulled the trigger without hesitation, doesn't prove that there's nothing wrong.

Ellis: Yeah. So, your worries aren’t less?

Harrison: No.

Harrison: I'm not so cynical as to continue to doubt someone who's trusted me so much.

Ellis: Good. Well, let’s have another toast, shall we?

Harrison: Should I do it?

Green cocktail glasses clinked each other and a light sound was heard.

And so, a few days later -

William: How's the investigation going?"

Harrison: Well, I guess things are going well. I've come to most of my conclusions.

Harrison: I’ve finished the proofreading work, and I’m thinking of starting on the report.

William: Alright, then I guess you didn't need this information.

Harrison: Information? 

William: I asked Jude and Ellis if I could take on their first mission tonight, but they declined because they had work commitments.

William: What do you think?

Elbert: If it's the middle of the night, most of the business partners are probably asleep, but what kind of work do they do?

Alfons: Oh! This is a suspicious situation.

Alfons: Frankly, I don't care if it's white or black, but it sounds like fun, so let's tail them to see what they're up to.

Harrison: Is it necessary now…?

Liam: Harry, actually….

Harrison: What?

Liam: When I was trying to figure out what they were planning to do together, there was something that struck me as a little odd.

Liam: I went to the port in the middle of the night….. It looked like Jude was checking something out around the warehouse he was renting.

Roger: Maybe it's some kind of inspection or something.

Liam: But… There's been a rumor that some bad guys who just got out of prison have been coming in and out of there lately.

Alfons: I think I heard that story somewhere...I forget where though.

Harrison: I get it, I get it.

Harrison: Ok, so this is the final test.

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[lovinggarou]

Very messy garou rant

Okay now I was taking a shower and I started to rant to myself abour garou .specifically abour garou avoiding bombs dojo because it was straight up related to bang and even though that ended up being Just a silly headcanons I still loved to think about that. I have to clarify 2 things is that 1. English is not my first language and 2. This is a rant not really analysis or looking for something too deeply is just messy thoughts with a Huge lack of redaction skills . I don’t think I’m good analyzing stuff and I don’t have the dialogues in hand 💔

I was genuinely about to ask what do people thought about it mainly basing myself on what garou said in the anime, manga and webcomic (mentioned in the databook too) about how he avoided using Stream Rock Smashing fist because it straight up reminded him of bang .which sometimes gets a little bit insane because a part of me thinks that he could’ve polished the technique (that was lacking of so many things which is shown during his first fight he had with bang) instead of just placing it apart. Bang even after months of being away from garou always showed how he still thought about him .st first when they mentioned him for the first time in the anime s1 episode 10 he sounded a bit resentful, but as the time passes and garou starts to show up as a hero hunter he starts to get melancholic and genuinely remorseful about it (which by the way has a whole page in the databook) -> I also want to clarify how I’m very aware how bang is not a sunshine and that he’s also one of the reasons of why garou ended up on the edge, not really wanting to fault him about it because it was a garou decision but well, feeling neglected by the only person that you probably trusted (and not at all), leaving you behind not just you his #1 disciple (just imagine how beinf the #1 something meant to him and how he probably felt after noticing that not even like that he could have that attention) but his whole dojo . making feel that he didn’t have nothing more to learn .like!!!!!!! Okay dude . bonus grief if you have in mind how garou thought about the heroes and knowing that his master was one now .idk but .garou beinf constantly neglected and pushed away and being pointed out always instead of actually someone taking the time to make him understant why the things he thought were wrong since he was a child. Bang instead of taking him and try to put his former disciple on the right path again after seeinf with his own eyes how far that “darkness” (in the databook they say en las tinieblas but idk how to translate that) was getting into him .instead of doing that pushing him away leaving him alone and also “freeing” the beast garou was “about to become” . and yk bang way of thinking is not the best too.he may have good intentions but well .ok . That’s probably why garou didn’t need at all .he needed someone to CARE about HIM not to baby him but to actually concern about him and to take their time .no one in his whole life have him that .he ended up seeking that attention into other things such as the hero hunting things that probably helped him to boost his ego. there’s lots of things but ok now I already ALREADY talked too much about things that weren’t the main point hello .sorry . messy thoughts .

Going back with dojo hunting..because yeah he kinda .was being called like that (lobster extra chapter from volume 8) .he was supposed to be fighting a bunch of dojos with the purpose of getting stronger (probably sort of the training he usually mentions becasue that’s the way garou gets stronger, also mentioned in the databook even though that’s super obvious, I think it’s cool because if he looses or not a battle he always hve something to absorb and to learn and apply for the next one .so no battle is a loose-> something that he also said in the manga) so here is where I had that silly headcanons of him avoiding bomb’s dojo .again repeating the same thing but without the .ramble . bang means a lot for garou .is a huge weak spot he has specially considering how much he reacts to him in the first place, him saying that he was avoiding his technique, his reaction when he heard bangs voice in the manga (and I specify the manga because in the manga they take this relationship and SQUEEZEEEE THE SHIT out of it . they WORKED IT BETTER and that’s the reason of why I like the end of his arc a little bit more in the manga but that’s another point that I won’t touch SORRY .focusing .), and that specifc internal dialogue he had when he was about to attack saitama .admitting thst he lacked of determination after he mentioned how he felt relieved to know that bang was alive after the fight he had with the centipede . Those little things that tell us how meaningful bang is for him and lowkey being the only one in his life (the lack of care his parents have for him completely abandoning him and leaving him with his master) .i liked the thought of him not wanting to have contact with bang and not wanting to feel weak out of his own emotions being the reason of why he didn’t like the idea of going for bomb’s dojo BUT SADLY IT got destroyed when I remembered that in fact bomb is almost (almost because even though he was stronger than him in the youth .bang is the one that could take monster garou without fubuki’s help) as strong as bang and GAROU IS NOT STUPID HE KNOWS HE WOULDVE GOT SABOTAGED here it comes wh y-> by that point garou wasn’t as strong or stronger than any of them . if I think about it a little bit more maybe if he tried to destroy that dojo and lost he could’ve become a little bit more stronger at the start of his arc after experimenting what bomb’s technique was after him losing because he was obviously gonna loose .but loosing would not just mean oh damn .i lost!!! Shame !!! but like .thats his brothers master .Bomb was probably not letting him go AT ALL . and he would’ve had to face the consequences of his actions sooner and hero hunting would probably have never happened .maybe if he achieved to escape but again …he couldn’t escape when he was fighting both of them he had to have the help of other monsters (which was frustrating for him) … yeah ….. there’s so many things to talk abour garou in my opinion and in this app they don’t have word restriction so #awesome . hell yeah . Goodby . e.

[asifyoudidntknow]

Differences

I randomly get these stories that just pop in my head and beg to be written down. Sorry if this doesn't sound half as good as the ramblings did in my mind. When it strikes, I just go with it.

@today-in-fic

Half the time with Phoebe he was drunk. For being a brilliant psychologist, Mulder spent quite a bit of time in the dark, dingy basement pubs surrounding campus in his early years at Oxford. Mulder took after his father when first moving to England by drowning his sorrows in whatever alcoholic beverage was of choice that week. He let Phoebe into his life during this low time and freely let her manipulate him. The sex was fun and spontaneous. She used it as a way to further fuck with his mind. The body games were just as much of a way she could twist his mind as it was about bringing herself pleasure. It wasn’t until the summer between his sophomore and junior year when he had a professor that gave extra credit by participating in counseling sessions so that senior degree candidates could hone their techniques that he truly saw how detrimental his relationship was with Phoebe. He went to see if any of these upperclassmen were any good and stayed when he realized just how beneficial the sessions were for his “love is blind”, fucked up relationship…a bonus being extra credit. That summer was a turning point for him. He started focusing more on his studies. He distanced himself from the pubs, as well as Phoebe. She didn’t seem to notice too much. After trying to drag him out a couple of times, she gave up pretty quickly and moved on to the next. Phoebe wasn’t in things for the long haul…easily bored is one way he would describe her. Easily bored and looking to climb the ladder at the Scotland Yard by any means possible.

Comfortable is how he would describe his relationship with Diana. Good. Nice. The usual. He and Diana got along. They agreed most of the time. She looked at his brilliant mind in awe. She almost envied how he came to learn and see angles no one else might. His ego was stroked every time she commented on how amazing he was at his job. The sex was comfortable. Good. Nice. The usual. He could be himself and she accepted him. She didn’t try to push or argue. She easily gained his trust. He readily accepted hers. They were both FBI agents so there wasn’t anything to hide. They could discuss cases, knew about what was going on in the building, could talk about supervisors and employees without having to explain much. She was giddy about all of the old cases he was discovering in the basement and supported his decision to pursue the X-files. So when he returned home late to his apartment one night to a note and Diana gone he felt lost.

Lightning is how he would describe his relationship with Scully. Fiery. Challenging. Passionate. Though, always with an undertone of respect. This wasn’t comfortable. It was bettering. There was growth because her mind was as brilliant as his. A match. A volleying. A constant rendering and honing of his ideas and theories. She’d pull him down while building him up. She let him become vulnerable on his own, but with his profiling skills it didn’t take long for him to know that her character was true and full of integrity. The bantering was arousing. He’d find himself picking up the phone at all hours after the workday and on weekends just to bounce ideas around with her. It was intoxicating. When the sex finally did happen it was very different than anything he’d ever experienced before. Out in the field they were able to anticipate each other, had a keen sense of proximity, knew when to lead versus follow and that seamlessly translated in the bedroom. Dazing. Merging. Pushing. Pulling. Completeness. Mulder could say now with absolute certainty that he’d never experienced being in love before. Nothing was as crushing, aching, or primal as this. He was sure of it. And he wasn’t going to lose it.

[confessions-official]

For my age, I feel like I know who I am pretty well. I am honest with myself in a way that I don’t think many people are. I don’t mean that as an insult or a boast, it’s difficult and at times painful to really see yourself, to understand and accept every part. Many people don’t try because they’re so afraid of who they might be.

I’ve never really had that fear though, I don’t find it hard to acknowledge my flaws, I find it relatively easy to analyze my behavior and make sense of complicated emotions. I think this is because I’ve been in therapy since I was 12 and I’m 24 now. I’m so used to being around therapists I think I’ve become my own therapist. I can interrogate and challenge myself the way a good therapist would. I think self interrogation is the kind of skill that needs to be actively cultivated, and I’ve gotten relatively far with it for someone in their twenties.

But at the same time, I can’t be authentic around most people, I am too afraid of their judgement. I don’t understand how I can be so secure in my sense of self, and yet so anxious about how others perceive me at the same time. It feels like a contradiction.

I get so frustrated with most of my friends, because I feel like they don’t really know me. I know the frustration is not rational, because it’s not their fault I can’t be authentic with them. I know it’s not fair of me to be angry when they have no idea I even feel this way. It’s resulted in a lot of uneven friendships. I feel like I know them, they feel like they know me, but I don’t feel like they know me.

There was one time I did tell a friend about these feelings of isolation, and they were extremely hurt. They told me they felt betrayed because they felt like they knew me really well, and thought of us as really good friends, and to hear how isolated and uncomfortable I truly felt made them feel like I deceived them somehow. I’ve never brought it up with anyone else after that. I know bottling things up isn’t healthy, neither is holding onto resentment. But it’s a hard thing to articulate without sounding cruel. How do you tell someone you care about that they make you aren’t comfortable around them? How do you tell someone you like you can’t be authentic with them?

There are two people total I’ve met in my life who I’ve felt like I can totally be myself around. For some reason with them I can just relax, I don’t even think about it, but with everyone else, even people I really like, I can’t. I can’t tell if this feeling of being unknowable is just a normal thing that everyone feels, if it’s temporary or permanent, if it’s just a product of youth or if it’s a part of my personality for good… I don’t know. I wish I could trust others more. I wish my self awareness translated directly into confidence. I wish I didn’t care about people’s judgement as much.

.