#It’s written in a way that slowly introduces you to her abusive side

[mushroominaforest]

Idk if I missed something or am dumb, but how did Cody get temporarily blinded?

Also LOVE the story I'm so happy to see you posting abt it sjkskskskd

Aahhshshjdjsjsfhdh thank you so much (dies)

Basically the reason he can’t see is ‘cause both of his eyes are swollen shut lol (I once had a bad black eye that I couldn’t open for like two days, Cody just has that but with both eyes rip)

How that happened I will leave to your imaginations, but I can confirm it was Eliana who did it

(A lot of yapping in the tags be warned lol)

[little-diable]

Pen Pals - Tommy Shelby (smut)

Boy, do I adore working on fics with @zablife – thank you for adding your beautiful touch to this fic and for writing Tommy's letters. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tommy and the reader have been pen pals as teenagers, though ripped apart by the war. Now, as she is trapped in an abusive marriage, she finds Tommy's old letters again, and she can't help but wonder if he had made it home from war, and if so, could if he could be the helping hand she's desperate for?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, mentions an abusive husband and a gun, a very happy ending

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (5k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

(Y/n) could still remember the call she had found in the paper as she had been a young teen, asking children and teenagers from the United Kingdom to send in their addresses, to find pen pals they could practise writing with. She had been filled with excitement, and even though her father had told her to not follow the call, undoubtedly worrying about the mail they’d receive, she still had run all the way to her post station to send off a letter, asking them to pair her up with a pen pal. 

It had taken weeks for the first letter to arrive, addressed to (y/n) in a slightly wonky handwriting, introducing himself as Tommy Shelby. Back then she hadn’t even dared to guess the kind of friendship that would form between her and Tommy, the young boy from Small Heath, a city she has never been to before. 

Ever since Tommy had written that very first letter, (y/n) had started to share her deepest secrets with the boy, confiding in the one she’d eventually fall for, without ever meeting him. But life hadn’t been kind to the two, ripping them apart before they could have even tried to grasp the chance to meet, before she or he could board a train to finally cross the endless hours laying between their homes. 

War had been cruel, to both their families, killing innocent lives before they could evolve into the people they were destined to be. (Y/n)’s heart had ached in her chest when Tommy’s very last letter had found its way to her, saying goodbye to the woman that had been by his side for the past years, at least on paper, one with the ink soaking through the expensive paper they’d steal from their family members close by. 

She had collected every letter he had written, stored away in a box she hadn’t opened in years, long forgotten like the words she had once known by heart. Within the first few months of the war people would talk about for decades to come, she had found it too painful to think of Tommy, wondering if he was still alive, breathing in the smell of gunpowder, of dirt and blood. The mere thought of said vile mixture had brought tears to her eyes, clutching the fabric of her blankets when she was laying awake late at night. 

The years had passed and with those years the memories of his letters had faded, allowing her heart to make peace with the ghost of old times she had run from. It was almost ironic how she had found the wooden box again, trying to hide the gun she had bought from a man down the street, needing to find something she could use to protect herself against the man she had married, one with the alcohol he’d pour down his throat, with the money he made from gambling, and the anger he’d unleash upon her in moments he’d call ‘moments of weakness’. 

Her hands had trembled as she had grasped the first box she could find hidden in the back of her closet, freezing she felt the all too familiar wood beneath her fingertips. Tears had welled up in her eyes, fingers stroking along the outlines of the box before she slowly opened it. The gun had been long forgotten, placed on the ground next to her kneeling frame as she started reading the letters, mind racing, just like her heart.

With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) reached for the last letter she had received from him. She could still feel the pain his words had unleashed upon her, forcing the young woman to accept that he may never write to her again, buried with those that left their homes with hopeful hearts and strong minds, set on winning the war. 

“Dearest Y/n,

 I am writing to thank you for your last letter and the photograph you enclosed. It will surely bring me comfort when I am far from home. I must admit that I have been thinking of you often as I prepare to leave, knowing we will not be corresponding as frequently or perhaps at all. I never realised how much my happiness depended on you and the words we exchanged over the years. I know now that you’re the only girl who has ever mattered. 

Take care of yourself whilst I’m away. I will do my best to return if only to see your lovely smile in person one day after this war has ended. 

Yours, Tommy”

While her heart screamed at her, cursing (y/n) for forgetting about the man she had once planned to marry, crossing the country to make her way to him, her mind started questioning if there was even just a slight chance of Tommy being still alive. Perhaps it had been her own moment of weakness, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from searching for a piece of paper and some ink, starting scribbling down words she could barely read with the tears blurring her vision. 

“Dear Tommy, 

God, it’s been years, hasn’t it? And yet I can still remember the endless hours I’ve spent pressed against the window of my parent’s living room, waiting for your letters to arrive. How oblivious I’ve been, too naive to understand that life would rip you from me. For years I’ve tried to make my peace with the thought of you amongst other fallen soldiers, but it seems as if the pain has never quite subsided. 

Sometimes I catch myself dreaming of the life we could have shared, the house we would have lived in and the children we could have had. An easy life that now seems more far away than ever before. Perhaps it’s foolish of me to rip open the wound that hasn’t properly healed, but just the slightest chance of you still being alive seems a price worth paying. 

The naive child living inside of me is hoping for your reply, anxiously awaiting the darkening truth to be revealed. But if you’re receiving this, know that I’ve never stopped loving you.

Yours, (y/n)”

For a moment she had debated telling him about the situation she found herself trapped in, the loveless marriage she was a hostage of, but she didn’t have the heart to do so, scared that somebody besides Tommy would read the letter. And so she folded the paper, staring at it for a few moments before she rose from the floor of her walk-in closet, praying to whoever was listening, that the old address of his would still be the right one. 

…

Weeks have passed since (y/n) had sent off the letter, using the address she still knew by heart, a shot in the dark that would probably never be returned to the light. It had been foolish of her to write the letter, forcing her further down memory lane, a path she couldn’t retreat from, stuck in the emotions her younger self had carried deep inside of herself, loving a man she hadn’t ever touched before, a man she hadn’t ever spoken to before, only knowing his handwriting and the thoughts plaguing him. 

And while (y/n) had spent most of her past days trapped in her thoughts, her husband had found his way back home, drunk off his mind, smelling of places women like her wouldn’t be allowed to enter. Fear simmered deep inside of her, mixed with the slightest bit of hope, praying to God that Tommy would reply, or at least somebody who knew of Tommy Shelby. 

It was early in the morning by the time her doorbell went off, forcing (y/n) out of bed with trembling limbs, arms slung around her waist to try and shield herself from the cold of the morning. Slowly she moved towards the door, opening it just enough for her to take in the body on the other side of the door, “Morning, (y/n), here I thought this may be of importance to you.” 

A letter was pushed into her outstretched hand by the postman, sharing a slight smile before she murmured a “Thank you, Frank”, watching him move away. Her heart picked up its pace, eyes staring down onto the address of hers that had been written by a handwriting she didn't recognise. Slowly but surely the daunting realisation began to settle in, this hadn’t been written by Tommy. Times may have changed, but if there was one thing she was certain of it was Tommy’s handwriting. Was this what she had been fearing? Was he no longer human but bones and rotten flesh? 

Tears welled up in her eyes, making it harder for her to see as (y/n) found her way back to her empty bed. She stared at the envelope for a few moments, trembling hand wiping away the falling tears. It felt worse than she had imagined, a pain so biting, she felt bile rise in her throat. A pain that was guided by her anger, anger addressed at those greedy men that have ripped millions of people from their families, greedy men whose decisions have forced Tommy to part from their evolving bond. 

A deep breath was exhaled as (y/n) opened the envelope, careful not to destroy the parts that had the address of the sender written on them, an unfamiliar street she hadn’t heard of before. Her trembling fingers unfolded the letter, freezing as she read the first few words. 

“Dear Miss Y/L/N, 

I apologise for any delay in correspondence as my secretary is unfamiliar with this address. 

Of course, I remember you and the years of our acquaintance before the war. As you say, much has changed with time. I’ve a business in Birmingham, Shelby Company Limited, as well as several race horses which occupy my time. I cannot give quite so accurate an account of my time in between as you have done. My memories of the war and the subsequent years are not pleasant ones. However, I confess I keep your photograph by my desk as a reminder of simpler times when the world was a better place. 

It is my hope that you have found happiness in your life. I am told it is a choice one must make for themselves though I still seem to be deciding. Perhaps I should flip a coin as I would have done in the old days? 

Sincerely, Thomas Shelby”

He was alive. Tommy Shelby was alive. A sob wrecked through her, followed by another. (Y/n) pressed the letter against her chest, holding it tight as if she was hugging Tommy. A man that had changed like the tide rolling in, a man who had left behind his happiness on a warfield, a man who no longer addressed her by her first name. Changes (y/n) didn’t care about, rising to her feet in a frenzy, this was her chance. A way out. 

(Y/n) didn’t worry about the chances of Tommy pushing her away, didn’t even think twice about the what if’s, the chances of him not wanting to meet her. She had been desperate to find a place where she could hide away from her husband, and if Small Heath – the city she had been supposed to move to years ago – was her calling, she’d follow it blindly. 

Clothes were thrown into her old suitcase, not caring what she was packing, too focused on the racing of her heart, the blood thumping through her veins like alcohol. A blind happiness that drowned out the sound of her bedroom door being pushed open, exposing her stumbling husband. 

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/n) froze, eyes squeezed shut for a moment before she slowly turned towards him. He was drunk off his face, could barely balance himself, God’s timing seemed to be perfect, he’d pass out soon, giving her a chance to blend in with the dark morning. “I asked you a question, woman.” 

“I,” (y/n) stumbled over her words, fisting the fabric of her thin dress as she was wrecking her brain for a lie to distract him with. “My mam’s sick, I need to visit her for a few days, you know how she is, I can’t leave her alone.” 

He stared at her for a few moments, either too drunk to notice the tremble of her voice, or too distracted by the tiredness clinging to him. With a nod thrown her way, he found his way to their shared bed, no longer paying attention to her movements. Relief flushed through her, guiding her through the next moments, closing her suitcase, and with one last glance thrown at her husband, (y/n) pulled her ring off her finger, placing it down on the small reading table placed next to their door. 

The morning was cold, a sensation her busy mind paid no worries to, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. Slowly her doubts began to resurface, doubts that distracted her from the dark path to the train station, hoping that she wouldn’t have to wait long for the next train she could take, leaving this very life behind. 

Her eyes found the dark ones of the ticket seller, smiling at the grim looking man, “I need a ticket to Birmingham, please.” 

…

As a teen (y/n) had imagined the very first time she’d make it to Birmingham, to Small Heath. Back then she had been filled with excitement, a giddy feeling that had left her insides churning, wondering how it may feel to hug Tommy, wondering about the places he’d show her. Naive dreams that had evaporated into a cloud of anxiety, a cloud she was now trapped in. 

It had taken her hours to find her way to the streets of Small Heath, but even though the day had turned into evening, (y/n) felt no tiredness clinging to her fleshcage, no exhaustion she was slowed down by. No, by now her confidence had passed, turning into worries that ate her from inside out. Would he even want to speak to her? Would he accept her, or force her to turn away?

With every further step (y/n) took, clinging to the address she had found on the back of his letter, the worries began to grow. A part of her screamed at (y/n) to turn around and leave, to forget about this trip and to tell her husband that her mother didn’t need her help. But her curiosity forced her to keep on moving, till she came to halt in front of the house the address had guided her to. 

Trembling fingers were balled into fists, knocking on the heavy door with a deep breath exhaled. There was no turning back, no way out of this mess. She counted the seconds fading by, wondering who’d open the door. (Y/n) knocked again after a few moments, taking a step back as the sinking realisation began to broaden in her system. Only as she turned away from the door, shoulders slumped, legs suddenly feeling heavier than before, the door was ripped open. 

“What do you want?” A man had opened the door, presumably younger than she was, and yet his eyes carried something that made (y/n) wonder what cruelties he had been forced to see. 

“I’m looking for Tommy Shelby.” (Y/n)’s words were quiet, nothing more than a whisper, and yet he seemed to pick up on them perfectly fine.

“Why? What do you want from him?” Her eyes flickered down to the letter she was holding, wondering how to explain to the man that Tommy Shelby was the lifeline she was clinging to, needing to be pulled from the soaring waves before she’d drown. 

“I’m an old friend of his.” While (y/n) was looking for more words to speak, trying to find a way to beg the man to guide her to him, he kept studying her, gaze focusing on the letter she was holding. It took him a few moments to reply, taking in her tired features before he stepped out into the evening, taking her suitcase from (y/n) before she could speak up.

“He’s down at the Garrison, I’ll bring you to him, ‘m John.” 

…

“I can’t do this.” (Y/n) froze as they arrived at the Garrison, eyes set ahead on the entrance. Should she really do this? Was this the right decision? She didn’t even know what Tommy looked like, hadn’t ever received a picture of the man she had once planned to marry. 

“What’s wrong? Thought you’re an old friend of Tommy’s?” John alighted another cigarette, curious eyes not wandering from her features. On the way to the Garrison they had exchanged a few words, getting to know one another, even though he hadn’t asked any questions about her relationship with Tommy, not one question had been wasted on the man’s name. 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” (Y/n)’s eyes found John’s, sending him a sad smile that was frozen on her lips as his hand found the back of her shoulder, giving her a slight push forward. 

“Don’t you worry, ‘m sure he’ll be happy to see a pretty face like yours.” Before she could even try to inhale another breath, (y/n) was pushed into the pub, taking in the smell of alcohol and cigarettes that lingered in the air. Her heart was pounding, not able to pay attention to the greetings thrown John’s way, wondering if Tommy was any of these men. Would her heart recognise him before her mind would? 

“Look at that, John, did you finally find a woman interested in you?” A man with a prominent moustache spoke up, arm finding its way around John’s shoulder, pulling the man against his chest. Too many curious eyes were focused on (y/n)’s frame, making her feel rather uncomfortable. But while she tried to find comfort in her coat, hiding away from their gazes, John shook his head, murmuring something about Tommy to them. 

“A friend of Tommy’s, eh? Alright, come, let’s bring you to him.” The older man took her by her wrist, a gentle touch (y/n) couldn’t focus on, realising that she was truly about to meet the man she had once known better than her friends and family members. No words threatened to leave her, lips pressed together as the man guided her through the pub, coming to halt in front of two smoking men. 

Piercing blue eyes found hers, and something inside of her clicked. She tensed, unable to inhale any air her aching lungs were desperate for. Time seemed to stand still, earth had stopped rotating, no longer guiding her through the passing by seconds. 

“You’ve got a visitor, Tommy, says she’s an old friend of yours.” It truly was him. The man with piercing blue eyes that reflected no emotions, a stoic glance that could freeze hell. The other man sitting in front of Tommy rose from his seat, nodding at him before he blended in with the other men, making room for (y/n). 

Silence engulfed the three of them, seconds Tommy used to take in her frame. Did he recognise her? She had changed over the years, looked nothing like the girl in the picture Tommy had apparently kept close, but if he felt the same pull she was currently feeling, he must know it’s her, guided by the heart that had been broken one too many times. 

“Leave us alone, Arthur.” The man squeezed her wrist before he parted from them, sending Tommy one last curious glance. Tommy reached for a cigarette, alighting it before he pointed his hand towards the empty chair. Her trembling limbs forced her to sit down, unable to speak up with her dry mouth. “Flipped a coin, you know, wasn’t sure what it was trying to tell me, but I guess I finally have my answer.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology bled from her lips, eyes not daring to move from Tommy, taking in the handsome face she’d never be able to forget again. “I’m sorry for just turning up like that, but I needed to take my chance, even though I’m a few years too late.” 

“Does your husband know you’re here, (y/n)?” She froze, wondering how he knew of the man she had left behind, even though she wasn’t even wearing her ring. 

“He’s no longer my husband, at least I no longer want to call him that. You know, I thought you were dead, no further letters have found their way to me, my mother told me to move on, to marry before I get too old. But ever since your last letter I’ve felt everything but happiness.” Tears welled up in her eyes, she fumbled with her fingers, feeling pathetic and yet overly relieved to finally be in Tommy’s presence. 

“Small Heath is no place of happiness, and it’s certainly not safe for a woman like you.” (Y/n)’s throat began to tighten up, unable to bite down the anger simmering inside of her, not understanding what he meant by his words. 

“I’m safer here than I’ll ever be around my husband.” It took Tommy a few moments to reply, finally realising why she was fleeing from her home. He stubbed out his cigarette, rose from his seat and stretched his hand out for (y/n) to take. Shudders ran down her spine, feeling his skin pressing against hers for the first time, an unfamiliar sensation Tommy also seemed to be distracted by for just a fraction of a moment. 

“Let’s get you home then.”

…

“Drink?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, taking in Tommy’s office, the books her fingers ached to touch, the paintings her eyes couldn’t stop admiring. She felt awfully at peace, finally calm enough to exhale the built up pressure. 

“I have to admit, I didn’t imagine that being at your place for the first time would play out like this.” Her chuckles left him smiling, staring down into his drink before Tommy took a sip, leaning against his desk. 

“How did you imagine it?” Her eyes found his, hand tightening its grip on her glass as she took a step closer towards him, just close enough that she could easily touch him, if the alcohol would give her the confidence to do so.

“I don’t know, I guess young (y/n) didn’t worry about anything but finally being with you. God, I was ready to leave everything behind for you, and if I’m honest, I think this is one of the few things that has never changed over the past years.” His hand found her side, pulling (y/n) against his chest before she could begin to understand what Tommy was doing. He was holding her close, chin placed on top of her head, arms slung around her middle. Both deeply exhaled as if all weight had finally been lifted off their shoulders, no longer carrying the pain the past years had unleashed upon them. 

(Y/n) lifted her head off his chest, eyes finding Tommy’s, wordlessly communicating the love that has never subsided, forever etched into her racing heart. His eyes flickered down to her lips, making her awfully aware of their closeness, a thought drowned out by the feeling of his lips meeting hers for the first time. For a moment both froze, minds unable to realise that they were finally kissing. 

He tasted of alcohol and cigarettes, a taste she’d forever remember, a taste she’d take to grave, cherishing every part of Tommy, even on her deathbed. He was the darkness she’d walk through, rising with the shadows he had once sent to hell, calling him home once his time was running out. 

Her gasps urged Tommy on to add more pressure to his touch, hand finding her chin to keep (y/n) in place. The kiss was unexpectedly sweet and soft, not rushed by the endless years they’ve spent wondering about this very moment. (Y/n)’s hands found the hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging on his roots in a desperate need to deepen the kiss.

“You have to be sure about this.” Tommy murmured the words against her lips, eyes even more piercing than before, finally giving away the whirlwind of emotions he was stuck in. His fingertips danced along her sides, gently caressing her skin through the thin fabric of the dress she was wearing, sticking to her limbs since this very morning. 

“I’m more sure about this than about anything else, are you?” Her whispers left him chuckling, forehead pressed against hers to release a deep breath.

“I’ve waited for this moment for years, of course I’m sure about this, about you.” Another kiss was shared between them before Tommy interlaced their fingers, pulling (y/n) towards his bedroom. The giddy feeling she hadn’t felt for years began to fill her, an emotion so familiar and yet so new, making her blood grow warmer, filling every inch of her body.

They came to halt in front of his bed, eyes not daring to break contact as he pushed the straps of her dress down her arms, falling to the ground to expose her naked chest. He took his time admiring her, eyes wandering up and down her frame, not able to break down the small smile widening on his lips. Impatient as one can be, (y/n) pulled him closer, hands working on the buttons of his vest, finding its way to the ground with his shirt soon following. 

“I want to take my time with you, love you properly like I should have done years ago.” His raspy words left her trembling, only able to nod her head. Slowly she sat down on the mattress, crawling up the bed with Tommy following her every move, lips finding back together as he towered over her. He kissed his way down her throat, sucking on her skin, leaving marks he’d renew with every rising of the sun. Cold hands explored her chest, tugging on her hardening nipples, wanting to coax every sinful sound from her swollen lips. 

“Don’t ever stop touching me, Tommy, promise me.” Her whispers filled the room, words caught in her throat as his mouth replaced his fingers. (Y/n) arched her chest further against him, high on the feeling, not once had she been touched like this before, not used to being treated like a woman that deserved to feel pleasure. 

“I promise, even if it may be the only promise I’ll ever keep.” Tommy’s mouth moved further down her body, hands tugging on her panties, exposing every inch of her body to his wandering eyes. He cupped her heat, felt her arousal dripping from her tightness, body begging for his touch, needing to feel his hands on every part of her. Her moans rumbled through her, guided by her pleasure, the unfamiliar desire she had to adjust to. 

His mouth found her bundle of nerves, a touch that left her gasping in surprise. Not once had her husband wasted his time on pleasuring her, not once had he used his mouth on her, a sensation so intimate, (y/n) was grateful that she got to share her first time experiencing it with Tommy. His eyes found hers every now and then, as if he was checking in to see how she was feeling, if she was enjoying the way he was touching her. And great heavens, she was. 

“Feels so good, fuck, never been touched like this.” Her confession left Tommy smirking in pride, grateful that he was the one to push her into the soaring waves of her orgasm. Two of his fingers teased her entrance, giving her a moment to stop him should she feel uncomfortable, but (y/n) didn’t dare speak up, too caught in the web of pleasure he had spun. He fucked her slow at first, fingers moving in a steady pace, before he began to build up the pressure, curling them against her swollen spot. 

Her moans grew louder, walls clenching around him, not able to stop herself from giving in, calling out his name as her first orgasm of the night flushed through her system. Tommy gave her a few moments to cling to the feeling before he pulled away from her, watching her panting frame while he undressed, exposing his naked body to hers. He was gorgeous, a perfect man made for her only, a man she’d never willingly part from again. 

Tommy interlaced his fingers with (y/n)’s, staring down on her as he pushed into her, a movement that coaxed a heavy moan out of the both lovers, needing to adjust before he could start fucking her. It felt like their bodies were made for one another, one with the love they’ve shared for a decade, the love so intense it had never managed to fully let go of them. 

(Y/n) searched his lips, drowning out the sounds that left her, swallowed by the kiss that left both panting. Her eyes fluttered close and for a moment (y/n) felt like her teen self, remembering all those nights she had spent wondering how being with Tommy would feel like, how he’d touch and love her, but nothing would ever manage to describe what she was truly feeling in this very moment.

A moment filled with love and adoration, a moment so perfect no human mind would ever fully grasp it.

His fingers found their way back to her pulsing bundle, pushing her further into the darkness he had her trapped in, wanting to see the pleasure tugging on her features once again. (Y/n) choked on his name, eyes squeezed shut as her second orgasm rocked through her, robbing her of any strength lingering in her system. 

Tommy kept moving, chasing his own high as his eyes watched his cock disappear inside her tightness, coated in her arousal. The sight left his cock twitching, about to release himself on her walls. He managed to pull out just before his orgasm would rock through him, jerking himself for a few moments before he painted her thighs white, letting go with a deep moan.

Both were panting, bodies searching one another, not fully realising that the past moments have truly just happened. They still had their fingers interlaced, not daring to let go just yet, not even as Tommy reached for a tissue to clean her skin, not even as he alighted a cigarette to fill the quiet bedroom with blue smoke. 

“There were times where I thought I may have found love again, and yet it had never been the same love you’ve managed to make me feel with your letters. I’m not a good man, (y/n), I’ve done things worse than you’ll ever be able to imagine, but I’m selfish, I won’t let you leave again, not when I finally have you to myself.” She rose from her position, body fully turned towards Tommy, and with her lips kissing his once again, (y/n) murmured a soft “I won’t leave you, not now, not ever”.

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  What is supposed to be a chill afternoon at the grand opening of the Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children, turns out to be a nightmare: Charles is kidnapped and chaos spreads in the Shelby family. This is when Thomas remembers something you had told him: "You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.”  He suddenly understands: You did it.

Words: 5K

TW: Angst, Child kidnapping, typical canon violence, graphic description of violence, death of secondary characters, murder, a very quick allusion to child abuse, gruesome kills, a lot of blood I guess

Notes:

✞ This chapter is based on the event of S3 Episode 6. Italicized parts are taken from the show. However, it contains many changes from the show's script, especially to accommodate this fanfiction's purposes and the characters' development.

✞ Theme song to listen to on repeat while reading if you want

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS PART || Masterlist || NEXT PART

“Say it Tom, say it to ‘em! ” Arthur’s loud voice exclaimed in a joyful tone, calloused hands clapping with strength to encourage his little brother and his speech. The whole crowd, as well as you, followed his example and stood up to applaud the founder of the Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children. Admittedly, you recognized that the idea of opening such an establishment was surprising yet excellent, especially coming from the family’s boss. Quickly glancing at Arthur and his smile, you could not help but melt. The blinded love and trust he had for Tommy had something admirable despite your rocky relationship with little King Shelby.

You sit back and, as you did, Arthur gently put his hand on your thigh and took a look at you, his magnificent blue eyes shining with affection. He did not need to say a single word for you to understand what was going through his mind: he was just proud. Proud of Tommy, obviously, but particularly proud to attend such a significant ceremony with his stunning woman by his side. Even though most of the town knew about Arthur’s mysterious angel, attending the event with you had something official. The butterflies in his stomach flapped their wings when he introduced you to some guests as his sweetheart — you had even overheard him calling you his “future wife”. The way some of the visitors looked at both of you, their traits stretching in surprise as they realized that the sweetest creature they have ever seen was deeply enraptured with him, was enough to fill his heart with pride. A faint smile flattered your juicy lips at such an endearing vision, the joy it brought upon you making the whole crowd disappear for a few seconds as you lost yourself in Arthur’s beauty. Another thunder of applause popped your daydreams and forced you to shift your focus back on what was going on.

In fact, the first lyrics of Immortal Invisible brought you back to reality as it echoed in the room. You were about to join the chorus, Arthur’s fingers discreetly reaching for yours as a silent request to hear you sing with that lovely voice of yours, when you caught sight of Tommy leaving the room with hastened footsteps. The aura of sorrow that emanated from him stirred both your empathy and your worries — even though you did not get along, you could not help but commiserate with him on this difficult day that reminded him of Grace far too much to handle the event properly. Thomas’ beloved wife was everywhere around you, you could sense it. Her presence was so overwhelming that one could have expected to see her walk into the room at one moment or another. The cruel truth was that she was gone for good, and what was left of her slowly pushed Thomas Shelby to the edge of depression. Instinctively, your cold little hand tightened its grip around Arthur. His company kept your mind from drifting too far in the dark waters of your own loss. And by loss, you meant your Dad, hung high on a tree, as well as your Mom and little sister who had burned on the pyre.

The room was filled with chatters and guests, whose discussions blended together in an unintelligible cacophony. Alone in a corner, a glass of champagne in your hand, you swept the room with interest without really taking part in any conversations. Somehow, huge gatherings had never been your cup of tea — you came from a small town lost in the mountains after all, not from the city. Moreover, you were well aware of the curious, sometimes snobbish looks other ladies gave you and you were not sure they would be particularly delighted by your presence. They thought you did not fit the picture with your long and braided white hair, your ivory sun dress, and Arthur’s long and black coat resting on your shoulders. To be true, you could not blame them, you did not fit in but you were also surprisingly fine with it. When your lips grazed the sparkly alcohol, you winced a little bit. As ironic as it sounded for a French girl, you despised the taste of champagne, even though you still took the glass you had been offered out of sheer politeness. Giving up on the idea of drinking it, you just sighed. It did not take long for you to grow bored with analyzing people’s faces — they were more or less the same, and most of them took the shape of women giggling when Thomas walked past them. You soon caught sight of Arthur and John, both talking to their brother.

“Fuck me, Tom. I don’t know how you do it.” Arthur stated, his gruff voice and harsh words contrasting drastically with Thomas’ elegant elocution. He had barely finished his sentence when the latter was once again forced into another formal conversation with aristocratic ladies. He took a quick look at John, who was sipping on a tea, and rolled his eyes, annoyed. Understanding that having a real conversation with Tommy was going to be difficult, he waved off the idea and finally headed back to you. As soon as his eyes fell on your frame, his face relaxed and enlightened with a loving smile.

“Oi. Why are you all alone, Angel?” He inquired, his arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you close to his body for he could not keep his hands off you for too long, “want to go back home?” Arthur laid a tender kiss on your cheek, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against your skin in signs of deep affection. Your smile widened at the sensation of his mustache, to the point you could not hold the light chuckle that escaped from your mouth. He was so worried about your well-being that he went straight to the point: if you wanted to leave you had every right to do so.

“No need to go back home dear, I do enjoy the party. I’m just not really good at social gatherings nor making new friends I guess!”

“Ada told me you can join in her conversations if ye want.” His thumbs caressed your hips in a circular motion.

“I don’t want to bother Ada. She seems rather busy.” You put down your glass on a nearby table, and snuggled in his arms, more than thrilled to have his whole attention for yourself. The slight anxiety you had been feeling vanished into dust at his soothing warmth and his manly perfume. A perfume that had started to blend with yours, hence creating that unique fragrance of your love.

“Hey Arthur, move. You know she likes me hugs the best.” John teased — he had also decided to keep you company rather than waiting on Tommy.

“I’m really going to kick yer ass John, don’t care if I do it in front of all the people of this bloody room.” He growled, pulling you even closer for he refused to let you go. Even if it was with his own brother. Your grin widened, their never-ending sibling arguments never failing to amuse you.

“I would take your brother’s threats with the utmost seriousness if I were you. But at the same time, I really appreciate your dauntless nature. C’m’here.” One of your arms left Arthur’s neck to welcome John in the hug despite the hoarse complaints that followed. John, not hesitating for a slight second, joined in and held you in his arms for a few but indescribably comforting seconds. Each time he would pull you in a bear hug, he would make you feel at home.

“Okay, enough —“ Arthur nudged his little brother in the ribs, the corner of his lips curling up in a sadistic smirk only older siblings knew how to do.

“Why don’t you hug me longer? Afraid to show your sensitive side, Mon amour?” John said, making his best impression of your French accent and the pet name you were always giving to his brother. This time you could not help but genuinely laugh, a part of you astounded by John’s ability to be that annoying. The face Arthur made, contorted with both shock and anger, only cracked you up harder. Still, you softly stroke his neck to keep his spirit quiet and avoid him throwing a tantrum in the middle of the room.

Finally resigning himself not to bounce on John and beat the shit out of him, Arthur looked at you with the most irresistible puppy eyes he could do. Sometimes you had trouble realizing he, who could look like a beaten dog, was the same man that could kill someone with his bare fists out of jealousy and fuck you roughly in the shower still covered with fresh blood right after.

“Lemme smack him, please Angel. Just one little tiny punch in his fookin’ face.” He begged, “Just to shut his bloody mouth, eh.”

You raised a brow, your hand trailing up his neck to fix his hairstyle — Arthur shivered at your touch, his whole body responding with tremors of lust that shook him to the core, “Not here. But you’ll find a good moment to avenge yourself, Mr. Shelby” You said, punctuating your sentence with a knowing wink.

“Woah, calm down Devil. I thought you’d defend me!” John retorted, pretending to be outraged by your betrayal.

“Not my fault if you’re stupid enough to believe that.” Your grin turned into a sharky smile.

“That’s my girl,” Arthur purred when looking at you, “always on her good ol’ Arthur’s side,” He pressed his lips on the side of your head, laying an enamored kiss upon it. How much you liked his way of showering you with love no matter where you were. Nevertheless, the lighthearted conversation did not last long, for an unpleasant gut feeling alerted all your senses. You slightly pulled away from Arthur and frowned, instinctively looking in Thomas’ direction. He was talking with Ada, his face veiled with a deep worry you had never seen him wearing. Something happened, that was the first thought that crossed your mind — and how right you were. At this moment, Thomas walked to you, his piercing blue eyes expressing concern. You saw him coming before his own brothers.

“Heaven, love? Are ya alri—“

“Boys, have you seen Charlie?” Thomas cut him off.

“Eh…” Arthur softly released you from his sweet embrace to focus on Tommy, “I don’t know. He is playing, ain’t he?” His smile faded away as if he had just sensed that something was wrong.

The wind changed for Thomas Shelby, whose legendary self-control broke down at the moment he realized Charles had disappeared. As your mind proceeded with what was happening, he had already started to go from guest to guest asking if they had seen his son. The more he asked, the more his placid tone turned into the painful roars of a wounded lion. All it took was one tiny second for the whole ceremony to dive into chaos.

Deafened by the sound of your own beating heart racing in your chest, you started to look around you in a vain attempt to find Charles maybe playing under a table or behind furniture. That was all you could do, for your feet seemed stuck in invisible roots that were keeping you from moving. You stood there, useless, for you did not know what to do. Maybe Charles was still here, hidden somewhere to prank his nanny? But all Tommy’s hopes and yours crumbled when Ada, so stunning in her elegant outfit, caught everyone’s attention with precious information.

“Tommy. Someone said they saw a nurse take him through the back door.”

Fuck, you thought.

“Fuck.” Arthur swore out loud, grabbing his sister by the wrists before storming out of the room with the other Shelbys.

Boom. Boom.

You brought your hand to your chest, now convinced your heart was about to burst. Something had definitely happened to Charles — as you had sensed weeks ago at the Garrison. Ripping through the lethargy you were embroiled in, you ran up the stairs and rummaged through each room to look for Charlie. Voices, all mixed, came through the opened window. You froze, listening to them.

“Arthur! Somebody saw a woman and a kid getting into a car.”

“Ah, fuck!”

“CHARLIE!”

“Where is he? Tell me.

_Someone took him. Listen to me! They put in in a car. They put him in a car and drove south. We’ve got roadblocks, we’ve got spotters. I’ll set up shop and put every man we’ve got… between here and Maypole.

_ Right. You do that.

_ You gotta go to the office. You gotta sit by the phone. Whoever took him is going to call. Polly! Let’s go, Pol! Stay by that phone. Me and John will cover the roads.”

And that was how the world collapsed on Thomas’ head. Again.

You looked at his car disappearing in the dull horizon, knowing that dark hours were awaiting all of you. Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the mighty silhouette of the crow that was staring at you from the nearest tree with his dark beady eyes. A dull caw sound tore the silence that had fallen upon the mansion and snatched you from your anxious mind.

Caw. He mocked.

And to think it had warned you!

When Tommy stormed into the office, all of the family already gathering there, the sound of his soles hammering the wooden floor made the whole skies shiver with fear.

“Where’s Heaven?” He asked, blue eyes looking dagger at Arthur because if someone knew about you it was obviously him.

“Coming. She was with Esme.” His gruff voice retorted, trying to remain calm for Tommy’s sake.

“Esme’s waters broke,” John answered right away, “I was just with her. Running around fucking broke the waters.”

“Where’s Finn?” Thomas insisted.

“With the young’uns looking for the Riley. We couldn’t reach him.” Arthur informed before bringing a glass of whisky to his mouth and taking one big gulp. The fire that trailed down his throat almost made him sigh with momentary relief.

“I need to know who spoke. Our enemies know everything. Everything. I need to know who spoke about business outside of the family. I need to know who spoke, who they’ve spoken to.” Tommy was trying hard to remain calm but his erratic breath and the quick pace of his words betrayed the rage that was boiling within him.

“Tommy…

_ Your future wife, Arthur?”

Arthur’s pinched his lips, swallowing the furious urge to yell at his little brother for uttering such an obnoxious accusation. He looked away as he tried to keep his composure.

“I’m gonna tell myself you’re not thinking straight. Your mind’s not clear.”

“I want to see her now, you hear me?”

It was at this moment you entered the room as if you had been summoned by Thomas’ words. You had appeared in the doorframe without a single noise, Arthur’s dark coat contrasting with the unsettling porcelain of your skin and the fair aquamarine of your iris. There you stood, all the family’s eyes staring at you for they had told you it would have been probably better if you did not come. All of them were more or less aware of Tommy's hostility toward you, and they knew he would certainly find a way to blame you in one way or another.

“Speaking of the Devil.” He said with his most collected tone, while his gaze darkened at the sight of your doll face. If Arthur saw an Angel when looking at you, Thomas could only recognize the threatening shadow of death floating around your silhouette, the long coat you were wearing reminding him of the Grim Reaper’s cloak. All that was missing from the picture was a scythe in your hand, “Did you speak?” He asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You simply replied, walking to Arthur. The wooden floor creaked under your heels. You were already exhausted by his accusations you knew that were awaiting you. But still, you came, because all you wanted was to be where you belonged: by Arthur's side, supporting him.

“I know Arthur can’t keep his fucking mouth shut and tells you everything.” He quickly glanced at his brother, who was staring at an invisible dot on the wall to keep calm, and shifted all his focus back to you again. You clenched your jaw at the petty comment, “So I’m gonna reiterate the question and you’re going to answer me, eh. Did you speak?"

“I did not speak, Tommy. I said nothing.”

“Don't lie to me.” He retorted right after you finished your sentence. His hands, pressed against the table, were now trembling with a rage he desperately tried to tame, “I know you’ve got something to do with all this shit. I know that’s you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Arthur was quicker. Grabbing your wrist in case he needed to protect you from his brother, he stepped between the two of you, “Come on Tommy, I know yer angry and anxious, but that ain’t a reason to accuse her. She didn’t do anything.”

“Ah. Arthur Shelby protecting his damn fallen Angel, I was expecting it" His eyes went from him to you several times, "Do you think she didn’t? So, can you explain why did she tell me to keep an eye on Charles weeks ago?” Tommy's words were coated with poison. The quietness of his voice, highlighted by the rumble of his growling soul, only rendered him more impressive. Silence fell over the office at such a revelation no one knew.

Astounded, Arthur turned to you and, with his brows furrowed in confusion, stared at you, “Did ya — Did ya really say that?”

You blinked, stunned by Thomas’ vivid memory and by the gleam of shock in Arthur’s steel blue eyes.

“Hey, listen. I did not plot behind this family’s back nor did I hurt Charlie or anything.”

“Why would you say that to me then?” Tommy took a few steps toward you. He would usually avoid coming to close to you when other people were around, but you were not sure he would do so this time. You wanted to back off but Arthur’s grip tightened around your wrist, for he did not know what to think anymore. “Whose side are you on, uh?” Tommy asked, "Did anyone ever wonder whose side she's on?"

“I saw a crow on my way to the Garrison and I felt it was a bad omen. And then I had a gut feeling after our conversation. That’s all, Thomas! It was just a damn clairvoyant gut feeling!” You defended yourself, before looking at Arthur, “I swear it’s the truth.”

"Yeah, the truth," Arthur repeated, trying to overcome his insecurities.

“Oh my God, keep your witchcraft-coated excuses for someone else, Heaven. You talked at best, you work with Hughes at worst. After all, you knew him before you came into our lives” Tommy tried to come closer again but Polly grabbed him by the arm, keeping him at a safe distance, “No matter the makeup and the jewels you wear they won’t hide the Devil under there.”

“Don’t imply I have something to do with that fucking bastard!” You hissed through your teeth, hatred blooming within at the sole mention of the name. This time, Arthur’s calloused hands grabbed you by your shoulders to keep you still, for you were starting to get agitated. At this point, he was not sure if he did it to protect you from Tommy, or to protect Tommy from you.

“Heaven, calm down…” He said softly, trying to ease the wildfire of your anger.

“He’s accusing me of Charles’ kidnapping, Arthur! I can’t fucking believe it!” You protested, your doll face wearing injustice like the most beautiful jewel ever crafted. Arthur kept you firmly against his chest, his arms locking around you and his hoarse voice whispering “I know love…” in your ear.

“And I can’t believe you think I'm naive enough to believe you talked to a bloody crow and got a bad feeling. Tell me where’s my son, you Devil.” Thomas growled in the background.

Polly pulled his nephew’s arm, for he was starting to be too harsh with you “Why not? She has brought a bird back to life Tommy. I would not be surprised if she saw it coming one way or another.”

“'Scuse me?” He turned around in one vivid movement, his eyes diving into his Aunt’s. He could not believe what she had just said.

Another silence flew over the room as the rest of the Shelby family confirmed Pol’s information with a nod of the head. All the people in this office had witnessed the extent of your power at the last gathering you had organized in your garden — hence the fact they were not particularly surprised by your sharp instincts. John swallowed, recalling the way the bird first twitched in your small hands before flying away, wings flapping with newly breathed energy.

“Pol’s right, Tom,” Ada started, “I usually don’t believe in these kind of things but it’s true. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

It was too much for Tommy, who already was on the very edge of his patience. There went his mind, aching at the thought of his sweet son trapped between the monstrous and disgusting claws of that twisted priest. His boy, the last thing that kept Grace’s memory alive, had been snatched from him and here his family was, defending the one that probably did it. Of course, he believed in supernatural forces — he was convinced a curse took Grace away from him — but Tommy needed a more rational explanation. He needed anything that could help to get Charles back. He brought one of his trembling hands to his mouth, gathering all his remaining strength to restrain himself in such a catastrophic situation, “She resurrected a damn bird, and no one told me…” He said to himself, " She resurrected a bird," He repeated, a faint and nervous chuckle escaping from his lips before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

“Heaven‘s really sensed it, nothing else. You know she would never harm Charles. She felt it coming Tommy. She is… She is gifted. Do you understand how useful she could be?” Polly’s words, coated with both softness and authority, managed to soothe the hurricane of violence that was raging within him. Thomas had stopped talking yet he kept looking at you with anger burning in his ice-cold eyes.

You frowned —still trapped in Arthur’s arms for your own sake—, and looked at Polly.

“Forget it, Pol. He’s not going to change his mind.” You finally said after letting out a long sigh. A part of you was well aware that bargaining with Thomas Shelby was useless. Moving your shoulders, you managed to free yourself from Arthur’s embrace and, to his greatest surprise, made your way to the exit. He almost jumped, catching your hand in his.

“Heaven.”

“No Arthur, this is fucking useless. I am not going to stay here and let him blame me for everything that happens to this family while I did nothing but share my clairvoyant feeling with him. He wants me to prove whose side I’m on? Fine! I’ll do it then! ”

Arthur opened his mouth, thinking about something that could convince you to stay but he knew you were right. He finally lowered his head, jaw clenched and eyes avoiding yours.

“Gonna come with you then,” His gruff voice mumbled.

“No, you stay there.” You said, which made Arthur frown even more and look at you with utter confusion, “Thomas needs you. He’s aching and vulnerable. Stay with him and do what you have to do, Arthur. I'll wait for you.”

“Alright.” He resigned himself, worries making his magnificent eyes shine, “ one last thing.” He said after a few seconds of hesitation.

“Hm?”

“Tell me you have nothing to do with Charles’ kidnapping.” He dared to say, feeling utterly ashamed by the fact he needed reassurance about it. But he had always trusted Tommy more than anyone else and now, he was conflicted between his loyalty to his brother and the maddening love he had for you.

“Arthur… Are you serious?” You asked, your heart hurting at such a demand. A sigh fell from your lips, whose red lipstick made even more hypnotizing. “ I promise I'm not involved in Charles' kidnapping. You have my word.” You finally said as you looked at him right in the eyes, trying to hide the pain.

“I— I trust you,” He paused, “I trust you.” He repeated, then he pulled you in a quick hug to soothe his inner turmoil. To be true, he would have probably died if it turned out you had been toying with his heart all along. But Arthur refused to believe Tommy was right, this awful thought almost leading him to the path of madness again, “Take care, love. See you later.”

You replied with a faint, exhausted smile and left the building, disappearing in the fog of Birmingham’s streets.

The fact remained that Tommy did not feel better after you left.

Or Esme getting cash for cocaine, eh, John?

All of a sudden, back in the family, Ada, eh. That’s a surprise. Out of the blue. On whose orders?

And you and your painter…

Down he went, spiraling into a paranoid craze and, to everyone's greatest surprise, you were not the only one that had triggered it.

The sound of Death Knell resonated in the night, its threatening shadow floating over Birmingham houses and souls. Following Tommy’s plan, John and Arthur roamed through the train station with the firm will of spreading calculated chaos at 10 o’clock in a grandiose murderous explosion. You can go with them but it’s better if you let them do the job, that was more or less what Arthur had told him before he left. Despite the orders given, Michael managed to leave the two henchmen behind and reached Hughes’ church without getting caught by another Peaky Blinder. It was not that Tommy’s plan was poor, but he indubitably needed to take care of this business alone. No one around him seemed to understand how deep his pain was entangled with Father Hughes. He had to wipe the priest out by himself — he had promised it to his little self after many sleepless nights recalling his dirty hands wandering on him.

And he did.

Michael was panting, a mix of thick repugnant blood and sweat dripping from his face. Still straddling Father Hugues’ corpse, the young Blinders’ hands were frozen on the knife he had thrust into the priest’s throat. The hot and sticky sensation almost made him throw up when it first poured over his skin. A crimson puddle had already formed under the body, growing bigger and bigger as minutes passed. And when that same puddle reached the floor’s grooves, it filled them with dark red blood and drew patterns on the wood.

Another grunt escaped from Michael’s quivering lips as he slowly realized what he had done. He killed. Again.

All wobbly on his legs, Michael Gray still managed to stand up and took a few steps back, his hand leaning on a bench. His fair eyes did not shift from Father Hughes’ motionless body for he forced himself to look at him— there lied the monster who had terrified him for years. There lied the child eater, his neck opened and his obscene glassy eyes staring blankly at the church’s ceiling.

Coming back to his senses the best he could, Michael stumbled to the heavy door of the room from which Father Hughes came out and opened it. All he wanted was to carry Charles in his arms, telling him everything would be fine, and flee from this cursed place. Yet, his heart missed a beat when he entered the small room and realized Charles was not there.

“Fuck!” Michael blurted out. Panic kicked in again as he tried to come up with a solution, or at least an idea of what to do. He knew he had to think, and he had to think pretty fast because Charles' life was threatened. He needed to find the kid before it was too late. The main reason behind his dedication was not only to show his worth, but also to keep a child from suffering at an Hughes’ hands ever again. However, Michael's thinking process shattered in pieces when he heard the heartbreaking cries of a kid yelling at the top of his lungs. Blood froze in his veins as he recognized Charles’ voice.

Following the screams, there was a thundering noise of something heavy dropped to the floor, and nothing. Nothing except a chilling silence that brought goosebumps to his pale flesh.

Oh no.

Michael stood still in the loud silence, as petrified as an animal in front of the blinding headlights of a car.

No, no, no!

They’ve killed him, he thought. Of course, they did. Father Hughes was probably not alone in that bloody church, even though Tommy said he did not expect them to come. Someone was here and took advantage of the chaos of his fight with Hughes to grab Charles and hurt him. Whoever his accomplice was, they had just ended Charles's life and it was all his fault. If only he had listened to Arthur. If only he had let the two henchmen do their job and handle the situation. Guilt started to beat him.

Michael shook his head, hoping it was not too late, and ran toward the direction the noise and cries came from. His heart raced in his chest as his legs almost automatically moved, winding up his anxiety like a mechanical toy, and led him to a second room he did not see at first.

“HANDS UP YOU BASTARD!” Michael yelled, storming into the room that was directly linked to a backdoor exit: the perfect spot for Hughes’ accomplice to flee with the kid in case of emergency. Or to kill him in case something happened to the priest. Pointing his gun in front of him, Michael was ready to shoot, hatred blazing in his eyes. He winced at the foul and slightly metallic smell of blood that jumped at his face as he entered the place. Michael was a brave boy. He was ready to use violence. He was ready to actively take part in the family business. Hell, he was even ready to die if that was what he had to do, but there was one thing no one prepared him to face and it was what he saw in this place.

“Oh my God!”

He cried out, his breath hitching with panic as his blue eyes, filled with tears, first caught sight of a second corpse lying in a lake of blood. If Hughes' dead body was already gruesome, it was nothing compared to his accomplice's.

The man, who was strong in stature and impressive in height, was staring at him with blank eyes, silently begging for help. His petrified face, splattered with dark blood, was distorted in a terrified expression as if he had seen the Devil itself before dying. Yet the cause of the poor lad’s death was not fright, but rather the dozen stabbing wounds that scattered his body, and the pair of huge scissors that was deeply stuck into his neck. Michael could not help but step back, so disoriented by the macabre spectacle that was in front of his bewildered eyes that he dropped the gun Tommy had given him. The sound it made when it crashed on the floor caused Charles to cry again.

“Shhhh, everything’s fine Charlie. Everything’s fine. Keep your eyes closed.” A soft and enchanting voice raised in the room, like it did the night Arthur wandered aimlessly to church. For a few seconds, Michael was convinced the voice did not come from a human being. It sounded so foreign, so alluring, it could only belong to an angel of justice, whose avenging blade fell on Hughes' associate. Then he saw her, the creature, and his eyes widened even more.

“Bloody fucking hell.“ He really tried to say something else but his brain could not proceed with the sight of Arthur’s woman holding Charles in her arms, her sweet angel face and frail body entirely covered with crimson stains.

“I know.” You simply replied, one of your hands tenderly resting behind Charles’ head to keep him from looking at the butchered dead man that had fallen on the floor when your scissors tore his jugular vein.

Michael stood still, staring at you with utter shock.

"How?" He managed to ask, one sole tear running down his cheek.

"Please Michael, don't ask questions. I just — I just want to go home." You whispered, the far too familiar smell of blood and after-taste of murder making your head spin. You closed your eyes for one second to keep the traumatizing images of your past from flooding your brain and let out a shaky exhale. When you came back to your senses, you walked to Michael and put Charles in his arms, still careful to keep the corpse out of his sight. Then you left the room.

As you passed by Father Hughes, you stopped and looked at him from above, indescribable hatred blazing in your iris.

"See you in Hell, sale fils de pute — You son of a bitch — "

Michael followed, still unable to keep his eyes away from your mesmerizing frame scattered with blood drop like millions of precious rubies. The way you looked at Hughes' corpse resonated with him so much he could not help but talk.

" Did he..." He left his sentence hanging, but you understood what he meant.

"No, he did not. But he still found another way to be the cause of my sorrow," You glanced at Michael from above your shoulder, "I'm glad you killed this bastard. There are people whose souls can't be saved, and he is one of them."

"Yes, he definitely is." Charles had calmed down in his arms, lulled by the soft movements as Michael walked outside the church by your side, "what about the second man?"

"He was about to kill Charlie and then come for you." You replied, trying your best to forget the unpleasant sensation of half coagulated blood on your delicate skin. Michael took a while to process the information and realized you had probably saved his and Charles' life.

"Are you okay?" He asked. His question brought a faint yet terribly melancholic smile to your lips for it reminded you that you had broken the only promise you did to yourself. The promise of not taking another life ever again.

"Are you?" You replied to his interrogation by another one.

"No, I'm not. I feel... Empty."

"So, you already know the answer."

When the door opened and Michael entered the house with Charles sobbing in his arms, Polly and Ada ran towards him and cried in relief as they hugged the child. Polly soon focused on his own son, whose blank expression left no doubt on what he had to do to save Tommy’s kid… He killed, and it changed him forever. She laid a gentle hand on his cheek, checking on him with tears in her eyes, knowing she could not do anything to ease Michael's pain anymore -- and what was more awful for a mother than watching his child suffer without being able to do something about it? What snatched her from the sorrowful conclusion she had come to was Ada’s gasp, who had just realized Michael was not alone. You had followed him, a cold expression etched on your face and a myriad of red ink stains soiling your whiteness.

“She helped,” Michael stated with a tired voice before anyone had the time to say something, “She helped me save him.”

Ada looked at you with surprise, trying to discover the mysteries your traits hid so well, but her focus was far too disrupted by the frightening amount of blood that was covering you. Blood everywhere on the stunning, little, murderous creature she never thought you were. Many questions raged in her skull, like a tornado of thoughts and speculations. After what seemed to be a whole eternity, she managed to speak,

“For God’ sake… It could have been dangerous!” She said, blinded to the simple possibility you had just killed someone without batting an eye, "You are wounded! Look at the blood!"

You sighed and remained silent, stealing the silver cigarette case that was on the nearby furniture. The tip of your tongue moistened your juicy lips, whose corner was stained with red lipstick you smeared all over your skin when you had tried to wipe the blood that had splattered on your face.

"It's not mine."

Your hands were still shaking from what you had to do, unpleasantly recalling their past crimes. Then, you slipped one cigarette between your teeth and lit it with the zippo you found in the pocket of Arthur’s coat that was still on your shoulders. Shivering with cold despite the fire burning in the hearth, you nestled a bit more in his coat in a desperate attempt to find a substitute for your man's comforting warmth.

"I beg your pardon? Whose blood is it?" She almost choked with surprise. Then it struck her. "Heaven..."

You did not say a single word and kept smoking in almost religious silence.

"Who the hell are you?" Ada inquired, her shaky voice coated with an odd mix of fear and fascination stirred by the eerie aura that was all around you.

You took a long puff from your cigarette before staring deep at Ada’s beautiful eyes. You looked at her for a while, then shift your focus on the fire burning in the fireplace. You watched the flames dance, the sound of wood cracking sending shivers down your spine. Ada swallowed, waiting for your answer. She, who had defended you in front of Tommy a bit earlier, could not tell anymore if you were the hero they needed or the villain they had to fear.

Saint or sinner? Spell or prayer? Blessing or curse?

Who are you, she asked.

“I am the one they really should have burned.”

A cloud of smoke came from your mouth as if hellfire was burning within you.

And somehow, it was certainly the case.

✞ gif by the talented @alicent-targaryen

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Normally, each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone but not this one. It's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

Tag: @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybridrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd

[phantomdialogue]

˗ˏˋ. ݁₊ ✶ ˖ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲 - 𝟒/𝟓 ☆ . ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗

off-campus series book 1

premise: garrett graham has failed his philosophy midterm and his future with the hockey team is in jeopardy if he can't get his grade back up. lucky for him, he catches a glimpse at the bright red A on the top of hannah wells' paper and decides he desperately needs her help. lucky for hannah, she needs help getting the attention of the guy she's had a crush on all semester and dating, or rather fake-dating, the captain of the hockey team would really help with that. when they strike up a deal, they might both get what they want, or find they wanted something different from the beginning.

couple: garrett graham and hannah wells

tropes: fake dating, college romance, sports romance, ice hockey player x music student, enemies to lovers (ish)

CHECK TRIGGER WARNINGS BEFORE READING!! - includes themes such as physical and verbal abuse (familial), sexual assault, and more.

available on kindle unlimited

review below!

review:

i will stand by the thought that this is what icebreaker wanted to be but just isn't. this book has its flaws. don't get me wrong. but do i still love it? hell yeah. i think it's such a fun book and yet it still has a tone of seriousness to it that doesn't feel out of place. you smile through a lot of it, blush through the smut, and get sad in the darker parts.

garrett graham... i understand the hype. he is the most perfect example of a golden retriever douchebag that isn't actually a douchebag. he's hilarious and so sweet when he needs to be. the scene of him with hannah in the bar made me smile so much (before things went downhill of course) and his backstory is just so sad. i want to wrap him up in a blanket and just keep him warm.

hannah wells, oh i love you. hannah is such a fun character because she's a pushover until she reaches her limit and you get to read how she slowly becomes less and less of a pushover and it's so great. i also love that she isn't completely controlled by her trauma. it obviously still effects her and for good reason but it's not the singular defining trait of her character like a lot of other characters with that trauma can be written as.

this book checks a lot of boxes that could be a bit more cliche and overdone but it does it in such a fun way with such good characters that you don't mind it. the plot isn't entirely special and unique and the writing isn't my favorite but the characters and the banter and the relationships between everyone really makes it such a fun easy read that i look forward to continuing the series.

q & a:

are they endgame? - i adore this couple. i really do. i think they are really good at reading each other, garrett especially with hannah, and it's clear that they have an easy time opening up to one another. with that in mind, they still do have some little flaws in their communication that would need to be ironed out for them to last but i think they can 100% figure that out and stay together in the long run. they have a very sweet companionship with each other that is really a key part of their lives and they are understanding of each other's priorities and schedules that that wouldn't become a problem.

did i cringe? - yes. BUT i think it's more so just from the style of writing. a lot of the reason that this got knocked down to 4 stars is because the style of writing just isn't my favorite. there is a lot of modern slang and almost kind of "gen z" voice to the story that i think can feel out of place at times but i did still thoroughly enjoy the book and really adored all the characters we were introduced to (minus a few of the bad ones of course).

favorite part? - like i said above, the characters really stole the show for me. garrett and hannah are both really interesting characters with complex backgrounds and their stories are shared with each other in a very heartwarming way. even the side characters (who will later get their own books) all had little elements about them that were so endearing and shined through the page. i really fell in love with the characters and that's what made me love the book as much as i did.

least favorite part? - the pacing felt really off. i almost arguably wish that it was longer but only for the last 40% of the book. i wish that some of the angst had been dragged out more than immediately being resolved and i wish that we got a bit more of garrett's perspective during the final conflict because i think it would have been really fun as a reader to know about what he was doing rather than find out at the same time as hannah. but it wasn't the worst pacing. i really did enjoy the book still and it didn't entirely take away from the book.

favorite quotes (some spoilers here, of course, but minimal):

“I kiss each of my biceps and then point to the ceiling and thank the big man upstairs for creating such a perfect male specimen.”

It’s like that pond I skated on when I was a kid—from a distance, the ice looked so shiny and smooth, until you got close enough to it, and suddenly all the uneven edges and crisscrossed skate marks became visible. That’s me, I guess. Covered with skate marks that nobody ever seems to notice.

“I want to murder him in his sleep, A. No, I want to murder him when he’s awake so he can see the joy on my face when I do it.”

“Anything. I don’t care.” I’m startled by the intensity in his voice, the emotion now glittering in his gray eyes. “I just need to hear you sing again.”

I suddenly wonder how I ever made it through life without Hannah Wells’s sarcastic barbs and annoyed grumbles.

“Hey, come on, don’t cry,” he begs. “It breaks my fucking heart to hear you cry.”

But right now, all I want is for this girl to smile at me again.

I’m not a fragile piece of china to him. I’m just… me.

Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don’t know how you ever lived without them. How you went about your day and hung out with your friends and fucked other people without having this one important person in your life.

“How did I go so long without noticing you, damn it? Why did it take seeing a stupid A on your midterm to make me notice?”

“Baby, I could watch you watching paint dry, and I still wouldn’t be bored.” Garrett Graham, my own personal sweet-talker.

I didn’t let a single person in, not even my closest friends, and then you came along and I realized just how fucking lonely I’ve been.

I feel like I can drop my guard completely and not have to worry about getting hurt or taken advantage of or being afraid, because Garrett Graham will always be there to love and protect me.

I don’t look back these days. I only look forward.

[kh-oc-askblog]

// Information Centre — Original Character Ask/ Roleplay Blog

Extended information:

About this blog:

Both an askblog (where I will try to write/ draw replies to asks in character) and a roleplay where I will reply to other muses in any of my characters. I play my own Original Characters that I've written in a fix that's set in the Kingdom Hearts Universe. I mainly want to rp with KH centric blogs (including other OCs), but I'm also open to other fandoms if I know them well enough, I just might be a bit slow with replies.

About the writer:

My name is Noah, I go by he/it, I'm 25 years old and I'm currently studying with the goal of gaining a bachelors in creative writing. I write fanfiction as a hobby as well, including a Kingdom Hearts fic that expands on the current lore using new characters. I guess you could think of it as a sort of side story or fun addition to accompany the canon.

You can also find me here: @royalberryriku , and read my fanfic/ find my art here: @royalberryarts

About the muses:

I have seven main characters that I will write for this blog; Zorya, Yoru Taiyo, Noir, Glaucia, Lunaria and Nuaia. I may also include side characters from both the canon games and fanfic when answering asks, but rps will centre on the main seven.

These seven characters are all friends who work together to uncover mysteries within the various worlds, while also holding their own motives, dreams and allegiances. However, they all have found a home in Radiant Garden, acting as apprentices of sorts to an ex-royal guard turned detective; Lorena.

Under her guidance, the seven friends have found a place to work together, feel at home and slowly but surely piece together the puzzle that had brought them all together to begin with.

Age: I am okay with whatever age, but I would prefer adults (18 or over at least). I won't dismiss or turn away writers or potential asks because of age though.

Themes: I will try to keep this blog user friendly and open for all ages, but I will delve into the same themes of Kingdom Hearts which can become quite dark, especially in regards to the in-between games. As such, I may write about subjects like: abuse, child grooming, manipulation, death, grief, mental health issues, childhood trauma and child soldiers/ exploitation of children. While I'll mostly just allude to these in the same way Kingdom Hearts does, I still want to remind people to take care of themselves and mute certain topics if they are triggering.

-> Lastly, an introduction to each character will be attached below, so please refer to this if need be. Though, of course, I do plan to introduce my characters in-rp and through asks anyway, so don't worry too much about reading all the introductory stuff.

[shes-nott-me]

National Treasure

Child star turned unhinged bombshell, Arabella King, tells her life story in her first interview in decades, She talks in-depth about (TW’s) her rocky past with her parents, struggling with body image and ED’s, coming to terms with her sexuality, and even her life-long relationship with ‘The King of Rock n Roll’ Himself Elvis Presley.

Some chapters are going to be written from Elvis’ point of view (most will be retellings of the previous chapters from a new perspective) where we’ll see him struggle with loving someone who is unable to love him back.

Trigger warnings for this part: Abuse, mention of drugs.

Elvis isn’t in this part, but he will be in the next one. I might post chapter two of this one just, because that’s when we’re introduced to him.

Without further ado

(Also look at the OC I made, Arabella I made, isn’t she gorgeous)

Interviewer: What's the very first memory you have?

Arabella: Um… My first memory is waking up when I was three, my father had left with my sister in the middle of the night, but I don’t remember it well enough to go in depth. But I do remember Sophia, my mother waking me up in the middle of the night. I was five.

Naples, Italy 1944

“Wake up, Arabella.” Yawning, I rub sleep from my eyes. Confused, I stare at mama. “We’re leaving.” I blink at her, but panic began to settle in, we were in the middle of the biggest war in history. My breath gets caught in my throat, before I know it, bawling. “Arabella” she snaps at me. “Stop fucking crying and pack a bag.” Mama throws a backpack at me as she turns to face the door. “Mama’s gonna be a star.” she slammed the door behind her “You have fifteen minutes and we’re leaving.” She shouts, humming her way to the kitchen, as I frantically throw clothes, toys, and what have you into the backpack. 

The next thing I knew, I was in Newark, New Jersey, about to move into a room mama decided to rent on a whim. “Remember Ara, act American, the last thing I want is for you to embarrass me in front of these people.

I cock my head to the side. “But, mama, I don’t know eng-” she cut me off

“Then shut up, fix your face and let me do the talking.” I did as she said. I watched as mama spoke to the American couple. I didn’t know what she was saying, but I did know she looked all but American, based on the couple's face alone.

Present Day

Interviewer: Do you remember your first audition

Arabella: Of course, Sophia always wanted to be famous, dragging me to casting calls and auditions with her. I must’ve gone to hundreds of auditions with her. she would tell me how my sister and I ruined her career of being the next prima ballerina, how she could dance circles around Margot Fonteyn, but my career was cut short because of…

New York, New York 1945

“You and your sister,” Mama explained to me for the thousandth time. We were on the train to New York for another one of her auditions that was bound to fail. I stopped responding to her when she told this story ages ago, I just ate my sandwich and stared out the window. 

I sat in the room, watching my mom over-act her lines to casting directors. I was sitting upside down against the wall. At some point, I zoned out and mindlessly started singing, ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’. 

“Is that your daughter?” I stop using immediately, as I’m pulled out of my trance.

“Um, yes, I’m so sorry sir.” She pauses to face me. “Arabella Moretti, fix your skirt.” She whisper shouts at me in Italian, I nod, standing up and brushing off any dust that might be left on my dress. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get a babys-” The director cuts her off.

“Come here, sweetheart.” I blink at the man summoning me with his hand, slowly walking towards him. “Well, aren’t you a pretty girl.” It was more of a statement than a question. 

I giggled and looked at my feet, muttering a soft “Thank  you.”

 “Can you sing that song again?” I look back towards my mother for approval, she nods for me to go ahead, But not without a scowl on her face. I do as he says. “Can you dance?”

I nod “Mama taught me.” I swing my arms back and forth. He asks me to dance and I do. He asks me to say things and I say them.

Present Day

Interviewer: It was around this time you were evicted?

Arabella: Ah, yes, I remember. All I heard was screaming in the room, The man's wife calling Sophia a whore. At the time I hadn’t realized it yet, but there was only one way a man would let us stay in that house. My mom didn’t have a job, we had no money, what else could she do?

Newark, New Jersey 1945

“I DON’T CARE WHERE YOU GO OR WHAT YOU DO, AS LONG AS YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOME” the door slammed mama didn’t even seem to care, she just took a long drag from her cigarette and stared at me. “YOU HAVE ONE GODDAMN WEEK!” 

Mama just put me to bed, grumbling something along the lines of  “I would’ve had my big break ages ago if it wasn’t for you.

I wake up the next morning to mama on the phone. “Oh, Hi, Mr. Carter” I’ve never heard her sound so happy. “Oh, she is cute isn’t she?” She whipped her head around to glare at me. “I just don’t think she’s quite r-” she paused “H-how much?” “We’ll be there first thing in the morning, thank you, sir.”  Mama walked back over to the bed “Alright brat pack your shit, we’re goin’ to New York. Before I knew it, I was in the nicest hotel I’d ever seen, in the prettiest dress, I’d ever seen.

Present Day

Arabella: That joy I felt lasted about a month. I was no longer Arabella Moretti, they changed my name to Arabella King. I was addicted to caffeine and Lord knows what else by the time I turned seven.

New York, New York 1945

“I DON’T WANNA GO TODAY, I’M TIRED.” I cried as mama tried to drag me through the door by my wrist. 

“Do you have any idea how LUCKY you are?” she paused to fix my hair, which she had burned to a crisp, straightening for the past 7 years. “Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?” I had never seen so much resentment in a person's eyes. I just looked at her and screamed, it was the most piercing, curdling sound I could make. She simply just slapped me across the face, and said “Do you want a fucking lollipop?” I accepted and she picked me up and put me in the car. 

Present Day

Arabella: I still don’t know exactly what was in the lollipops, I just know that it was some sort of upper, used to keep me awake when needed, which was often. If I wasn’t on set, I was in a dance class, dancing until my feet bled, or in a vocal lesson, singing until I couldn’t anymore.

Interviewer: Do you remember the first time you met Elvis?

Hey, y’all this is the part of a new series, it has a lot of trigger warnings that vary from part to part, this series is not for my loves under 18, I’m playing around with a new format so the writing might be a little off, I’m open to constructive criticism. This series is a little experimental so hold on tight, also, I promise Elvis will be in the next part, I already wrote it

[auroracalisto]

in life and death

summary: in the events of dark phoenix, the reader is reunited with her twin brother charles, even though she tried her hardest to stay away from him after their mother sent her away and explained to charles that she had died, all the while trying to not let erik freak out when he realizes that he is, indeed, in love with someone else related to charles.  

pairing: erik lehnsherr x female reader, twin! charles x twin! reader

word count: 2k words

warnings: canon divergence, reader is charles twin (i said she vaguely looks like him, but i don’t describe any physical appearance other than that), cussing, typical jean grey shit, not any actual violence, sibling banter towards the end, lots of death mentions, usage of mutation abilities (reader is able to manipulate anatomy, and in a way, place “blocks” in people’s minds for certain things, therefore manipulating their anatomy to block off certain parts of their memories), abusive relationship with reader’s mother in this for sure, talks of funeral and gravestone.  

a/n: i still haven’t watched dark phoenix so i took some creative liberty and loosely read the wikipedia page.  also, this was written as a request for @nuclearpizza84​.  i hope you enjoy :) if it’s not to your liking, please be sure to let me know and i’ll see what i can do!

The red haired woman had just appeared, introducing herself as Jean Grey.  Erik immediately welcomed her into your home, without batting an eye your way.  An uneasy feeling washed throughout your body, but you thought nothing of it until Jean started asking Erik for his help—that she had once again done something bad, and she didn’t know how to fix it. 

Your fingers tapped repeatedly on your leg as you watched Erik from where you sat.  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” you mumbled, watching him.  Erik always tended to help any of those who came to his door.  While not necessarily a bad thing, sometimes it was.  With times like this, you knew that there was something wrong. 

Jean knew what you were thinking—your discomfort with her was practically radiating off of your body.  But she didn’t care.  She didn’t come here for your help.  She didn’t even know who you were, other than the fact that you looked strangely similar to Professor Xavier.  She had come for Erik, knowing that in the past, he had been rogue himself and had dealt with Charles.  She had nowhere else to go, other than Genosha.  The only place where mutants could go for refuge, if they were running from even the school. 

Erik sighed softly at you.  He reached over and gently took your hand.  “I know Jean.  I’m going to help her,” he said.  “I’ve no reason to turn her away.”

You just nodded, casting a glance towards the woman.  Nothing more was said between you and your fiancée.  You just watched, listening to them talk.  Jean kept looking in your direction, and you didn’t quite understand why.  Perhaps it was best that Charles did not know where you were—then, people like Jean wouldn’t come knocking on your door, asking for your brother’s help when you hadn’t been around him in years.  You stayed in your mind for some time, eventually standing up to go and sit your glass of water back in the kitchen. 

That was, until the sound of helicopters came from outside of your home.  You tensed.  That didn’t happen often, unless something was wrong.  You looked straight at Jean. 

“What are they here for?” you asked the woman. 

She didn’t answer, going to the door.  She opened it up, looking at what was going on.  Your heart pounded in your chest. 

“Erik,” you spoke, walking over to your lover. 

The speaker attached to one of the helicopters, proclaiming that Jean needed to peacefully surrender—or else, of course, they would use force. 

When Jean attacked, you knew it was over.  Erik wouldn’t help—something that you were hoping would happen, but you never knew how soon it would have happened.  Fate just seemed to be on your side at that moment, but you knew that it was only a matter of time before Erik decided to uproot you and return to America, helping your brother out with yet another deadly endeavor—even if Erik had no idea that the two of you were actually related.  With your ability, you had made it to where Charles would not recognize you, and you made sure that Erik would never be able to make out the similarities that you and your twin shared.  It was only right—after years of your brother believing you were dead; you did not want to bring that raining down on his shoulders.

—

The news reached the mutant refuge, and Erik did not talk to you for some time.  Raven was dead, and she had been killed by Jean herself.  Erik was angry.  He had once loved Raven—you knew of this.  It wasn’t hard to see how he still cared for his friend, especially in a moment like this.  Who wouldn’t still care for someone they spent so long with?  You understood where his anger came from, and you stayed there, waiting for him to say something to you—anything. 

In his fit of rage, Erik looked you dead in the eye.  “I’ll kill her.”

You parted your lips to talk, but you didn’t know what to say that would calm him.  You reached out and took his hand.  “We can’t go alone.  You saw how powerful she was…”

There was no point in trying to stop him.  Once Erik had something in his mind, it took him a long time to detach himself from it. 

“That’s fine by me,” he snarled, taking in a deep breath.  “Pack a bag.  We’re leaving, tonight.”

—

Being surrounded by other mutants, you never once thought that you would have to look out for familiar faces.  But Charles stood there, trying to stop people from fighting. 

“There is no point in it,” you heard him say from a distance.  “You’re only hurting yourselves by fighting each other.”

You scoffed.  He was always like that—even when you were children.

That being said, it had been years since you last saw him.  The mental block you applied to him made it to where he would never be able to recognize you as his sister.

At a young age, your mother had split the two of you apart, recognizing that two children exactly alike had not been something she wanted.  So, she kept the boy, and got rid of the girl, quickly explaining to Charles that his sister was dead.  But now, standing there, you wondered why he never came to find you.  You were obviously alive, and you knew you weren’t making it easy on him—but why in the world had he never even tried? 

Charles never once came to Erik, asking for help to find you.  You were alive and well, that much was given.  A part of you also remembered how your mother was.  It was likely that she decided to make things easier on Charles and instead of saying she just gave you away, you had died.  In a moment of self-pity, you wondered if your mother had made you a fake grave.  Maybe you should visit it one day, see if Charles visited it often. 

Erik had long run inside the building that Jean had ran into earlier.  Charles had tried to talk some sense into him, but to no avail. 

And for a moment, you felt your block on Charles slipping.  You were tired.  And the fact that you were so close to him did not help.  Your block was breaking.  His eyes locked with yours and immediately, he recognized you.  Of course, he did. 

“Oh shit,” you breathed out. 

“[Your name]?” Charles blinked slowly, staring at you in disbelief.  “How are you here?  What—”

“Don’t.”

“What—what do you mean, don’t?  How are you here?  I’ve—you’re dead,” he squeezed his eyes shut.

You sighed softly.  “I’m very much alive, Charles.”

“But mother said—”

“—mother said a lot of things.”

Charles pursed his lips.  You were right. 

“Alright.  We can talk about this later.  But please.  We need to help Jean, not hurt her.  She’s scared.  She doesn’t understand how to control what’s going on.  She hasn’t meant to hurt anyone—”

“—she killed your sister,” you said.  You knew all about how Raven was his adopted sister.  Nothing against her, of course.  It was all your mother’s doing.  Who knew that Erik always had a thing for people related to Charles?

He took in a deep breath.  “Yes.  She killed who I grew up with as a sister. But she did not mean to.  We did not know how to handle her.”

“Oh, and what changed?”

“Being this way is not going to help anyone.  She is going to kill Erik, unless we all agree to stop—”

“—sorry, Charles, no can do.”

—

Time seemed to speed up, and hours promptly passed by.  The alien, Vuk tried her hardest to get everything from Jean.  In the process, disaster struck. 

You had just reunited with Erik when you were struck in the shoulder with a stun weapon.  As you fell to the ground, you heard Erik shout.  Then, everything went black.

Waking up, you slowly took in your surroundings.  You were on a train.  Without a clue where you were heading, you took the time to breathe deep.  Erik was to your right.  You could feel him moving around—he must have already been awake, and now, he was struggling to get out of the restraints. 

Charles sat straight across from you, his eyes dead set in a glare pointed at the ground. 

You cleared your throat, resting your head on the wall behind you.  “Charles.”

He said nothing.  

You looked over at Erik, who shrugged.  “He’s been silent ever since we were captured.”

“Were you not shot—”

“—no.  Collar.  You’ve got one now, too.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“They put it on me while I aided you,” he chuckled softly.  “I suppose it is my own fault…”

“None of this would have happened had you allowed me to talk some sense into her,” Charles spoke, looking up at his old friend.  “Had you not attacked her; she would have been calm.  She was scared, Erik.  I’m sure she still is.  I can feel her.  She is at war with herself, and you have only aided in making her feel worse.”

“Could you feel me?” you asked.

“Quite impossible when you make it difficult for me to recognize you,” Charles immediately recounted.  “How did you manage that?  You’ve the ability to just manipulate minds?  Nothing more, nothing less?  I only felt you when your block dissolved.  What does it take for it to do that?”

Charles was angry.

You stared him down.  He returned your gaze.

For a set of twins that had been apart for decades at this point, you acted as if you had never once been split up. 

“I can alter anatomy.”

“Can you now?” he scoffed.  “You know.  I would have thought that perhaps you would understand that not everyone is inherently evil.  She is still good, [Your name].”

“Why would I understand that?”

Charles sighed.  “Despite not being able to recognize you while you still had that going on, had I just focused, I could read your mind.  You’ve been engaged for how long, Erik?  To my sister?”

Erik blinked rapidly.  “What?”

This, was of course, news to him.  You never said anything about it.  Charles was about to open a new can of worms that would blow up in your face after all of this was said and done. 

“Nothing,” you shot at Erik.  “It’s nothing.  Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re siblings?” Erik asked. 

“Stop it,” you groaned. 

Charles clenched his jaw and he looked away from you. 

“Look,” you began, frowning.  “I’m sorry.  I should have reached out to you sooner.  More specifically, when I heard that mother died.  But I didn’t.  I didn’t know where to start looking—”

“—I never left the house.”

You looked towards the floor.  “Now I know that.  I should have come sooner.  I should have told Erik and allowed him to tell you.  But I thought that it would hurt more, knowing that mom just lied to us.  To you, really.”

“She told me that you died.  She set up an actual funeral, fit with a coffin and a headstone.  She really played the part,” Charles said.

“I wondered that earlier, but now that you tell me that, it hurts a lot more,” you tried to laugh, as the realization that your mother probably hated you with every fiber in her ran through your head.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry it took… whatever the hell this is for you to realize that I’m still very much alive.”

“Perhaps we can speak about this later,” Charles began.  “We should focus on getting out of here, before something worse happens.”

And of course, Charles had to speak it into existence.  A loud, deafening bang nearly made you scream. 

The aliens were back—and this time, they weren’t about to go easy on anyone. 

[funnyexel]

Something About You

Loki x Black Female Reader

A/n : In honor of the kick off of Loki, I’ve made this little short story about him. Thanks for 90+ followers! Requests are open!  Masterlist Mega List

You sat in the same seat you always did. In the same coffee shop you always visited but somehow today felt different...It didn’t feel like the other days. Typing away on your laptop, a towering male takes a seat across from you. Ignoring him, you continue your work. Stealing a glance, you see he has been staring at you. Clearing your throat, you try your best to sound intimidating. “Can I help you?” You look up from your screen for a few moments. He shakes his head, still in awe with something about you. 

“Look. I don’t want to be rude or anything but your staring is kind of distracting me.” You finally stop what your doing, trapping him in solid eye contact. Your eyes roam around his figure for a moment. Jet black hair, that reached his shoulders. Pale skin, that looked even paler compared to yours and a lazily sharp jaw. “What are you writing?” Your face twisted in a confused format. “A book. I am writing a book.” You take a sip of your drink. “Don’t let me stop you.” He gives a peering smirk.

With a huff, you go back to typing. His eyes are still fixed on you. Saving your document and closing your laptop. You fold your hands on top of the device. “Ok, what? You have my full attention.” He chuckles at your words. His laugh shaking you to your core. “What kind of book are you writing?” You lean your head on your hand. “I don’t know yet. I’m kind of having writers block at the moment.” He nods his head to you. Your eyes gliding over this handsome stranger. “That does seem quite frustrating.” His voice smooth and his wording proper. “Yes, very.” You look out the window for a moment before turning your head back to him and putting your hand out.

“I’m Y/n.” You introduce yourself to him, taking your hand he introduced himself. “I’m Loki.” His cold palm met your warm one and lightly shook. “Nice to meet you Loki.”

Y/n and Loki have met in that coffee shop ever since that day. It was their spot. They got to know each other. He’d tell her ridiculous stories about his home. Going on about how his father wouldn’t treat him like a son, how his brother is a brain dead doofus, and how he felt different from others. She could relate to some of his issues. He wanted to better himself and he told her, he was in a situation he couldn’t get out of. Months pass, you were on your way to your apartment from your publishers office in Midtown Manhattan. 

“Yeah, yeah the avengers are cool and all but no one ever considers the damages after their battles. People call me crazy because I don’t like this area.” You talk to yourself, quietly as you walk to the subway. Suddenly hearing screams and commotion, you turn your walk into a sprint. “This is why I don’t like this area!” You slide your card and your train comes into view. A spark of hope flares in your eye. Your footsteps slow to a stop, that spark in your eye dying instantly as the train gets blasted to pieces. 

The creatures speaking their foreign language, you slowly back up and run out of the subway. Stopping dead in your tracks at the sight. Some type of floats in the sky and more creatures. “I should have stayed in New Jersey.” You jog away from the subway entrance as footsteps become louder. Finding a building, you bang on the door. “Hello!? SOMEONE PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR” You hear shuffling inside, you know people are in there. “Please! I Know Someone Is In There!” You project your voice. Hitting the door one last time, you move on. “I hope it was worth it Y/n. You just had to give your publisher a paper copy because it was the best book you’ve ever written.”

You mock yourself. On the verge of tears. You suck those tears up at the sight of more creatures. Turning back, two appear behind you. Push comes to shove and somehow, someway you got taken on one of those floaty thingy’s. “Let go of me!” You twist and turn, trying to get out of their grasp. “Someone!” You scream. Seeing an opportunity to get out their grasp, you take it and get pushed off. Now falling from god knows how many feet, you scream fearing your inevitable fate. A pain hits your stomach, a hand holding your back. You groan, gripping onto the back for dear life. “damn, that hurt.” You mutter as your stomach aches. You lift your chin up, your head spinning.

“oh look at that...a blond man?” Your head was messing with you at this point. Hallucinations clouding your thoughts. You hear the person under you curse. Two palms hold onto each side of your waist, pushing you off with enough force to rip your hands off their back. A great power pushing you away. In the midst of it all, you get a glimpse of that recognizable long dark hair. “loki.” You roll backwards, your butt hitting the ground hard. Those tears that you were holding in before, flew freely down your cheeks. You attempted to wipe them away but they kept coming. Looking around through the tears, you see you’re in Central Park. Somewhere they didn’t reach yet, people were walking around like it was any other day. 

The pain of your ribs comes backs to bite, as you feel two of your ribs break. “Damn you and your strong shoulders.” You collapse, not yet having the energy to move from that spot. “Ma’am, are you alright?” You look aside. “yes.” You find the strength to wipe away the tears, holding your ribs as you sit up. A small pain hits your shoulder. “no.” You tilt and fall back into your spot, blacking out.

You groan, your head pounding almost as painfully as before. “Y/n L/n. Orphan. Mildly Popular Book Author. Three books published.” You force your eyes to focus in the dimly lit room. “where am I?” Your hand flies to your ribs as you sit up in the chair. “Unimportant. What’s important is why the chitauri would go out their way to get you.” You look at the black man. “I don’t know.” You breathe out. “You should know something.” Looking around the room, your eyes trail back to the man. “I know something.” You pause your sentence for suspense. “I know I have two broken ribs from being tossed around like a rag doll.” He chuckles for a moment before doing a hand motion.

A few moments pass, your wounds get tended to, with the black man gone, a few new comers take over. “Why would you let him do an invasion?” And before you could breathe a sign of relief, you get bombarded with questions. “I didn’t let him do anything.” They were convinced you had something to do with the invasion. “What were you doing in the area? Why did the chitauri capture you?” They were beginning to make your head hurt all over again. “I was giving my publisher a copy of my book and I don’t know.” You tried your best to answer the questions but they refuse to believe your answers.

“What part of “I don’t know” do you not understand? I keep telling you I don’t know meaning I actually don’t kn-” Your sentence gets cut off with a hissing of the restraint, they place on your mouth. Attempting to pull it off, they respond with grabbing your wrists and putting on handcuffs. Yanking you out the seat. “Maybe you’ll know like this.” They practically drag you to your next destination. “Get in.” It wasn’t a choice. Pushing you into a small capsule. They shut the glass, it wasn’t the roomiest of spaces. “Someone will talk.” 

You flinch at the sudden light, shining brightly into your eyes. “Do the avengers know you’re doing this?” Loki tries not to show his panic. This isn’t what he wanted for you. He didn’t want you to get caught up in his mess. “They don’t need to know as long as we get information.” You see the mans hand shift to a panel. Using the heavy duty cuffs you try to break the glass. Muffled screams come from your capsule. You shake your head, pleading for him not to drop the capsule. “Last chance.” Loki traps your eyes in a gaze, for the seemingly last time. Without remorse he pushed the button causing your capsule to- 

Your knuckles ache as your hands rip away from the sheets. With a groan, you sit up and dangle your feet over the edge of the bed. ‘I hate that nightmare.’ You sigh. Standing to your feet and looking back to the abnormally large bed made for two. Putting on shorts, you walk over to the kitchen. That’s what you loved about this place it was all one floor, very easy to get everywhere. Sitting at the island stool, you rub your fourhead. Gazing out the window missing your lover. You decided to leave the house. But not before leaving a note, just in case he came back before you. 

“went to earth for a little. will be back later. xoxo y/n”

Stepping outside into your yard. You click the little device Loki “borrowed” from his brother. Selecting “Midgard” a bright light taking you to the desired planet. Your nightmare recommencing on the way.

The whirling winds of the storm happening on the outside abused the capsule as it fell into a foggy cloak. Before you could realize, what you’d done. You were holding onto a bright gold little hint of green string. It was powerful. “Did I just do that?” You said to yourself. The highspeed winds making it impossible to hear yourself.

A loud crash echoed the vacant alleyway as you are brought onto the planet. “I need to fix that.” You groan, getting off the floor and looking around to see which area you’re in. Waiting patiently for a crowd of people to walk by, you quickly step out of the alleyway and join them, blending in. You stop at your coffee shop, missing their signature drinks and food. You sat at your usual back table. The worker recognized you and began to prepare your order. While waiting you, spent your time on social media. You saw your friends and how they’re getting their lives together. You noticed that they were messaging you about how you never post anymore and how they are worried about you.

Thanking the worker with a smile as they placed your order down, you take the time to try and respond to most of the messages. Your leg began to bounce and you started to feel uneasy. Steadily glancing up from your phone, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. A small tap on your shoulder startled you. Your eyes following the well shaven man sit in the seat across from you. His aura was fairly strong but compared to yours it was faint and weak. For a moment your leg stopped but then your hand began to tap on the table. Your anxiety becoming known. “Can I help you?” You ask, trying to continue to reply to the messages and distract yourself from this man.

“I’m Doctor Strange and I’d like to have a word with you.”

Part 2?

[strawbeebo]

~♡ Damned If I Do ♡~

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Fem! (She/Her) Reader

Warnings: ❌MAJOR SPOILERS!!❌ Seriously, if you aren’t caught up with the manga, don’t even finish reading this description lmaooo

Words: 5.5K

Genre: Fluff & Angst

A/N: this has shit that’s 100% me taking shit into my own hands and assuming the shibuya incident ends with things going well for those still alive and everyone returning to the Tokyo school for rehabilitation and mourning so ye ye ye. also i’m delving into completely unfamiliar territory so don’t @ me if it makes no sense LMAO

As always, if you enjoy this and want to see more of my work, PLEASE consider reblogging as it’s the best way for my works to get around and keepin’ me motivated to make more for y’all!

❌ MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD ❌

Gojō remembered the first time he met you, after all, how couldn’t he? It was actually a pretty funny situation, but if Nanami had a say in it he would heartily disagree.

It was his birthday, something Nanami had never put much thought into and actually preferred others to treat it in the same way. For the longest time, his birthday was just another day that happened to show that he had been on this hell of an earth for one year longer than the year before. It was a countdown leading to nothing when he had nothing he really wanted to live for, but when he met you, that seemed to change in a blink of the eye. Well, at least your relationship felt just like that, a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ type situation, but despite that, the handful of years he had spent with you felt like something he never could have even dreamed up happening.

You had met by chance, running into each other at the grocery store. It was nothing special, he had quite a few more items than you did so he offered up the spot ahead of him so that you could get through more quickly. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately so, the line was still fairly long so you decided to strike up a conversation with him following your list of ‘thank you’s’. You thought he was nice, a little bit on the serious side and not overly cordial, but you could tell just from that short conversation that he was the type of person you could sit with and not say a single word and still feel comfortable and content. He had a sort of calming, mature air about him and with a handsome face to match, you couldn’t help but think about how surely a man like that had someone waiting for him back home, wherever that was. Either way, before your conversation could go on for long, you had to turn your focus to checking out, so you thanked him once more for letting you pass him and simply went on your way, not thinking in the slightest that such a minor encounter with a stranger would change your life like it had. Your life continued on as normal and so did his and, for a few months at least, things went on as such until the two paths of your respective lives came together once more.

This time, it was at a small café that you later learned was near his place of work, so he frequented it often. You actually didn’t see him at first, he had intentionally chosen a table that was at one of the corners closer to the entrance so he could be away from the noise of the front counter, but the cafe was a bit packed that afternoon so it didn’t really matter in the end. You had only noticed him because you were looking for a place where you could sit and your disappointment in the fact that there didn’t seem to be any empty tables was soon replaced with intrigue in response to seeing that vaguely familiar face. It took you a moment, but his unique features allowed for your memory to be jogged quickly as you made your way over to him after putting in your order, starting with a small wave to get his attention.

To your surprise he actually remembered you, though that was for the better since it made you feel a little bit less creepy about remembering him. You introduced yourself, something you didn’t feel like you had to do last time but for some reason with this meeting, you felt it was appropriate. He returned the favor, ‘Kento Nanami’ was his name, something that at first didn’t seem to suit him well, but who were you to say? Your small talk continued and, while you didn’t actually have any intention of ‘using’ him for the empty chair that sat across from him, the topic of how busy the cafe was came up and his request for you to sit with him followed soon after. You turned him down initially, you assumed he was working since he had both his laptop and his phone laid out in front of him and you didn’t want to be an annoyance, but he politely insisted it was not bother for him, so you eventually accepted his offer.

You were only on your break after all, so you figured it wouldn’t be long and that if you drank your coffee and ate your chocolate croissant quietly, he wouldn’t regret allowing you to share the small table, though once again to your surprise, it was him who started up another conversation a few minutes after you got settled. You talked about your respective work, his disdain for his job being clear as day even as he seemed to try and justify it either to you or to himself, but you almost felt bad speaking of your boring day to day job that didn’t seem nearly as bad as his. Aside from work however, you spent a lot of time talking about good places to eat in the area as it seemed you shared a love for good food amongst a few other things. He was as nice to talk to as you had initially imagined he would be, to a point where you had to cross your fingers and hope that he didn’t notice your interest peak and your eyes flicker to his ring finger when he happened to mention living alone. To be honest, you had never really been one to put yourself out there unless the person who you found an interest in had a clear interest in you in return, but when you stood up to leave, you felt compelled to slip him your number written on a piece of notepad paper you always kept in your purse, telling him if you ever happened to be out at the same time, you’d like to meet up for coffee or something another time.

He, much like you, wasn’t particularly romantically focused, but he accepted the offer nonetheless. If anything, he wouldn’t deny it was nice to have some company that wasn’t his coworkers. You were polite and all, though for some reason, he felt a want to get to know you on more than a ‘small talk with a stranger’ level. He didn’t have much to go on, but that was all the more reason to get to know you more, and that he did. You had one more meeting over coffee, and then once again, this time at a different café you had told him about. He liked to stick to his routine, but it was cute how excited you got raving about how amazing their cherry danishes were, so he decided it couldn’t hurt. From there his feelings of ‘it couldn’t hurt to go’ slowly turned to him waiting to see you again, for once tapping his pen in annoyance not just because he wanted to get out of another pointless meeting, but because he wanted to see you. You had become a breath of fresh air in his mundane life, one that made all those late nights seem slightly less exhausting and after some time, made the idea of making money for himself come second in his thoughts. Your coffee dates turned to dinners out, then to him cooking dinner for you, then to nights spent together that ended with both of you being late for work the following mornings.

You had gotten more than ‘close’ over the span of a year or so, so much so that after many evenings of you commenting on how you could tell something was wrong, he decided that you were someone he could trust with the information regarding his former work as a sorcerer and eventually, you were a big part in convincing him to go back to it, something that, thinking back, you both regretted and welcomed as a fantastic idea. Despite the injuries you’d see him with, he seemed...lighter, as if something that had been previously bothering him had vanished with him returning to the objectively much more relentless work. Still, you could tell he was happy in his own way and as cheesy as it sounded, if he was happy, then so were you. A few months after that and you decided there was no point in living separately if you were spending almost every night over at his place anyways, so the two of you moved in together. Things were about as normal as you could possibly imagine being with someone who did what he did, but with you, a sense of normalcy was all he wanted.

Another year passed and he fully welcomed his thoughts making the change from thinking about how he was going to live out the rest of his life in a tedious manner to how he was going to live his life with you in it. Hell, even his acquaintances could tell you were more than just some woman he was seeing because if you were, they wouldn’t know about you at all. He was rather private like that, everything about his personal life was very much on a need-to-know basis that in his eyes, they didn’t need to know, especially Gojō, but unfortunately you had asked for a few contact numbers just for emergencies and Gojō happened to be one of them. It didn’t take him very long to abuse said connection though, and before Nanami knew it, he was walking into a private party room of a small restaurant the two of you frequented often, only this time he was met with an obnoxiously loud array of ‘Happy Birthday’s being shouted at him. Still, the sheepish smile you wore as Gojō explained he had been secretly planning this little surprise party with you was more than enough to make him ok with his birthday being celebrated in such an over the top way. More than that, something about the way you interacted with his coworkers and students made him...oddly happy. The way you handled Itadori’s numerous enamored questions about your relationship, being able to hear that loud, full on laugh you let out at the stupid stories Gojō told about when the two of them were in school, and all the little small talk in between as you got to know eachother. He hated to admit to thinking of them as his family, but he knew there was no other explanation as to why he felt so fortunate to see you all get along so well.

That night felt like it went on forever, though slowly the party began to thin. The students left first, they had lessons early in the morning after all, and eventually it was down to him, Gojō, and you. You shared a drink with them before tapping out early with an apology, you had pulled an all nighter the night before and the exhaustion was starting to set in, but you insisted he stay out a little bit longer and enjoy himself and after a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye and a whispered “Happy birthday, Kento.”, you were off to hopefully catch the last train home. Nanami knew what was coming next as he could see the knowing look on Gojō’s face before he even turned back to look at him, and maybe it was the alcohol, but he didn’t mind the conversation that he knew was about to follow.

It started with a simple comment.

“She seems awfully nice. Too good for you, don’t you think, ‘Nanamin’?~”

If he were being honest, he would have answered ‘yes’, but that wasn’t something he really wanted to get into. Instead he brushed him off, making a comment on how he sincerely hoped he wasn’t suggesting that somehow Gojō would be a far better option for you, to which he laughed in return. They talked quietly like that for a while, after all Gojō hadn’t gotten to hear the whole story yet and he was intrigued about how this seemingly normal woman managed to wiggle her way into the overly serious and stoic Nanami’s heart. He didn’t ask that directly though, instead he just listed off different harmless questions about what you did for work or what kinds of things you liked. It wasn’t the answer itself that necessarily mattered, but with the way Nanami spoke about you, he could tell that he was simply taken by you. For someone so blunt and pessimistic, when he spoke about you, even if his tone didn’t change, Gojō could practically see the passion he held for you in his eyes. Still, he couldn’t let his carefree reputation be tarnished so to hide his interest he would crack a few jokes and, as always, Nanami would respond with something clever. The night droned on like that until finally, in a slightly more serious tone, Gojō asked a question that Nanami had already asked himself many times over.

“So, you gonna’ marry her?”

It was a simple question with a technically simple answer, however it took much more pondering than one would think. The life he lived was a dangerous one, one that rarely made room for romance at all, let alone marriage, but somewhere along the way, you had helped him break from his repetitive schedule of a life that was meticulously planned and for once, this was something he was certain of even if the outcome itself wasn’t so. The two of you had already had this conversation, more than once actually since he was the one who needed some convincing, so it was really just a matter of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’. Still, he didn’t have to let Gojō know that.

“....I’ve thought about it.”

“Uh huh. So can I see the ring?”

He should have known there wasn’t a single thing on this planet that Gojō couldn’t pick up on. With a sigh, he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the small black box that he had carried with him practically every day that he wasn’t working since he had bought the damn thing and placed it on the table. Gojō snapped it up almost immediately, flipping the lid open and lowering his glasses to look at the ring properly. It was simple, something that wasn’t surprising since Nanami didn’t put much meaning into materialistic things and you didn’t seem like the type to want something too excessive anyways.

“A sorcerer’s salary sure doesn’t buy much does it.~~”

The box was snatched away from him in a matter of seconds as he continued to laugh it off as Nanami mumbled about how ‘he shouldn’t have bothered’ despite the fact he knew Gojō was just messing with him. Slowly, the topic faded and after one more drink, they were back to their own personal realities which, luckily for him, involved slipping into bed with who he was sure was the love of his life.

The morning came and went and your worlds settled back into their odd sense of a different kind of ‘mundane’, one that involved curses and demons, but was saved by the comfort and love you had for one another. However even that could only hold up your spirits for so long and with every passing day, it seemed like Nanami was always coming home with worse news, and that was with him sparing you as many of the details as he possibly could. Even with him explaining it to you, there were still things you didn’t understand, but you knew that things were escalating in the world of jujutsu sorcerers and curses. The flashes of true normalcy and happy days seemed to appear so few and far in between lately, the days where you could visit him and the students he helped out with became a thing of the past as said meetings were deemed ‘unsafe’ by the higher ups.

Then, all at once, it seemed the steady decline of the situation seemed to falter just for a moment before sinking even deeper than any of them could have possibly imagined. You knew this mission in Shibuya was different from anything leading up to it just from the way Nanami spoke to you before he left. He made a point to never treat you like a child or as if you couldn’t handle the work he did, however this time, unlike before, he made a point of telling you about the amount of sorcerers that would be there and that they already had an idea of what the curses’ plans were. He was reassuring you that this would be no different than any other mission, and that alone was enough to let you know things were much more dire, but as if that weren’t enough, he held you with a lack of his usual confidence, keeping his arms locked around you for longer than usual before pressing a sweet kiss against your lips that you wished to god you could have savored more than you did. He assured you once more, told you he would call you as soon as he possibly could, and he was gone.

You didn’t even live that close to Shibuya, but with the amount of noise and the way the ground shook that night, you felt even people halfway across the world could feel the sheer amount of power that was devastating the area. You didn’t dare turn on the news, so instead you simply waited. You kept waiting until somehow, you fell asleep. You waited through your morning coffee that you could hardly stomach, waited through the calls and texts from coworkers and friends asking if you had seen the news, you waited and waited and waited. Every call that wasn’t from him became irritating, and as the afternoon passed and the sun began to set, you felt every wave of emotion fall over you. You began to agonize as night fell, calling Gojō you don’t know how many times before eventually falling asleep, no doubt due to stress.

You woke up to a call from the principal of the school Kento worked for, someone you had never even spoken to before, asking you to come to the school the following day. That wasn’t the call you were waiting for, that wasn’t who you wanted to hear, but what else could you do? How long could you reasonably wait to hear Kento over the phone apologizing for being so late and complaining about the amount of overtime these curses were running up? All you could do was agree to be picked up by one of the few sorcerers left, who oddly enough wasn’t the usual black haired man who you had seen drop off Kento on occasion. The young woman didn’t speak much aside from confirming your name, but you were glad for that as you didn’t know what you would say. Or rather, you didn’t want to ask the question that was clawing at your skull because somewhere deep past the threads of hope you were hanging on to, you knew what the answer would be. You could feel something was wrong from the moment you woke up that morning to right this second as you walked with bated breath before being asked to sit in a small lounge room.

It wasn’t long before you heard the slide of the door and were met with the familiar young face of Itadori and lengthy figure of Gojō who, for as strong as Kento had described him as, looked particularly exhausted and lacked that usual grin he always wore.

“...We need to talk.”

Never had those words made your chest feel so tight, but as the rest of his explanation spilled past his lips, you felt emptier than you ever thought was possible.

You knew from the beginning of the end that he was gone.

You knew, yet nothing could have prepared you for the words your heard cried from young Itadori’s mouth as he practically collapsed down onto his hands and knees with his head bowed to the floor as he sobbed out a whirlpool of apologies and regrets that made your stomach turn in knots. You felt cold and painfully numb, as if you were off in a dream somewhere watching all this happen, your brain scrambling for a way to prove that none of this was real. You didn’t feel in control when you got on your knees and hugged Itadori close to you, your own tears finally beginning to spill from your eyes as reality set in and yet, you still tried to mutter through your own weeping that it was ok, it wasn’t his fault, it will be okay. It felt like an eternity that you were crumpled on that floor next to this poor boy, your thoughts completely shut down by your emotions. You had talked about this so many times, sworn up and down that no matter what happened to him, you wanted nothing more than just just be with him. Now, you couldn’t remember how you convinced him of that, because suddenly you weren’t sure how you could possibly be ok with him gone. What was next? Did you even have a single faction of your future planned that didn’t involve him? Over and over your brain went back and forth, between acceptance of this new reality and ridiculous explanations as to the ‘fact’ that somehow, they were wrong. That they missed something, that Kento hated overtime more than anything else and would be waltzing in with nothing more than a few scratches and bruises and ask you what you were doing on the floor like that. It was then that you must have either passed out or dozed off as you could have sworn you felt the phantom of his embrace and his lips pressed to your forehead.

——————————————————————————

For all the late night dramas you watched on television, you could never quite understand what people meant when they said ‘it all passed in a blur’ in regards to what followed after a loved one passed away, but now you knew with certainty that description was not far off from reality. You felt as though you did nothing but cry for days, days that were spent at the school since the mere thought of going home to an empty apartment made you feel sick. Every time you thought you couldn’t cry any longer, there was always something, an item belonging to Kento being offered up to you or a question in regards to his funeral that would send you further down the spiral that you already thought you had reached the bottom of.

The numbness began to fade, slowly, but as awful as it sounded, luckily things around you seemed to be moving just as slowly due to the sheer amount of chaos there was to be dealt with. You tried your best to pull yourself back up again and you were fortunate for the lack of pressure from the others to do so because the reality was, you didn’t know what to do, so for a while, you really didn’t do much of anything. Some days you cried for hours on end, some days you were angry, some days you just didn’t feel much of anything. Days turned to months, though now some of those days were occupied by grief counseling that seemed to help the more you got used to it. You were finally able to return home, though even after another few months of counseling, it felt hard at times with how empty it was. Still, having all of Kento’s friends and acquaintances nearby helped and you all supported one another in the ways that you could.

Eventually you found yourself able to think about Kento more fondly and less about the fact that he was gone. You slowly began working again, you were lucky to have an understanding boss who didn’t have a problem with you having days here or there where you still couldn’t quite handle a normal work day. You also took your counselors’ advice of taking care of yourself physically quite seriously, though most of that motivation came from the fact that if Kento could say something to you now, he would be more than willing to scold you for missing meals or not drinking enough water. Little things like that were working their way into your thoughts more often and you found yourself able to smile again, pushing yourself forward with the idea that Kento would give you as much time as you needed, but you knew he would still hope that you’d be able to find your old flow of life once more.

It had been a while, you still felt off in regards to being social, but you had finally decided to reach out to Gojō and ask him out for a drink. To be honest, you hadn’t been keeping up with the sorcerers as of late. At first you obsessed over it, your lover had given his life over their cause after all, but it was doing you no good and eventually Gojō genuinely convinced you that he was going to keep you up to date on everything significant and let you know what was happening. As far as you knew, they were still in a bit of a recovery period, thought that was partially because the opposition had been awfully quiet while they were left with little to no leads to follow. Still, Gojō was more than happy to hear from you about something other than updates and happily accepted your offer.

He wasn’t surprised at your choice of restaurant being that same one both you and Nanami had loved, but he still felt ill prepared to face that longing look you had as the two of you met up in front of the place. You still looked worn down, but you seemed well off enough considering the situation and the amount of time that had passed.

“He pretended to be pissed off the last time we were here together, but he was really happy that day.” You started, nursing a cup of the shared bottle of sake the two of you had ordered.

“Really? I’m sure he’d deny that with everything he had.”

“Yeah,” You said with a short laugh and a tired smile. “He probably would.”

The two of you talked a bit about nothing in particular, you could tell he was avoiding any mention of his work and the current state of things, but you didn’t mind. That wasn’t why you wanted to see him anyways, though to be honest, you didn’t know exactly why you had wanted to meet up with him. Maybe you just wanted to feel close to Kento again, a part of you dreaming of a world where the three of you were chatting over drinks, just like before. Your chatter quieted, the silence between the two of you drowned by the quiet murmur of the other customers before you finally decided to speak something that had been on your mind as of late.

“I- um…” You started, the telltale tightening of your throat creeping up on you as you gently fiddled with your cup. “...I’ve- I keep thinking...or maybe daydreaming...I think about what would have- what we would have...been.” You finished, stumbling over your words in the process as you tried to fight back against your own emotions.

You knew that thinking about all the ‘what if’s’ was probably horrible for your mental state, but sometimes, when you were really alone with your thoughts, you just couldn’t help yourself. A part of you thought that maybe if you thought about it enough, if you wished for it hard enough, your dreams would somehow come true. Even knowing that in the end that could never happen, those thoughts were always bittersweet in a way. In the end you were and always would be happy for everything you had with him, even if your time together was cut short.

“This has been a topic of debate, you know.” He spoke, tapping a finger on the table a few times as if in thought. “The consensus was ‘don’t give it to her’ but I disagree and I think Nanami would agree with me for once, so I took it anyway.”

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he had heard you correctly, or maybe he didn’t understand what you were saying? Your questions were quickly snuffed out before you could even ask them though as a small black box was placed down in front of you and your heart just about stopped. Your mouth hung open as you looked at him and he simply gestured for you to open the box. You did just that, staring at the simple ring with a single pear-cut opal set in the center, a stone you had commented on loving seemingly years ago. Your fingers felt tingly as you reached for it, your mouth finally closing once you finally held it in your hands. All at once your emotions began to overflow with the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes.

“I’m no expert, but I think you woulda’ gotten married. Obviously I would be the best man and Nanami would find some new ugly tie to wear.” He said with an air of reminiscence for something that never actually was.

“You’d probably look great, but that’s a given. Then you’d party and get drunk and finally go home so you could do some stuff that would end up with us having some good news a few months later….Ok maybe no kids but I’m sure the two of you could make a damn good night out of it.”

You were silent for a moment, and then you burst out with laughter that quickly dissolved into crying as he handed you napkin after napkin to wipe your face with. You wondered how Gojō could make everything sound so simple and make you somehow both overjoyed and saddened at the same time, but after a while, you were left smiling even though you still had tears running down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry that couldn’t come true.” He spoke in a more serious tone, a gentle smile gracing his features. “-But, who knows? Maybe it could, someday, with someone. Point is, you should know that all Nanami ever wanted was to be happy with you. Whether or not that was for a hundred years or two, he was more willing to ride that train through than he was with anything else. He knew there was a chance that being happy with you could only last so long, but he’d want you to keep living and loving the things and people that you do. That’s what he fought for, after all.”

You nodded, laughing once more through your most likely obnoxious crying. You knew there was no way you could ever get over that want to have lived a happy life forever with Kento, but you also knew it would break his heart if you were never at least able to enjoy the rest of your life alongside the grief you held. You wiped your eyes once more, your tears finally ceasing, and you slipped the ring onto your left ring finger and lifted your hand up to admire it and everything it represented.

“Would you look at that!~ Guess he really did have an eye for perfect measurements.”

You smiled and gave him a nod, unable to tear your eyes away from the ring that now sat proudly on your finger. This was where your life and your love had led you, mourning for the loss of everything you had and yearning for the things that you now knew would have been, yet you knew from him proclaiming it many times that if there was one thing Kento cherished, it was the fact that you gave him something to look forward to, a reason to truly live rather than just go through the motions. He would want you to live the rest of your life just the same, even if it was without him. You would love those you held dear, you would laugh til’ you couldn’t breathe and cry until you ran out of tears. You would eat your favorite foods, sleep in on your days off for as long as you could, and be sure your calendar was marked with little “X’s” for even the smallest of things to look forward to. You would live your life to what you felt was the fullest with him in your heart throughout all of it until maybe, someday, you could see him once more to finish your story with a long awaited “I do”.

[ladyfawkes]

TJBEA written by LadyFawkes Chapter 5: Fitzherberty Healing Secrets Current word count: 14630

Chapter 5 Summary: Rapunzel is finally introduced to the main architect of the couple's rescue -- one very persistent and elusive palace horse!! Long-repressed dark memories from her time with Gothel resurface unbidden, and Eugene must figure out how best to drag her from that abyss. He might just need to dig a little deeper for himself in the process.

CW: Childhood punishment torture/abuse CW: Childhood neglect; dehydration CW: Fear tactics using fire, deprivation of protective footwear CW: References of asphyxiation by near-drowning torture CW: Gaslighting These things are merely touched upon, neither detailed nor glorified. In this chapter, they refer to Gothel's past behavior over the years with Rapunzel.

As they continued to make their way through the manky and dusty cobwebs, Rapunzel paid no heed to their environment. Eugene, however, finally felt a distinct unease for the first time, since, well….since just before Gothel had stabbed him.

He could not bide by it...and found himself readying the cast iron fry pan in a defensive posture as they wound their way down the indoor tower spiral. The skeevy feeling caused Eugene to whirl around behind him, since he certainly felt as if they were being watched. And he hadn’t remained a successful career thief as long as he had by ignoring his instincts.

“We’ll talk more in detail once we get outta here,” Eugene ushered Rapunzel to go faster. Rather than question him, she followed his lead until they were out of the spiral staircase chamber, out of the chamber door (closing it behind them) and finally on the opposite side of the base of the tower in the bright cheerful sunlight. He had begun feeling better immediately.

Now with the couple’s clothing shown in stark relief, they could both better see the remaining evidence they carried of the aftermath concerning what had taken place within the past hour. Eugene’s clothing -- and even Rapunzel’s -- were covered in patches and smears of dried blood. It was less noticeable on Rapunzel’s pink and purple dress….but patches of her partial handprints were left behind nonetheless. And neither Eugene nor Rapunzel had realized until then that Gothel had managed to run Eugene clean through….for there was evidence of an exit wound that neither Rapunzel nor Eugene had seen. On the back of Eugene’s doublet and his trousers was another smaller dried stream and more patches of blood...leading from another separate jagged crimson tear through the back of his shirt and doublet.

Before either Rapunzel, Eugene, or Pascal could say much of anything, Maximus, who had been drinking at the spring, turned around and cantered up to them.

Rapunzel’s jaw dropped as she demanded of Eugene, “Don’t tell me Maximus is the one who helped you escape!?” And Eugene self-consciously rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and grinned in spite of himself. “He’s the main one, yeah.”

And the closer Max got to them, the more alarmed the horse became. Before long, he was snuffling around the bloodstains on Rapunzel….and at last figuring she was all right, went over to Eugene. The couple tried to explain that even Eugene was okay now too. However, the adamant horse would not stop nudging and pestering Eugene until Rapunzel was compelled to take the frying pan from Eugene’s hands before he accidentally dropped it and Maximus had effectively made the young man strip to the waist for his personal equine inspection in spite of all the vehement protesting.

“Why Max, I never knew you cared,” Eugene jabbed at him playfully, a wan smirk on his face as he folded his arms over his toned bare chest. The horse gave him a withering death-glare and continued to circle Eugene, nonetheless scrutinizing him even more closely. Rapunzel quipped, “He’s just making sure he didn’t go to all the trouble of rescuing you for nothing.”

“You’re not ‘nothing’, though,” Eugene protested. “Oh….really?" Rapunzel replied pleasantly. "So what am I, then?” Rapunzel flirted, her eyelashes batting up at him. Eugene slowly drew in lungfuls of air before rapidly exhaling, “Only…. everything,” he finished with breathless sincerity. And the princess blushed in the sunlight as Eugene stood closer to her, lacing their fingers together. She felt a heady rush as the scent of Eugene’s sun-kissed bare skin tickled her everywhere from the inside out.

You can finish the chapter on AO3!!

[huntergatherercreator]

Take Me Back

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: Smut, mention of cheating and alcohol abuse, break-up angst

Note: Have I really just written something not mob!tom related? I’m as shocked as you are. This is my first time posting something that contains sexual content on this level, it’s kinda nerve wracking so any feedback would be appreciated! Also, let me know if I’ve missed any warnings I should have added.

-------

2,032 words

The bar wasn’t your usual scene. You preferred local, intimate places not clubs like this. Despite being underground the mirrored ceiling made it feel twice as open. You looked out over the dance floor from the mezzanine at the entrance door searching for your friends. Rhythmic lighting spilled over the space. It was almost filled to capacity with bodies dancing to bass so loud it reverberated through the soles of your new shoes.

An exaggerated wave from the middle of the bar caught your attention and you smiled as your friend signalled you over. Gripping the handrail of the metal steps you took a breath before descending. You still weren’t completely comfortable with the outfit you’d been talked into wearing but judging by the looks you were getting as you cut across the floor it wasn’t as bad as you’d initially feared.

“Damn, Y/N! You look incredible!” Your friend gushed pulling you in beside her at the bar. Signalling to the bartender she had them pour out two shots. Turning to you with a devilish grin she offered you a lime wedge.

“No way. I just got here,” you refused. As much as you enjoyed drinking the past three months had been filled with nights spent at the bottom of a bottle. You were slowly getting back control. Reigning yourself in after the worst breakup you’d ever experienced but it was a slow process.

A lot of your recovery had to do with the guy you’d met a few weeks ago. Tonight was the first night he’d meet your best friend, the one whose opinion could make or break the possible relationship.

With a sulky pout she downed her own. “So, when will this mystery man of yours get here?”

“He should be here soon.” Your friend leaned her back against the bar, eyes scanning the room.

“Hmm...is it him?” she mused pointing to a guy with too much hair product. “No,” she shook her head, “it’s got to be him.” You followed her finger and snorted a laugh as you watched a guy dancing awkwardly in the corner.  

“Stop it. You’ll know him when you see him,” you promised. Turning back to the bar to order a beer you heard her gasp even over the loud music. In the mirrors lining the glass shelves you could see him approaching and couldn’t stop a smile. Your friend not so subtly nudged you.

“Is this real? Is he coming over? My god, he’s gorgeous” she babbled. You took a long sip of your beer and decided to let her work it out on her own.

“He looks like he works out so much. Those jeans, that t-shirt...” You could practically hear her drooling before she quickly spun to face you. “Shit, he’s actually coming over, what do we..”

“Hey, Y/N.” Settling your beer on a napkin you watched your friends eyes widen, mouth agape. With a laugh you finally faced him. His smile faltered as he took you in, a faint blush creeping up his face.

“You look amazing.” Leaning into you his hand rested on your hip as he kissed your cheek.

Just as your friend had said, Adam was gorgeous. Standing a good foot above you with tousled blonde hair and classic baby blues he wasn’t your normal type, which is exactly why you’d gone for him. After the last failed relationship it was clear what you were attracted to and what you needed were two different things. Adam was your clean slate. Your fresh start.

It was different with him. There hadn’t been an instant attraction but the more you got to know him the more relaxed you felt. Sure there was still no flutter when he kissed you, no spark, but given enough time you were sure that would grow.

You introduced your friend who was still having a hard time closing her mouth all the way, then using Adam’s height to your advantage you got him to find a free table at the edge of the room. Sliding into the booth between them you settled in for the interrogation. He didn’t seem phased. He linked his warm fingers with yours and answered as honestly as possible. Watching him you couldn’t help but smile as he devoutly tried to stop his gaze from wandering to the low cut of your dress and the way his cheek flushed when he failed.

Beer finished you excused yourself to grab a new round for the table. The queue at the bar was steadily getting busier as the night went on. You tried to work your way further down to a quieter spot, keeping your head down and gently elbowing your way through the groups. A gap opened up and you rushed to move into the space only to collide with someone. Your foot slipped on a spilled drink and a strong hand caught your waist to steady you. Cheeks heating from embarrassment you internally cursed your shoes. Gathering some courage you glanced up to thank your saviour and the words died in your throat.

Soft chestnut eyes stared down at you intently. You’re heart hammered under their gaze, sweat starting to make your hands clammy. You’d thought you’d never see him again. You’d hoped you wouldn’t. But here he was, looking immaculate in an all black suit and even better than you remembered. The heat of his hand against your waist seemed to sear through your dress and you tried to step back out of his reach but he only pulled you closer.

“Y/N.” The room seemed to still, the music dimming. All you could hear was his voice. The rough edge it held when he said your name had your body reacting as if the last few months hadn’t happened. You clenched your fists hating how with one word he could get under your skin again after all this time.

“Let me go.” You barely managed to whisper out the words but you knew he’d heard. He downed what was left in his glass and brushed against you as he placed it on the bar. The scent of him wrapped around you triggering memories that you’d tried to suppress.

Leaning in his lips brushed your ear as he spoke. “We need to talk.” Irritation flared. Who did he think he was? It had been months and now he wanted to talk? Steeling yourself you shoved his hand away.

“I have nothing to say to you, Tom.”

“Then listen.” You made the mistake of meeting his eyes and the intensity radiating from them dried up your protest.

“The guy you’re with is no good.” You jerked back away from him and he had the gall to look surprised.

Anger snaking through you, you felt your lip curl. “He’s none of your business. I’m none of your business.” Elbowing past him you fought the crowd blindly. You had to get away from him.

Reaching the back wall you slipped into a side hallway marked private. The music dimmed to a muted thump and you let out a ragged breath. As your adrenaline started to dip you started shaking. Wrapping your arms around yourself you tried to calm down.

“Y/N.” You cursed as you sensed him approach but refused to turn. Seeing him, seeing how little he’d changed and knowing how readily you still reacted to him was too much.

“Leave me alone.”

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be with him.” He’d stopped behind you, his breath ruffling your hair as he spoke.

You couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. “You’re just saying that because you can’t stand to see me with someone else.” The beat of silence that followed had a chill creeping over your skin. Don’t look at him, don’t do it. Your fingers tightened into fists as you fought against yourself. God you wanted to turn around. You wanted to run your fingers through his soft curls, you wanted to breathe in the indescribable scent that was Tom as he held you and...

Hands skimming over your waist he closed the gap. His chest against your back you shivered at the warmth he radiated. You held back a soft moan as his lips ghosted over your throat.

“He’s not right for you,” he breathed. Your mind conjured an image of Adam and the realisation of what you were doing doused you like ice water. You spun out of Tom’s grip, palm pressed against the wall to steady yourself.

“You walked away from me, remember?” Your voice shook with effort as you tried to fight back tears. Tom grimaced, eyes lowering. Your heart ached at his expression but anger chased it off. “You don’t get to act the martyr, Tom, and you certainly don’t get to have a say in my love life.”

Gaze flashing up to you his shoulders set, jaw working for a long second before he spoke.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” you snapped.  

“Do you love him?” Taken aback your mouth fell open. When you didn’t answer he took a step forward. He searched your face, gaze dipping to your lips hungrily. Your stomach dipped traitorously as heat pooled through you.

“Tom,” you warned, voice barely a whisper. He was too far gone to listen.

Hands cupping your face his lips brushed against yours, feather light and testing your reaction. Your body lit up at his touch. Nerve endings that had been dormant firing to life. Despite everything your body craved his touch, needed him on a deeper level than you understood.

Fingers drifting to caressed your neck, he pushed you back against the wall. You gasped at the cold, arching against Tom’s chest to escape it and he mistook your movements as encouragement. Gripping your hip to pull you even closer he deepened the kiss. You could feel his excitement as he pressed against you and it broke your last reserve of control.

Lips parting you relinquished to him. Tongue flicking out to claim your mouth the familiar taste of sweet whisky brushed over your taste buds. His fingers drifted from your neck. Following the low V of your dress he traced the channel between your breasts before slipping them under the fabric. He let out a low groan as he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. Teeth nipping at your bottom lip his fingers massaged you, thumb circling your nipple drawing out whimpers.

Your hands wound into his hair, tugging at the curls. Lifting a leg to wrap around his waist you gasped as he rutted his hips against you. The soft fabric covering his erection brushed against you teasingly. Hiking your other leg around his waist he held you firmly against the wall, fingers digging into your ass. He dipped his head to kiss your neck, biting and suckling at the sensitive spot above your collar bone until you could barely think. Your underwear was ruined.

Slipping a hand between your bodies you traced the outline of his bulge slowly, intent on dragging it out like you’d imagined on long nights without him. When he bucked against your hand with a needy moan you knew you’d never be able to keep it up.

“Y/N?” The distant voice broke you from your trance. You tried to break away from Tom but he held you tight.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll let you go back to him.” The ragged edge to his voice had you shivering.

“Tom,” you pleaded, heart breaking all over again as he watched you with tormented eyes.

“I made a mistake. I should never have let you go.” His lips ghosted over yours. “Tell me you’ll take me back,” he begged.

The sound of Adam calling for you started to grow louder but here in Tom’s arms the guilt and regret you should be feeling was kept at bay. All you wanted was him. Even if it was only temporary, even if it was only for tonight.

“I want you, Tom.” He relaxed, relief flooding his expression before he caught you in another heady kiss.

“Let’s get out of here.” The grin you’d missed so much lit his face as he gently put you down and guided you towards the emergency exit.

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, SE03, Ep3

This ep is exactly like se02, ep 24, meaning it was divided clearly into two parts. While the graduation theme unties the two parts, you can point things out exactly like ep,24:

1st part : Machi’s story= the important part.

2nd part: scattered parts here & there that concern yuki, ep, 24 his interactions with akito, here his interactions with Motoko).

plus, an ep cliff hanger: (e, 24 the dvd given to kureno, here, Isuzu’s mysterious fate).

it is exactly the same even a small kyo/tohru moment!. School graduation instead of the zodiac’s new year gathering. 

Really awkward pacing, but that’s furuba, we celebrate when they DO connect dots for once! lets talk abt the REAL ep: MACHI.

-Machi’s awkward presence:  

Although I love Machi, I’ve voiced my concerns abt her character in Furuba:

It seemed that Machi was solely created to be a step in yuki’s success journey more than a character on her own right. After getting motherly love (tohru) leaving the nest, Yuki needed friendship (kakeru), then as an independent man, he needs romantic love: (Machi). This is all fine initially but I was yearning for more individuality for Machi as a character. All furuba characters were given space to be unique including minor characters like Motoko who narrated her own story each time she’s on screen & we lived it with her within two seasons & a number of eps.

 However, Machi’s background was introduced thro her brother’s exposition in se02 & that moment was a yuki/ kakeru bonding moment.

Thro kakeru’s exposition  we learned how similar yuki & machi are (the parental neglect, high expectations, cold sibling relationship, Big brother saves himself by himself, big brother pushing for redemption & the younger sibling’s still trapped silently ). While that makes for romantic appeal between the two which makes the writer’s job easier, it steals from Machi individuality.

Then her part in ep, 24 was shown & I was given hope for Machi’s individuality as her own inner voice spoke volumes abt her as a person away from yuki (romantic interest) or Kakeru (big brother). Having a lot of screen time, while can make a character more believable to the audience, is never a factor in character’s depth nor individual worth. Heck! kyo (part of the main trio & the main character’s love interest) has only ONE ep in se02 to explore his issues & by far it is my fave ep in se02 as it established kyo’s trauma, psyche, mental issues & emotional baggage better than I could ever imagine! You can DO WONDERS with little time if you knew what to do. That’s what happened with Machi this ep (half ep).

-Machi’s shines! (trauma & romance):

I was so relieved to learn that altho both Machi & yuki despised perfection as it suffocated them, the writer (thankfully) went abt a different approach with Machi. Unlike Yuki who went silent cuz he felt his voice didn’t matter as he was used as a tool, Machi went silent cuz she was was NOT needed, & not only discarded but painted as WRONG. If you admit that raising me this way is wrong, then what does this make me? What should I do with myself? I’m wrong! boring, a failure, & a presumed killer!! all while I was absolutely doing my best! all while I was having good intentions! It is devastating but It makes Machi real. A character on her own right with her own trauma, struggle, pain & outlook on life. Although, the writer made the whole yuki/Machi meeting orchestrated by Kakeru to quickly make the two siblings one step closer, it worked cuz kakeru chose to not interfere after setting the scene. He played a subtle mach maker & tried to find happiness for his sister silently. Kakeruy is yuki’s best buddy & Machi becoming the girlfriend, the trio will have to hang out more which will slowly but surely warm Machi towards Kakeru. While the flat visit is the part where Machi open the lid to Yuki with a spark of romance at the end, the chalk scene is the romantic part! Not only did Yuki noticed her panic & saved her by breaking a piece of chalk, she secretly remembered his promise! “ lets make footprints on the snow”. The snow that was another source of anxiety attack, is now sth she looks forward to & prays for! Truly romantic!!! Well-done writer.

Side Notes:

I know furuba is shoujo & it’s abt love, but C’mon! where did Nao/ Motoko come from??!! XDD Who is left without love interest? Kyo’s rejected fangirl loved by one of kyo’s buddies? The maids in love with Akito? Momiji? Who does Kimi love besides money? XD

Yuki once observed that kyo makes tohru happy with small things, Today he did the same! A broken piece of chalk.

Yuki/ Machi romantic scenes contrast Yuki/ tohru forced romantic scene at the earlier seasons. There is no lame cringy lines like “ I’ll kidnap you & go to a vacation” or kissing a ribbon. There is NO acting or pretentious lines. Here a piece of chalk did the trick, an understanding of her tears & a head pat, a promise to walk on snow together! Congratulations Yuki, You made it into romantic boyfriends category! XD. also, good writing!

The Bra scene is the real comedy in the ep.

Arisa’s “ kyon, we won’t forgive you if you hurt tohru” is gold cuz kyo WILL. When it’s time to confess he knew kyoko & she HATES him & doesn’t forgive him, tohru would be hurt! Even if she wasn’t in love with kyo!!! Knowing your beloved’s last words were hateful is painful!! Add to this that tohru loves kyo & would be struggling between forgiving him or not!! Add to this that kyo might NOT want to be forgiven!!

“ I won’t forgive you”. kyo’s haunting reminder that he’s unforgivable is now shared by kyoko, yuki, Hana & Arisa!! 

look, you might argue that furuba’s romantic writing might be a bit awkward with all sorts of romantic couples, age gaps, the need for everybody to be in love one way or the other & so on, but the traumatic behavioral writing is the best!!!!! I was never disappointed with how Takaya write abused traumatized children’s behavior. One of my fave scenes is yuki/ kyo in the stairs in se02 where kyo lashed out on yuki & yuki was over it. While that scene was rightfully celebrated for yuki’s triumphant attitude as he got over his trauma, I love it for the realistic trauma filled attitude of kyo, all charged with kyoko’s flashback! He’s in deep & he’s all by himself! Kyo will hurt tohru cuz he loves her just like how kazuma hurt him by forcefully taking his bracelet cuz he loves him. Kyo will be thinking it is for the best, who would want to be with someone that kyoko of all ppl hates!

 I’ll tolerate all the weird love couples in furuba, but the moment trauma is written weakly I’ll drop the show. There is NO way, kyo will confess kyoko’s lines then go “sorry abt that tohru, we’re good?” 

Back to Machi, I really hope that her trauma isn’t merely wrapped up cuz yuki loved her. Furuba was never abt love heals, it is abt love helps. We might not see more of her trauma for reasons of space, or not related to the current plot lines, but I really hope we hear her talk abt herself with yuki even few lines. Although, I feel that the focus now will be on setting her for yuki’s next stage in character development: honesty in the love confession. He’ll tell her abt the curse as the trailer hinted at. That’s their first love life struggle. But if I were to take a guess, it will be dealt with quickly like her trauma. She loves yuki dearly & as long as he walks with her in snow (human or rat, lol), it’s all good. <3

Hior’s mom is love.

Kagura’s new style is love! she isn’t dressed overly cutely anymore, but had a more comfortably style & I love her hair! also her friendship with Isuzu! <3. I wish Isuzu would really know there are ppl worried abt her in her life. Haru isn’t the only one.

Akito put Isuzu in the cat room, didn’t she? The place she left is similar to the place young Kazum wandered to in se01, ep25. & those scissors....

I never thought that the mere sight of shigure’s face will disgust me. XD. I still find him so intriguing, but yeah need time to get over the fact that he slept with Ren & counted it even with Akito, then slept with Akito afterwards! EWWW! so disgusting & I’m here to see this drama escalate!

Yuki / Machi moment was interrupted! XD It’s not fun when it happened to you, yuki? XD.

[sunflowersteves]

i don’t hate you || b.b.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 || Bucky has always hated you, since the day you met but you’ve never been able to hate him back.

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕 || “From the bottom of my heart… what the fuck?”

author’s note || I was supposed to finish this WAY sooner so I could start writing on series/requests but then 5 minutes of tik tok turned into 3 hours… so yeah.. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this angst! Written for @kitkatd7​’s 250 Writing Challenge! Congrats on 250, love!!

warnings || angst, fluff, swearing, smut [18+], minors do not interact, asshole!bucky, physical abuse is mentioned (it’s not explicit but please read with caution)

James Buchanan Barnes hates you. Absolutely loathes you. But you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. But you should. You should hate the ground he walks on from the number of times he’s treated you like utter shit. You should throw him out of the tower for the number of names he’s called you.

But for some reason, you don’t hate the son of the bitch. You don’t hate how he tells everyone he’s ‘going to the gym’ when in fact he goes to a field to pick flowers. You don’t hate how he’ll protect the people he loves even if it gets him captured, tortured, or even killed. You don’t hate how in the morning he makes the whole team a batch of coffee without saying anything. You don’t hate how despite the pure hatred he has towards you, he still calms you down during your nightmares.

As a matter of fact, the only feeling that seems to flutter out of you when he’s around is fervor, warmth, and giddiness. And that drives you fucking insane. How can a man that has only brought you disgusted looks, snappy remarks, and exasperated arguments make you adore him?

And you don’t think you’ll ever be able to answer that question. You have absolutely zero clue why you love somebody who hates you. 

However, the one thing you hate, the one thing that makes your heart fill with animosity and malice are his actions towards you. And you have no idea why! The first day that Fury introduced you to the team, everyone had been the utmost kindest towards you. They had greeted you with beaming smiles and laughter except for him. He looked at you with narrowed eyes and a flattened smile but you never chose to be mean back. Well, unless he made snappy comments or argued with you. Then you gave him hell, which only led more fuel into his weird hatred towards you.

And today was no different, the whole team was eating breakfast and you all had been just talking pleasantly until Bucky came in with a grunt and made a sly comment as the only seat left empty was next to yours. 

Tony rolled his eyes and picked up his orange juice to take a sip. “So what are you gonna do today, kid?” You set your fork down, moving your attention solely onto him.

“I think I’m going to make her a bouquet of her favorite flowers.” The team all smiled and some gave you sympathetic looks. Tony offered to help, knowing much about how you’re feeling on days like these.

Bucky snarked, “For who?” You blinked, shoving around some of the scrambled eggs on your plate with a fork. “My mom.” Bucky laughed while the whole team just fell silent, shocked at Bucky’s belligerent actions. You looked at him with small tears in your eyes. 

“Oh, don’t get teary-eyed on me. That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard. A homemade flower bouquet?” You quickly got out of your seat and ran to your room, slamming the door behind you. Bucky was still snickering, not grasping the light of the room until the whole team started to yell at him.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” Nat screamed at him. He looked at everyone confused by their disappointment. “What? It’s lame to-” This time Steve snapped. Normally, Steve would just sling his head down in disappointment at his best friend’s assery but today was different. Today was the one day that you didn’t deserve any shit thrown at you.

“It’s the anniversary of her mom’s death! It was real mature of you to just shove it into her face that making a bouquet for her mom’s tombstone is ‘lame’ and what did you say? Oh yeah. ‘The stupidest shit I’ve heard.’” A fuming Steve shoved his chair back and aggressively stomped out of the room, mumbling curse words at his best friend.

Bucky just cringed the whole time. He did not know it your mom’s anniversary of her death. Hell, he didn’t even know your mom was dead but he never paid any attention. God, he was so selfish. Bucky’s stomach dropped as he watched Steve softly knock on your door for comfort. He knows that should be him instead. He wants that to be him instead. But Bucky’s an asshole. He shoves away the people he loves. He convinces himself that it’s better that way but now, he’s hurt someone he loves by driving them away.

Bucky apologizes to the team and rushes towards your bedroom. Steve had clearly already left by the silence that suffocated the air. He softly knocks on your door. “Who is it?” “It’s me.” You don’t answer nor do you move. Bucky sighs. He doesn’t blame you. He’s an ass. “I’m not here to yell I just… I want to apologize.”

You slowly crack open the door, letting him in. You were sitting down on the ground, tears staining your cheeks. His gut twisted with guilt and sadness. He sat down on the ground next to you, watching your every move. “I just.. I want to say I’m sorry. I had no idea it was the anniversary of your mom’s death.” You nodded and sighed. “I know I can’t say sorry to make anything better but… what if I help you with the arrangement?” Your eyes lit up and Bucky smiled. You blinked, never seeing this side of him. Maybe you should have death anniversaries more often.

Bucky took you out of the tower to as many floral shops as you wanted to go to, picking out her favorites like calla lilies, alstroemerias, begonias, dahlias, and morning glories. You then both went to her grave and sat there while reminiscing of the good stories with your mom. You laughed and cried and Bucky did as well. You talking about your mom made him miss his.

Honestly, you could get used to this. Bucky had been the kindest you had ever seen. His eyes lit up at your laughter and his cheeks blushed as you held his hand and squeezed it. 

After getting back to the tower, the two of you went ahead and relaxed for the evening. Sitting on the couch in your room, Bucky turned the TV on and you two started to watch a movie. “Hey, Buck?” He hummed, waiting a moment for his eyes flicked towards you. “Why do you hate me?” He rapidly shook his head. “I-I… I don’t hate you, y/n. I never have.” You blinked at his words. Never?

“Then why have you been acting that way?” He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. Even though the day had ended up being one of his favorites, he was starting to not like where this conversation was going. “With all of the things that I’ve done with Hydra and being the Winter Soldier, I thought that pushing you away was the best option.”

“What? How the fuck is that pushing me away? Not talking to me is pushing away. Insulting me and arguing with me at every chance is just hatred.” Bucky’s eyes snapped towards yours, his nostrils flared 

“You know what? This is why I acted that way.” You looked at him with fire in your eyes, igniting that well-known feeling you get with Bucky. “Acted what way?”

Bucky gritted his teeth. “You have everything just handed to you. You have no idea what it’s like to suffer!” Your head snaps up and you look at Bucky like he’s got three heads. “From the bottom of my heart… what the fuck?” You put your head in your hands. How the fuck can this prick say that to you? Sure, you haven’t been through anything that he has with Hydra but he hasn’t been in your shoes either. 

“You think I haven’t dealt with pain? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Bucky. Just because you have suffered from something greater doesn’t mean I haven’t suffered at all.” Bucky grossed his arms and huffed, knowing you were right. “My mom couldn’t do anything about my dad beating me because her kidneys were failing. After having type one diabetes for 45 years and having a kid, her organs started to fail.” Bucky’s facade faltered as you continued. He had no idea you went through that. His fiery eyes died down to sullen ones as he listened. “I would visit her when she’d go through hours worth of dialysis and the doctors would ask if I was okay from the bruises.” 

Tears started to fall freely from your eyes. “When her kidneys started to fail again during dialysis they knew this was her last run and she couldn’t qualify for a kidney transplant. Her last vision of her six-year-old daughter was me sobbing as I had a huge black eye covering my face.” You suddenly got furious, an accusing finger pointed straight at Bucky. “My so-called dad then sold me to a crime boss at the city of K’un-L’un. Even though the crime boss treated me as his own and was quite gentle, don’t tell me that I don’t feel any pain. I mean shit Bucky, did you just think I had nightmares, just ‘cause?”

Bucky sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I’m such an ass. I..I- As I said, I kept telling myself this was the right way so I could push you away. I will never be able to truly show you just how sorry I am. I think that I’m so fucking sick of myself that I take all of that anger and put it on you. I’m so sorry.” He paused, watching your anger die down a little. “the truth is… I’m unbelievably in love with you.” Your head snapped up and your eyes darted around to find a single lie forming on his face or to tell you that this is a joke. “Ever since I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. You’re funny, you’re kind, you protect those you love. How could I not fall in love with you?” Wait, he didn’t hate you?

Your heart was beating a thousand miles and he nervously continued. “I thought that by pushing you away that I could save you. I know it sounds stupid but I didn’t want my past life of the winter soldier to ever affect you. I could have hurt you but I can see now that I’ve already done that.” He looks at you with a saddened expression, regret filled his stomach. He should’ve just talked to you. But he didn’t. He just wished things were different. 

What he didn’t expect though was to have your lips on his, nipping and moving against one another. Bucky was too shocked at first, appreciating that feeling of your lips on his. Once he regained his thoughts, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, bodies pressed against one another. The room felt hotter each second as you gripped his head firmly, pulling at his hair as Bucky just moaned. His tongue touched yours, swift and electric, then harder and more determined, more passioned as your lips savored each other. 

Bucky quickly took off your shirt, leaving peppered kisses all over your neck and messaging your breasts. He then took off his shirt as you pulled down your pants, reconnecting in the middle. His lips caressed your neck and hissed as he bit down on your sensitive skin. “Fuck.” He whispers, reaching his hand up to pinch one of your nipples between his fingers making your already sensitive skin, ache and cry. You moan his sweet name, wanting more and more from this man.

“Bucky, please.” He chuckles at your eagerness and he quickly takes off your panties. “Shit, doll, you’re already that wet for me?” You nod, biting your lip He instantly takes off his pants and boxers and wastes no time in lining himself up and pushing into you until his hips are flushed into yours. He rocked back and forth savoring the rich pleasures of your voice, whining and gasping from your bodies colliding to one. 

“Fuck, you’re so good. So good to me, doll.” All you could do was moan back, too enchanted to talk. You start to buck your hips as he pushes into you faster and faster. “Fuck, y/n. I love you. Shit.” Bucky gets sloppier and sloppier as your gasps and moans turn louder and harder. You yell his name, screaming into the air as he rides you out, pushing in and out until he soon receives his own high. You both take a minute to breathe and calm down from the best possible sex you’ve ever had.

After the two of you clean yourselves up, Bucky lays in bed with you—snuggled up against your side and wrapping an arm around you. You look at him with glistening eyes and start tracing down his jaw. “I don’t want this night to end.” He looks at you, sorrow filling those blue eyes. “I don’t either. How about we just think about reality tomorrow, okay? Enjoy our moment now.” You nod and rest your head on his chest, listening to his slowed heartbeat. 

You close your eyes and intertwine your hand with his on his torso, letting sleep take you over.

--

Your eyes started to flutter open at the sensation of Bucky’s fingers tracing the outlines of your body. You both stare at each other for a little while, savoring the moment you two had. However, you knew that it would soon be broken. Life and reality aren’t that easy.

You sit up, covered draped around your naked body. Bucky looks at you like he knows what’s coming. Which, by the way he’s treated you, should’ve guessed by the start.

“Look, I don’t regret what we did last night and we both know it was a huge spur of the moment.” You paused, watching as Bucky’s stature fell a little. “I know now that you have feelings for me as I do for you but Bucky you’ve treated me like shit since I got here. I thought you spat the ground I walked on, despised my whole entire existence.” Bucky cringed at your words but he knew you were right. The two of you can’t jump headfirst into a relationship after the shit he’s pulled. 

“I thought that maybe we could, you know be in a relationship, but right now, that pain is stronger than my love for you.” Bucky’s heart broke in two at your words. Of course you would be affected by him pushing you away and making him think you hate him with nasty comments and looks. But he knows that there’s still a tiny sliver of hope.

Bucky nods in agreement and smiles lightly. “I’ll wait for you. However long it takes, however long you need to heal from the damage I have caused, I will wait.” He looks over at you and grasps one of your hands. “Do not rush thinking that I will be long gone by the time you’re healed. I’m not going anywhere. And even if you choose not to be with me, don’t think for a second I won’t respect your decision.” You smiled and squeezed his fingers.

This was good. Not a fresh start but the possibility of a second chance. And if Bucky was given that opportunity when you healed, he wasn’t going to fuck this one up. Not anymore. 

[mariamermaid]

The Heir of Silberstein; königliche Erben (ch.1)

“The royal heirs”

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: As a new school year approaches in Hogwarts, the students are surprised when Dumbledore introduces a group of German siblings joining the school. The royal family of fortress Silberstein is now sent to Hogwarts to learn the matters of a normal teenager life. …

Warnings: mentions of abuse and murder

Words: 3.2k

A/N: I took a lot of liberty within explaining the reasoning of the royal family, the second world war and the German wizarding world. Please keep in mind that many people did die in the war and while this is obviously just a little story, it´s important to treat the past with the right respect.

This will be a short story, updating every Sunday in December.

 Masterlist

 The students of Hogwarts gathered in the Great Hall like every year. Especially for the Weasley Family and their friends, the procedure felt so natural, they barely acknowledged it. The group of first years was brought in by Professor McGonagall and then each of time, took their seat beneath the sorting hat. Harry barely listened, something felt off to him today. The Weasley twins, who sat across from him, Ron and Hermione, gave him a nudge.

“What´s wrong, Harry? Usually you can´t wait to get back to this school?”

Harrys friends nodded agreeing, but all he could do was shrug. Maybe he just sensed that something else was about to come. But for now he pushed that feeling away.

The last new student, a Ravenclaw, took his seat at the tables and the applause slowly calmed down. Dumbledore took now his stand behind the podium, the older students expected the usual warnings; don´t go into the forest, some section of castle being suddenly forbidden to go, any ginormous beasts in the basements… Nothing special really.

“Students, it´s an honor for me to announce that the enrollment is not yet finished!”

Confused faces and a few whispers spread across the crowd and even the teachers seemed awfully interested about what was about to come.

“What does he mean?” Hermione asked whispering, but her friends could only shake their heads.

“As you know, we wizards keep out of the muggle business for most parts. But what our ministry decided many, many years ago, was a privilege some others couldn´t afford.”

The students listened tensed, there was barely a whisper left.

“The second world war took many victims, among them mostly muggles, but for the German wizards the war almost meant an obliteration. A special unit of Nazi soldiers and researcher weren´t fond of the wizards that lived within the population and they made it their mission, to erase them. The strategic way they followed to fight against wizards is hard to explain and very brutal. I don´t feel entitled enough, but the fact that 90 percent of wizards died through their hands, is enough for me to say.”

The hall was silence. None of the students were confronted by the numbers of victims, especially the pure-blooded ones. Most of them were clueless.

“The national socialist holocaust costed more than six million lives.”

Glumly the students looked at their principal, Dumbledore, a man of many wise words, had a hard time finding the right words. The situation felt unfamiliar and discomfort spread. Hermione, who had read a lot about the muggle wars, felt tears coming up. None of them expected the celebrational day to take such a dark turn. Dumbledore cleared his throat, trying to catch back his composure.

“The reason why I´m telling you this, is much more cheerful. Today, four siblings will join our school! The royal family of Silberstein reached out to Hogwarts and asked for the princes and princesses to come to our school!”

 In the mean-time…

“Ich kann es einfach nicht fassen!“

„Shut it now, August.” Hendrik was annoyed, but you weren´t sure yet if it was August or the regime that pushed him over the edge. Ruth looked back and forth between Hendrik and you. She was the youngest out of the four of you, going to the first grade. Hendrik was the oldest, the calmest and the wisest. Most of the traits he basically adapted, due to his first born right to the throne. August and you formed the middle. With his rather impulsive nature and the fact that he had just hit the peak of puberty, he was by far the hardest to handle right now. The four of you faced a new and foreign obstacle and you weren´t sure yet, how to master it.

“Y/n?” You looked down to Ruth, worries in her big eyes.

“Do we have to talk English all the time now?” You let out a sigh and shrugged.

“They can´t speak German as far as I´m concerned.”

“Maybe I´ll speak only German then! They won´t understand me”, August muttered, his eyes facing the window. Hendrik, who sat to his right, kicked him with his elbow.

“No, you won´t! You, as well as the rest of us is representing the royal family and working to re-open a school for German wizards.!”

Hendrik was right. You weren´t normal students, you´d never be.

Instead to deepen the conversation, you starred out the window of the carriage. Your home, the fortress Silberstein was long gone and after the thick woods quickly followed the ocean until England was in sight. While Ruth fell asleep and your two brothers were all too focused on reading, you wondered how the school would be. Of course, you had been educated about Hogwarts, the history and their traditions. But the reality was not written down.

A servant came knocking to your apartment of the carriage.

“We´ll be reaching the school soon, please get ready.”

Ruth, who was awakened by the knock, jumped off her seat. “I need to pee again!”

She announced nervously. “You´re allowed to use the bathroom, Ruth.” Hendrik exclaimed while emphasizing the enunciation. She didn´t listen, her short legs already carried her off to the back section of the carriage where the bathrooms were. August left as well, not announcing where he was going and your eyes wandered back to Hendrik. For a few more seconds, you waited to see if he would speak up on his own, but he didn´t. Instead, you begun to speak.

“Do you think it´s going to work?”

Hendrik sighed and put his book to the side, his beloved silence was gone anyway. “What?”

You leaned closer to him, hair falling over your face. The door to your apartment was slightly opened, you had to be quiet. Secrecy was a trait you felt very obligated to, at least in times like this.

“You know what I mean, they try to turn the castle into a duplicate of Hogwarts.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, avoiding your glance.

In the past couple months, the two of you had discussed the topic frequently. It had never been easy.

“There are more wizards and witches with each day in Germany, we need our own school. They can´t send them off to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons every single year. Hogwarts is a famous, much heralded and highly renown school.”

You leaned back again, knowing he was right as always. But his answer didn´t quiet satisfy you, but Hendrik knew that. He choose to stay silent instead.

“Well, then it seems like you´re not going for the throne, instead you´ll be the new principal.”

 Two men welcomed you at the gates of Hogwarts, a rather unusual pick as you found out later.

Professor Snape, with his dark garments and his black hair, and the half giant Rubeus Hagrid, who worked at the school as a gamekeeper. The carriage showed the emblem of Silberstein, a white horse with wings with golden details. The Pegasus was not only the symbol, but also the royal family pet. The territory around the fortress Silberstein was designed to a farm for them and it was your absolute favorite place to be.

The two men both bowed when the four of you approached, while two servants and four guards waited behind at the carriage.

“It´s an honor to welcome at our school”, Snape explained, his voice low and calm.

“The honor is all ours, we´re excited to be here.” Hendrik´s words were smooth and elegant as always. “I´m Professor Severus Snape, I teach potions and this”, he pointed to the half giant.

“Is Rubeus Hagrid, our gamekeeper.” Snape had a cold charisma, however, Hagrid smiled rather awkwardly, but genuinely. “We´ll be guiding you to the Great Hall, where the sorting hat will take the task to put you in your houses.”

You followed them through the front yard into the castle. Hogwarts was a lot bigger than Silberstein, which was to be exact a fortress and not a castle. You´ve read about the warm stone walls and the moving stairwells, but seeing them in person, took away your breath for a second. “There are four houses-“

“We know about the houses and their traits”, August interrupted Snape. August sounded distrustful, but Snape ignored it. Hagrid was the last in the group to follow, right in front of him walked Ruth. She looked even smaller next to him. Carefully, she glanced up to him and smiled as he started blushing.

“Is it true? That you kept a three-headed dog here?” She asked curiously. Hagrid chuckled and nodded. “Yes, but Fluffy had to be transported to a bigger place.”

“The castle clearly wasn´t the right place to keep a dog of this size”, Snape added with a harsh tone, which caused the conversation to die.

You stopped in front of the big doors, behind them waited the Great Hall with hundredths of students. “You´ll be now introduced to the school by the principal Dumbledore.”

You glanced between your siblings, giving each of them a small nod before the doors opened.

All eyes were on the four of you, which wasn´t surprising. The middle floor between the tables was broad enough for you to walk in a line.

“Students, let´s welcome the four siblings of Silberstein! Hendrik, Y/N, August and Ruth!”

In the back of the hall, a few steps higher, was the table for the teachers and in front of them waited Dumbledore and McGonagall with the sorting hat.

They literally gawked at you. You didn´t wear the uniforms yet, you obviously wore your royal attire as well as the crowns. Hendrik, dressed in a modern black suit with golden embroidery and even darker embellishments on the jacket. A white satin shirt with a golden crown. August fairly similar, he chose a navy-blue shirt instead. The crowns of the princes were golden, yours and Ruth´s was silver. They weren´t as palatial as the king’s crown, but they not only completed the outfits, they made an impression. They marked your blood as royal and as the heir of a long dynasty. Ruth wore a flowy white dress, down to the floor, the train on yours was longer. You had a beige, off-white dress with silver and golden sparkles. The neckline dropped off-shoulder and the neatly chosen jewelry and hairdo matched the royal aesthetic. You quickly scanned the room, the emblems hanging from the magical ceiling. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

You found the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff table to your right, Ravenclaw and Slytherin to your left. A family of redheads at the Gryffindor table caught your attention, especially when one of the twins whispered something to his brother. When they realized your eyes on them, they started blushing. Next to them you recognized the one and only Harry Potter, who starred at you with his mouth slightly opened.

You found yourself back in a line at the back, next to Dumbledore.

“I think it´s best for them to introduce themselves.”

Hendrik nodded and took a little step forward.

“We know, for the most of you our arrival is a surprise. But we´re here as students, not as royalty. None of us wish to be treated differently or have an advantage in any way. We´ll be graduating with you, like any other classmate.”

Dumbledore nodded approving and Professor McGonagall pointed towards the sorting hat. Hendrik was first. The chair looked small beneath him, his broad shoulders and his athletic figure. The hat found it´s spot on his dark locks. Ruth had light strawberry locks as well, but August hair was dark and straight. Each of you looked a little different.

“Hm… I see, the oldest. Protective and smart. A real strategist.” The hat paused for a second before continuing. “Ravenclaw!”

The blue table fell in applause, but Hendrik did not immediately step to his new house, it was agreed that you would wait for each other. It was your turn now.

“Oh, daring and brave the princess is! She´s a Gryffindor!”

More applause echoed through the hall; you saw how the red-haired twins let out howlers with huge grins on their lips. You understood the house division and why it brought pride and cohesion. It even pushed the students to be better and surpass other houses.

“Ambitious, perfectionist and little bold, if I may add? Slytherin!” August. His facial expression barely changed, but you noticed the smallest hint of a grin.

“Ah, I see the youngest of the four. Fair and genuine, loyal and probably the most patient from the you all. Hufflepuff!”

Ruth stepped back next to you, giving you a nod. A silver burst of magic transformed your garments into the uniforms of the houses. A neat little side effect that always brought recognition, well at least it brought a huge wave of applause from the students. Each of you found a new seat at the tables.

“As you can see, the four of them are not only here to study, I´m sure they can teach us a thing or two as well! Hopefully, we can make them feel welcomed here in our school! But let´s feast now!”

Each of you took your seats at the table, right between the first years and the older students. The students to your right, who enjoyed their first stay at Hogwarts as well, smiled at you nervously. They seemed intimated, not brave enough yet to just talk to you.

“Oi, should we call you princess or just your majesty?”

You looked from your plate to find the red-haired twins to your opposite, both grinning. You offered them a polite smile. “Seriously, Y/n is just fine.”

They nodded, clearly interested. “I´m George”, he then pointed to his brother.

“This is Fred.” Fred blushed when you then looked directly at him, but that faded quickly again.

“You´re twins, the boy next to Harry Potter is also a brother I imagine?”

“Oi, Fred, she´s a smart one!”

“Yes, that´s Ronald, a few seats behind him our youngest; Ginny.” You followed Fred´s glance down the long table, finding both Ginny and Ron peering back at you.

“How many siblings do you have?” You then asked and the interrupted in laughter.

“Well, Bill and Charlie aren´t going to school anymore”, George started. “Then Percy, who will probably give you a house tour later, at least he seems like already preparing for it,”

“He´s prefect, you know?” Fred added. Percy, who´s locks weren´t as bright orange, was barely touching his food and scribbled down words on his napkin.

“Then us, Ron and Ginny.” “So, seven huh?” They nodded proudly. You took a bite of food, before looking up to them again. You already liked them, they were easy going and they didn´t seem intimated by your title.

“Tell me, how´s Hogwarts? I mean as a school?”

They exchanged looks, brows a little furrowed. “What do you mean?”, Fred asked slowly.

“You´ve never been to a school?” George further questioned.

You shook your head, swallowed your food and continued speaking.

“Like Dumbledore said, we don´t have schools for wizards in Germany. Most of the wizards or witches that were born in the past years were sent off to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, but we were private schooled.” Their green-brown eyes grew big as you spoke.

“Why did they suddenly send you here then?” George asked you, but you looked down on your plate. However, it did not go unnoticed for you how Fred stepped against his brother´s food beneath the table. The topic wasn´t surprising, but very fragile to handle. “It´s complicated…”

“God, can´t you let the poor girl eat for a second?” It was Ginny, Harry, Ron and a brown locked girl who joined the three of you. They sat down next to you.

“Hi, you´re Y/n, right?” Harry greeted you. “Yeah, nice to meet you, Harry.” Harry´s mouth opened surprised, even the German princess knew his name. Ron, a little jealous of his best friend and his older brothers, reached out with his hand. “I´m-“

“Ron, I know.”

You let out a small laugh but shook his hand nevertheless. Ron blushed and let out a stammer that sounded something like she knows my name.

“Ron, she´s a princess you don´t just go and shake hands”, the girl with the voluminous brown locks hushed him. “How else am I supposed to greet her?” Ron asked back, angrily whispering.

“Technically, the formal etiquette suggests that we all bow.”

“Please don’t. It was awkward enough to watch Professor Snape bow!” You laughed and the table starred at you in shock. “Snape bowed to you?” George asked. Then he and Fred started uncontrolled laughing as well, the others quickly joined in. “I just can´t imagine how Snape must´ve looked!” “It wasn´t a pleasant sight!”

“I didn´t catch your name?” You then wondered, when the group had calmed down a little.

“Hermione, Granger. It´s an honor meeting you.”

You made a throwing hand gesture. “Oh, honor´s all mine. Home schooling can get so boring!”

“The castle Silberstein, I´ve seen pictures of it, it looks stunning!” Hermione exclaimed excited. You immediately guessed that she read a lot. Silberstein wasn´t commonly named and barely any pictures existed. Most of them were old and not up to date.

“Don´t mind the walking encyclopedia here”, Ron added eyes rolling, which caused Hermione to glare back at him.

“It´s fine. Silberstein is actually a fortress, not a castle. In the dark age it was used as a protection from our enemies. It´s very deep within the black forest, hard to find on its own. Like Hogwarts, it has many old protection spells, but it´s not as big.”

“But you live there?” Hermione questioned, you nodded agreeing. They all listened interestedly, eyes growing when they heard that you lived in an actual castle. You seemed so normal to them.

“Yeah, the four of us, our father the king, four teachers and probably around hundred servants and employees.”

Just when they opened their mouth to continue asking, Percy cleared his throat. He had appeared behind you, his napkin with notes hidden in his uniform. “I´ll be giving the students that arrived, a tour of Hogwarts now”, he paused at the end, unsure how to explain, but you nodded understanding what he was implying. You took a napkin, padded your lips and mouth how you were taught, and rose from the table. “I see you guys around.”

Was it fitting that you had to leave right when your family was coming up? Maybe.

But the case wasn´t as simple as it seemed.

You glanced around the hall, finding Hendrik´s eyes first. He was also leaving for the tour for the Ravenclaws. Is everything okay? His eyes asked, you nodded barely noticeable. He nodded as well. Hendrik knew you the best, he knew what you thought and he knew how you behaved. He himself wasn´t as predictable to you, at least not always. His overall managing skills in particularly situations was always the best trait he had. You knew it was a reason, why he´d be a good leader and king.

Your worries didn´t regard him. You had to be careful, what you said about Silberstein, there were topics that truly shouldn´t come to the public attention. August knew it, he never discussed with either of you, but he knew when to shut up. Ruth was different and usually it was a good different.

But if she would blurt out that the king was sick to the bone, things would shift…

tags: @ perfectlysane24

[omgkalyppso]

Coffee Shop AU writing prompt for your FE OT4: :"There is a big storm outside and yes, we were all warned, but some people have to work and now there is this group of people starting to make this small café their own for the next couple of hours till the storm eases up or we get rescued"

Hi. Thank you for this ancient ask. I struggled with this. Although I love reading coffee shop AUs, I've never written one. Why would you hit on a cashier? So. This is Something. 2,454 words below the cut; 2,600 words total.

.

"This puddle is disgusting," Fae said, in dark water past their ankles. A chill ran up their spine as they tried not to think of why it might be slushy.

"This is awfullll-ugh!" Hilda groaned from her place on Fae's back, tilting her toes to purposefully avoid it.

"We just need to go into the next open business," Lorenz repeated with a frown.

A wall of sandbags protected them from the veritable river flowing down the main road, where blocked and overworked catchbasins failed. The depth of the water had rendered it unsafe to use the rental vehicle, some distance away, and Lorenz wondered whether it would ever start again, when the storm had passed.

"But what if—" Fae started to object.

"There!" Hilda interrupted, pointing to where a bar, a pizza place and a coffee shop stood in a line across the next side street.

.

They were only out here because of a job interview that she should have refused, and Hilda was eager to get her friends out of the storm. Even if she got the position, if they were unwilling to reschedule in these circumstances, they seemed like they would be a nightmare to work for.

They waited as the wind scattered a few more sheets of rain between them and their destination, and ran in an arc uphill to avoid the depth of the water on the main road when they made their was across the side street. Still Lorenz leaned out as far as he could, to marvel over where the sea threatened to spill up into the city of Derdriu, a dozen blocks away.

The bar was actually full, extra sandbags by their patio ensuring the safety of a crowd who looked out at the trio in the storm with judgment and incredulity. Lorenz exchanged a glance with the others, and then they continued past. The pizza place was empty save the staff, and they likely wouldn't want to face three relative tourists.

This meant that they ducked inside Tall, Dark and Delectable: a three story cafe that boasted of comfort and meeting spaces.

Though they couldn't see it, the uppermost floor had signage requesting quiet, intended for library-like study, and though they didn't know it, the second floor was tragically treated like a high school cafeteria by their usual clientele, messy and loud. The main floor had the smallest amount of public space, three scattered tables, two couches and twin armchairs, and a counter meant for take out.

The tables had been pulled from the front of the shop, the floor damp and occupied by a Caution Wet sign, because the large windows were opened to the storm, allowing rain to scatter naturally. Upon their entry, two of the three people in uniforms stood, one rushing to a mop by the door to tend to the scant puddle, and the other approaching them with a customer service smile.

Besides the staff, one of the tables was occupied with another crowd of four, and it made the intruders feel a little less self-conscious about their entry. They were regretful about being soaked however, Fae and Lorenz especially from the knees down, but the staff seemed more sympathetic than anything about the muck and water they dragged in around them.

Hilda's heel slipped on the slick floor as Fae set her down from their back, and she threw a hand back to try and catch herself, but ended up slapping the door so that it opened half an inch, but, luckily, Lorenz caught her opposing wrist to stop her from falling through it or back outside.

The server held up a hand in front of his chest.

"Nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Me too," Hilda peeped, brow furrowed and lips pouting, humiliated and fighting adrenaline as she let Lorenz squeeze her wrist and shoulder, confirming her stability.

"You're okay?" Fae confirmed, feeling guilty, moreso when snickers came from the occupied table.

"I'm fine."

"Sorry about..." Lorenz trailed off, gesturing behind him.

"Excuse me?" Hilda exaggerated, insulted.

"The puddle!" Lorenz said purposefully, offended that she would think him so insensitive about her momentary slip.

"That's probably some of our fault," the other server said in apology, sweeping the mop around the caution sign.

"So long as you're alright," said the staff member who'd come to meet them. "Maybe take a seat and not a sofa, though? At least until you dry a little. I imagine you're here for the long haul?"

"Is it likely to wind down?" asked Fae.

The server chuckled softly. "Uh, no. You might want to walk uphill and call a cab, but rideshares are ... sparse, charging a premium, and the wait'll definitely be a few hours."

"So might as well have a coffee," Hilda said, in better spirits, or trying to be.

"Now you're getting it," the server teased with a wink, extending a hand as Hilda walked past him.

"Do you have a reduced menu, under the circumstances?" asked Lorenz.

"Not yet, anyway. Might be fun if you pick something complicated."

"Oh?" Hilda balked. "A lot of teas. I'll try rose grapefruit?" She looked at Lorenz as she added, "Whatever's your largest size?"

Lorenz nodded, and the server asked, "Name? Nope. Sorry, force of habit." He rolled a pen between his fingers in a fluid motion. "I'll know who you are."

"Black rose?" Lorenz requested. "And Fae?"

"I'll try the chocolate earl grey latte?"

"Perfect," agreed the server.

"Should we eat something?" Lorenz asked the others.

Hilda sighed, as if disappointed. She plucked a sandwich from the fridge in front of Lorenz and left it on the counter, and he and Fae followed suit. Lorenz added a chocolate bar that could be broken into squares, and watched as the server rang them up for small sized beverages.

"Oh! Wai—"

"Don't worry about it," the server said with a wink. "You look like you need to catch a break."

Lorenz sighed, feeling guilty about their circumstances. He tipped ten dollars on top of whatever change he was owed, and shrugged at the man behind the counter as he stepped away to sit with Fae and Hilda.

They moved to the table farthest from the windows, as their damp clothes and the continuous breeze had Hilda's teeth chattering. The temperature was warm, but for the most part, the wind had a cooling effect inside the business, and Fae sat Hilda beside them and across from Lorenz, where they could wrap a warm arm around her, and he could extend a hand if he were feeling bold.

.

"Hey Cyril, you going to help me?" Claude asked when their latest customers moved to sit.

"No, thanks," Cyril said simply, dropping back down into one of the armchairs.

Claude rolled his eyes, partly because he didn't really need the help, but mostly because he was frustrated that Cyril was still holding Claude's uncle's decision to keep the shop open against him, as if he'd had any say in it. Having an aversion to working with or for family, Claude had been at this job for less than two months, and if anyone should have argued on their behalf, it should have been Hubert, but he had his own reasons to enjoy the work.

Currently in hushed conversation with his friends, Hubert was as distracted as he always was when that fair haired woman came in.

Claude was pretty sure she was slowly leaving an abusive household, whether romantic or familial he couldn't guess, but he could appreciate why Hubert was slow and awkward about expressing his affection, and why he never objected when she and her friends came in to loiter.

The windows rattled, and everyone turned to look at them, but when nothing broke and the wind died down, Claude went back to working.

He'd been surprised by the tip, but figured that his concern about strangers in the storm had simply been mirrored by the customer's sympathy for workers in the storm. It was really flooding now, it wouldn't be the first time he'd expect a boat to sound out that supplies and medical attention were available, but for now, the loudest noise in the shop was him clattering away at the equipment, preparing three extra larges.

He walked over to the destined table, where they were in hushed conversation, and hesitated in a way that he hoped wasn't impolite, catching sight of the three joined hands on the table's surface before they all snapped back towards their owners.

"Here you are," Claude said, by way of offering them their drinks.

"Thank you," said the pink haired woman with the rain smudge eyeliner. Her eyes drifted across him, and she added, "Claude."

He ran a hand over his nametag absently, smiling as he realized he wasn't being scrutinized — maybe.

"No problem." He could've left it at that, but instead he asked, "Tourists?"

"Mostly," agreed the green haired patron.

"How'd you get trapped in all this?" he asked, gesturing with a finger.

"I had a job interview," confessed the pink haired woman, swiping her fingers through her bangs, "but now I don't know that I'd even want the job."

"Well, from personal experience, I've found that moving to Derdriu for professional reasons is ... challenging," Claude said, leaning on the free chair at their table, and then he didn't know what he was doing, feeling as though he should leave them alone. "I work on whatever projects I can pick up for underwater filming."

"You go diving?" asked the purple haired man.

"Not in this," Claude teased about the weather. "But whenever I can. Have three homemade cameras to take with me."

Was it because he'd felt he'd walked in on something personal that he felt it was only right to open up? Was it that they were easy to talk to?

Claude sat one table over, still measuring how invasive he was being, but the conversation seemed amical, and easy. They didn't formally introduce themselves, but he easily pieced together their names, and a little bit more of their business than he'd intended to collect, while gossiping about what Derdriu was like for foreigners, and where they might want to check out after the streets finished draining in about two days.

He only hesitated again when, halfway through their drinks, their sandwiches finished, Lorenz opened and snapped apart the chocolate, offering pieces to each of his companions. It should have been companionable, there wasn't anything decidedly un-friendly about it, but Claude still wondered about the ritual of it, and what else they shared, with care and practice.

He was glad Fae was telling a story then, realizing how dry his mouth had become. He raised a finger to request a moment and poured himself a glass of water before returning to the table.

Hilda opened her mouth to speak, but found herself interrupted by a bang, the sound of an accident less than a block away, and half the cafe yelped as the power went out.

Claude rushed to the door just ahead of Cyril, and after a moment or two of muffled yelling, Claude was cursing as he forced Cyril back inside as he chased after him, water rushing in behind the duo.

"What the shit, Claude?" called Hubert, standing.

"Someone drove into the hydro pole at the corner," said Claude as he and Cyril secured the door as best they could. "It hasn't fallen yet, but it might, and when the guy from the Venomous Knight came out on his cellphone to put in a call about it, he knocked over three of the sandbags."

Hubert growled and disappeared into the back, soon followed by Cyril while Claude closed the windows. Claude wondered how they looked to the patrons in the cafe, as he joined in the march, piling seven sandbags around the door while Hubert tried reaching his uncle.

To no one's surprise, they were going to close. One of Hubert's friends had a house, and the destination of their crowd was settled. Cyril had his bike and lived uphill, and he was raring to leave. That left Claude's new friends of mostly-tourists, staying at a hotel that was maybe a twenty minute drive down the highway, but at least a two hour walk on foot.

"Is there a closer hotel that you know of?" asked Lorenz, and Claude felt his heart fall through the floor. That was a far more reasonable solution than his mind rattling around with the idea of inviting them back to his sixth floor apartment. Even if it was more expensive.

The crowd was escorted out the back of the shop, and Hubert scoffed when Claude implied he was going to walk their three latest customers to a hostel six blocks away, but that was fine.

It was slow going, with Hilda's poor choice in footwear and the wind, but also because of the continued conversation. Claude had dark brown rainboots and a bright yellow raincoat to change into, but he kept the hood down, even as water saturated his hair and rushed over his eyes, gossiping about other harsh weather and assuring the others every few steps that they were nearly there.

Fae pulled Claude into the hostel when they arrived, so they could bring their phone to life in a drier environment, and ask him about sharing numbers, maybe to thank him later, or else to ask about scuba diving in a few days. He wasn't sure there needed to be a difference, and against Ignatz's advice, texted them once he arrived home, to assure them he'd made it through the storm.

.

The hostel had rules against sharing rooms, and so Fae, Lorenz and Hilda found themselves crowded in the communal living room with two other couples, for the sake of keeping each other's company a little later into the night.

Lorenz sat on a chair by a window, Hilda in his lap. She would be warmer wrapped in a blanket in bed, but she was making due with leeching off Lorenz, one hand on her thigh and the other holding the back of an upper arm, cradling her close and transferring body heat. Fae sat in the windowsill and when their phone buzzed again, Lorenz looked to the clock on the other end of the room before expressing his surprise.

"Are you still texting him?" It was nearing midnight, and while there was little else to do at the hostel, Lorenz worried about boundaries.

"He's still texting me," Fae said in their defense. "Besides, what's the harm in making a new friend in Derdriu?"

"He was very kind," Lorenz agreed. "He left a very good first impression. But I wouldn't you to be lulled into complacency. He is a stranger."

Hilda snickered as she sat up from Lorenz's chest. "You sound like an old man."

"You're worried he'd want sex?" asked Fae, so nonchalant that Lorenz scoffed.

"I'm worried he'd be obsessive, or otherwise hurt you. Or us."

"That's fair," Fae conceded, leaving Claude on Read. "I just thought he seemed fun."

"And cute," Hilda contributed, her tone making plain that she thought so too.

Lorenz blushed and swept a hand over his lips, squinting in his own meager defense when the other two looked at him. He murmured, "Did you see his shoulders while he carried those sandbags?" When Fae and Hilda giggled, Lorenz rolled his eyes and pointed at nothing as he said more forcefully, "That's not a character assessment."

"No," Fae agreed, "but it might be enough to invite him to get ice cream or something, as a thank you."

[royallyjoon]

cursed stars

cred for the gif goes to whoever made it! 🤍

fairy au, royalty au

yandere! jung hoseok x f! reader (wind chimes: part II of II) 

warnings: yandere themes, delusions of grandeur, violent behavior, and manipulation

once hoseok “successfully” claimed you as his queen, you are introduced to a tedious life as the princess of Wysteria: etiquette lessons in the morning  with a testy crone of a duchess and tea at noon with His Highness himself. a new guest comes to the palace, introducing himself as an old friend of the prince’s. despite all your thoughts of returning home, your beloved knows there’s no force on Earth strong enough to rival his love for possessing you.

(a/n): hello everyone~~ all i can say is: wow!! thanks again for all the love, and for being patient with me and waiting for the next and final installment of this series haha. i have a lot more works in the drafts; please look forward to them as well** this one’s a bit of a long one; hope you enjoy! may we all bow in the final presence of the prince and princess~  :) love, ati

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“The Fae of Wysteria are a majestic race, coming in all shapes, sizes, and colors. However, a distinct aspect of our people stems from our heritage—we are pure-blooded, descending from the Heavenly Crowned King and Queen, Rostel and Elisia. The information we have about their descending to Earth is mostly written in memoirs from scribes who happened to be alive at the time. The records vary in terms of what they were doing that day and where they were in Wysteria but two significant details remain consistent: One, the heavens opened and through the clouds, one could see a vast sky of night alit with stars. Two, the Heavenly Royalty flew through the clouds to descend upon our humble abode and bless us with their presence.”

You placed your elbow on the mahogany desk before which you sat, planting your head in your hands. Usually, you did not mind history lessons but the way the Duchess droned on you felt your head nodding back and forth, almost dropping on the desk multiple times.

“Our Heavenly Crowned rulers blessed certain fairies with their powers and decreed that every eight centuries, a new fairy be born with iridescent wings, for that child was to be our new ruler. Those meant to serve in that child’s palace would be born the same year with silver wings and would reside by their side until the end of the eight hundred years. We have carried on with this tradition for--(Y/N)!”

There was a harsh smack on the table in front of you and you jumped up to witness the Duchess with her pale hand on the desk. She glared at you and you rolled your eyes in annoyance. “Yes, Duchess Roxia, I was listening. Iridescent wings for the next ruler, silver wings for the servants, they rule and live in the palace for a century.”

The crone sneered. “Eight centuries, (Y/N). Eight. Never will I understand why His Highness is wasting his time with the likes of you.” She slid her hand from the desk, nails itching to scratch the polished surface. 

“In the past, I was hired to teach only the proudest of fae this generation has seen. When His Highness summoned me, I thought to myself, ‘This! This is what I’ve been waiting centuries for! To be welcomed back into the palace, to teach only the highest of fae kind! To bring honor to my family’s disgraced legacy!’ Only to find out he brought me here to educate his human plaything.”

You suffered this kind of verbal abuse on a daily basis. She would belittle and insult you to her heart’s content, then mercilessly quiz you on the material she’s taught during the hour and fifteen-minute lecture. Most of the time, you barely passed. 

“Of course, I could be out in the world doing better things with my life, but who am I to refuse a request from His Highness?” She sighs, the noise heavy and more similar to a grunt than a dispel of air.

“That is why it is my personal goal to make you the best crown princess Wysteria has seen. Politics, history, etiquette--you will know it all in three months’ time for the coronation. His Highness will be so enamored with my skill, perhaps he’ll keep me in the palace to teach the next Crown Prince or Princess! Oh, the honor!” She gazed out the window, the nicest expression you’ve ever seen written all over her face. 

And it was excitement at the thought of her selfish opportunity.

You glanced at the clock and shut your dusty textbooks. “Yes, well, thanks so much for the lesson, Duchess. But class is over and I have to meet with His Highness in about fifteen minutes. Have a good day.” You bowed to her and scrambled out the classroom with your head ducked down. 

“Lift your head, (Y/N)! Walk like royalty!” She snapped as the grand doors of the library shut.

                                          ~~~~~~

You strolled through the corridor with Olivia in tow, taking your time to smell the flowers and feel the breeze. It was almost always sunny here now that Hoseok had you where he wanted you.

You had the finest jewels, the prettiest gowns, and the most handsome man in the kingdom laid down in front of you, yet all you wanted to do was get away from here.

He hadn’t harmed you since that awful night on the balcony, but he was in no way hesitant to do it again. You could sense it in every icy gaze he sent your way when he felt you were “misbehaving”.

The heels of your sandals clacked against the floors and you turned into the palace’s garden. Alit with soft, colored lanterns the smells from the flower petals hit you all at once. It took you back to the day you sat in that field and performed the summoning Etha so desperately wanted.

Etha...you had had no way to contact the mortal world since your capture. Hoseok had provided no comforting thought towards your friend. He simply assured you that she would be fine but she had no place here, as she was “but a mortal, and you are so much more.” 

A likely story.

His wings were the first thing to catch your eye, gleaming and reflecting their multitude of colors when they met the sun. At the sound of your footsteps, he rose and approached you with a smile.

“Good morning, my dear. How were your classes?” He took your arm, leading you to the chair opposite his at the table. Olivia gently pulled your books from your arms and bowed, exiting without a word.

He pulled the chair out as you smoothed your dress out and sat. “They went as they always do...Duchess Roxia talked about the characteristics of a ruler and their servants and the length of their reign.”

Hoseok took his place and clapped his hands. Immediately, two fairies were setting tea, cups, and delicacies onto the table.

“Ah, our Regal Doctrine. She’s already managed to teach you that much, eh? Perhaps she is worth keeping around.”

You internally rolled your eyes. Had Hoseok known how Duchess Roxia was treating you, she would probably be halfway home by now.

As awful as the crone was, she was your only excuse for spending less time with the Prince. You would pick classes over emotional and psychological torture every day.

The table had grown eerily silent. You looked up to find Hoseok looking at you, seemingly waiting for something.

“Duchess Roxia informed me she taught you table etiquette during last Friday’s lesson.”

“Oh.” You shifted uncomfortably, trying to recall the exact steps.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Hoseok leaned forwards on the table, resting his head on his palm, “it begins with how you pour the tea.”

You nodded and slowly stood up, walking over to the teapot. The Duchess had said to grasp it so that when you pour, the top would not come out of place.

“A princess must always pour the tea for her prince and any visiting guests. It is crucial in demonstrating good table manners to all.”

You picked up the teapot gently, feeling Hoseok watch your every move. “The right hand to hold, the left to stop,” you murmured to yourself.

Once you felt your hands were in the correct position you held the pot an adequate height over the teacup—not too high, not too low—and began to pour. The tea did not splash around in the cup, rather it settled very gently and you waited until it rose to just a little before the rim. Then you placed the pot down, somewhat proud of yourself. “Sugar?”

Hoseok leaned back in his seat, a grin breaking out on his face. He clapped. “Wonderful! You did it perfectly, darling. I’ll take two lumps of sugar, please.”

You grabbed the lumps with a spoon and dropped them in his cup.

“You’re doing an excellent job so far, darling. You’ll be the perfect Princess of Wysteria in no time.” He continued smiling, despite the growing chill in the air.

“When I see you doing so well in your classes, it reinforces my hopes for you.” Your wrist froze, the lumps only partly dissolved. Hoseok pried the spoon from your fingers, taking your hand in his. “To think you thought you’d be anything but mine.”

The wind chimes sounding from the city hadn’t been so loud a moment before, but now they were deafening. The wind whipped your hair and dress around as you gazed down angrily, yet terrified at Hoseok. He met your gaze, doing nothing but pressing his soft lips against your hand.

And all at once, there was silence once more.

“You must forgive me, (Y/N). Every time I think back to that night, I get a little...angry.” His brown eyes were practically glowing once more, switching back and forth between dark and purple irises.

You pulled your hand from his grasp and promptly sat away from him. Hoseok continued spinning the spoon in the tea, dissolving the rest of the sugar.

“I have exciting news.” he continued. “A dear friend of mine is coming to visit in time for our coronation.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Friend?” You weren’t aware that Hoseok communed with people outside of the palace that often.

“Yes, an older friend from my childhood. He and I are extremely close and he wished to visit to see me become King before he commences travel once more.”

“Oh.” You sat, sampling the delicacies at the table. “...If you’re inviting a friend, would I be able to invite Etha for the corona-”

The wind picked up again. You heard the sound of metal slicing through the air and a knife from Hoseok’s side of the table landed inches, no, centimeters, away from your hand.

You stopped short. “Never mind,” you whispered.

Hoseok glared at the table, purple eyes fierce and gleaming. “Perhaps it is time for you to go back to your lessons, (Y/N).”

Olivia appeared at the doorway and you raced towards her, forgetting proper table manners to bow towards the prince once you exit.

For some reason, you felt the need to burst into tears.

                            ~~~~~~

“He can bring whatever friends he wishes to, of course, yet I ask him to bring the only friend I’ve ever mentioned to him, who he knows of, and all of a sudden it’s a problem.” Soon after you left the garden, your fear and sadness dissipated into growing anger. You practically stomped down the hallway towards the room you occupied since your arrival. “He’s being hypocritical, again.”

“He may do whatever he wishes, Your Highness. He is the Prince.” Olivia mutters back to you. “If he feels as though he does not want any human presence tainting the purity of his coronation, he may ban their presence altogether.”

“Then why am I allowed there, Olivia?” You held your anger at bay, yet your lips twitched into a perceptible sneer. “Unless you have forgotten, I’m human. I don’t belong here as much as Etha-”

You doubled back in surprise as Olivia’s eyes widened and she threw herself at your feet. “Forgive me, Your Highness!” She cried out, head bowed to the floor. 

“What are you doing?” You knelt beside her and tried to pull her up but her hands stuck to your ankles with a deadly grasp. 

“Please forgive me!”

“For what?” You were exasperated at this point, but more worried. Olivia never did anything wrong; of all your handmaidens she was the strictest.

“I have wronged her Highness by insinuating an impurity with her birth! I beg of you, please!”

You kneeled in silence for a moment. With a heavy sigh, you stood. “You’re the last person to say something cruel on purpose, Olivia. You only spoke the truth. You’re forgiven; will you please stand up now?”

She pulled herself to her feet, her blue dress crumpled from the floors. To your shock, tears streamed down her face.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, gripping her by the arms.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing of importance, Your Highness. I thank you for your grace and mercy.” She curtsied, knees almost touching the floor. 

You looked around, trying to see if there were any onlookers. When your eyes found nothing, you hurriedly walked towards your room, pulling Olivia along with you.

Hoseok frowned from his column perch. The maid was a good one--too good to let go. 

But he couldn’t let her go unpunished for insulting his future Queen.

The prince smirked, flying away silently.

------------------------------------------

Olivia’s curious behavior quit after that day. It was the biggest display of emotion you had ever witnessed from her. Rattling, to say the least. 

Two weeks went by uneventfully. All too soon, you were sitting in the library as Duchess Roxia went over the history of fae and human relations.

“Humans have attempted to contact the fae realm for centuries now, and only a few have succeeded. None to your extent, of course,” she sneered sarcastically.

“They blunder about in the forest searching for fields and lakes, trying to find a place with the right amount of ‘energy’,” the Duchess laughed and it sparked annoyance in you. “The pitiful things actually believe they have control over who they summon and where.”

Her mockery of the ritual that made you end up here, that currently has you trapped under the thumb of a purple and black-haired prince, made a new level of anger arise within you. You slammed your book on the desk and began putting away your “notes”.

 “Any fairy who attempted to make contact first spelled destruction for Wys- (Y/N), where do you think you are going?”

“I’m leaving,” you snapped. “Perhaps I’ll return when I feel as though I’m being taught useful information and not racist sentiments from some bigot.”

You tucked the books into the corner of your arm and marched towards the door. Duchess Roxia’s heels clacked on the floor quickly behind you and before you could say another word, she wrapped her wrinkly fingers around your wrist, spinning you around.

The sound of your books crashing to the floor echoed in the library, but not as loudly as the crack of her hand against your cheek.

“You insufferable little bug,” she seethed. “I am not finished with my lesson, therefore you will be going nowhere. Pick up your books and take your seat, unless I must spell you to remain seated from now on.”

The flush of anger sat deep within your chest now and you threw her hands off of you. “Try me, bitch.” You resisted the urge to spit on her face and continued to head out of the library.

There was the sound of the Duchess sighing behind you but you paid no mind. Until, that is, you felt little sparks running through your hands and feet. 

“I’m sure His Highness would not be pleased to hear of your insubordination...no worries. I will punish you in his place.” You felt yourself turn around, once again not of your own volition, to face the witch. She had both arms outstretched, wrinkly hands controlling your every movement.

The next moment, you felt like there was electricity convulsing through every inch of your being. It was painful, yes, but you were not allowed to scream or call out for help.

She had you at her whim.

About five minutes later, Duchess Roxia released her hold on you. Your body dropped to the floor, fingers still twitching unknowingly.

“Need I repeat myself, (Y/N)?” She cackled. “Books. Seat. Now.”

There was nothing you could do. You picked the textbooks up off the floor, stumbling a bit, and then slammed them back on the table. She scoffed at your helplessness, lecture continuing without a hiccup.

Your cheek burned. Your entire body ached.

When the lesson did end some thirty minutes later, you waited for her to leave the library first. Olivia passed by her as she exited before gasping at your condition.

“Your Highness!” She collected your books and tried to make you rise, but you were glued to the seat. Not by spelling, as if you’d let that witch’s magic get anywhere near you twice, but by your own indignation.

The handmaiden finally managed to make you rise and helped you to your room.

Upon entering, Raina, Eliza, and Kyla gasped, leaving their cleaning to crowd around you and ask what happened. 

“Duchess Roxia slapped me,” you revealed as you placed enough foundation on your face to cover the mark. “Then she used her powers on me. I felt like I was being shocked in every part of my body.”

“How dare she lay her hands on the future queen!” Raina growled, her eyes glowing a bright hazel. “It’s high treason!”

Kyla nodded, cracking her knuckles. “We should go incapacitate her and drag her before the prince and princess to answer for her crimes.”

Those dear, four handmaidens. Your jailers who happened to be the people you have closest to friends.

You managed to earn their trust, and they managed to earn yours. They were only cruel to you when you decided to go against the prince’s wishes...which was in their best interest as they would be the ones he punished if you acted out.

“There’s no need,” you sighed, finishing up with the foundation. “In her mind, she was completely in the right. There’s no fae law that prohibits the use of magic on humans.”

Olivia sighed. “His Highness would be most displeased to find you like this,” She muttered.

“It’s none of his business,” you said. “I don’t need him to fight my battles for me. Especially not the ones he placed me in himself.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Eliza said, having a conversation through her eyes with Olivia that you couldn’t bear to translate at that moment.

As off-putting as your handmaidens were, they were the only ones you could freely talk to. At times, you found their presence and protectiveness comforting.

But it wasn’t as comforting as your home.

When you were finished, Olivia quickly led you back to the garden. The aftereffects of the shock were thankfully gone now; there would be nothing suspicious for the prince to question you about later on.

This time, Hoseok sat at the table with another man. He had a pale complexion for his skin tone, which was not too dark or too light. His hair was straight, hanging into his eyes. He, too, carried silver wings on his back, similar to those of your handmaiden’s, but slightly larger.

“(Y/N), my dear!” Hoseok gushed as you approached the table. Olivia took her place behind your chair as you curtsied to the prince and the guest. 

“Greetings, Your Highness.” You muttered.

Hoseok could sense something off with his love, but he knew wouldn’t be able to confront it at that moment, not with his guest here.

“This is Lord Yoongi, the friend I spoke to you about.”

The man, Yoongi, stood and bowed to you as you curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. Hoseok has told me much about you.”

You rose, eyebrows shooting up a little when you heard him address the prince by his first name. “All good things, I hope.” you smiled. 

“Of course.” He flashed a closed-lip smile at you and Hoseok stood, pulling out your chair. You poured the tea for Hoseok and Yoongi just as you had the day before.

“Do you take sugar with your tea?” You asked, placing two lumps in Hoseok’s cup. As much as he tried to hide it, for whatever reason, he was beaming with pride. 

“Three, please.” The answer surprised you again, but you hid with a smile.

Who exactly was this man?

You gently placed the cup before him and took your seat. Hoseok moved his chair so that he sat in between you and Yoongi, forming a triangle at the round table. 

“I can’t quite explain how amazing it is to have two of my absolute favorite people meet,” Hoseok grinned. You couldn’t help but feel a little disgruntled: he was never this smiley around you.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re a bundle of emotions,” Yoongi snorted, sipping at his drink. “How are the preparations going for the coronation?”

Hoseok grabbed your hand in his and placed it on his lap. “I’ve been covering most of the duties, as (Y/N) here catches up with her studies. How was your class today, darling?”

You could feel Olivia’s glare on the back of your head and your body shook in  reminder of your lessons. “It’s difficult, but what is education if not a challenge? I'm just really excited to be learning more about Wysteria’s history and culture.”

Yoongi nodded. “It isn’t easy at all, I commend you for your dedication. I know it may take a while to get used to, but I’m sure Wysteria can become a home for you just as much as it is for any other citizen.”

“That’s very kind of you to say...thank you.” You were taken aback by his kindness. All of your other encounters were racist or harmful, but Yoongi seemed to genuinely accept your presence here.

An attendant stepped closer and whispered something in Hoseok’s ear. His grip on your hand tightened but he let go to stand up. “I’m afraid there are some manners in the ballroom I must attend to. Please, feel free to chat amongst one another.”

Hoseok leaned down and you held your breath, praying he wouldn’t comment on the makeup. 

His lips went to your ear all of a sudden, and he whispered: “Every day could be like today, you know.”

Then his lips were on your cheek, and he was walking out with all the servants.

You stared after him curiously. What could that have possibly meant?

After Hoseok left, you shifted in your chair uncomfortably. Yoongi crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat.

“So...how long ago did he take you?”

Your eyes shot up. “Did he tell yo-I mean...” your voice faltered, unsure if you should even be asking the question. Were you supposed to refute the claim? 

“I know him like the back of my hand; he’s the only fairy powerful enough to bring a human into this realm. And as smiley as you are around him, I can tell you’re not here of your own accord. So when did you get taken?”

You paused. “A month ago,” you murmured. 

Yoongi hummed, looking at the lanterns and vines behind you. 

“He’s not a bad person,” he commented. “He’s always been a bit...off, but it didn’t show as much in his youth because he had so much energy and familial support.”

“How long have you known him?” You asked.

“Since childhood,” Yoongi said. “My parents used to attend his in the palace. When he, the new set of servant fairies, and I were born, my parents took to training them and I was a sort of babysitter. I must admit, I can understand what you’re going through. He was quite possessive of me in his youth shortly after he lost his parents. He clung to me all the time, really.”

A gummy smile broke out upon Yoongi’s face, and you felt your lips twitch in response. “Really? That’s...interesting.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to Yoongi dispel stories about the young prince and their escapades in the palace. 

“The old king and queen always told me that they hoped I’d be a friend of Hoseok’s for life.” He mused, eyes clouding a bit. 

You paused at the sudden mention of his parents. “...Is it alright for me to ask what happened to them?”

Yoongi was quiet for a long while, and you were afraid you had overstepped your boundaries. Yet he began speaking a few moments later.

“It was an ambush,” he muttered.

Your head snapped up.

“On his birthday, Hoseok’s parents were holding a score of festivities to celebrate their seventieth reign together. I was still fairly young in fairy years, and Hoseok was even younger.” He continued.

“There was an insurrection in the palace...a group of commoners’ used the party as their opportunity to annihilate the royal family despite their divine right to hold the throne.” Yoongi held his teacup so firmly, the ceramic began to shake in his grasp. “Hoseok only survived because he and I immediately ran to hide with the servants. So many servants sacrificed themselves for us that night...

“They never discovered the person who let them into the palace. Commoners in Wysteria don’t have wings, you see. Only servants meant to be with the royals and the royals themselves possess the ability to fly.” Yoongi drifted off, lost in his thoughts. “I have my own suspicion about who it was, but I fear starting an investigation would cost Hoseok his current mental state.”

Never would you have guessed what the prince had gone through. “I could never imagine...thank you for telling me.” Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but wonder: did his response to the loss of his parents truly excuse his actions?

 Yoongi sighed. “They were truly great parents to him but taken too soon.” He lifted himself from the chair and walked over to you. “Shall we go find him in the ballroom?”

You stood. “Sounds like a great plan.” 

Olivia's eyes widened in glee at the sight of Yoongi. “Greetings, Lord Min. It’s wonderful to see you around the palace again.”

“As it is to see you, Olivia. I remember when you were still a toddler in the palace...time goes by all too soon.”

You smiled a little at the thought of Olivia as a toddler, learning etiquette.

The three of you walked out of the garden only to bump into none other than Duchess Roxia, lurking down the corridor.

Your breath hitched in your throat as her eyes passed right over you to land on Yoongi. “Why, if it isn’t the Lord of Tierny himself! A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Duchess Roxia, royal teacher of the future que-”

Yoongi pushed right by her and kept walking without a blink. “Come, (Y/N), we have to go find the prince.”

You stood behind in shock, watching as the Duchess whipped around in surprise. Olivia gave you a little shove forward and you walked briskly lest you be caught in the aftermath of her fury, again.

When you rounded the corner, there was nothing to stop you from cackling as loudly as possible. 

                                ~~~~~~

Hoseok had expected a lot of things from your arrival. The anger and the confusion were a given, but your desperation to leave was the one thing he could not wrap his head around.

He saw you as his queen from the moment you shook those wind chimes on the lakeside. How regal you looked, skin draped in moonlight and eyes alight with the stars. There was nothing left that the Earth could gift you with, thus he took it as his responsibility to give you all the niceties in life. Never again would he allow another creature to pollute your natural grace and kindness. 

The night he caught you on the balcony, oh how the strength of your sobs tore at his very core. He didn’t want his love to be unhappy; he brought you here because the two of you belonged together. Couldn’t you tell?

Of course, he never questioned your love for him. Why else would you have wished for him to take you on an adventure so sweetly, so openly? 

Sure, he may have lost his temper quite a few times but it was well within reason. 

The first time you two had met, when he saw you donned in his royal garments in the library that day, he thought you couldn’t be any more beautiful.

So when he saw you walking in with Yoongi, eyes scrunched up and mouth split open by a wide grin, he knew he’d been proven wrong. 

Your silk dress slid along the floor as you leaned back in laughter, arms wrapped around your soft frame. The light entered the room at just the perfect angle and Hoseok was able to witness the star greet your skin and light it up, like a parent with arms open to welcome their child home. He grinned softly. 

“My lord! That was--that was amazing!” The older man could not understand for the life of him what you found so funny. Little did he know that dismissal of Duchess Roxia made your entire week. 

“Hoseok-ah, come get your fiance.” The man groaned but chuckled, taken aback by the force of your laughter. 

You calmed yourself as you neared the center of the ballroom and the prince approached you “Care to tell me what’s so funny?” He asked amusedly.

You shook your head, smiling at the floor. “Duchess Roxia attempted to greet Lord Yoongi but in our haste to see you, he paid her no mind...she was left ever so crestfallen in the hallway,” snorts attempted to take over your words once more but suppressed the giggling.

Hoseok looked at his oldest friend in shock. “Hyung!”

Yoongi widened his eyes and spread his arms innocently. “I had places to go!”

As the two bickered, you took in Hoseok’s work, admiring the way the ballroom gleamed. There was no doubt about it, the event would be beautiful but you still were not positive that you wanted to be a part of it. 

“Every day could be like today.”

Is that what he’d meant? No cowering in fear from the anger of your supposed fiance, no disgusting teachers or challenging examinations? Just sunlight and laughter and friendship?

Don’t be ridiculous, you chastised yourself. You’re never going to stop longing for home, and Hoseok is never going to get over that. When Yoongi leaves, you’ll be transported from one tormentor to the next. 

There would be no end. There is no method to his madness.

But...perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad place to stay...

“(Y/N)?” Hoseok waved a hand in front of your face and you violently flinched away. The action caused both men to pause, gazing at you seriously.

“Are you alright?” Yoongi asked. His face showed no great emotion, but you could see the question that lay in his eyes.

You shook your head pointedly as if to say, No.

At least, not him.

“Yes, sorry. I was lost in my thoughts for a moment there.” You smiled assuredly at Hoseok, hands twisting the fabric of the silk dress you wore. 

“I thank you both for your company today. I’m afraid I don’t feel well and will have to retire to my room for the rest of the afternoon. It’s been a pleasure, really.” You curtsied to both men.

Olivia, never far behind you, curtsied even lower to the prince and his lordship and followed you quietly out the ballroom.

The sky darkened a bit as you left and Yoongi sighed. 

Clouds formed in the previously blue skies, a storm quickly changing the atmosphere of the room.

--------------------------------------

Later that evening, you lay in bed chatting with Raina and Kyla recounting the day’s events as Olivia sat by the window, listening. You didn’t have the energy to change out of the dress but all of that socializing exhausted you.

Eliza slipped into the room. “Your Highness, the prince is calling for you. He wishes for you to meet him on the balcony.”

You stopped mid-sentence. “What balcony?” You asked dumbly.

“The same balcony you found on your first night here,” Eliza replied calmly.

You stared at her for a few moments before flopping back onto your bed. “I’ll be out shortly,” you muttered, slipping on a simple pair of flats. 

Olivia made herself ready to stand up but Eliza waved her down. “He wishes to see Her Highness alone,” she said as she rearranged the sheets you were just laying on.

Raina and Kyla pouted, disappointed that they wouldn’t hear the rest of the story. They acted as if they were even younger than you despite being considerably older. They understood, however, that the wishes of the prince came first in every situation. 

Eliza chastised them for sitting around all day rather than completing their tasks. Olivia smiled, watching them all bicker from the windowsill.

You smiled at the chaotic scene before quietly closing the door, mentally preparing yourself to go back to the balcony.

                            ~~~~~~

You saw the prince before he heard you. Hoseok had his head laid in his arms, peering out at the city of Wysteria. You appeared beside him and he turned, smiling at you.

You found it hard to return.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed today, (Y/N). And your time here in general.” Hoseok began, straightening.

You raised your eyebrows. “You make it sound as if you’re letting me go,” 

His eyes flashed purple and he grinned. “Never. No, I said that because I have been reflecting upon my decisions as your prince, and I admit my actions may have been a bit...hasty.”

You snorted quietly and leaned on the railing. “That’s a bit of an understatement, Your Highness.” 

He stayed quiet. 

You walked to the end of the balcony and placed your arms along the wire rim, turning your head to his. “Yoongi told me about your parents...I’m sorry for your loss.”

He inhaled sharply, turning away from you for a moment. His dangling black coattails whipped around in the wind. “I didn’t want you to know about that,” he said.

You hummed. “Why not?”

“I want you to fear for nothing here,” he said, back still turned to you. “I simply wish to fulfill your dream, our dream of being together...I want you to be happy here. With me, and me alone.”

You stared at the back of his head, wishing you could read his mind. “You hurt me here,” you stated. “All I want to do is go home, but you keep me trapped-”

“That is for your own protection,” he cut you off. “You were behaving rashly by running around the palace. I know you’re a bit of a free spirit, love, but you shouldn’t act as though you want to leave me behind. I know you care for me as much as I care for you.”

You suppressed a groan of frustration. “Hoseok, I barely knew you when you brought me here. I still hardly know you.”

He took your hands, cupping them in his. “(Y/N), you’re the only one that knows the real me.”

Your expression twisted in confusion, but Hoseok was already changing the topic. 

“Nevertheless, I invited you here because I want to apologize for any of my behavior that may have been...off-putting.” He started, leaning his back against the rail.

Ah, yes. Because nearly stabbing my hand with telekinetic powers was simply off-putting.

“Our love is not meant to be like any other, yet we have stood the test of time. I cannot wait to place a crown on your head myself, to watch you become a great ruler to my people.”

You tore your arms off the iron gate of the balcony and stood before him, locking eyes. 

“You’re delusional,” you emphasized.

His eyes flashed purple but you were determined to stand your ground. “I have never seen nor spoken to you before that night on the riverbank.”

“But couldn’t you feel our connection?” He murmured. “I know you felt how powerful my presence was, how strong we were together. What else could it have been but a sign? Who else could have had the strength to summon me to your mortal realm and interact with me?”

“Somebody!” You cried. “Literally anybody!”

“But it was you, wasn’t it?” His voice got softer and softer, like a parent talking their toddler down from a tantrum. “You were the one to speak to me first.  You were the one to make contact first, and you were the one to shake the chimes. No one forced you to participate in the ritual...you must have been searching for something to come out of it.”

“I only did it for Etha!” you protested. 

Hoseok hummed and reached a hand up to pat your head. “I think you did it for yourself,” he concluded. “And I think the only option you have left is to accept your fate.”

His other arm crept around your back until he was hugging you. You tried to push him away, but your arms were trapped between the two of you.

“Our meeting, our love, our fates, they’re all written in the stars.” He rocked you gently side to side as he gazed up into the night sky. Where clouds once dominated, stars took their place and lit the balcony.

He let you go and stepped away, walking back inside the palace. Without looking back, he said, ““We’re going to have a beautiful life here, (Y/N). I suggest you get used to it very quickly. As I said before, I have no intention of letting you leave.”

You were left on the balcony with those cursed stars, regretting every decision you’d made in the past. 

With the news of that cruel reality, you trudged down the palace corridor back to your room, slipped under the sheets, and promptly fell asleep.

                            ~~~~~~~~

Olivia prided herself on her good work for the future King and Queen of Wysteria. Ever since she was little, she dreamed of working for Lord Min and His Highness to help preserve their beautiful land and beautiful country.

She was consistently the highest ranking fairy in her lessons; perfect posture, perfect demeanor. Everything about her was groomed to perfection.

When His Highness assigned her and her friends to the princess, she’d been ecstatic. Sure, she was a bit of a challenge in the beginning, but (Y/N) has improved from her initial hysterical behavior.

Olivia is proud to work for such a determined, self-aware mistress. If only she would put all of that anger and energy to escape towards her lessons and the kingdom’s future.

She knew her insult to Her Highnesses’ birth would not go unnoticed. Sooner or later, the prince would drag her before him and demand answers.

Olivia closed the door to your room with one hand, the other arm occupied by a basket of clothes. She had changed you out of your day gown, as she was sure you’d complain about it in the morning. As her sandals quietly clacked down the corridor, she saw shadows approaching her. 

Two royal guards stepped out of the darkness directly into her path. “Miss Olivia, His Highness requests your presence at his personal library immediately.”

Olivia’s breathing began to increase just slightly. She nodded and clung to the basket a little harder.

They led her to the dreaded library and she gulped, seeing only a sliver of moonlight from underneath the door. One of the guards checked her for weapons and the other took the basket, gently placing it on the floor. With a deep breath, she knocked twice and turned the handle.

“I have arrived at your request, Your Highness.” She curtsied, keeping her eyes glued to the carpet.

The library was dark but moving. In a moment, he appeared.

 “My dear, you know I value your service. You are of the most competent in your generation...I remember how my mother simply adored you and your friends...” 

The prince placed his hand around Olivia’s throat.

“...yet, you have insulted my queen. Your mistress.” He pressed a little tighter and Olivia gasped. “This cannot go unpunished. Do you have anything you wish to say for yourself?”

Olivia could barely get anything out. "Yes, Your Highness. I just want to thank you for your benevolence and generosity.”

He hummed. “Anything else?”

She felt that she shouldn’t, as her mistress felt sure she could handle it, but this was her life at stake. She broke. “Before Your Highness ends my pitiful life, I have something extremely important to tell you.”

The prince continued staring at her, pressing a little harder. “It’s..about..the princess...” Olivia tried to speak, but he had managed to squeeze all the oxygen out of her throat. 

Hoseok’s eyes narrowed the slightest and he released her. Olivia coughed, dropping to her knees.

“Go on.”

Olivia rubbed her neck. “Duchess Roxia is well-known for her knowledge on fae history, and although she has been teaching my mistress everything she needs to know, she has been expressing a variety of anti-human sentiments. She ridicules my mistress nearly every lesson, and for the past couple of weeks, has even ventured so far as to...” 

She faltered. 

“May I remind you that if you obstruct the truth, I will not hesitate to hang you from the gallows.” The prince’s words were as sharp as the knife slowly rising from his desk.

“Duchess Roxia has been physically abusing the princess. She slapped her when she tried to leave a lesson and subdued her with magic. She almost electrocuted my mistress.”

The prince’s eyes danced purple in fury. Olivia knew he was going to erupt, but before he did, she wanted to make sure she was in the clear.

“I’m afraid that’s not all about the Duchess, Your Highness...”

-----------------------------------------

The next morning, you were shaken awake by your handmaidens. You tried to insist that you didn’t have classes and didn’t need to get up, but the grim look on their faces told you otherwise. 

Kyla and Raina did their best to keep appearances sunny, giving you breakfast while Olivia and Eliza chose your outfit. They bathed you and dressed you in a silk, royal purple gown. It wasn’t until the dress was on you that you realized it was the exact same shade Hoseok’s eyes turned when he was infuriated.

And for whatever reason, Olivia kept wincing and touching her neck. You tried to ask her if she was okay, or if she wanted a massage, but she turned you down, joking that she was supposed to be the one to offer you such services.

Once you were dressed, your handmaidens led you to the balcony. To your surprise, there was a palanquin resting there, adorned with swirls of black, gold, and silver, with multiple royal guardsmen outside. 

 Not a chime could be heard from below the palace. The city of Wysteria was silent, and it made you shiver.

“What’s going on?” You asked Raina, hoping she would spill. 

She shook her head and gestured towards the palanquin. “Please get in, Your Highness.” 

You gasped. “That thing? It’s tiny!”

After that comment, the expression you saw on Eliza’s face couldn’t have had you rushing to the palanquin sooner. You picked up your skirts and stuffed yourself inside, trying not to feel cramped. The guardsmen pulled the door down and you could feel them lift the palanquin up. 

You gasped, hand scrabbling against the wall. Your knuckle hit something sharp, and you pressed your fingers against a tiny knob. You slid the knob across the wall and it opened a window.

To your shock, you were being carried in midair. You could see Olivia and Eliza flying next to your side of the box, the swirls on their silver wings glistening in the sunlight.

If you peeked your head out a little further, you could see the borders of the city getting closer and closer.

So this is how people have to leave the palace, you noted.

You closed the window and stayed deathly still in the palanquin, afraid that the slightest motion would make you tip over.

About fifteen minutes later, the palanquin landed and the door opened. You hiked up your skirts, hoping the silk was not wrinkled. 

“My first time in the city...is this a gift from the prince or something?” You asked Olivia. Before she could respond, Eliza intervened once more. 

“This way, Your Highness. We are meant to go to the Wysterian Amphitheater.”

The handmaiden’s voice was even chillier than normal. You walked the streets of the city, head craning around the guards to get a view.

The city was gorgeous, filled with apartment buildings and shops. The blocks were lined with trees whose leaves had varying colors; some had red and orange, others had pink and purple, or silver.

 Every tree had a wind chime tied to its branch. They would have been tinkling wonderfully had there been a sort of breeze.

Yet there was no breeze. In fact, there were hardly any citizens, either. The shops were closed, and doors were shut everywhere. The city was empty. 

Everything remained deathly still.

You had so many questions, but you knew that you would get no answers, so you continued to keep quiet.

 Your party had been walking for quite a while when you all approached a large building in the center of the city. It reminded you of the government buildings in the capitol back home; all marble columns and golden plaques with sprawling greenery surrounding the entrance. The main difference is that, behind those doors, you could hear people cheering and yelling. Thus, you were heading into the belly of the amphitheater.

The handmaidens paused before the doors. Eliza gracefully spread her wings and flew upwards, disappearing over the walls of the building. 

“This is the first time the citizens of Wysteria shall see you, Your Highness.” Kyla whispered. “We know how amazing you are, but they do not yet.”

“Just hold your head high!” Raina added.

“Things are about to get ugly,” Olivia muttered.

Eliza returned, landing with both feet on the floor. She turned to you, brushing out your dress and fixing any stray hairs. When she felt satisfied with your appearance, she nodded at the guards.

Two of them stepped forward to open the doors of the amphitheater. You kept Kyla and Raina’s advice in mind, raising your head and squaring back your shoulders.

On the outside, you looked like someone important. Someone composed and dignified. Someone royal.

On the inside, however, you were resisting the urge to scream from nervousness.

As you passed through the doorway, you made yourself acquainted with the citizens of Wysteria. They were, quite literally, every shape, size, and color, just as the Duchess had told you only a few weeks ago.

They were beautiful.

You found yourself forgetting your instructions, looking around in wonder at the fae community. The cries you heard exploding from the arena silenced as your visage became clearer and clearer to the citizens. 

While the outside has resembled a sort of official government building, the inside was most similar to a sports arena back on Earth. There were seats, which the citizens filled, and then there was a separate section.

In the silence, you searched for Hoseok. Your eyes took their time, drinking in every sense they could interpret, before landing on the prince in a sort of skybox, set in the middle of the spectator’s part of the theater. 

The prince stood, and you could see his outfit was meant to match yours in that he wore an all black suit with a purple tie. His coattails still dragged on behind him and his highlights were shimmering in the light of day.

Hoseok unfurled his wings and you had to squint when they caught the light, blasting every color of the rainbow out at the audience.

Even with your eyes partly closed, they were probably the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

He didn’t land before you, no. He extended a hand to you as he floated above ground, waiting for you to take it.

“I’m afraid of heights,” you whispered.

Hoseok grinned and placed his hand in yours. In one fell spin, he had you wrapped in his arms, bridal style, as you let out a shriek.

The cheers erupted from the citizens, even louder than before, as Hoseok flew you to the Royals’ seating station. The guards disbanded and went to stand at their respective part of the stadium while Olivia, Eliza, Kyla, and Raina followed you and the prince.

You clung to Hoseok as the two of you flew. “So this is your idea of a first impression? Me cowering in front of the citizens?”

Hoseok smiled, but for some reason, the moment felt sinister. The earlier unease you sensed in front of the amphitheater returned full force. 

It wasn’t until the prince set you down in the skybox that you realized why. 

In the center of the stadium, Duchess Roxia stood on a raised wooden podium. Her usually stoic and professional appearance was in tatters, as she had nothing but a ripped nightgown on to face the crowd. Her dark hair curled down her shoulders. 

You gasped, looking to Hoseok and Yoongi for an explanation. “What’s happening...?”

Yoongi, already a man of few words, said nothing, as he gazed forward with no emotion. 

Hoseok held you like he did in the library that first day, arms around your waist with his chin tucked into your neck. “She’s receiving due punishment, my love. Long overdue, but just.” 

You were sure he meant for his words to be warm but his voice made you freeze out of fear, and you hadn’t even done anything wrong.

The prince held you like that for a few moments more before gently leading you to your seat. As you were placed between him and Yoongi, the situation dawned upon you.

When the prince sat down, a screen appeared, broadcasting the skybox to the citizens. It only showed Hoseok’s face, thank everything, as he motioned for them to quiet down. Then, he began to speak.

“Centuries ago, my parents ruled Wysteria with generosity, clarity, and grace in a manner which I am currently preparing to do so for you, my beloved subjects.” Hoseok spoke, the epitome of cool and composed.

“Nevertheless, as we all know, a rebellion that had been forming in the city chose to execute their diabolical plan to rid the land of its royalty.”

“This insurrection was carried out with the assistance of an insider from the palace...thus it was at the tender age of seventy years that I lost my parents, and so many children here in the city lost theirs as well.”

“While we as a nation have moved on from this horrid tragedy, I, as your prince, kept this traitorous act in mind for years. And along my journey...I fell in love.”

The fae cheered once more, and your face was broadcasted alongside Hoseok’s. You smiled a little, hoping it didn’t look too much like a cringe.

You sat as he spun your abduction into a fantastic tale of love, danger, and triumph. He claimed you were in a precarious situation back on Earth; surrounded by people who posed physical and emotional threats to your safety.

You had just managed to steal a wind chime, as well as directions for communication with other beings, and pledged yourself to Hoseok, who appeared underneath the moonlight on the riverbank, grabbed your hand, and saved you.

As you watched him spout utter lies, you found it harder and harder to smile, the false expression of joy slipping off your face. 

This must have been what he told himself in order to justify his actions.

What a pretty tale he’d woven.

And the fae were eating it out of his hand.

“I introduce to you, citizens of Wysteria, your future queen, (Y/N) (L/N)!”

The crowds clapped for you, shouting and chanting your name. Your face was being broadcasted all over the stadium, but you couldn’t even pretend to smile. 

“I fear my princess has not has it easy,” Hoseok continued and the audience hushed themselves, placing all of their attention on him once more.

 “Ever since her arrival, I hired our dear Duchess Roxia to instruct the princess on our history. (Y/N), completely unfamiliar with our ways, jumped into her lessons wholeheartedly and retained a lot of knowledge.”

“But while under my roof, in my kingdom, in my palace, Duchess Roxia had the gall to mistreat the princess.” The smile was completely gone from the prince’s face now. Warm, brown orbs turned purple and hardened, like gems. 

 “She abused her by constantly expressing anti-human sentiments and using illegal spells on her!”

The crowd roared in disapproval. Your stomach dropped and you whipped around to face Olivia. The handmaiden shrunk in shame. 

“I had no choice,” she mouthed.

“I brought my beloved into my home with the intentions of keeping her safe,” Hoseok growled, glaring at the pathetic figure of Duchess Roxia on the podium, “and someone thought she could harm my princess and get away with it.”

“Someone thought she would be above the law for the second time.”

Silence.

“It was she, the very traitor I scoured the kingdom for, disrupting the peace once again. Threatening the safety and well-being of those that I care for, again.”

You looked at Yoongi, recalling his suspicions from the day before. The dismissal that had brought you so much joy...was because he suspected the Duchess of allowing the insurrection into the palace.

“When His Highness summoned me, I thought to myself, ‘This! This is what I’ve been waiting centuries for! To be welcomed back into the palace-’”

“Thus, it is today, for my parents’ honor, that I bring this criminal before you all to witness the capitol punishment she deserves.” He sat down once more, practically breathing in the violent energy the crowd was emitting.

“Execution.” Yoongi muttered.

You sat back in your seat, gazing at Hoseok’s side profile in shock. You had no idea whether she was guilty or not, but who were you to advocate for your abuser?

Stubborn. Clearly.

“Hoseok,” you murmured, barely audible beneath the crowd’s chanting, “I understand that she killed your parents, but murder? ...Why not imprisonment?”

The prince turned to you, purple irises glowing brightly in the shade of the skybox. “And let the maggot live thinking she can get away with her crimes? For not only touching what’s mine, but punishing you? Not in this century, my love. Nor the next.”

He leaned closer to whisper in your ear, “As a matter of fact, we will be having a very serious discussion about how you kept this from me once we return to the palace.”

You gulped, glaring at Olivia. She looked down in shame.

“The stars have spoken for us all, (Y/N).” He said. “You will not be leaving. They have decreed your fate.”

A manic grin spread across his face. He rose, unfurling his wings to fly out to the center of the arena. 

“The citizens have decided!” He yelled above their clamor. “And so have I.”

Hoseok didn’t even spare Duchess Roxia a glance as he lifted his little finger and flicked it, causing the duchess’ head to roll off her shoulders. 

You screamed, volume matching that of the faes, and buried your head into Yoongi’s shoulder as the citizens grew louder and louder. He and Olivia gently pat your back while your eyes were pried together, replaying the horrid image.

The Wysterian prince, eyes mad in victory, drunk off of the power that rolled in waves from the crowd’s cheers, bowed before his citizens. 

“My queen and I, after our coronation, will rule this country anew. Any threat against us shall meet the same fate as the duchess. I hope you will all walk forwards with us into an era of great prosperity, wealth, and glory!”

The duchess’ body collapsed to the floor of the wooden podium.

Shouts rang in your ears. You lifted your head from Yoongi’s shoulder. He, Eliza, and Olivia were nodding along with Hoseok’s energetic cries of rage.

The audience stamped their feet in carnal joy.

Kyla and Raina had stars in their eyes, glued to Hoseok’s visage.

And you knew all at once, without a doubt, that he had won.

And why wouldn’t he? After all, your fate was written in the stars.