#I kept clicking for naught

[huldrabitch]

Being that fucking final kill on shipment 24/7 is humiliating ongggg😭😭 whyyyy are we broadcasting my murder THE FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN THAT IS OUR LOSS

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

for @artilaz

afab gn tav, voice kink, smug insufferable raphael

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The devil just kept appearing when he wasn’t wanted. It didn't seem to matter how Tav or their companions always told him to buzz off, that they weren't interested in his infernal offers. Raphael was a persistence predator, and every time he showed his handsome mug, he was patient and cordial, as if each stale interaction hadn't happened. As if he was so confident they would return to him, they would need him, that their disregard for his generous attention simply slid away like water off a duck's back. He was like a hyena waiting for his cornered prey to fall into his mouth – toying with his food, as Gale had said – and it was infuriating. So when Tav heard that now familiar little sound of hellish teleportation, when the stink of fire and sulphur flooded their nose for a moment, they and their companions shared a grumble. Not this again…

“Haven't you got anything better to do than bother us?” Tav said; they wanted to get the first word in for a change.

Something was…different about Raphael this time. Though he was always polite to a fault, Tav thought that maybe they could sense an undercurrent of irritation or frustration developing from their constant rejection, that even a powerful everlasting creature like him had his limits – wishful thinking, probably. Yet as he stood there, emerging from his portal of hellfire and brimstone, there was a certain energy to him, something in the tilt of his smile, the gleam in his eyes…some kind of dark delight he was thrilled to share. Tav felt on edge, and they weren't the only one. They heard their friends shifting uneasily behind them, moving to grip weapons just in case.

“Now, now,” Raphael crooned, waving his hands in a passive motion. Always so expressive. “There's no need for such a vitriolic response. I'm not here to try and convince you of the error of your ways. Quite the opposite, in fact. At least, for one of you in particular…” His deep, soulful brown eyes stared at Tav, through Tav. I know something interesting about you, they said. Tav's stomach dropped.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Snapped Karlach. Raphael's eyebrow twitched, but he barely glanced at her.

“He's not talking about anything,” said Tav. “He's just being cryptic as usual.” Raphael's twitching eyebrow raised high on his forehead.

“Really?” He drawled with an obnoxious little tilt of his head. Dragged the word out, growly and amused. Deliberate enunciation. Sweat began to bead at Tav's temples, cold fingers of suspicion crawling up their spine. “Talking…such a simple concept, and yet, words…their sounds…can hold so much power.”

The baby hairs on the back of Tav's neck and arms rose. “You know,” they whispered.

“Yessss,” Raphael purred. A viciously smug smirk twisted his features, showing a glimpse of the scheming fiend he truly was. How much he was enjoying their horror and discomfort. “Sweet little mouse…I know.”

“What does he know?” Asked Karlach. “Tav, what's going on?”

“Please, not in front of them,” begged Tav when Raphael's smirk widened.

“As you wish.”

He clicked his fingers and, just like when he first accosted them, Tav found themselves in his House of Hope, at the mercy of its master. Raphael stood, backlit by the roaring fireplace, creating elongated shadows from his human guise. He observed them for a moment in silence, clearly delighted.

“Imagine my surprise,” he said after consideration, speaking in swaying dulcet cadence. “When I learned that the stalwart adventurer rebuffing me at every turn, denying my every attempt at co-operation and treating me as though I were naught but a bothersome snake oil salesman…is the very same adventurer bringing themselves to a breathless, mewling climax each night in secret, beneath their hot and sweaty covers, aroused by thoughts of…ah, how did you phrase it in your throes of ecstasy? My “rich and rumbling baritone”? Creative, I'll give you that.”

“How did you find out?” Demanded Tav despite their mortification.

“I have my ways. Don't fear, I've hardly the spare time on my hands to watch you every night, but let's just say that, for a devil of my calibre…the magnitude of a mortal's lust for me can be something of a beacon through the din of your chaotic realm.”

“Well, then,” Tav muttered miserably. “What's your plan? Are you going to blackmail me into signing your bloody contract?”

“Tempting,” Raphael hummed. He stroked his chin. The way he was looking at Tav made them want to fidget. They resisted the urge. They'd given this devil enough already. “Hmm…no, I think…tonight, little mouse. When your friends are sleeping, when you've tucked yourself so sweetly in bed, when you feel the first embers of desire stirring and your greedy little hands begin to wander…that's when I'll be there.”

“What? What does that mean?!”

Tav received no answer.

“See you soon,” the devil cooed, and Tav was back with their alarmed companions, scrambling for an explanation. Eventually they managed to defuse the situation after they swore they hadn't signed anything and wouldn't sign anything, but in truth they weren't so sure anymore.

They tucked themselves away earlier than normal, when the sun began to sink beyond the horizon. In their thin sleeping clothes, beneath their scratchy blanket. Their small tent, far away enough for some privacy. They lay in their bedroll, listening to their friends talking and milling around without really hearing what they were saying. They were waiting for that sound, that smell. For the indication that the devil was making good on his promise, for whatever insidious purpose he had in mind. To say that Tav was nervous, fraught with anticipation, would be an understatement.

As time passed, as noises from the camp dwindled, Tav's nerves grew. Their eyes stung from staring at the canvas ceiling of their tent. They shifted, stretched their legs, certain that no one but they were awake. Yet the devil didn't appear.

Where are you, Raphael? They thought, too wired to stubbornly fall asleep and snub the fiend again. You said tonight…

He also said other things. Things in the dangerously smooth and terribly attractive voice that had got Tav in this situation in the first place. When your greedy little hands begin to wander… Tav knew, conceivably, what that meant. What Raphael wanted them to do. The question was…were they going to do it?

Little mouse…

He'd never called them that before. The way the syllables melted off his devilish tongue, that deep crooning purr and the implications of the pet name…Tav felt the warmth of arousal tingle and tighten in their belly. They squeezed their thighs together, feeling a brief shock of pleasure. Their body had grown used to nightly masturbation. Looked forward to it, even. Their hand habitually crept under the waistband of their trousers, fingertips brushing through soft curls to touch their sex. To stroke their fattening clit with their index finger, eyes half lidded. Little mouse, little mouse, little mouse…

“My, my…the taste of your unfurling desperation is almost divine…”

Inhaling sharply, Tav yanked their hand away. The devil was a looming shape in their tent, watching them. Tav hadn't heard him arrive.

“What do you want, Raphael?” They hissed.

“A show, of course,” the devil answered bluntly. “You didn't think I'd forgotten your appalling behaviour, did you?”

“You can't be serious…”

“Oh, but I am. After all, my time is precious, and you've wasted enough of it as is.”

“That's your excuse to act like a pervert?”

Raphael threw his head back and laughed. “You poor, naive thing. Perverted? Hardly. But if that's what you want, perhaps I'll wake your friends and have them watch their mighty, fearless leader tremble and sigh and fall apart to nothing but the sound of my voice…”

“You're despicable,” sneered Tav.

“Don't pretend you don't enjoy it,” the devil quipped, tilting his head. “I can smell your excitement…little mouse.” Tav clenched their jaw, trying to fight the shudder that rippled through their body. Raphael had growled those last two words, a spark of fiery orange in his eyes. Flexing his power over Tav. Basking in it. He inhaled deeply, rolling his shoulders “Now…I tire of this banal chatter, much as it excites you, droll as you can be. But fret not. We have far more interesting things to talk about…such as your dripping quim, and how you're going to touch it for me.”

Positioned like a leering gargoyle, Raphael began his instructions; rasping a lewd sermon, his scripture filthy, obscene cruel promises and commands.

“Take off your trousers and part your thighs, pet. Let me see your wanton caresses.”

Tav obeyed. How could they not? Wriggled free of their trousers and spread their knees to let Raphael see their damp curls, flush slick folds and swollen clit peeking from their hood. Hot, sticky flesh they stroked and rubbed to Raphael's throaty, self-satisfied croons.

“Look how wet you are. So desperate. All for the sound of my voice… of course, I can't fault you for your taste, but I wonder…each time you shooed me away, denied even my attempts at conversation…was it because you feared the thrill? Tried to deny it? Or because you longed to hide, to touch yourself to completion faster? Mmm…” The devil sounded like he was getting off, too. Tav bit back a gasp, thinking of him squeezing his thick erection through his clothes. Was it leaking? Did his balls ache, wanting to empty? It didn't matter that Tav knew his arousal wasn't for them, but for the swelling of his ego. They were thrilled all the same. They groaned, pelvic muscles clenching. Fresh slick spilled over their fingers. They dipped a fingertip into their entrance, swirled their clit and pinched it – until their hand was magically forced to stop. Raphael inhaled deeply, releasing a rich chuckle. “Oh, pet…I hope you don't think you're going to be finished already. No, no…you're going to tell me about every little fantasy that's passed through your simple mortal mind, every orgasm you've experienced thanks to me…every dirty thing you've wished I would say…and if I'm satisfied, I might consider letting you rut your pleasure to its peak.”

[no-saints-around-here]

Yesterday's Cage for Tomorrow's Prison: Chapter 2

Yandere Shiba & Sano Family with Baby Shiba Sister!Reader

Masterlist

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<< Chapter 1

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this was a lot harder to write than I thought, and I nearly died but unfortunately the immigration line in hell was too long

tw: heavy incest, pseudo incest, explicit smut, yandere, drugging, sexual assault, heretic religious themes, afab reader, female pronouns, dead dove do not eat

Yuzuha cursed under her breath, large orange eyes sweeping side to side as she methodically checked the storefront for any sign of you. Nothing, again. Turning to briskly walk further down the same street to the next store, the orange-haired girl already knew that you weren’t going to be there either. Hell, she could say with a hundred percent certainty that you weren’t going to be anywhere near here, even if she wasn’t done with her meticulous searching for the day. Having long lost count of the number of times she had already looked in every nook and cranny of your favorite haunts over the past week, day and night, there was simply no way she would have missed you at this point. More so, it was the sinking feeling in her gut and that third sense she had for you that confirmed your absence from the area.

Opting to sink onto one of many benches that littered the shopping street, the Shiba sibling popped open a cold can of soda, taking a chug as she took a break from the afternoon sun in the shade of a tree, watching the rest of the world go by. Nameless individuals bustling up and down the street, bags of things filling both arms and eyes occupied with the glamorous displays, sparing naught a second glance at her or her situation as they rushed past on an unknown countdown. An undignified sigh slipped the lady’s lips as she lowered her now half-empty can, bronze eyes glazed over as she stared up at the rustling leaves overhead, though she did still catch a few stray empathetic looks thrown her way.

The last thing she wanted was anyone’s pity, really, but Yuzuha simply couldn’t help herself looking this despondent. After all, you were gone. Missing. Lost to the greater world, and no matter how poetic one could make that sound, the simple matter of the fact was that neither she nor Taiju had seen you in a week. if you weren’t here or there or wherever she looked, then where on God’s green earth could you possibly be? Were you even still alive?

‎

The quaint little shopping street, just a stone’s throw from the Shiba family home, brought a pang of nostalgia to the lonely lady’s chest - the shops that lined both sides of the pedestrian lane had changed hands countless times, but the slow, leisurely atmosphere had remained steadfast across the past twelve years. Once considered a rare escape from the house in exchange for your good behavior, the occasionally bustling area was now more of a reminder of the recurring nightmare Yuzuha was currently trapped in. Taking another large gulp, the orange-haired lady had to quickly sit up as she spluttered, earning herself another look from a passerby to which she sheepishly apologized, before quickly returning to her pondering. Was there anyone else you could be seeking shelter with? As far as she was concerned, it wasn’t as if you had any other friends outside of your older siblings, with most being too afraid of the long shadow of Taiju and the unspoken threat that you carried with you, and the rest having already been dealt with.

While there wasn’t much to like about the blue-haired former delinquent of an older brother -  their miserable childhoods under his tyrannical rule, the physical and emotional abuse they endured for years on end, and the extreme decisions that he had driven both Yuzuha and Hakkai to at the end of their wits - for you, it had been worth it all. She hated Taiju, but there was no denying that you had been kept safe by the oldest of the Shibas all these years.

Pulling her phone out from her pocket, the second Shiba sibling clicked into her chat history with you as if on instinct, her fingers mindlessly beginning to scroll upwards through the countless desperate, unanswered messages she had sent your way. You weren’t supposed to have a phone (Taiju would never permit it, no matter what the reason is) but the simple dumbphone you owned had been a gift from your older sister with strict instructions not to breathe even a word of its existence. It had no internet functionality, since not even she would risk you being able to access the internet and its treasure trove of internet, but as the only two girls left in the household, you and Yuzuha shared some secrets and had to have a way to do so. The phone was purely just for messages and calls and the occasional simple game when their big brother wasn’t watching. Or at least that was how the bronze-eyed lady told herself.

The memories came flooding back as she finally reached your last reply, what had seemed like a reassuring “yes, nii-san!” before you all but fell off the face of the earth. Such a simple gift had been enough to endear you to her, and you had thanked her again and again through the years, always willing to answer her messages and calls quickly, humming to yourself when you got time to fiddle around with the small electronic. Yet, you hadn’t replied in a week.

‎

Standing from the bench, the lady stretched, flicking her empty soda can into the nearby bin with pinpoint accuracy as she stalked off, phone swinging lazily in one hand. A slight breeze had picked up during her rest, and though it only seemed to blow hot air down the street instead of providing any respite, Yuzuha took in a deep breath, enjoying the fleeting moment of calm. There was no point in frantically trying to call or message you, even though she had been doing so herself over the past few days; your phone was most likely dead from a lack of battery, or if you had seeked shelter with someone, the phone had probably already changed hands. 

You didn’t want to be found, certainly not by her,  that much was obvious. And your older sister didn’t blame you.

The lady turned a corner into a side alley, the cacophony of the crowds dying down behind her with every step she took further into the shaded street. She didn’t believe in the concept of sin and repentance, the same one that her older brother so conveniently ignored when it came to you, but there was no denying that she would never be able to answer for what she had done to you. There were excuses she could give herself of course; that she couldn’t ignore the way that Taiju looked at you as the years passed, as you started to yearn for the freedom of the wider world. That Taiju should take all the blame for being the one to actually deflower you in a misplaced bid to preserve your purity. 

But Yuzuha would be the one to carry the original sin even if she was just trying to do the right thing. She had been the one that had trained you, that had prepared you to take Taiju. Cleaning you up after everything that had happened, soothing the mystery ache between your legs that you complained about the next day.  Keeping you on birth control pills for years and years, never knowing when the oldest of the Shibas would make his move yet never wanting to risk anything untold happening to you. All in the name of keeping the Shiba family together, as she had promised their mother. 

‎

A pause as she came to a stop at a fork in the road, the lady too lost in her own thoughts to make a decision which way to turn.

Yet even then, as much as that was all Yuzuha would like to admit to herself, she would always share the burden of giving into temptation. She could still see the first time it happened if she let her thoughts slip; your contorted expression, furrowed eyebrows as you mumbled in your sleep, your legs crossed as you unconsciously humped your pillow - a wet dream. Taking the opportunity of when you should share her room to explore you herself, the lady let out a ragged breath as her mind recalled her slipping her fingers into the pants of your pajamas and into your panties, slim fingers finding their way towards your already drenched slit and into your warmth. Your whimper as your walls clamped down around her intrusion as she teased and prodded, bronze eyes all the way carefully watching your expression.

The feeling of you spazzing uncontrollably around her as you came in your sleep, drenching both your underwear and her fingers with a moan that sounded too awake. Yuzuha had jerked away in a panic, the elastic band of your pants snapping back against your skin, but you had mercifully fallen back asleep amidst coming down from your high. You tasted sweet, the burst of flavor as she licked her fingers striking a chord deep inside your older sister, a sweetness that she couldn’t get enough of. And while it was the first time she - or anyone really - had ever explored you in that manner, it certainly wasn’t the last time. You had turned from her baby sister into an unholy addiction that she couldn’t give up. 

Her phone lit up and began to buzz, the ringing echoing down the otherwise lifeless sidestreet. Yuzuha blinked, drawn out from her thoughts.

Taiju. Was it already time?

With a deftly press of a button, she brought the smartphone to her ear, taking the quiet path to the left.

‎

‎

There was no doubt that your siblings would be scouring the streets for any sign of you, Izana mused, the fingers on one gloved hand tapping a rhythmless tune atop the glass as empty eyes watched you consider and reconsider your decision, yet that train of thought hardly bothered him. For one, this was a privately owned shop in a rather obscure location, down several narrow and rarely trodden alleyways that no regular passerby had any business accessing. And for two, was most definitely the right decision to bring you on this little excursion; knowing your older siblings and their annoying habit of breathing down your neck about everything big and small, they would have never allowed you to choose your own unhealthy, sinful treat, let alone see the inside of a convenience store. 

Which meant that this would put him squarely in your good books, ahead of not only your wretched siblings, but more importantly, ahead of the rest of his own wretched siblings. His grip on you tightened slightly, the rate of his breathing rising.

The longer he could keep you to himself, the better.

Returning to reality from his daydreams of his life after you had obviously picked him over the rest of the Sanos, it was obvious that the colorful display of ice cream in the freezers was more akin to cocaine to you; the large selection spread out beneath you having you absolutely mesmerized with just the glass slider separating your eager hands from the delightful treats. “There’s so many…” you mumbled out under your breath, your eyes darting right to left as you leaned over the chest freezer, the colorful wrappers glinting in the reflection in your eyes. “Which one?”

Was it really that hard to choose? Not that he would know, he supposed, given that he already had his favorites delivered straight to his doorstep and barely spares a second glance to the entirety of the shop on a regular day. But even if he was usually an impatient man, this was one instance that Izana didn’t mind taking it slow, the tanned club owner leaning in so that his body pressed up tight against your own, violet eyes fluttered closed and his face pressed into the crook of your shoulder, biting back the groan he could feel building in the back of his throat. Your blood family was the last thing on your mind at the moment, and this was exactly the way he liked it. One hand resting on your clothed thigh, the other already taking the initiative to begin exploring under the hem of your skirt, it took every ounce of control he had to ignore the tenting crotch of his pants. He couldn’t wait. “Wasn’t there a certain brand you were looking for?” He breathed out into your ear, warm air tickling your skin. “Do they not have it here?”

“Y-yes!” You startled slightly at his question as if you had been lost in your own world, your hands instantly flying up to shake a ‘no’ at his question instead much to his amusement. “Um, Izana-nii, I mean-”

His hand teased at the hem of your panties, rubbing the cloth that covered your crotch lightly between the pads of his fingers, occasionally brushing against the bare lips hidden underneath. Still no negative reaction from you. “You can’t choose?”

“No,” you admitted, though your eyes were still fixed on the contents of the freezer. “I didn’t know there were so many here.”

The air-conditioning continued to whirl from above unimpeded as the world outside continued to turn, the convenient store absolutely silent save for the sound of breathing.

“Hmmm.” Violet eyes scanned the small area even as his hands never ceased their exploration - it was never intended to be a cover business, he mused to himself, given there were more convenient alternatives to launder money, but this small snack stop had finally shown its usefulness beyond allowing his men to get what they need. A tingle in the back of his neck, and Izana swirled around, only for the heavily-tattooed man serving as the cashier to immediately avert his gaze at his nasty look. “Tch.” His eyes had lingered on you for a second too long, and he didn’t like it one bit. He’ll have to get that sorted later.

‎

Unfortunately for the tanned club owner, that gut feel wasn’t just for the unwelcomed looks at his new little sister. A sudden blast of humid air and an untimely trumpet of a car horn in the distance signaled the arrival of an unwelcome guest and a disruption to his plans with the click of the store door being opened, much to Izana’s displeasure, though the fact that it was Kakucho’s voice floating over from the shelves through the now-open door and not the sound of gunshots gave a good indication of who this intruder might be. “Wait, you can’t go ins-”

”Fuck off,” returned Mikey, the cheery welcome jingle of the convenience store a stark contrast to the other’s completely unamused tone. “I have business with that asshat.”

A smack, and then a second voice piped up, drowning out the burst of protests and whines from Mikey. “Don’t be so rude to Kakucho-kun, Mikey!” Emma scolded, the click of her heels echoing up from the tall shelves of the shop as she followed the other deeper into the shop. “He’s just doing his job, you know.”

How did they know to find him here? Izana glanced back at you even as his Sano half-brother continued to complain loudly about being ill-treated and biases towards anyone who would listen (which is to say, nobody in the vicinity); you were still too distracted with the first choice you had in a long time to notice the intruders, and it was already slightly too late to make an exit before the two of you could be noticed. He would have to wait and see what happens next, he supposed, empty eyes glancing back down at you.

“Hey shithead,��� Mikey started from around the corner, right as the first of his blond locks came into view from behind a shelf of snacks. “I’ve been trying to call you for the past hour-”

‎

It was at that precise moment that you made your decision, turning your head up to look at Izana, ice cream already carefully clutched in hand. “Izana-nii, can I -“ And almost as soon as the words left your tongue, you finally took note of the arrival of outsiders, perhaps catching the subtle, sudden movement from the corner of your eyes, or catching the last of Mikey’s spat words. Yet for all that was going on around him, the ifs and could-bes, Izana’s gaze and fascination was fixed on you. What would your next move be? Would you scream? Would you attempt to scurry away to hide? 

Time froze for a moment as your eyes fixed on the unseen source of the noise on the other side of the shelves. What was going on in that little mind of yours?

Yet contrary to all his expectations, you instead instantly clammed up, your jaw snapping shut like a trap around a mouse. Taking a short step in his direction and ducking behind the white-haired man, you seemed to be attempting to line yourself up in a bid to ensure that his silhouette almost covered yours perfectly from the entrance. You were trying to blend into his side, hiding from the unknown.

It was a move that was so unlike your personality that it took Izana by surprise. No doubt this smooth a movement was the result of previous practice, Izana noted amusedly as he watched you move with uncharacteristic speed, something you have had to do multiple times before. Did you think it was your siblings here to pick you up perhaps? No matter, because most importantly, it didn’t matter to him that you couldn’t have known who it was at the door - in Izana’s mind, you had picked your side, and it was his.

Alas it was too little too late. 

As soon as both of those iconic slippers left the cover of the tall shelves filled top to bottom with snacks of every kind, your presence was immediately picked up by Mikey, whose footsteps and words came to an abrupt halt, blank abyss eyes staring at you. An expected outcome, acknowledged Izana as he snaked one protective arm around your shoulders, given the now black-haired man was and is still both the Toman president and legendary delinquent. Didn’t mean much to him anyway.

“Oof Mikey!” Came Emma’s voice from behind as she ran headfirst into the suddenly still back, before the annoyed blond-haired lady stepped round to assess the unfolding situation.. “Why did you stop- oh.”

“Can I help you two?” Izana asked, the tinge of annoyance clear in his tone. The blatant stares were making you uncomfortable, and he didn’t like that one bit.

‎

‎

Walled in on four sides, three by shelves and one being Izana, there wasn’t really any room for you to run or hide, given how small the shop was to begin with. You buried your face into the side of the white-haired man you barely knew, waiting with baited breath, ice cream still clutched in hand. The hum of the chillers around you only seemed ever louder with the silence that fell upon the store.

Scanning you up and down, Mikey’s expression remained unchanged as those blank abyss eyes seemed to reflect you and nothing else, opaque windows that had helped the man hold all his cards close to his chest all these years. You looked…familiar. He’s seen you somewhere before.

Emma glanced between the two men and you, the questions in her mind only growing by each passing second. “Do you know her?” She raised an eyebrow at Izana, who only shrugged in return, unwilling to disclose any further information.

Though in another stroke of bad luck for Izana, one more for the count on this already particularly horrid day, the dots connected for the younger of the two Sano men present, and Mikey’s eyes lit up in recognition. “You’re-“ the black-haired man paused for a moment. “Hakkai’s sister?”

That was enough to spark your curiosity, and you carefully peered out from behind Izana, doe eyes catching the white illumination from the standing refrigerator to the side.  If they knew Hakkai but not Taiju or Yuzuha - could they be on your side? Fortunately, the man on the other side was one you had met before. “...Mikey-san?”

Said man nodded, taking a step forward into the direct shine of an overhead light, as if so that you could take a better look at his face. So it was you that he had been hearing the whispers about, Izana’s little bird; he could still recall that particular night twelve years ago when the Toman Second Division Vice-Captain had brought you along to the gang meeting all apologetic, insisting that he couldn’t leave you alone at home by yourself. You were as shy as you were back then, Mikey mused, taking a good look at you as you shuffled out from behind Izana, seeming slightly more comfortable now. Though he couldn’t say that he wasn’t pleased that it was you of all people.

‎

The white-haired club owner’s grip on your shoulders visibly tightened, and you winced slightly at the pressure. “What do you want?” Izana’s tone now was sharp, violet eyes narrowed at his two siblings.

Mikey was hardly affected, his gaze fixed on you even as he responded. “Shinichiro’s looking for ya. Business,” was all he said.

“Tch.” Clicking his tongue, it was clear that Izana understood the cryptic message - and you couldn’t come along. 

“I can look after her while you’re busy,” came the Toman president’s offer, his hand already outstretched and reaching for yours before his offer had left his lips, but Izana was faster, yanking you backwards and out of reach.

“Absolutely not. She will not be going with you.”

Emma, silent up till now, stepped forward, the sweep of her blond hair backwards looking much like a momentary flash of angelic wings. “She can come with me,” she proposed cheerfully, stopping to shoot a warm smile your way. You shrank behind Izana slightly, your cheeks dusted red.

But the oldest of the three showed no sign of budging. He finally had you, and he wasn’t inclined to share. “Kakucho.”

As if a fae summoned, said man appeared behind the Sano siblings with nay a footstep to be heard nor a door opened, his working red eye respectfully lowered to the ground. “Yes sir.” 

“Take her back to her room. And stay with her.” 

“Yes sir.”

Mikey didn’t seem all too pleased at the decision made without his input. That was very rude. “Hey, I said I can take care of her!” He insisted, his arm once more shooting out to grab at you as you were shuffled past the narrow shelves, though this attempted interruption was quickly stopped by Izana with a quick chop to the offending limb.

”And I said no.”

Puffing up his cheeks only made the gang leader look like a squirrel, earning him a chuckle from you which you failed to bite back. ”I’m telling Shinichiro.”

As if that was a threat. Ignoring Mikey, Izana simply opted to walk you to the door and to his right-hand man and trusted friend’s side. “Straight to her room, Kakucho,” he repeated firmly, before turning to you. “You don’t talk to anyone else, understand?”

You nodded obediently, which earned you a ruffle of your hair.

”See you later.” Izana waved off your escort party, before turning once more to face Mikey and Emma, still waiting inside the shop. “Let’s get this over with then.”

‎

‎

It was rare to see Hakkai in such a frenzy these days, Mitsuya mused, lilac eyes watching said man frantically scan the vicinity before rushing towards him from the airport terminal exit, small suitcase all but bouncing off the floor and his legs as it was mercilessly hauled across the ground.

That striking blue hair was still visible as it bobbed above a drifting crowd of unsuspecting tourists. Comfortably leaning against the door of his car, the former Toman captain took the time to review the context of the situation he had found himself in, starting with the phone call he had received in the dead of night just a day before. He had thought nothing much of it at first, despite the strange 3am call: Hakkai had been overseas on a modeling contract for an international brand for the past week, as a well-sought after model usually was, so perhaps it was just that his former Division Vice Captain had forgotten about time zone differences.

Yet even with that excuse, the whole situation only got stranger, something that even a half-asleep former delinquent-turned-fashion designer noted; the blue-haired man sounded as if he was attempting to catch his breath after running a full marathon, huffing and puffing as he struggled to say even the few words informing Mitsuya that he was already on his way back to Japan, and would contact him when he lands. Divines only knew what was urgent enough to send Hakkai into such a rash decision, though he supposed he would find out soon.

Pushing off from his car, Mitsuya raised one hand as the third youngest Shiba sibling closed the distance, coming to a screeching halt just inches away. The lilac-haired man swore he could see the smoke trails left behind from the suddenly dispersed momentum, though judging from those blown eyes and half-style hair, it wasn’t exactly the best time for a joke. “Hakkai,” he greeted simply, sliding both hands back into his pockets. “What happened?”

“She’s missing, Taka-chan,” Hakkai stammered out, one hand on his chest as if to keep both his lungs and heart from falling out of his chest. “My lil’ sis, she’s gone.”

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Chaos Lineage Stellaworth Special Booklet Short Stories ☽ Orange ver.・A New Menu?! Ruki’s Got His Hands Full!

Original title: メニュー開発！？ルキがてんてこ舞い！ English translation by @otomehonyaku Click here for the scans (as always, kindly provided by @karleksmumskladdkaka!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It's been a little while since I translated a short story! This one's set in the Orange mansion in the Chaos Lineage timeline and written from Eve's─so, in a way, Yui's─perspective, before the regains her memories. It's a fun little story that contains some brotherly bickering and a LOT of innuendos (hello, yes, I'd like the soup please...) ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ Have fun reading!

Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ever since I fled from the church and found refuge in the Orange mansion, I hadn’t been granted permission to return to the guest room. Instead, I quietly sat in a chair in the living area.

Ayato unceremoniously called out to me. “You. Hurry up ‘n become mine already.”

“What? Um…”

I was taken aback by the redhead’s sudden remark and found myself unable to reply right away. The small pause inadvertently gave his two brothers the time to say their piece as well.

“Become Ayato��s? Stop this nonsense. This girl will be mine. I’m sure that’s what will make her happiest as well. Isn’t that right?” 

“Ha. I told you—she doesn’t belong to either of you. Better not misunderstand, Ayato. Kanato. We brought Eve here to help Brother become the Demon King, y’know.”

“You with your ‘Brother this, Brother that.’ Shut the fuck up already.”

The three clearly had no intention to consider my opinion on the matter, and their bickering only intensified. I felt myself becoming nervous. It looked like they might even start punching one another if they kept going like this. 

That was when the living room door quietly opened.

Ruki let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t tell me you’re fighting again.” 

Again? The eldest made it sound like his brothers had pestered him with similar fights before, many times over. 

“It’s been days since we acquired Eve, and yet you’re still being hostile towards one another.”

“What does it matter? That has nothing to do with you, Ruki.”

“Sorry, Brother. I’ve been trying to tell them the same thing. It seems both of them still think Eve is theirs.”

“You’re the delusional ones for assuming Eve belongs to Ruki. This chick belongs to Yours Truly. I won’t hand her over to anyone.”

“Enough. Remember that we’ve acquired Eve and that we’re on track to becoming King. If we don’t work together, our enemies will take it as an opening to steal Eve from us, and all our efforts will be for naught.” Ruki seemed worried about his brothers’ willingness to cooperate—that, if the brothers kept quarrelling amongst themselves, the enemy might come to steal me away. 

A sense of restlessness lingered in the air after Ruki spoke. I cast my eyes downwards. The prospect of being at the centre of such a violent dispute left me feeling melancholic. 

“I’m not telling you to get along. But I am telling you to reduce the friction at least a little. I urge you, as my younger brothers, to do what I say.”

“That’s my line! You’re getting in Yours Truly’s way.”

“I don’t like this either. This is ridiculous.”

“That’s exactly the reaction I expected from you. So, let me propose something as a countermeasure: a cooking contest.”

“...Huh?” 

Ayato was speechless. And it wasn’t just Ayato: Kanato and Shin were looking at Ruki with equal suspicion. Even I stared at him, wondering why on Earth he would suggest something so strange. Ruki wanted his brothers to work together to come up with new dishes, apparently.

“It’s the perfect solution to work on your team spirit. Besides, you’ll join forces to expand our repertoire of things to eat for dinner. Don’t you think it’s a good idea?” Ruki said, his facial expression exuding confidence. 

After turning it over in my head for a moment, I supposed that… it might work?

“Got it. If you want us to, Brother, then I’ll do it. I’ll help you.”

“Great. Ayato, Kanato—I expect you to help, too, of course.”

“Like hell I would. Why’s Yours Truly gotta do it?”

“I agree. I have no desire to participate in such ridiculous activities. Whoever else wants to participate can go ahead.”

Shin’s immediate agreement stood in stark contrast with the reactions of his younger brothers, who were quick to complain. Ruki stressed that it would have no meaning this way, and proposed his plan on different terms. 

“...There’s no helping it. I’ll let you compile our new menu, then. You may suggest whatever dishes you’d like to eat. We’ll add whatever is picked to our regular dinner menu from now on.”

This idea clearly made Ayato and Kanato more willing to cooperate. The atmosphere in the room immediately became much lighter, and the brothers became a little restless as they thought about what foods they wanted to eat. 

It was decided that I would be the fair judge to taste each dish. I was happy to be afforded a role in Ruki’s plan as well—with my spirits lifted a little already, I joined the others’ conversation.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few hours later…

“What? Why’d only this part turn green? …Ugh, smells fuckin’ rancid!”

“Don’t you think it’s lacking sweetness? Oh, well. I’ll share some of my cream with you, then.”

“Hey! Don’t mess with my cooking! Puttin’ cream in there’s no joke!”

I stayed in the living room while Ruki and the others were in the kitchen preparing their dishes for me to try. Things seemed to be progressing smoothly: Ruki seemed to be the one doing most of the cooking, but I could hear the relatively friendly conversation between the brothers all the way from the living room.

“Stop it, Kanato. We won’t get anywhere if you waste this much food. That’s why I told you not to add any more.”

“Kanato! Stop meddling in other people’s business and concentrate on your own cooking. Or, actually, your… cooking looks more like a mass of sugar.”

“Yes, of course. I suppose I should finish my dish. I’ll just have to add one more thing to finish it off…”

“Hold on, are you serious? Covering chocolate in more chocolate is ridiculous. What’re you even doing?”

While it was good that the brothers were engaging in lively conversation with one another, I still felt anxious after hearing that exchange. I was the one who’s supposed to taste-testing everything, after all. I contemplated going to the kitchen to help them before things went downhill, but they’d actually finished already—the four brothers came back into the living room, each carrying the dish they’d prepared.

“Ah, have you already finished cooking?”

“Yes, indeed. It seems like you’ve been waiting here in the living room like the good girl you are.”

“All of the sample dishes are here. Let’s start the taste test, shall we?”

“Right. So, which one should I try first?”

“Yours Truly’s should be first, of course!” Ayato said before setting down a huge plate on the table in front of me with a loud clang. “I’m calling this ‘Yours Truly’s Specially Made Super-Gigantic Takoyaki’! Be grateful ‘n eat up!”

“Wow! It’s so big! It’s bigger than my face, even.”

“Right? Bigger’s always better. It’s not very round, though. It’s lumpy. It probably kinda fucks with the taste.”

“You made me prepare it, so keep your complaints to yourself. Besides, it’s your fault for constantly butting in while I was cooking.” As there was no dedicated pan large enough to make takoyaki this big, it seemed that Ruki had used a single-handed frying pan to shape it somehow, and that’s likely why it looked a little sunken and uneven. 

According to Ayato, there wasn’t just octopus, but various other fillings in it as well—he himself didn’t quite seem to know for sure, either.

“A-Ayato, this is…”

“What’re you doin’?! Hurry up and eat it!” Ayato yelled when he saw my reluctance to take a bite. Even then, I couldn’t quite work up the courage to dig in. 

The redhead lost his patience and grabbed my chin with one hand. Then, he brought a spoon to my mouth with his other hand, ready to force-feed me. 

“Geez, it can’t be helped. C’mon, I’ll feed you. Hurry up ‘n open wide.”

“W-wait! Ah—Mm…!”

The spoon quickly came my way, holding a chunk of the giant takoyaki. I had no time to protest before the spoon was thrust into my mouth.

“Hehe, you’re gettin’ teary-eyed. That’s not such a bad sight, is it? Hey! No slackin’ off. Keep eatin’. I wanna watch your face while you struggle even more.”

“Ayato! At least do it gently… Mm!”

With enough force to make me choke, the spoon was mercilessly rammed deep into my mouth again. Even if I wanted to run, I couldn’t—Ayato had a tight grip on my chin. I had no choice but to eat the takoyaki that I was given. A cruel smile played on Ayato’s face as he watched me struggle.

“Ugh, mm… Ha...”

I somehow managed to swallow what was in my mouth. I didn’t risk asking what exactly I’d been eating so far to avoid ruining the experience—mostly because it had actually been quite tasty.

“This is so good, Ayato!”

“I know, right? Though it’s only natural, since I cooked all this up!”

Ayato seemed satisfied with my response. His chest swelled with pride, confident that his dish was going to win tonight.

“Eat mine next, please. I’ve made something much more delicious than Ayato’s takoyaki.” 

Unsurprisingly, Kanato had prepared a dessert. The base was a parfait, loaded with pudding, crêpes, cake, and ice cream on top, and covered in an unholy amount of chocolate. It looked almost sickeningly sweet.

“It looks delicious, but… It seems very sweet, doesn’t it?”

“But really, I’m gettin’ heartburn just by looking at it. You might as well call anything a dish if you load it with enough sweet stuff.”

“You’re hopelessly tasteless, Shin. This is obviously incredibly delicious.” As he spoke, Kanato stared at the sweets as though he were spellbound. “Ah… It doesn’t get any better than this. I’d love this to be added to the menu so that Ruki will prepare it for me every day.”

After having stared at his parfait for a while, Kanato picked up a spoon. 

“Since you’re nothing but a doll, you must be bad at feeding yourself, right? Just for today, I’ll feed you. Please be grateful.”

“It’s alright, Kanato. I can eat by myself… Mm!” 

I tried to move away, but Kanato forcefully grabbed my wrist to keep me in place and thrust a loaded spoon at me. Once again, food was forced into my mouth. I tried my best to chew and swallow each bite, but I couldn’t keep up with the speed with which Kanato was feeding me. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, Kanato’s hand stilled.

“Oh, you have some cream on your face.”

“Ah!”

Kanato put down the spoon and his tongue darted out when he moved in, licking the cream off my cheek. My heartbeat jumped a little at the sensation. 

“Hehe… Very sweet. My cooking is the most delicious after all, isn’t it?” he asked expectantly, slowly leaning in further as he spoke. 

The strange atmosphere made me increasingly uncomfortable. Still, though… Kanato’s dish was particularly sweet but no less delicious—like he had said—and so I honestly shared my opinion.

“Right? I see you’re able to tell how great my cooking is. It’s quite admirable.”

Kanato left my side, clearly pleased with my answer.

“It’s my turn, then!”

Shin moved in and placed a small plate in front of me.

“...? Shin, what’s this brown, cream-like stuff?”

“It’s peanut butter. Can’t you tell?”

“The hell? How much of an idiot do you gotta be to consider that a dish?” Ayato sneered at Shin, clearly making fun of him.

“Hehe. Who’s the real idiot here? You know fuck-all about cooking,” Shin replied. Then, he went on to expertly spread the peanut butter on a piece of bread. “This peanut butter goes well with a lot of different kinds of cooking. It’s a great all-purpose condiment for bringing out the flavour of stuff like bread and cakes. I’d like you to use it in many different dishes.”

“I object. Won’t everything just start tasting like peanuts?”

“Right, right! My takoyaki’d taste like peanuts!”

“Ha! You can yap all you want, but it won’t matter. Eve’s the one who has to like it. So, here you go.”

I reached out to take the bread he held out to me, but Shin seized my hand in mid air. He pulled me in close with a sharp tug. 

“I’ll feed you.”

“Um… I already said it just now, but I can eat by myself, you know?”

“Just be good and eat. C’mon.”

My lips parted when the bread touched my mouth, and when I took a bite, the sweet flavour of the peanut butter (1) spread across my tongue.

“Good, isn’t it? Make sure to savour the taste.”

Contrary to Ayato and Kanato, Shin slowed his movements to match my eating speed and held the bread to my mouth for me to take bites. The peanut butter went well with the bread. It was really good.

“Hehe. You kinda look like a greedy little pet dog eating from your owner’s hand right now.”

I tried to argue that no, I wasn’t a dog, but I kept getting interrupted by Shin holding the bread to my mouth. Before long, I’d already swallowed the last bite.

“Thank you, Shin. It was delicious!”

“I told you! If you pick my peanut butter, you’ll be able to eat it whenever you like, so… You know what to do, right?” Shin’s mouth curved into a smile, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

There was clearly no safe way to answer that question. I forced a wavering smile in response.

“Well, then. Lastly, it’s my turn.” Ruki put his dish in front of me with more confidence than all his brothers before him.

“Is this… soup?”

The soup in front of me looked to contain a well-balanced mix of vegetables, meat, and beans, giving it a delicious-looking golden colour. However, it looked no different than what Ruki usually made for dinner.

“Soup? How boring. Couldn’t you come up with something else? This is not even a close contender compared to my dish.”

“Just take a sip and you’ll know. Eve, please turn your face my way.” 

Ruki took a spoonful of the soup and carefully raised it to my lips. 

“Drink it. It’s a rather fine soup to give to livestock, but I suppose I should feed you something nice every once in a while.”

I felt myself becoming curious how it tasted, too, considering Ruki was brimming with confidence. Still, it was a little embarrassing to have him feed it to me, so I tried to tell him I’d like to drink it by myself.

“No, drink it like this. You wouldn’t want to trouble your master, would you? Or… would you rather have me feed it to you mouth-to-mouth?”

He looked like he would seriously do it if I didn’t go along with him. Finding myself unable to resist, I obediently opened my mouth.

“Yes, that’s it. Savour it.”

Ruki slid the spoon between my lips. I tried to swallow it neatly, but my nerves got the better of me. A small drop of soup dribbled from my lower lip.

“Mm. Ah…”

“You spilled some of the soup. Good grief, what ill-mannered livestock you are.”

With a stroke of his thumb, Ruki wiped the soup from my lip. My face flushed.

“What’s that face for, staring at me like that? Was that not enough to satisfy you?”

Not wanting to go through something so embarrassing another time, I desperately shook my head. Still, Ruki’s soup tasted amazing. It may have looked no different from what he usually cooked, but I wondered if this was some kind of secret recipe of his. 

I couldn’t hold back my curiosity and asked him what was in the soup.

“It’s a secret. I’m not so kind a master as to teach you my recipe, Livestock,” Ruki said, dodging my question, and traced his thumb over my lips again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

With all four dishes taste-tested, the cooking contest was over. Now, I had to choose which one I liked the most.

“It can’t be anything other than Yours Truly’s giant takoyaki, right?”

“That’s unthinkable. My dessert was clearly the most delicious.”

“Nah, you’re choosing my peanut butter that goes with any dish, right?”

“Judging from your reaction, Livestock, the answer is clear as day. My soup wins.”

Whatever I picked would be added to our dinner menu from now on, and everyone was passionately advocating for their respective dishes. 

I recalled the flavours of the dishes I’d tasted tonight. After a moment of deliberation, I opened my mouth to speak.

“All four dishes were delicious, so how about adding all four of them to the menu?”

My proposal made the room fall silent for a moment.

“Seriously? It’s a competition! You gotta pick a winner. There’s no way in hell I’m agreein’ to this!”

“What a fool you are. We’ve told you many times over that you can only pick one winner.”

“Besides, aren’t you trying to wriggle your way outta this by giving such a diplomatic answer?”

“That seems likely. Or did Livestock perhaps not understand the meaning of this from the beginning?”

After Ayato first broke the silence, the brothers aimed their discontent at me one after the other. Still, I stood my ground and once again explained to them that I’d truly enjoyed all four dishes. Even though it might put even more strain on Ruki, I insisted that we should add all dishes to the menu since everyone had put in so much effort. 

Ruki contemplated the idea for a little while before letting out a small sigh and agreeing with me. “...If that is Eve’s verdict, so be it. Let’s add all dishes to the menu from now on.”

“The fuck’re you sayin’?! I can’t accept this unless I’m crowned the winner.”

“B-but Ayato, if you kindly ask Ruki, he might make that gigantic takoyaki for you every day, you know?”

“...Heh, that’s true. Well, I’m just gonna make Ruki do it, then!”

“Hold on, please! If that’s the case, then I’d rather he make my parfait every day instead! I won’t lose to an inferior dish like takoyaki!” 

“I won’t put up with having either of your dishes every day. This peanut butter goes with anything, so you’d better use it every day, Brother.”

In the end, the brothers got into a heated argument about whose dish we should eat for the days to come. Even though this contest was intended to foster a cooperative spirit among his brothers, Ruki held his head in his hands as he watched them fight over the results.

Nevertheless, I found myself thinking that I couldn’t imagine this family any other way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Look, I’m not trying to ignite a discussion but… is peanut butter really sweet? It’s considered more of a savoury thing where I live (or at least it rarely—if ever—contains sugar), though I do suppose it’s versatile in that it goes well with both sweet and savoury things. 

[reiding-writing]

hey!!! i have a request for a fluff fic. it's based off of the episode "double babysitter" from bluey (you dont have to watch it but u can for inspo!) where hotch/jj accidentally invites both you and spencer to babysit their kid(s) and you and spencer bond over babysitting. i just love domestic!spencer. preferably fem or gn reader, but everything else is up to you :)

DOUBLE BOOKED [ONESHOT]

/ˈdʌbəɫ bʊkt/

Hotch was finally getting back into the dating scene after some convincing from you and Garcia, that meant he needed a babysitter for Jack. Hotch had asked you himself, whilst Garcia, under the impression that Hotch hadn’t thought that far ahead, asked Spencer. Looks like Jack had two sitters for the evening.

WARNINGS: n/a

spencer reid x gn!reader || fluff || 2.7k || masterlist!!

a/n: so i didn't have the time to watch the episode beforehand (sorry) so i kinda just went with the flow for this one, hope you enjoy :)

Hotch was finally taking a break, and to go on a date no less.

It took you and Garcia almost three days of constant hounding before he agreed, and even after he did he kept bringing up excuses as to why he wouldn’t be able to make it.

He had files to finish, he had meetings to attend, he didn’t have a babysitter for Jack, they might be called into a case.

Anything that could possibly be used as a way to get out of going to this dinner was spewed out of Hotch’s mouth at some point or other, but it didn’t have any hold against Garcia’s persistence for him getting back out in the dating game and your persistence for him to get out of the office for an evening.

You’d recruited almost everyone in the office to help clear absolutely everything on Hotch’s schedule to ensure that his date would proceed unhindered.

Your job was one of the most hands-on.

“Hey little man,” You give Jack a smile as he opens the door to the Hotchner residence at your knocking, a smile that he enthusiastically returns with a small wave.

“Jack, what’ve I told you about opening the door to strangers?” Hotch round the corner almost immediately as the door clicks open.

“But-“

“Wow.” You interrupt Jack’s explanation with a wide-eyed expression at Hotch’s appearance.“Are you going to a date or a funeral?”

He forgets about scolding Jack for a second. “I look perfectly fine,” He furrows his eyebrows slightly.

“You look like someone’s just died,” You press your lips together into a line as you scoot Jack back into the hallway, closing the door behind you as you follow in after him. “I mean who on earth wears a full black suit to a first date?”

His face only proved to furrow further at your words, leaving you to sigh exasperatedly.

“At least lose the tie,”

“Your attitude is very out of line Agent,” He does as you ask anyway, loosening his tie and pulling it over his head before taking a glance at himself in the hallway mirror.

“We’re off the clock Sir,” You return his snark fervently. “Undo the collar of your shirt, you look ten years older than you actually are with it buttoned up like that,”

“You are very capable of making suggestions about my clothes without insulting me in the process,” Hotch undoes his collar with a sigh. As much as he likes to be dismissive, you were right in your suggestion that the tie and collar made him look too formal.

This was supposed to be a fun evening, not a boring business meeting.

“You’re nervous, I get it, but you’ll be fine,” You bend down to take Jack in your arms as he tugs on your sleeve. “Your dad looks much better now doesn’t he Jack?”

The boy nods enthusiastically with a thumbs up, and it forces a small smile to break through Hotch’s stony façade. “Using my son against me isn’t fair either,”

“Hush, you’ve got to get going before your late and all of this effort is for naught,” You open the front door again with Jack still resting on your hip, practically pushing Hotch out of the door of his own house.

“I don’t have to be there for another thirty-five minutes-”

“Buy her some flowers on your way there,” You continue to guide him to turn away from you towards his car, giving his back a small push in its direction. “Wish your dad good luck little man,”

“Good luck daddy! Have lots of fun!” Jack waves enthusiastically from your arms, smiling widely as Hotch turns around to face the two of you once more with an exasperated sigh.

“Thanks buddy, i’ll be home soon,” Despite his mild annoyance at your pushing, he can’t help but smile at Jack’s positiveness. “Behave okay?”

Jack gives a determined nod and a double thumbs up. “I love you daddy,”

“I love you too bud, see you later,”

You shoot him a “Good luck!” as he climbs in his car, one that he acknowledges with a dismissive wave of his hand before he drives off, leaving you and Jack with no company but each other.

“Can we have pizza for dinner?” You laugh at Jack’s question as you watch Hotch’s car pull out of the driveway, turning your attention to the boy in your arms.

“We can definitely have pizza for dinner,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It’s less than five minutes before there’s a knock on the door, and you prepare yourself to give Hotch a half-insulting pep-talk about the fact that his date is going to be fine and there was no way he should cancel it last minute because he got cold feet on the way there.

“Hotch come on-” You’ve already begun by the time you open the front door, and your train of thought is immediately de-railed at the sight of Spencer Reid at the door. “Oh- Spencer- I- What are you doing here?”

He looked just as surprised to see you.

“I- Uh- Garcia said that Hotch needed a babysitter for 7?” Spencer flashes his watch in your direction and lo and behold it’s seven pm on the dot.

“Ah,” You can't help but laugh at the mix-up, shaking your head. "A classic mix-up, feels like one of those cheesy movies don’t you think?"

“She asked you too?” Spencer gives you a sheepish smile, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

“No,” You shake your head softly with a small laugh. “Hotch did, looks like Penny got a little in over her head with the organising,”

“Yeah,” Spencer pulls his lips into a line, shifting his balance on the balls of his feet. “I uh- I guess i’ll be going then,”

“No no don’t be silly,” You shrug off Spencer’s awkwardness with a smile, stepping aside to let him in, "The more the merrier. Come in, me and Jack have just ordered pizza,"

As if on cue, Jack comes bounding out of the living room, his eyes lighting up when he sees Spencer, "Spencer! Are you staying too?"

Spencer crouches down to Jack's level, giving him a friendly pat on the head with a smile, "It looks like it, Jack. You ready for a fun night with us?" He always was good with kids.

Jack nods eagerly, already pulling Spencer by the hand towards the living room, chattering away about the new toy he got. You watch them disappear down the hall, a smile on your face. It was going to be an interesting night, to say the least.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Interesting was right.

Pizza was always a good go to if you didn’t want to cook, but one thing about looking after a six year old is they can forget that hand food can be messy.

“Jack careful-” Spencer extends his hand over Jack’s lap to try and catch the sliding cheese from his pizza before it hits his lap. He’s half successful, but it still ends up leaving a red blotch on Jack’s spiderman pyjamas nonetheless.

“Oh no!” Jack looks down at his lap wide-eyed, half a slice of pizza still held in his hands.

You laugh shortly at the sight, “Maybe we should get you a plate little man,”

Spencer follows you into the kitchen to rinse his hands and search Hotch’s kitchen for something to wipe Jack’s pyjamas with as you arm yourself up with three plates rather than having you all eat straight from the box.

After the pizza incident, you all move to the couch, settling down with a bowl of popcorn and picking a movie that Jack would enjoy. Spencer ends up narrating half the movie, filling in the scientific facts behind the animated characters' adventures, while you and Jack listen, interrupted occasionally by Jack wanting further clarification on the things Spencer explains.

It was probably the most you’d ever heard him talk in one sitting, enthusiastically over-explaining everything Jack asks about with a small glint in his eyes that makes you forget that you’re just playing house.

By the time the movie ends, Jack is almost asleep, nestled in the crook of Spencer's arm with half-lidded eyes and the occasional yawn. You share a soft smile with Spencer at Jack’s expression, both of you appreciating the quiet moment now that his seemingly endless supply of energy has finally dwindled.

You help Spencer carry Jack to his bedroom, tucking him in and whispering soft “goodnight,”s. Back in the living room, the two of you clean up the remnants of your movie night, the atmosphere comfortable and warm.

“So, what should we do now then?” You glance at the clock as you fold up the empty cardboard pizza box, it was just past 10PM now, seemed like Hotch was having a good time considering he hadn’t even messaged either of you to indicate when he was coming home.

“I uh- I’m not actually sure-” Spencer’s awkwardness seems to return now that he doesn’t have Jack as a buffer for his inherent lack of social grace, and he keeps his eyes firmly locked on the coffee table as he wipes it down.

“Didn’t a new episode of Doctor Who air tonight?”

Spencer finally turns his gaze up to you at the mention of the show. He didn’t know you kept up with Doctor Who. “Uh yeah- it’s on in about..” He turns his eyes down to his watch momentarily. “Seven minutes?”

“Well there we go then,” You round the corner into the kitchen with your voice slightly raised so that he can still hear you. “We can watch the new episode of Doctor Who and by the time it’s finished hopefully Hotch should be back so we can actually go home and sleep for our 7AM start tomorrow,”

A small smile breaks onto his face, both at your suggestion and at your very apparent distaste for the early start you had to endure tomorrow. “I didn’t know you watched Doctor Who,”

“I don’t really-” You shrug your shoulders slightly, a half-guilty expression on your face as you re-enter the living room. “I watched a few episodes after you kept mentioning it in the office,”

“Oh-” Spencer blinks at you in surprise at your confession, watching as you take a seat on the couch with your legs crossed underneath you. “Well uh- What did you think?”

“It’s pretty interesting,” Spencer practically lights up at your statement, taking a seat beside you with the TV remote in hand, making sure to leave a few inches of a gap between yourselves as he flicks through the channels. “I like the way they explained the time travel aspect,”

“Mhm,” Spencer nods enthusiastically at your statement, leaving the remote on the coffee table once he’s found the correct channel and half turning in your direction. “Actually, the way that the time travel is explained in Doctor is very accurate to how it would be in real life, with real scientific backing that several astrophysicists have agreed on,”

This was going to be a long episode.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A sharp clearing of somebody’s throat jolts you from the light sleep you’d found yourself in, and as you attempt to sit up straight you bash your head into something, hard.

“Ah-” Spencer clutches both hands to his jaw, cupped under his chin as he tries to massage away the pain that was suddenly shooting up the side of his face and waking him up in the process.

“Sleep well did you?” Hotch looked down at the two of you with a raised eyebrow, just barely concealing the amusement on his face as he watched the two of you untangle yourselves to regain some space between each other, looking like a pair of teenagers getting caught doing something they shouldn’t be.

“Hotch- Welcome home, how was your date?” You rub your eyes quickly as you try to deflect the situation.

“It was fine,” He turns his narrowed gaze from you to Spencer with all of the conviction of an overprotective father. “How was yours?”

Spencer almost chokes on his own saliva at the question, and it’s enough for the corners of Hotch’s mouth to turn up ever so slightly. “It wasn’t- We weren’t-”

Hotch holds up his hand as a silent instruction for Spencer to stop talking, and he shuts up immediately, lips pressed taut into a line. “I didn’t know I arranged two sitters,”

“Penny, you how overeager she is,” You give your (mostly valid) excuse with a guilty smile, brushing out the non-existent wrinkles in your jeans. “Spencer turned up like five minutes after you left and we’d already ordered food so it didn’t feel right to just send him off-”

Hotch's expression softens slightly, though the amusement in his eyes doesn't fade. "Well, I appreciate the effort. And it looks like Jack had a good time." He nods towards Jack's bedroom, where soft snores can be heard through the cracked door.

"Yeah, he's out like a light," you say, relieved that the evening went smoothly despite the unexpected turn of events.

Hotch glances between you and Spencer, his lips twitching as if he's fighting back a smile. "Well, I'll leave you two to it then. Thanks for looking after Jack." With that, he leaves the two of you in the living room to vacate to his kitchen, presumably to make himself a cup of coffee despite how late it was.

There's a moment of awkward silence before Spencer speaks up, his cheeks tinged with pink. "I should probably go. It's getting late."

You nod in agreement, though a part of you wishes he would stay a bit longer. "Yeah same here, probably for the best. Thanks for keeping me company tonight, Spencer. It was...unexpected, but nice."

Spencer offers you a small smile, his eyes warm. "Anytime. And hey uh, if you ever want to watch another episode of Doctor Who or... anything else, just let me know."

You return his smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer. "I'll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Spencer."

"Goodnight" He mutters your name softly with a final nod, gathering his things and heading towards the door, leaving you alone to do the same as you call out a final “See you in the office,” in Hotch’s direction before leaving yourself to drive back to your apartment with the memory of the evening etched in your mind.

You can't help but think that despite the initial mix-up, the night turned out to be quite enjoyable, and if Spencer’s offer had anything to say, you might be engaging in more nights like this soon, without having to look after a kid in the process.

Score.

[loveephia]

ENEMIES | kita shinsuke

sypnosis: in which you can't believe that someone like kita exists, and you hate him for being so perfect.

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, enemies to lovers trope (although you guys aren't really enemies, per say), kita is a cheeky boy, mentions of marriage toward the end.

⚠ warning/s: none.

kita shinsuke is your long-time mortal enemy.

actually.. he isn't really your enemy. if we're being honest, the hatred felt a little more one-sided.

everything about the captain is just so perfect that it annoys you. not only does he have this irritatingly handsome face, but he's straightforward, too. his uniform is always well-groomed with not a single string of lint found, his hair is always thoroughly combed, and he had everything kept in his circle of simplicity.

he never even struggles in academics or athleticism. so much so that he knows naught of a failing grade, nor is he far behind from the people while running laps. in fact, he's probably at the very front.

the multi-talented kita doesn't stop there. not at all. as you've heard from the plenty of girls in your school, he can cook delicious meals worthy enough to be rated five stars, gracefully play a number of musical instruments, write short yet beautiful poetry, and so much more. he even volunteers to clean up classrooms without a single complaint!

it was as if a prince had just hopped right out of a fairytale and decided to live in this modern world. such nonsense!

"he has to have some kind of weakness!" you told yourself, stomping around the corner, only to bump into the one person you dreaded seeing the most. kita shinsuke.

with the click of a tongue, you're quick to interrogate him. "kita, what are you doing here? it's past school hours." you sternly reminded. kita smiles a small one, "i appreciate your concern y/n, but i actually stayed behind to help the botany club."

ah, and there unfolds another one of his many talents. kita's skills for gardening.

and hold on.. concern?

"i wasn't concerned about you!" you held your ground.

you only see kita's smile getting wider at your little denial.

"i see. i apologize for my assumption." kita says, "i suppose i can't help it. you're quite cute, you know?"

have i mentioned that one of the other reasons why you absolutely despise kita is for his cheekiness?

he's not even like this to other girls, which pisses you off even more! is he aware of your scheming plan to find his weakness? is that why he's doing this?!

"what are you talking about?" you cringe. "i mean it as it is." kita only replies, ignoring the expression on your face as he still finds it cute. even if you look sour and skeptical like a bright and yellow lemon.

you sigh, "i'll get straight to the point since you're already starting to annoy me," you slam one hand against the wall, successfully pinning kita (who is.. taller than you and absolutely unfazed).

"what is your weakness, kita shinsuke?" you ask.

kita widens his eyes at the personal and sudden question, but he doesn't hesitate to answer with a short and simple: "you."

you blink up at him, "what?"

"you are my weakness, y/n l/n." kita replies. "i think about you every day. you're frequently on my mind, almost too much for my liking. you've achieved many great things at a young age, probably even more than me, which i find admirable. you got a scholarship at tokyo university, you found a group of friends that you can always rely on, you have a unique personality that i can't help but be attracted to,"

he pats your head gently with his dominant hand, "and on top of that, you're very cute."

all the blood in your body has rushed its way onto your face. you can feel your heart racing, trying desperately to register all of kita's words. was this a confession..?

you break eye contact, feeling shy.

kita raises his brows, "oh, i didn't know that my words had such an effect on you." he blatantly stated.

"s- shut up! how else am i supposed to react when the golden boy of inarizaki has just confessed to me?!" you yelled in defense.

kita chuckles. even your reaction was one he found absolutely adorable. he really can't get enough of you, can he?

"i like you a lot, y/n. please be mine?" he politely and patiently asks. you look up at him, displaying an appearance that was similar to an angry kitten. "i only.. date to marry." you muttered stubbornly, quietly hoping that it wouldn't scare him away.

"that won't be a problem," kita brings the back of your hand to his soft lips before mumbling, "so do i."

© lowercase intended | loveephia

[thelordofgifs]

2024 Fic Roundup

Thank you so much for the tag @emyn-arnens! I love a good stats summary, but sticking the rest of this under the cut for those who prefer not to think about the numbers.

Total Words Published at end of year: AO3 says 58,099, not counting the seven parts of tfs I haven't crossposted from tumblr yet (which probably gets me up to around 75k-ish).

Fandoms: just the Silmarillion this year!

Most kudos: Notes on the Care of the Tormented, ed. Elrond Half-elven (T, Maedhros & Maglor, 4k)

Most hits: the cleaving (G, Maedhros & Maglor, 8k)

Most comments: the cleaving again

New Things I Tried: I made much more in-depth attempts at OC-centric fic, which turned out so much more fun than I expected! I got a bit more detailed with the smut, and definitely branched out a little with the characters I wrote.

Fic I Spent the Most Time On: the fairest stars, even though my posting speed slowed way down from last year. swan song (G, Finarfin/Eärwen, Elwing and OCs, 18k) also ended up rather consuming my summer.

Fic I Spent the Least Time On: I opened the document that became kept you like an oath (G, russingon, 1k) at midnight and clicked "post" on AO3 at 2am. This was perhaps not the healthiest thing I could have been doing with my night, but it was the most fun.

Favourite Thing I Wrote: I wouldn't have listed it at the time, but the more I think about it the prouder I am of before the black gale (E, OFC x OFC, 8k). It was such a new venture for me, but I think it’s some of my best prose and distils my thoughts (about violence, and corruption, and when exactly a person – or a people – is past saving) better than almost anything I’ve written. Plus it put me in all my Númenor feels ❤️

Favourite Things I Read:

A very inexhaustive list, but here are some standouts from my 2024 AO3 bookmarks!

In Memory to Dwell by @eilinelsghost (G, Finarfin & Finrod, 6k): such a moving and tender exploration of Finrod’s post-reembodiment journey, with absolutely beautiful prose as always from Frankie.

Right-ho, Edrahil! by @actual-bill-potts (G, Finrod & Edrahil, 4k): “Finrod tries to steal Lobelia Sackville-Baggins’ spoons” is an incredible concept to begin with, and this fic is (perhaps unsurprisingly) the funniest thing I read all year.

A Tale That Wasn’t Right by @zealouswerewolfcollector (M, russingon, 2k): a fantastic use of epistolary format, and such a fraught and complicated YoT-russingon dynamic.

Two Half-Kings and a Full Lake Between by @melestasflight and @polutrope (T, Fingolfin & Maglor, 12k): yesss messy Finwean drama my BELOVED. This is such a fascinating and in-depth view of the period immediately after Fingolfin’s host arrived in Beleriand, I love it.

naught green upon the oak series by @welcomingdisaster (E, Maedhros/Maglor, 38k): goddd this series drives me INSANE it’s just such an awful preventable and yet inevitable tragedy and yet they LOVE each other so and aahh go and read it I’m not coherent.

Tagging everyone I mentioned above, if you’re in the mood for a rather late 2024 retrospective! 🩷

[makriiii]

Caught Ⅱ (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Word count: 3k

Author's notes: This is going to be more of a slow burn than I initially set out for. Also, sorry for the slow update!

Warnings: 18+, angst, slightly nsfw, cursing, mentions of blood.

Pt3! Or pt1

Wattpad or Ao3

♡

Caught Ⅱ

The further you got, once again, the colder it was, both you and your horse now having slowed to a nervous walk. Far from anything that could resemble a road or life beyond yourself and your mount.

You were lost. If that were any descriptor. Lost, cold, and tired. You could only hope Van Der Lindes gang was just as lost as you too, but much further, desirably completely headed in a different direction.

Thankfully, the rabbit you saved from earlier kept you from needing to hunt again. Hunting now would certainly only draw attention where attention was not needed, a fire too. Options were limited, to say the least.

The sky above was as dark as could be, yet sparkled with so many lights. The contrast calmed you amidst the just now subsiding adrenaline.

You blew your condensated breath into the air, watching it fade away with the seconds that passed. Bringing yourself to think on how you'd find your way back seemed impossible. The thought of laying your head into a motel bed completely dominated your mind.

You'd have to try to stop somewhere, soon at least, to rest your horse if you didn't want to run the risk of the both of you collapsing. It'd been hours since you got away with a bit of cash and some measly train bonds.

All of it didn't seem so worth it now for a few stacks of paper. But, at least it'd calm Colm some knowing that the score he'd set up wasn't for naught.

A loud crack rang out.

Your mare jumps beneath you, spooking into a quick canter.

Your whole body seized up as you clutched your saddles horn, only a second did it take for you to glance down to where you felt an impact.

A sudden, deep, burning heat spread through your left arm like the blood that seeped from the open wound.

When you finally realized what had just happened, you whipped your head around, and there he was.

That man in the navy union coat. The barrel of his pistol staring you down as he did.

Adrenaline and shock pushed you into action as you unholstered your revolver, aiming it the best you could at him through the darkness.

Each time you barely clipped him, the bullets ricocheting off the nearby pines as he crouched down at your fire, trying to avoid looking like the trees.

You couldn't meet his eye. His hat nearly covered the whole of his face as he spurred his paint after yours.

He shot again, narrowly missing you, to your relief. Your gun clicked empty, quickly realizing you had already used your whole round.

You clutched your arm to your side, beginning to get weary as you rode. The blood from your arm didn't let up.

You grabbed for your second revolver, knowing you'd most likely have another bullet find you if you reloaded now.

You'd been in situations like these before, though only once did you actually get shot, once that didn't disable you as badly as this.

The terrible aching started to really bother you now, but you couldn't focus on your arm, riding and shooting all at once.

Pivoting in your saddle the best you could, you pointed and shot again, but now he was further. Taken a path left that granted him more cover by the evergreens thick trinks.

There was no use wasting your bullets now while he stalked you like prey, waiting for you to drop. The frustration and fear with this man kept you out of the daze you felt approaching.

You made quick glances around, making sure there were no more of his members also out here for your head as well.

He would be the only manageable option.

Every time you turned and aimed, it proved more and more difficult to aim. Like he kept getting further out. The pain in your arm started worsening, making you clutch it closer to your chest with a wince. - Your mind came back to you once you hit the ground. You had fallen off and into the snow, which had at least padded your fall, but nonetheless still knocked the air out of you.

Everything around you started becoming more fuzzy, the details in the land blurry. You had to do something about your arm and the man, but probably the man first.

You stared back up through the trees, squinting and trying to focus in the darkness that shrouded your surroundings. Wherever he was, he wasn't close enough for you to see.

Heaving in breath after breath, you propped yourself up against a nearby tree, weakly pointing your shaky gun as you waited for the blue blob to get closer.

When you figured he was close enough - too close - you hit the trigger.

There was nothing after that but ringing. It looked like you hit him, you thought so. So you dragged your knife out, cutting your shirt to wrap your arm and put much needed pressure on it.

You winced with every poke and prod, and with your torn shirt quickly soaking up the blood, it gave you barely enough time to turn for your chap, slicing a piece long enough to tie around your bicep.

You dropped your knife as soon as you finished and lifted your arm as best you could to apply your make-shift tourniquet above the bullet wound.

All you could do now was hope the bleeding would stop long enough to get your bearings and get out of here.

---

Your head bobbed up and down on hardwood, enough to wake you with a deep groan. Your whole body ached like mad once you slowly regained consciousness.

"She's awake." Stated a deep silvery voice, which made you shoot your eyes open.

"Really?" Replied a man farther away.

"Pretty sure."

Everything that was happening just now started to overwhelm you in your state of being barely cognizant. You stayed silent trying to recall just last night.

From what you could muster, it seemed like death had caught up to you after all, yet you were here.

You'd been shot. That much you could feel. Your bicep burned and tingled with the puncture wounds that had penetrated each side.

When you cocked your head up enough to look at your- where was your jacket? The expected sight replaced with a dusty brown colored coat. 

You remembered falling off your horse, but much beyond that was still hard to recall.

Trying to sit upright, you found yourself tugging at binds, which set off a swift onset of panic as you started to jerk at them, your arm screaming at you to stop with every yank.

"Easy." The first man mumbled. He moved closer for you, grasping for your shoulder that didn't have a terrible stabbing pain in it. You met his eye as he pulled you up with ease to a sit.

He stayed crouched in front of you for a moment, assessing you. A soft and hardly discernible look of concern across his face. Tough but gentle, and he didn't seem to mean you much harm despite the situation you found yourself in.

Upon your upright position, you found your ammo and gun belts had vanished, and the only semblance of your items, your hat, crumpled on the floor next to you.

You took a better look around when something - someone - caught your eye, nonetheless like a moth to a flame.

That man. His union coat still hugged him, his black hat sitting on top of his head. You could never forget that attire. The clothes he wore while he gunned you down in the forest.

You knew exactly what you did to the last man who got a lucky shot in on you, only this time you had to find a way around your limbs being bound together.

You stared daggers at him from behind, desperately wishing he'd at least glance back so you could finally see his face. The face of the first man who had gotten an upper hand on you, the thought filling you with contempt.

You cleared your throat before you spoke, a rough and scratchy feel after how you'd woken. "Look at me, you bastard." Your voice still sounded hoarse over the anger that lined your words, the lack of water you'd been subjected to made its mark.

Even though you didn't call him by name or any of his noticeable features, he seemed to know exactly who you were addressing.

He gave the driving reins to the older man that sat next to him, who had his head turned to inspect you momentarily. 

"I'm lookin'." He announced, smug as could be.

He was intimidating, more so than what you initially expected. That wasn't enough to wane your aggravated attitude though, what else would he do to you know? You knew what he wanted and he wasn't gonna do much after all this.

He stood slightly bent over to hold his balance before jumping into the back where the other man sat with you.

You eyed him with such malice, yet the expression on his face only twisted into a small smirk.

"You gonna untie me or what?" It was worth the ask, unlikely he'd relent anyway.

"You gonna behave?"

"Sure, if you give me back all my shit. My horse as well, preferably, or one of yours."

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest at your ridiculous request. "I might've considered it had you left it at 'sure'." He drew out a cigarette and lit it just to puff the smoke at you.

Your eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. "Ask me again then."

He snickers at your second most ridiculous request, playing into it. "You gonna behave, girl?"

"Wouldn't dream of misbehaving." You granted, it didn't reach him, though. His expression of pure amusement gave it away.

"Never been much of a genie, so I can't grant any your wishes." He sat relaxed and aloof next to the first man you weren't sure of yet.

"You already shot me. Untying me is the least you could do. I reckon you could just poke my arm if I start actin' unruly." Reasoning with him was difficult, though you were confident you wouldn't try to fight off three full grown men. He wasn't.

"I'll think about it. If you talk nice."

"I talk nice when I'm not tied up."

"And I untie people who talk nice beforehand." He retorts, infuriating you further. "What's a girl like you doing Colm's dirty work anyway?"

"It's none the different than what you'd do for your boss."

"A train robbery alone? I think that's funny."

"Would it have been if ya' hadn't caught me last night?" The edges of your mouth curl up in a smirk at the thought of being so close to remaining victorious.

"What's even in it for you? Ya' Colm's special girl or somethin'?" His accusation made the small smile that lined your lips vanish in place of shock.

He scanned you all the while, his eyes lighting up when his insult hit where he intended.

You knew why he'd say something so ludicrous, no doubt. Not many of the yellow bellied half-wits in this gang would attempt something like this, for good reason too. Colm didn't give a rats ass for his men, yet you liked to think you brought more value to him.

"No." You replied, scorned.

"Really?" He emphasized, hammering down on the nerve he already hit. "Seems more from your end than his."

You wanted to defend yourself, but you were limited in knowing what he'd take your word for. Clearly.

"Doubt he'll even come lookin' for you. Nor your buddy I caught a few days ago."

"We'll see." Your patience - what little you even had of it, kept you at bay, still clinging on to the prayer that he'd undo your ropes.

"Tell you what? You tell us where he's at and we'll go lookin' for him instead."

"I know exactly the same amount as you." That much was true. You hadn't seen him since he made his way up to Colter. As far as you saw, he wasn't amongst the fallen. But whether they saw it as the truth was beyond you.

He turned his head to the man whose company you preferred. "What do you think' Charles? She bullshitting us?"

"Couldn't tell you," He took a moment to think you over. "Haven't had enough time to tell."

Charles. You had the name of one of the three men that rode on this carriage with you.

"I ain't lyin', you'd have to bury yourself into the man's skin to always know his whereabouts."

"Yeah?" I'm sure there's more you can tell us than that." He stops, staring straight into you. "What's your name, anyways?"

"I can tell you about my ma and pop, but anything else?" A small laugh escapes your lips at your own joke, at the absurdity of this all. "You'll have to untie me."

He mumbled something under his breath, a stormy gaze as he eyed you darkly. He makes his way closer to you and to your horror, reached out for your left shoulder.

You winced at the pain he caused when he clutched you, moving you so your back faced him enough to reach your binds.

He cut through the strings he tied you with, involuntarily getting jittery each time you felt his blade touch your wrists or palms.

Finally, the ropes that clasped you had released their tension, letting out your relief with a sigh.

"That ain't gonna last for long, so enjoy it."

You blew him off, rolling your right shoulder that you had been passed out on as you rubbed your sore wrists. "You gonna do my legs too? Or are you gonna make the poor little lady do it herself?"

"Gonna make the 'poor little lady' do it herself." He agreed, with a shake of his head as he rumbled out a chuckle.

You grunted with each movement too harsh you made with your arm while you slowly undid the ropes, bitter at this man and his yapping. Glancing up every so often, you met his eye each time. His never left you as you sat there.

He flicked his cigarette off the carriage, projecting his full attention onto you. "Alright," He chimes, leaning in. "Where's he at?" Some of his initial aloofness replaced with a more serious tone.

"Have you considered asking my associate?" You reply, taking off whoever's coat this happened to be, examining your wound closer. With every poke and prod, you winced out a hiss. The bloodied bandages an unfavorable sight to see.

"No. We invited him in by the fire to eat with us." He mocked with each word that left his mouth. He was starting to lose his patience - to your delight.

"I would've told you all about Colm if you had done that instead of shooting me." You quickly filled with regret at your snide. Your sentence sounding more like an admission rather than a jab at him.

He raised his brows, contemplating for a moment. He took it as an admission as you feared, scolding yourself for it.

"It's not going to get easier for you. Just tell us where he's at, and we'll let you go. Maybe."

"And what if I don't know where he's at? You gonna maybe let me go, or shoot me again?"

He lets out a heavy sigh, realizing he's not getting anywhere with you. By the looks of it, he hadn't slept much - served him right for hunting you down in the forest.

-Arthur's pov-

Upon his initial meeting of you in the forest, he felt slick that he tracked you down through the snow and got a shot in. Yet, after missing, he felt a sudden confliction on whether or not he should kill you.

Bill, Javier, Dutch - they all left him to deal with you, as they all knew he had a track record of collecting O'Driscoll's just fine. The group just didn't want to be out here so late. 

Sneaking around like you did and just about getting away with robbing them blind entirely alone, he had to admit, was impressive, albeit cretinous.

It led him to have some level of respect for you despite being an O'Driscoll.

Wary of your sporadic shooting, he wasn't sure how long you'd keep shooting, nor if it was even possible to not leave you dead out here in these woods. But the hit he had gotten in on you did more to subdue you than he needed - luckily. 

Only when he finally caught up to you did he see your soft features, lacking the facial hair most unkempt O'Driscolls had. You were a lady.

You pointed weakly at him with a stare so contradictory, but your grip on the gun was meek you couldn't aim properly. 

He flinched at the final shot you let out, your bullet sent whizzing past in a direction unseen, an unexpected shot from you. Just how many damn bullets did she manage to have?

Arthur stared at you as you tried to stop the bleeding, seemingly not even noticing you hadn't hit him. Your arm drenched your coats sleeve with a deep scarlet, soaking up every bit that seeped out of the wound.

Silly to state the obvious, but the bleeding, if continued at the rate it was at, you were going to be some wolves meal. 

He was reluctant to approach as you tore away at your chaps to stop the bleeding yourself, though it wasn't long till you finally slumped over. He cautiously tip toed to you, his first worry, your guns. He snatched them both up, confiscating your gun belt in the same breath. 

Arthur took in a deep, exasperated breath. Taking in another O'Driscoll didn't fill him with much glee. The rest of the gang would detest it, too. He could already feel their ornery. But just any O'Driscoll? That was false. He crouched down to examine the wound he had caused you, determining just what had to be done to aid you.

He called a few times to you, patting your cheek with his glove, checking wether you were alive or about to jump out at him, though the latter unlikely. Your cheeks started losing the rosy colour that the wind had cut through. Finest O'Driscoll he'd ever set his eyes upon - as regrettable as a thought that was.

"C'mon, O'Driscoll..." He murmurs, rummaging through his satchel. "Just how much trouble are ya' gonna give me?"

He shook his head. He'd have to make this quick. Your wound was still bleeding, and though your efforts did help, it was unlikely you'd make it out here alone, or alive. 

Removing your blood soaked jacket, he reluctantly unbuttoned your shirt to get to the puncture. 

The exposure sent goosebumps all over your soft skin. It was tough, but he did his utmost to keep from looking any further than your arm, all except a glance to assure there wasn't anything else outstanding for him to deal with. 

With the last of his gauze, Arthur packed your wound to the best of his ability. Every time you threatened to wake up, he prepared for the worst, though it seemed more paranoia than reality - perhaps the darkness and the hour was getting to him.

As he finished, he was relieved you had neither woken or died... both a strange contradiction. He gently buttoned back up your shirt, returning your jacket - have to find you something else soon. The blood on your sleeve started crunching as the ice claimed its territory, quick as it was. "Gang's gon' have me for this..."

He slid his arm gently under your lower back and legs, gently scooping you up. He'd have to tie you up before he set off, wanted absolutely no more blunders from you. The list of troubles you'd given him so far ever growing. 

That brought another line of questioning. A woman like you. An O'Driscoll. Solo train robber. Just what kind of person were you? Crazy one, sure, but how annoying would you be? He'd be responsible for you after all - a supremely risky investment. 

Through the flurry of thoughts and the wind kicking up the fresh snow, he wanted nothing more than what he had come here for. The bonds and the cash. 

Your horse had stopped only mere yards away, to much of his relief, he wouldn't be tracking anything else tonight. 

Arthur trailed up behind your mare, grabbing the loose reins before heading back in the direction you'd came.

---

Arthur could already tell in what ways you differed from Kieran, the one who was an O'Driscoll, yet so vehemently claimed he was not.

You had unfortunately entirely skipped begging for your life, screaming, or crying. You spoke to the one who shot you like there was a guarantee he wouldn't do it again.

It intrigued him. Were you just dumb? Being fearful never seemed to cross your mind.

But the more you argued, the more that intrigue turned to irritation and regret... If only you knew the trouble he went through for you. A stranger.

Arthur knew now perhaps the trouble he would have saved himself would've been worth it. Yet now here you were.

He questioned why someone like you was running with a gang like Colm's. Far too much loyalty and ambition - not to mention insanity.

Despite his curiosity, you were just as reluctant to speak as Kieran. Just as annoying too but in a more infuriating way.

Even as his patience wore thin, he still found himself unable to take the easy way out. There was a chance you knew more. Maybe you were closer to Colm. Maybe there was more use to you.

If that were the case, Dutch would be mighty pleased with what information they could pry out of you with the right motivators. Word count: 3.4k Next chapter

[weheirsofdurin]

Youthful Endeavors @antleredthrone

Thorin sat on a banister near his grandfather's throne, a pipe filled with a weed that made him feel all happy but relaxed inside, he had finally earned the right to braid his beard and had his first bead in the long tresses of it. He haid it twisted around itself thrice before the square bead he ahd hand crafted was placed, and he was quite proud of his looks. This meant that he was offically an adult as seen by all dwarves.

He was young still but had proved his worth early and was readily accepted as a full fledged adult within their society.

Grandfather groaned as he stood, Thror was getting on in his years and there were times he seemed even older than he was. Today was one of those days after meeting upon meeting with councilers that he had rather just postponed. Thorin ahd chosen to sit in on the meetings, paying attention to learn at his grandfather's side so as to help ease his burdens.

"//Thorin, ye will stay in my stead while I go get a bite to eat, aye?//"

"//Of course, Grandfather. I am honored.// With that Thror wearily wandered off, presumably to the kitchens or maybe to be distracted by a small nap. But as all meetings were done, and the people ahd been seen to, barring an emergency this was all just semantics. Someone to be seen as in charge in case anything arose but in all likelihood naught would.

Twenty minutes had passed at most while Thorin kept his perch on the banister, watching the forge far below with envy as he wished to be down there now, but not willing to leave his post because he was a responsible man after all.

Click, Click, Click

The sound of footsteps he did not recognize had him turning to look at the visitor. Men often dragged their feet or hurried as if they ahd better places to be, and dwarves were always heavy footed. But this being only clacked because they wanted to be heard, their graceful stride would have been absolutely silent had they chosen so.

Thorin held his pipe in his hand to keep it from falling as he wanted to drop his jaw. The man that sauntered the walkway was no Man, he was an elf. A race Thorin had heard of but never been allowed to see yet, let alone interact with. This elf though was like no one Thorin had ever seen, tall and graceful, silken hair as pale as the moon, and eyes as blue as the lake below. His cheeks were high and jaunty while his jaw was strong. Not a lick of hair upon his face other than thick eye brows and long lashes.

The sound of clicking died out and Thorin didn't notice as the elf still walked. Finally the elf was close enough that he realized he still sat like a love struck idiot staring at his first crush when he should be in his grandfather's seat to greet the elf like a king would. Clearing his throat he stood finally and set the pipe down to walk towards the elf. If he could not be regal in his grandfather's seat, he could at least greet the elf as if a friend.

"Welcome, to Erebor, Elven Friend. I am Thorin, Son of Train, Son of Thror. What business can I see to for ye?"

[chemdisaster]

another cd au fic about scar's childhood because i needed to vent and also i'm trying to figure out writing in past tense (how the hell do you people do this, it's so bloody difficult)

TW: physical abuse, general "dads being dicks" warning

It took Scar a long time to know courage.

Once, he asked a girl who knew more about living in a cage than he ever did, "What does freedom mean?"

And she replied, "Saying no when the only acceptable answer is yes."

And the boy who'd grown up avoiding storms by putting stones in his pockets and allowing the waves to drown him asked, "How?"

And she laughed and said, "Fuck them all."

Scar didn't understand, back then. He went back home, back to his room with the screams sewn into its walls, and listened to his mother's tears and thought, bravery is nothing but another black eye. It was the lesson he'd learnt before knowledge, after all—resistance never brought more than submission in its wake. In a world of punishment, every back was littered with whips; the cake had only ever existed in his mind.

On the cusp of adulthood, he finally understood.

And it wasn't that he'd had enough. They say that patience is a goblet full of flames; that one day even the most patient man's candle turns into a wildfire. But Scar's blaze had burnt out long ago; his insides were in ashes, and no amount of fanning would make flowers grow atop his wasted skin.

It wasn't that he'd had enough, because he'd been born to hold destruction in his palms, and no cross would ever become too heavy for the shoulders long broken and lying in the dust.

But one day, his father barged into his room, a threat in his eyes and a promise in his fists. And Scar stood up, his knees swimming around him and the dirty walls a light show in front of his starved mind.

And he said, "No."

And he couldn't remember what his father had told him. But he knew that they were things he said every day, things that took his breath away for minutes at a time, the same demands that only looming danger made them follow.

And he knew that he was done.

So as his father stared disbelieving at what his self-confidence accepted to be true, he spoke louder with do as I say, or else hanging in the air, and Scar repeated, "No."

"What?"

His father did not wait for him to reply; in a manner remembered by every occupant of the pathetic imitation of the word home, he made to grab his wrist, to force him as he had done so many times before—

And Scar thought, maybe he had had enough. He couldn't live like this anymore.

And he repeated for the first and millionth time all at once, "No!"

And he screamed, "Get out of my room!"

His father lunged. Scar pressed himself to the wall.

"Get out," he hissed. "Get out! Get out!" And then, "Mum!"

He did not know why he screamed for his mother. She wouldn't come, she never did; but despite everything, some part of Scar still held the child he'd never truly been, and she was his mother, and maybe it was immature hope that made him scream for her, but it was hope, and so he screamed.

His mother did appear, then; she did naught but stand there at the doorframe with a mournful look on her face, but she was there, and her presence lent him what he needed to refuse to back down.

"No! Get out! Leave me alone!"

He continued to repeat himself like a cog with a screw caught in-between its jagged edges, letters spilling out of him with a freedom he'd only ever dreamt of—every No! and Leave me alone! and I hate you! that had ever been swallowed down with his lips between his teeth. Just yesterday, he wouldn't have dared to be so careless with the things he kept close to his chest; but something inside him had clicked, and there was no going back. He was done.

His father swept all his things off his table then.

"I am your father!" the man's booming voice bounced off of the barely held together furniture. "I am your father and you will respect me!"

Liquid muscles solidified as Scar stepped forward, a newfound strength all his own, and he spat, "You're nothing to me. You're no father. I'm moving out and changing my name and getting rid of that fucking patronymic, because you know what?" His throat grew into itself; his vision blurred, "You know what my first memory is?"

And speaking was the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he carried on, "You beating Mum and me getting in-between the two of you. You know how," his voice shook, "how fucked that is? You don't deserve my respect."

His father did not let him finish; as cement fell down on his ears, Scar knew that his words never meant a thing. But as he swiped his arm across his eyes, he found that being heard no longer mattered to him, and he laughed and threw the scissors he'd picked up away, turned to face the man who'd cursed him into existence and knew that in that moment his features said, go on, do your worst. Because he'd seen his father's worst, and he'd seen his own, and they were not the same.

His father would try to break him; he would pretend that he had succeeded, and never let on the truth—that he'd been born broken. And so as stone-cut knuckles advanced, he waited, because his father would never wash the blood from his hands, and if he could add his own into the mix, if he could make him burn with everything he could never undo—

"Get away from him!"

Scar hit the floor. His father's fist made contact with skin a shade paler than his own.

Maybe his mother had had enough, too.

And something about someone standing in front of him to face the horror he'd lived with since birth, the way that, finally, he wasn't ashamed, wasn't weak—Scar picked himself up. And he thought, there is nothing that he can do to me.

He screamed, and his mother screamed, and for the first time in his life, his father backed down.

From behind his mother's crying bones, he caught a glimpse of the man's face—twisted and alien and suddenly the smallest thing he'd ever seen. His room was in tatters; practiced fingers made a move to force their way back into his life, worn down capillaries imploded upon themselves in defiance a decade or two too late, familiar screams ran down his veins, the red cells chilled and halted in their tracks—

The door slammed shut. He was alone.

And through the tears mixing with the ever-flowing blood, through the endless noise, through the memories of a nothing-life reverberating around the dead ends of his parents' flat with the invisible bars on the windows, the cracks that never felt more like breaking his chains—through it all, Scar smiled.

He'd won.

(Years later, lying on the floor as his fellow heroes' laughter echoes all around him, a much older Scar wonders where that courage went.

Thinking back to the boy who stood on shaking legs in front of everything he ever feared, he can't find it in himself to be anything but what he is.)

(Nothing.)

[nyxnightshade1332]

Expectations When Expecting (Prologue)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3:

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!" Yuu heard the sharp click of metal and a distressed meow from Grim. She turned around to see Grim bristling in a corner at two boys.

"Wh-what gives? My fire ain't workin'!" He cried, resorting to pulling on a heart-shaped collar.

"Until I deign to remove that collar, you won't be using any magic. You're naught but a pet cat now." A boy with red hair announced, placing something at his belt with a proud posture.

"M-meoWHAT?! I ain't nobody's pet-NOTHING!" Grim hissed. Yuu watched as the red boy said something she couldn't make out, earning an over-the-top laugh from the boy with glasses next to him.

"Yuu! Was I not clear that you are expected to take responsibility for your familiar? Now discipline your-" Crowley turned toward her, an air of authority around him, tone accusatory. Yuu couldn't help the rage that bubbled up in her chest.

"Dammit I said HE'S NOT MINE!!!!"

Crowley gaped for a moment, speechless at her outburst. "What's that? It isn't yours?"

Yuu took a deep breath, steadying herself before continuing. "I've told you repeatedly that it isn't mine!"

"Oh...Is that so?" The headmage looked awkward, avoiding eye contact.

"Yes, that is so. Geez!" She bristled at Crowley in annoyance.

He, in turn, cleared his throat. "Then I shall have it expelled from campus. I shall even spare it from being served as dinner. My, but I AM kind ...Someone take this away, please." Crowley gestured for several students to come and drag the little monster away by the collar.

"Nooooo! Let me gooooo!" Grim yowled, his claws raking against the carpeted floor in an attempt to postpone his ejection. "Y-You fools better remember my name! Cause I'm gonna go down in the annals of magic history! Just you wait!" Were the last words that Grim called out before the doors were shut.

Yuu felt a pang of guilt in her chest, listening to the fuss he was making as he was dragged down the hallway.

"I feel kind of sorry for him..." She mumbled.

The room was quiet for a moment, the atmosphere heavy and suffocating. Students' clothing was singed and smoking, and a couple of the curtains were still on fire.

"Well, that was quite the unexpected fracas... I hereby declare that orientation has concluded! Housewardens, please escort your students back to the dorms."

Crowley announced before pausing. "...Hm? Come to think of it, I don't see the Housewarden Draconia of House Diasomnia anywhere."

Yuu huffed, dizzy from the smoke and needless stress, becoming visibly pale and choosing to sit back down on the floor as the others conversed. She kept her hands pressed protectively against her abdomen. I hope you're alright. I'll protect you. Just, please don't leave me too. She let her thoughts wander and she took deep breaths before feeling herself be shaken slightly.

"-ster Yuu!" Ah. Crowley.

Yuu looked up at him, squinting up at the headmage.

"Oh! Good! You're back. Well, Yuu. This is a most unfortunate turn of events. I'm afraid that you will not be attending Night Raven Collage after all." Crowley informed her. "Surely you realize that I cannot very well admit a student with no magical ability to my academy. But worry not. The Dark Mirror will see you safely home." He offered her his hand to help her up.

"Now, step into the gate, and visualize the place you whence you came." Crowley hinted. She gave him a nod, images of home, the little rented townhouse that her parents had raised her and her younger sisters in, her best friends, the cool air, the sight of the mountains.

Yuu shakily lifted herself up and stumbled once more before the mirror and made her way into one of the gates.

What a long dream this was.

"O Dark Mirror!" Crowley called out, so much power in his words that the lights in the room seemed to flicker. "Return this soul to where it belongs!"

Silence. The mirror was silent enough for the unease to settle in the young woman's stomach like a brick.

She heard the Headmage clear his throat anxiously. "L-let us, er...try this again. O Dark Mirror! Return this soul-"

"There is no such place." Yuu's eyes widened in surprise.

"What?" She asked, fear quickly shocking her nerves.

"There is no place in this world where these souls belong. None." The mirror stated. Did it just say, 'souls?' As in plural?!

"How can that be? My, but today is a veritable cavalcade of impossible phenomena!" Crowley said incredulously. The mirror remained silent, watching as Yuu stepped out of the gate, making her way over to Crowley.

"This has never happened throughout my long tenure. I must confess that I am at something of a loss." Crowley spoke to himself before finally turning to address her. "Tell me: From what land do you hail?"

"I'm from Colorado. In the United States." She responded nervously.

Crowley examined her for a moment, considering her words.

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with such a place." He finally said. "I am intimately acquainted with the origins of every student who has ever come here, and yet... This mysterious homeland of yours eludes me." The Crow-man said, making Yuu much more anxious than she already was.

Crowley seemed awkward, coughing into his fist in a desperate attempt to clear his throat. "Let us go to the library and look it up, shall we?" He suggested.

Yuu gave a nod, her meek demeanor seeming to put the headmage more on edge as he offered her his hand. She gratefully took it, as Crowley began to lead her in the direction of the library in which she had hidden. He grabbed several large scrolls, maps, and unrolled them. Yuu looked down and began to read. 

Chapter 4

[julibellule]

“Why?”

“Oh…lots of reasons,” Stede started and drew in a deep breath. He went for the gag again, this time loosening the knot underneath [Blackbeard’s] chin completely [...]. “Admiral Badminton, d’you remember him?” The twitch of Blackbeard’s mouth was answer enough. “Right. Well, he’s dead. Thanks to me. Uh, that night. When I was s’posed to….” Stede slipped the cloth free of Blackbeard’s neck, leaving the familiar black tie. [...]“When I was supposed to meet you at the docks. Ed, I really—”

There was the snarl again, the shout, a desperate man backed into a corner. Blackbeard shoved against Stede and planted a foot to heave himself up when Stede slipped around, grabbed a fistful of thick curls, and pushed the hilt of a dagger against Ed’s side. Damn! Oluwande had showed him how to…Stede sighed roughly and flipped it around, so the dagger was up against Blackbeard’s jacket. Then he slowly raised it so they could both see it, the two of them breathing together. The tether around Blackbeard’s arms hugged them tighter.

“Easy now,” Stede said before tossing the dagger away from them, over by the door. He kept a firm grip of Blackbeard’s hair, giving naught an inch to whip his head this way or that, until he felt Blackbeard relax. “Easy. It’s gonna be alright.”

>>> Click here for more BlackBonnet fic recs <<<

[rinpoo-blog]

Something New.

Click below to go to chapter 2.

Buster Bunny sat alone in his dorm with naught but the silence and his thoughts to keep him company. The thick textbook on various magics and illusionary chicanery was the chain that locked him away from enjoying the fun so richly offered to him.

Autumn was in full swing, and the buzz of Halloween excitement was fast approaching. Gone were the days when his sister and he would hunt for delicious treasure and dispense devious tricks on unsuspecting toons.

Now…. It was just him and his book. His test looming overhead like a guillotine, and uncertainty pushing against his competitive, perfectionist nature.

The Halloween party that all had been invited to attend took everything in his being to say no to, and while it was really out of the ordinary for him not to be pressured by Plucky or his dear sister into attending. He had determined that he needed to change as much as his sister had in recent months.

Given the apparent nature of Babs' newfound infatuation with her roommate, Sweetie, it was difficult to describe how lonely and alienated he felt.

He and Babs had been together through thick and thin, and dating seemed far away from their minds throughout high school. Now, though, he was certain his sister desired more than friendship with her roommate.

Indeed, he approved of Sweetie Bird, but he realized that made him a third wheel, and he wasn't ambitious to take on that role.

Not ambitious at all….

Buster's mind swirled with intrusive and distracting thoughts, and as he glanced over at the clock ticking loudly in the silent room. He was taken aback by how much time his daydreaming had stolen from him.

With a reluctant sigh, he placed a marker in the book and slammed it closed. Perhaps… he needed a break….

Going to the party was out of the question, as he would never leave if he did, but maybe a walk around campus would alleviate his overwhelmed thoughts and feelings.

Taking his hoodie off of his bed, he slid it on and placed the book gently on the couch for his return. He quickly grabbed his keys and exited the boy's dorm onto the beautiful, well-kept Looniversity campus.

…

…

…

Walking out onto the path, he was greeted by the last orange light hanging barely above the horizon. The dancing shadows as they moved across the landscape could only be described as capturing Halloween's entire essence and distilling it down into a moment.

The dead trees rattled as the colorful fallen leaves susurrated gently across the ground in the soft yet chilly breeze.

With an exhale, he looked down at the ground and felt happy. Despite being the only one out here, he found he wasn't as lonely as inside, but rather, calm.

He began to hope for his sister when he placed both hands into his hoodie pockets to keep them warm. Even if he had to be a tag-along from now on, he couldn't keep her to himself forever, and what better girlfriend could there be than Sweetie?

Acceptance freed Buster's spirit, and he smiled as he leaned against a stone wall that stretched across the beautiful landscape.

Taking in the scenery reminded him of days not long since passed, and it hurt to realize how quickly time came and went. He wasn't old by any stretch of the imagination, but the fear of adulthood intermixed with the uncertainty of the future was enough to make anyone yearn for the stability of childhood.

"…."

The sun dropped ever further, and Buster found himself unable to return to his dorm. He felt compelled to stand and watch the sun drop quietly as if it might be the last one he'd ever see.

"…"

"Here you are!?" Buster heard Fifi exclaim loudly from behind him.

The sudden voice frightened him, and he turned to glance at her standing on the walkway behind him.

"Oh, hey, Fifi…. What are you doing out here? I thought the party had already begun?"

Fifi padded across the leaves, crunching them as she went, and then spoke assertively. "Oui! I was looking for you when I did not to see you…. Everybody is there but you!"

Buster eyed the girl and merely frowned. "I thought Babsie told everyone I had to study for my exam tomorrow? That I couldn't make it."

Fifi seemed disappointed, but unconvinced as she spoke again. "And this is to be studying, Bustair?"

He turned away from her, unsure of what to say. It wasn't like he could tell her about what he was feeling. It made him feel stupid to be experiencing the emotions in the first place.

"…."

When Buster didn't respond, Fifi placed her arms on the wall and leaned next to him, then spoke. "Babs is to being very busy with Sweetie, and I am not to be hearing the news of you. So, I am sorry if I am interrupting."

Buster felt bad and shook his head gently. "Naw, don't be sorry, Fifi. Believe me, I want to be at the party, but I really did have to study for a test…. Things just distracted me…."

Fifi raised an eyebrow and stared at the dying sun. "Oui, I do find the beauty of nature distracting, as I do find the same in unique fashion."

Buster merely smiled at her, but then he became curious. Watching the orange light reflect across her shimmering purple fur was a sight to behold, and he had to wonder why someone so gorgeous was out here for him, of all people.

"Uhm….?" Buster murmured, getting her attention.

After that, he spoke.

"So erm…. Why was it so important I join the party? Usually, you have everyone wanting to talk to you at gatherings."

Fifi merely smirked and responded openly. "I am to be… how do you say? Bored…. Every boy talks Moi to death, that is, except for you."

Buster found that odd as a reasoning, so he merely scratched the back of his head. "Well, Sorry, I…."

"Non…." Fifi interrupted him. "I am quite relieved by it, as well as to be curious, why?"

Buster merely nodded and responded. "I just figured you didn't like being harassed all the time. It isn't like I was ignoring you, though. I asked you to go to the Bunniez II Rabbitz concert before I asked anyone else outside my family…."

Fifi got a playful smile on her face and responded gregariously. "Ohhh, oui! I didn't realize it was like that, Bustair!"

Buster became sheepish and shrank slightly. "I well, uhm…."

Fifi only laughed, and Buster responded with a hint of annoyance.

"Well, you said no, because you had multiple ex-boyfriends in the band, so it doesn't matter…."

Fifi merely leaned forward and frowned. "Oh, and is that to be being a problem for you, Bustair?"

Buster thought and merely shook his head. "No…. I don't care who you've dated…. I kind of just… really wanted to go with someone I like to be around…."

Fifi was entirely taken aback by his demeanor and attitude. True to her assumption, he was genuinely a thoughtful and kind person, if not a little over-passionate about certain things.

"…."

When she said nothing more, Buster turned away and merely spoke as darkness overtook the land. "Look, I am sorry if asking you brought up bad memories…. I…. I am just having a hard time with everything changing so fast. I know people can't understand, but it is hard not to have constant company, especially with Babs…."

The winds blew gently, and Fifi remained quiet. His difficulty was personal and painful, she could tell.

As Buster became increasingly anxious, he tried to eject from the situation. "I…. I probably should…"

"Non…" Fifi said quietly, her voice filled with sadness.

At first, Buster was ready to escape quickly, but seeing her dejected expression only made him speak openly. "Are you ok, Fifi?"

Fifi merely nodded as the area became illuminated by the lamps placed along the walkway. Now that the two were standing under a bright spotlight facing one another, she spoke.

"I am just to be understanding how you feel… All too well…."

Buster was surprised. Someone as outgoing and friendly as Fifi rarely showed this serious side of herself. As he waited for her to speak, she merely cast her gaze towards the ground.

"Oui… To be honest, I never told anybody that I am being an orphan…. I do not know my mother or father or whether I have siblings…. The loneliness, it is to be very tough along the holidays…."

When hearing that, Buster felt like a whiny baby, and he merely exhaled, then rubbed his arm. "Whoa… I… I'm sorry for whining, Fifi… That is…."

"Stop!" Fifi interrupted again, her voice an amalgamation of pain and anger. "I am to saying, I understand…. I have been feeling your loneliness…. It has been upsetting me to be seeing you absent."

It was now that Buster understood. Fifi was out here because she was worried about him because she cared about him.

It was no time for pity, sorries, or whining…. It was time to have gratitude.

"Fifi…. Thank you…." Buster began gently and continued. "It means a lot to me that you came to check on me…."

Fifi merely smiled and looked back at him in the chilly evening. Neither spoke words, but the gentle rustling of the trees seemed enough chatter to put them at ease.

After a moment, Buster spoke in a curious but kind manner. "So… Have you always been alone?"

Fifi merely nodded and spoke. "I was to be fortunate enough to live in an abandoned car during high school. I never had much, but I always tried to make the due…."

Buster felt pain on her behalf but shook his head. "Well, you certainly have a lot now."

Fifi beamed. "Oui, I worked hard to being where I am. I may be at a loss in romance and family, but am secured in my living…."

Buster could see she was proud of herself and deserved to be. He always had things she had lacked, which made her all the more impressive by his estimation.

With silence again taking over the two, Buster looked around at the night that had quickly befallen them. Perhaps he should offer to walk her to the party? That way, he could return to his work.

"Hey, Fifi?"

"Bustair?"

The two said at the same time.

"Oh… Excuse me."

"Excusez-moi!"

They uttered simultaneously once more.

Eventually, Buster just put himself aside and offered her to speak. "You first!"

Fifi looked at him and then nodded. "Oui… Well, I was going to ask if you would like spending just a teensy bit at the party? I am understanding your reasons for not showing now, but it might help you to be relaxing."

Buster was quiet. He, more than anything, wished to go. Even more so now that he was having fun speaking with Fifi. Still, his obligation and desire to not blow off his professor were at the front of his mind.

"I…. I can't, Fifi…. I am sorry."

Fifi looked genuinely crestfallen but merely accepted his response. "Well, then, I am to be supposing I shall head back to the party. First, though, what did you wish to be saying?"

Buster contemplated, and it was the perfect time to offer to at least walk her back. Still, as he looked her over, he had another idea creep into his head.

Confident he might be in many things, this might be too bold of a counteroffer. He feared she would take it the wrong way but, nonetheless, let it slip in spite of his worries.

"Well, I was, uhm…. I was gonna suggest that you come hang out with me while I study. I know it isn't as fun as a party, but…"

Buster trailed off when he realized how pathetic his offering was, but it only made Fifi grin almost deviously.

She put her hands behind her back and spoke confidently. "Why, Bustair! Inviting me to be alone with you in the boy's dormitory? Are you sure this is what you are wanting?"

Buster lost all nerve and shyly nodded, after which he spoke the only French he knew, having heard it from her countless times since she arrived. "Oui…."

Hearing him say the word made her giggle, and she responded casually to his use of it. "Vous pouvez parler français! Comme c'est excitant!"

Buster's utter confusion only made her laugh more, and she merely rephrased using words he could understand. "I accept your invitation… Let us to be going!"

Boldly, Fifi wrapped her arm around his and dragged him along excitedly. If Buster didn't know any better, she seemed more excited about going with him to study than to be at a swinging Halloween party.

"…."

…

…

…

When the two arrived at Buster's locked dorm, Fifi was taking in the quietness she was experiencing. Everyone was indeed at the party, and the peace here was quite a reprieve from the loud music near the girl's dorm.

After Buster opened his door, he held it and looked at Fifi as he spoke gently to her. "After you."

Fifi let go of him and responded as she entered. "Merci beaucoup, monsieur gentilhomme."

Buster smiled, getting the gist of the compliment, and then shut and locked his door behind him.

Fifi was glancing about and could see that the place was somewhat messy compared to hers. Eventually, though, her attention was distracted by Buster's sleeping area.

Looking up, she examined nearly all Buster's first-place awards for various toon-related activities.

"Ouah! You are to being quite accomplished, Bustair! I did not know you contained such accolades!"

Buster became embarrassed and stood next to her. "Yeah. Many of these are for Tooney Ball and pranking, my favorite high school class."

Fifi put her hand to her chin and examined the first-place pranking trophy. "Oui, I am to be impressed. I am always having trouble with pranking…. I suppose it is that I do not like to prowl around."

Buster smiled and then shrugged. "If you need help, I can tutor you. I have an A in pranking 101, so I think bringing you to that level should be easy."

At the mere suggestion, she became excited and spoke loudly. "Oui! I would love to have the help! I am not doing so good as I need to be in that class."

Buster nodded cheerfully and then walked over to the fridge. "We can walk together after class, and I can do my homework with you."

Fifi was as flattered as she was grateful, and Buster just pulled out some carrot juice and poured it into a glass. Once done, he offered her some.

"Freshly made~!" Buster said joyously, letting his guard down now that he had warmed enough to her to be alone with her like this.

Fifi came over and partook of the glass she was poured, after which her eyes lit up and she spoke her immediate thoughts. "C'est délicieux!"

Before Buster could even respond, she had the glass up to her mouth and was gulping it down. Finally, when she was finished within seconds and placed the glass on the counter, Buster couldn't help but smirk at the orange juice that colored the white fur on her face.

She noticed his look and seemed confused, but Buster admired her in such a vulnerable position. Fifi would be mortified to realize she looked foolish, but he found it sentimental and cute.

Like a private moment, he was only allowed to take part in.

As Fifi became unsure, Buster picked up a clean cloth from the counter and wiped her face gently to remove the excited mess she had created.

When the orange blanketed the cloth, Fifi indeed looked humiliated, but Buster just placed the fabric down and spoke. "I know you like to look pristine…. Don't worry, I won't tell anybody I saw it…."

His words were warm and inviting, and Fifi returned to a relaxed state. After that, she responded. "Merci, Bustair."

Having satisfied his thirst, Buster sat on the couch and picked up the book he had left there. Before opening it, though, he invited Fifi to entertain herself as she saw fit.

"I need to study, but help yourself to anything you want…. Turn on the TV, listen to music…. Whatever…. Just make yourself comfortable."

Fifi thought and then began to walk over to him. If he wanted her to make herself comfortable, she would indeed do so.

By the time Buster looked up to see what she was going to do, she had plopped herself right next to him and began looking at the text while invading his personal space.

The warmth of her made him shudder, and his pulse quickened as she pressed her bosom against his arm. "Ooo, what is it you are to be studying?"

Buster was so overwhelmed at their intimate proximity that he lost his mental faculties for a second and merely stared blankly at her with a dopey smile on his face.

Eventually, when she prodded him again by repeating her question, did he speak.

"Ah, well, it is prestidigitation for my mentor, Merlin. An entire section on illusion, sleight-of-hand, and imitation that I need to personally perform for him."

It sounded intriguing, and so Fifi asked a natural follow-up question. "Might I be seeing some?"

At first, Buster was against the idea, for he was relatively new to the concept, but the more he thought, the more he realized that this was a private audience.

A personal one that would allow him to perfect his showmanship in a way reading the technicalities would not.

After much consideration, Buster looked at the section of the book and then stood before Fifi. With the flick of his wrist, a silver coin appeared in his fingers before her, and she became visibly impressed.

After that, Buster began moving the coin back and forth on his knuckles, then tossed it in the air. Once he rapidly snatched it as it fell, he opened his closed hand to reveal the coin was missing.

"Très cool!" Fifi exclaimed as Buster held up his finger and waved it to silence her.

After that, he walked over to her and gently reached by her head. He placed his hand on her ear and pulled the coin free from it to present it to her.

Delighted and laughing, Fifi was happy and began to gently clap for him as he took a bow.

Soon, and like it became second nature, Buster began performing an entire set for Fifi. He would glance at the book, see what he needed to do, and then perform it.

While indeed the tricks were hit or miss in terms of adequately pulling them off…. Fifi remained engaged and supportive of each trick.

Her claps and smile were, if nothing else, a significant boost to his confidence. So much so that he began improvising tricks and going off of study material because he enjoyed delighting her so.

Before they knew it, the evening had turned to the twilight hours, and Buster had run the gambit of many tricks. However, as Fifi yawned due to how late it was getting, he began to feel like he wanted to do at least one more trick before sending her off to rest.

"I…. Fifi? Is it ok if I do one more trick for you before we call it a night? It isn't really for my test…. I dunno, I just want to do it…."

Fifi was immediately curious and nodded attentively. He had suddenly lost his confidence and was acting more skittish before her than earlier.

With her permission, Buster produced a wand by pulling it out of his long rabbit ear. Already, Fifi was smiling despite her tired expression.

Once he had the wand in hand, he told himself internally that this was "not flirting" and that it didn't "mean anything." His compulsion to do it was to just test it out….

As Fifi waited patiently, he swung the wand back and forth. After that, he pointed it directly at her so it was right before her nose.

She began joking and commented on his gesture. "Oh, Bustair, I hope you are not going to be turning me into the frog!"

Buster merely remained smiling and motioned his free hand slowly in front of her eyes.

One….

Two….

Three….

Fifi followed the hand intently with her eyes until it made the third pass. After which, it carefully ran along the wand in front of her nose.

Fifi giggled as she expected it to disappear, but she became surprised when it became a beautiful bouquet of roses instead.

Large, colorful, and smelling intensely of floral delight, the gorgeous composition was a spectacular surprise to her senses.

Fifi, at first, seemed unsure of how to read or react to them. However, as Buster kept them held out to her, she took them into her hands and gave them a big whiff.

They were as real as they looked, and she felt her heart racing faster than usual. Eventually, she held the roses close to her chest and spoke.

"C'était très magnifique! Merci, Bustair…."

Buster sighed tiredly and then plopped on the couch next to her. He didn't understand all the words, but her expression and tone said absolutely everything.

Sitting there in tired silence, he was surprised when Fifi placed her hand on his cheek and turned his gaze towards her.

"…."

The two were now staring at one another, and Buster was unsure what to do. He had convinced himself he wasn't being untoward or acting like other guys, but now he wasn't so sure.

Fifi gently placed the roses on the end of the couch and spoke softly to him. "Oui, Bustair…. That was to be my favorite trick of the night. I am thinking that perhaps I should return the favor with a trick of my own I am to be knowing…."

Buster was interested in learning she knew magic, so he nodded happily. "I didn't know you were familiar with illusionary tricks…. Sure, I will learn a trick from you if you are willing to show me."

Fifi got a grin that went from ear to ear and then responded calmly. "Oui, Oui, all that is to be required for this trick is for you to shut your eyes and count to the ten."

Buster was confused, but perhaps she was going to change shape, or maybe she was going to whip out some magical trinkets she had hidden in her sweater?

Still, even as his mind wandered about what she would do, he shut his eyes and began to count aloud.

"No peeking~!" Fifi said as the count began.

"One…"

"Two…"

"Three…"

As he reached three, he felt her hand caress his cheek, and as he moved on to four, he found himself suddenly unable to talk.

"…."

The feeling of warmth pressed against his lips, and he sat there frozen in fear. He felt hot, and as he began to sweat, he leaned forward, which caused the warmth to intensify on his lips.

There was a gentle gasp and moan from Fifi, as her lips parted, and their tongues found one another for the first time.

All in the blink of an eye, they began touching and feeling each other as Buster's exhilaration went into complete overdrive.

His body acted on its own excitedly, and his eyes remained tightly shut as Fifi took the lead of her little "magic trick."

After a moment more, their mouths parted, and Fifi gasped before speaking. "There, the magic trick is to be completed…."

When Buster opened his eyes, he saw her devilish smile and amused demeanor.

Still stunned by his first kiss, he just stared blankly at her.

After she wiped her mouth, she spoke. "So… Did you get the trick on your first try… or do you perhaps need another demonstration…?"

Buster turned pale and began to stammer over his words. "Well, I uhm…. You see…. Fifi…."

When his bashfulness took over. Fifi laughed, and she tried to calm his nerves down. "I am kidding, Bustair, kidding…. You don't have to be worrying about doing things you don't want to…."

Buster shook his head, and after taking a deep breath, he was honest about his feelings. "I… Maybe I do want to do it… more…. I, well, I have never kissed anybody before…."

Fifi only nodded and spoke. "Oui, then, are you being happy I was your first?"

Buster nodded slowly and responded. "I…. You are magnificent, fun to be around, and smart…. I am beyond happy…."

His stunned niceness brought some blush to Fifi's white facefur, and she looked him over. Of all the boys she had tried to have a crush on, Buster was definitely the easiest.

"Sorry, I am just overwhelmed…." Buster admitted and then continued. "I guess I just feel bad that I am terrible at that kinda' thing…."

Fifi shook her head and grabbed hold of his hand. "We all learn at our pace that feels comfortable. I may have kissed much and snuggled some, but it has never gotten beyond that…. I have always found the "true love" to be a difficult prize to obtain."

Buster was comforted by her words, and so he responded. "Thanks, Fifi…. For everything…."

Fifi happily nodded and then teased him again. "Well, if you are wanting to learn how to be kissing well. Then you have come to the correct professor…. I have practiced techniques with myself and others to perfection!"

Buster squeezed her hand and responded sweetly. "Only if you give me a chance to be more than just a friend…."

Fifi thought and then responded. "Why, Bustair Bunny! Are you asking Moi to be your girlfriend so quickly?"

Buster was uncertain now but ultimately spoke his mind. "I would like…. to try to be someone's boyfriend, as something new, I guess…."

With that said, Fifi leaned in and kissed his cheek. "When I first saw you, I thought you were just absolutely handsome…. Now, I am seeing the gentle soul that is also being inside…."

Buster was flattered and ran his thumb nervously along the top of her hand. "So, are you saying you have had a crush on me since we met?"

Fifi slyly smirked and then answered. "A girl is to never be revealing her entire hand, but let us just say, I have been thinking of you most often as of lately…."

With that stated, Buster felt satisfied and just sat there holding her hand. After more time passed, a glance at the clock showed it was nearly three a.m.

Upon realizing that, he let go of her and stood before speaking. "It is really late… should I walk you back to the safety of your dorm so we can get whatever sleep we can for afternoon class?"

Fifi stood up and ignored him, after which she flicked off the light of Buster's dorm room. "It is to being too noisy there, besides…. I am to be certain your bed can hold two people…."

Buster became excited, and when he felt her grab hold of him in the dark, he used his memory to guide them to his unmade bed.

It only took moments for both to find their way into it and for the covers to be over them. The still emptiness of everything was completely offset by the warm company one another provided to the other.

In the serenity, Buster felt Fifi wrap her arms around him and he heard her speak. "Merci, Bustair…. For being so nice…. That is to be what makes me the happiest about knowing you."

Buster ran his fingers along her arm that held him and responded back. "Thanks, Fifi… for making change far more bearable and exciting for me…."

With their words spoken, and sleep overwhelming them. The two lay in silence, images of different possible futures swimming around their heads.

For Fifi, she thought that perhaps this might be "the one." Completely different than any boy she had ever tried to date before.

For Buster, it was the excitement for a Christmas that would soon be upon them all, and with it, his chance to give Fifi a family to spend it with for the first time.

"…."

[four-loose-screws]

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 11 Section 3

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

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———————————

Chapter 11: Four-Fanged Offense (Section 3)

"Whew, that was scary." After confirming that his best friend was alright, Hector wiped the cold sweat off his brow.

Eliwood apologized to him. "I'm sorry. I wanted to try talking with him once no matter what it took to do so."

"Still…"

"All's well that ends well! And we got to know a bit about our foe." Lyn cut in as Hector tried to say something further. 

It wasn't unreasonable for Hector to be angry. Eliwood had nearly died. But just as Lyn said, though it wasn't much, they had certainly seen what their enemy was like.

"...So the Black Fang as a whole really is a group of chivalrous thieves. And they might just be manipulated to do as Nergal says… I wonder if there isn’t some way for us to talk to their leader, Brendan Reed?"

"Yes, there might be some way for us to end this without fighting." Lyn nodded.

"...I'm against that proposal."

"Hector?" Hector’s unexpected, deeply sullen response stuck with Eliwood.

"...Anyway, we should return to the inn. We might have a message from Pent and the others." Hector forced the end of the conversation, then immediately started walking back towards the inn.

"What’s with him? I wonder what could have happened?” Lyn said quietly in response to Hector’s mood.

But Eliwood knew exactly why Hector was against his idea.

The Black Fang killed Leila. They were the murderers of one of his subordinates, and as such, they should hate every last member.

Hector, who cared much more deeply about his friends and allies than the average person, likely had no intention of trying to talk anything out with the very group that had killed one of his allies.

The Black Fang was simply another enemy they had to take out. 

☆

Matthew began to move the moment Linus gave out the order to retreat and his subordinates complied.

If Matthew followed Linus’ followers, he concluded, then he would eventually end up at the Black Fang’s base. And so, he slipped away from Eliwood and his other allies without a word, and started to trail after them.

'I will find them! Just watch me, Leila…’

Matthew did everything he could to suppress the hatred that wanted to flow out from within him at any second, and ran. If they noticed him following them, then all his effort would be for naught. Keeping his presence hidden so that they would not sense he was there at all, he ran after them while also keeping his distance.

But there was a figure following after him.

“Hey, I’m going with you.”

When he realized that it was the ex-member of the Black Fang, he put a hand on the hilt of the dagger he kept hidden under his cape.

“You can’t be so angry. They’ll find you.”

At Legault’s words, Matthew calmed himself down once more. He was currently following someone. He had to hide every ounce of his presence. “...What are you doing?”

“Nothing really. I just so happened to see you tailing them. I immediately decided to do whatever I could to help.”

“Why are you going so far to help me? Worried about your old allies?

“I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t… Whoa, hey, calm down!”

He stopped Matthew from putting his hand on the hilt of his dagger again, then continued, “...The Black Fang as they are now is a far cry from how they used to be. Taking them down… Taking Nergal down… I suppose you could call it my revenge.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you about it next chance we get, I suppose. For now, we have to focus on following these guys’ don’t we?” Legault answered to dodge the question, and nodded towards the backs of the Black Fang members moving forward, now just small specks in the distance.

That was of course their priority, but Matthew couldn’t trust the aloof man in front of him.

He looked at Legault with a suspicious gaze. 

Legault mumbled in exasperation, “Fine. Here, just take it all," then pulled everything he had out from under his cloak, including his dagger, lockpick, and even his own personal vulnerary. "Now I’m totally unarmed. I’m not that strong… I’d have no hope of killing you with my bare hands. Now can you trust me, at least a little?”

“...There’s a possibility you might throw one of those rocks over there at me.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? Are you gonna make me cut my own arms off?”

“I’d like to, but… At the moment, we need to hurry. I’ll trust you.” Matthew threw Legault’s belongings back at him, then focused on their pursuit. “...For now."

Legault returned everything to their proper places under his cape, then followed after Matthew.

☆

“...First, I need to talk to Brother… That woman really is far too shady…”

Linus, had disappeared from Eliwood’s sight, and was now walking the road to the Black Fang’s base alone. After his conversation with him, his suspicions about Sonia were even stronger.

But how could he reveal this fox in sheep's skin?

Ever since before the Black Fang had changed to become what it was now, he always needed to discuss everything with Lloyd, who he depended on for everything. But…

He was lost in his thoughts when he sensed a discomforting feeling, like something had suddenly entered his body.

“...Wh… What…?” In that instant, he felt intense pain and powerlessness assail his body. “You… I never felt your presence… nothing at all…"

All of the strength had been drained from his body and he could no longer will himself to move as he wished, but he just barely managed to turn around. There stood the eerie person with the golden eyes - Limstella.

“...Mad Dog Linus. You have such marvelous quintessence.” A red light shone in Limstella’s hand. There was no mistaking what it was. It was the quintessence they had just sucked out of him.

The moment they finished their business, Limstella disappeared into a teleportation circle.

Linus glared at the now empty space Limstella had disappeared from, and mustered up his last bit of energy to say, “...Dammit… …I… messed up…”

There were things that he needed to do. But he no longer had any strength left to carry them out. Limstella had stolen every last bit of it from him.

"Brother… I'm… so… rry…"

Leaving exactly what he was apologizing for a mystery forever, Linus of the Four Fangs breathed his last.

ー

[oakthcrn]

It was bitterly cold. December was upon them, and with it, a command to shroud Ravka in a thick layer of powdered snow. It didn't seem to deter the nobles from their pointless celebrations. They would be feasting in a few hours while forgetting those starving and freezing. While they danced their cares away, their surfs would suffer from working in such conditions, or the armies would spread even thinner to protect them in their glass palaces. Disgust pooled in her chest as she watched with a vacant look as carriages upon carriages were loaded to the brim with presents and gold. Gold that could be used to aid the suffering armies.

They needed better defenses to stall the Druskelle from impeding their lands. However, the nobility and the Ravkan crown ignored it all. What did they care if some grisha orphan was snatched from the line of duty? As long as Prince Vasily's birthday was celebrated, who cared if those of lesser stations disappeared?

Lark inwardly sneered at the thought. Prince Vasily is the prodigal son and future king of Ravka. If fate was setting up a joke, Lark failed to see the punchline. Ravka is on the brink of ruin with apathetic rulers at the helm.

Her thoughts were steered back to the Darkling whom she accompanied. When he spoke his command, she followed him obediently. She clicked her tongue quietly as the dapple-grey stallion under her moved to follow behind her General.

Once, they were a safe distance away from any prying ears. Lark slowly glanced up at General Kirigin. Her verdant hues studied his dark visage in silence.

" The prince is sleeping off his drink from last night; I doubt he will arrive at his birthday celebration on time. " She said. " There isn't much to report. He continues to spend his days drinking, hunting, or visiting various brothels." Lark attempted to hide the disgust from her tone, but it was for naught. Her expression hardened as she kept her eyes on the General.

" He's no more ready to be king than a foal is ready to walk on their legs." She shook her head. " A waste of a man." She paused then.

" However, I recently became acquainted with his younger brother, that one is much more clever and has a habit of collecting friends." She said. " My question is, sir. Should I allow him to collect me? "

@luminescenc1e // continued from here: xxx

[elianas-cozycorner]

𝓞𝓷 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼 | 𝓢𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓰𝓮 (2022)

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘖𝘯𝘦 | 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘋𝘦𝘣𝘵𝘴

Dedicated to @the-house-of-auditore-frye

Summary: In a world where single mothers and working, low-class women are shunned, how can an unwed seamstress survive? With piling debts and the Christmas season underway, there's nothing worse than adding hopeless, one-sided love to your troubles. Pining after your lender and local miser, Ebenezer Scrooge, can only lead you to ruin. Right?

Author's Note: Hello, all!

This little project came to be because of Frye's post requesting a Scrooge fiction. Please be aware that, as much as I absolutely adore this man and the film, this is my first time writing for Ebenezer. Because I wanted this to be as enjoyable as possible, I spent about a week researching the Victorian Era (everything from coinage to etiquette). That being said, I will try my best to make this historically accurate while also being canon compliant. There is also a jump from past tense to present tense in this chapter, denoted by a cut.

Because the story's plot is mostly fleshed out, I will be trying my best to give you all weekly updates. I have kept or changed a manner of things I saw fit to, but largely kept to the user's storyline. I did give the reader a last name to save my sanity (I also do not use Y/N)! If anyone is interested in the parts of Victorian culture I reference, I'll start leaving notes at the end of chapters.

Word Count: 1558

Ao3 - Mature Rating

Warnings: Period Typical Attitudes/Sexism, Victorian Era

The smell of pine and freshly baked goods swirled in the otherwise polluted London air. A soft breeze tussled ladies’ bonnets and ruffled the cravats of refined gentlemen, the perfect reprise from the muggy smog. With the workhouses and factories tucked just beyond view, prevented from covering the shopping district in coal dust, the street was filled with last minute shoppers and happy couples. Christmas was naught but a short eve away and the holiday cheer was perfectly contagious. Women, accompanied by their mothers and sisters, walked along the newly cleaned sidewalks. Occasionally they would break out in conversation among themselves, whether over a charming gentleman across the way or a new shipment of ribbons advertised on a storefront. Poormen and servants wandered about the stalls in the street, collecting food from the grocers or mead from the brewers. The steady clopping of hooves and the calls of pauper boys selling their papers only added to the busy atmosphere of the shopping district. 

The noise was close to overwhelming for some. One such gentleman walked alone, steel tipped cane clicking loudly against the cobblestone. Occasionally the man would pull his top hat further down his temple, adjust his upturned collar closer to his face, or grumble under his breath at the ineffectiveness of his overcoat. If one were to watch him long enough, they might see him pull a watch from his pocket and check its time against the clock tower’s. He avoided every sign of cheer, failed to acknowledge any gentlewoman he crossed paths with, and refused to return the Christmas wishes thrown his way. 

So bothered by the joyous atmosphere was he that, at his next convenience, he ducked into an alley. There he took a moment to sigh deeply and adjust his evening wear. The permanent scowl across his face was not dissuaded by the huff of breath against his knee.

The man looked down, “Prudence.”

The large, wrinkly mastiff at his feet looked up at the mention of her name. She focused on him, waiting for the graying man to continue. But she did not receive further acknowledgement. Instead, her human took up a brisk pace and exited the alleyway. Set on reaching his destination, the man did not expect to run into a pair of caroling urchins. Nor his nephew shortly after. 

“Uncle Ebenezer, is that you?”

“And to think,” The man growled under his breath, ducking behind a vendor’s stall. “That I should be granted any semblance of peace on such a wretched eve.”

There was a moment of silence and the grouch did not see his nephew’s figure again. “That was close–”

“Uncle! It is you, I knew it!” The cheerful gentleman appeared before him as if teleported by God himself.

Ebenezer Scrooge, cold hearted and lacking patience toward his relative as he was, couldn’t help the obvious annoyance that overtook his features. “Harry–”

“Merry Christmas!” Harry smiled broadly and extended his hat forward in greeting. It was a gesture that Scrooge did not return, favoring instead a scowl and exaggerated eye roll. 

Unfazed by his uncle’s uncouth manner and blatant disrespect, Harry continued on to greet the giant hound at Scrooge’s hip. They engaged in a rather splendid moment, Prudence preening under the kind affections Harry offered. The men exchanged a few short words until the clocktower sounded out, catching their attention. Scrooge smiled gleefully then, a truly cruel and unashamed sort of glee. 

“Out of time, Jenkins,” He turned to face his nephew. “As unpleasant as this encounter has been, Harry, I must bid my goodbyes. I have much to do before the clock strikes the sixth hour of the eve, many debts to collect. Be ye well, God bless you.” He extended his hat, bowing slightly at the waist. 

“Oh, but Uncle–” Harry was cut off as the gray haired man turned down the way. He shared a puzzled look with their canine companion before following suit.

“Uncle, wait! Perhaps, if it will not inconvenience you, I may join you for your final collection.” The request is polite enough, if not a bit hesitant. 

“I suppose you are about to tell me that it would be mutually beneficial to engage in such an excursion together,” Ebenezer Scrooge sighed deeply. “However noble the intention, my good boy, I am about on business –”

“As am I,” The response came from his left. “I have several gifts to acquire before the shops close for Christmas Eve, and I set out with the intent to meet you in the office. Your office.”

“Yes, you said as much.” The ebony cane tapped rhythmically against the cobbles underfoot. “If it is your will, I will not dissuade you. However, I will dismiss you immediately should you encroach upon my time.”

“Of course, as to be expected.”

“Expected?” A large, well maintained eyebrow shot up.

Harry floundered for a moment, unsure if he had crossed a line or poked a nerve. “I only meant that this excursion is as much about business for me as it is for you. ”

“Hmm. Christmas gifts. A pointless waste of coin and effort. Say,” Scrooge turned to face the other man then, halting in the middle of the walkway. “Should not your servant fetch these things?”

“They are preparing Christmas Eve Dinner! It is only right that they spend some time with their families come the morn, so the house will be hosting–” 

-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷-̷

With his cane tucked under his arm, Ebenezer Scrooge adjusts his gloves in the doorway of Jenkin’s Toy Shoppe. His newly edited ledger sits heavily in his vest pocket: 50 pound – Jenkins, due Boxing Day. It gives him great pleasure to know that he will collect double the expected sum of Jenkin’s dues. So much so, the man does not register the fact that he is leaving Prudence in the care of his nephew as he exits the store. He is already tired of the social scenes and obligations placed upon him by society; what with enduring a continued human presence and being accosted by some unlicensed charity band.

‘The nerve,’ He thinks, once again checking his watch. ‘ Twenty past the hour already?"

He lets the cane drop back into his hand, using it for stability in the ice and snow. He has one last destination before he can retreat to his office: Louwermon’s Tailor and Dress Shoppe. A quaint little place on an industrial corner, hidden amongst the poorest rabble and unkempt developments. Originally owned by a stately old man, the clothing store often employed the lowest-class women and occasional middle-class seamstress. Now, after his passing and with shirts going for 7 pence a dozen, only one woman was left. The store and all of Louwermon’s earthly debts left unto her. 

Scrooge cringes slightly at the thought, bringing his gloved hand to cover a breast pocket. Louwermon hadn’t even been her father. How a woman with so little prospects and devastatingly meager income had been allowed, by the courts no less , to keep the shop was beyond him. He knew she worked day and night, nearly twelve hours each day, to pay her late employer’s debts. That much he approved of, her timeliness and portly manner. But lately, come the winter season, such timeliness had given away to shortchanged dues and even missed payments. That, to the old miser, was the most unacceptable thing about her. 

Lost in thought as he is, Scrooge is surprised when muscle memory encourages him to grip a familiar knob. The door handle, when he looks up to confirm, does indeed belong to the storefront of Louwermon’s Tailor and Dress Shoppe . With his right hand occupied with the door, he reaches for his ledger with the left. He wants nothing more than to make this trip quick. 

When he finally steps across the threshold, a warm gust of air and the chime of a bell greet him. A fire roars in a hearth to the back of the front room, keeping it warm for customers. In the furthermost right corner there is an area sectioned off for fittings, more an alcove than a proper room. Several dresses sit on the till counter and a rack of men’s shirts line the most immediate wall. A couple mannequins to his left host unfinished coats and suits, while the store windows are arranged to display seasonal accessories. However, despite all the garments, he does not spot the store’s owner.

He stands alone for several long moments, watching the time tick by on his pocket watch. He strains his ears to hear the clicking of the hands, taps his cane a couple times, and tries to tame his impatience by looking around the room. He waits, and waits. Eventually, Scrooge’s patience runs out. Indignant at being left to loiter, he clears his throat as loudly as the dry air will allow. 

“I’ll say, Ms. Blackwood, this is certainly no way to run an establishment!” 

From some room in the very back, Scrooge hears a clattering sound and the rushing of footsteps. The creaking of the door is accompanied by a small murmur of pain. Well worn hands brace themselves against the doorframe and gentle eyes meet stern ones. In her eyes there is a hint of fear and he knows then that she will ask for another extension. 

‘Will I give it?’ He wonders.