#SHES A SIXTY SOMETHING YEAR OLD WOMAN BOW

[catboynutsack]

My therapist has started referring to my partners and I as a Threesome during our sessions I'm gonna lose it

[saints-who-never-existed]

Rereading The Terror

Chapter Twenty-Two: Irving

Irving in this chapter is determined to find out where Silna goes when she leaves the ship as she's apparently able to do so without ever being seen or followed.

It's Crozier who's set him to the task - he's enraged by the fact that superstitious men have been leaving offerings of food and drink for her, calling it "un-Christian" and Silna herself "a heathen child". Such phrasing is gross enough in itself but Simmons then misses no opportunity to objectify Silna and mention the men trying to ogle her naked at any opportunity. Ugh.

Irving soon enters Silna's sleeping space and discovers within that a tunnel has been made out of ship through about half a dozen layers of hardwood and iron plating. I find the description of this revelation quite eerie and badass. "Lieutenant Irving's heart pounded furiously. If Terror were to be refloated miraculously tomorrow, she would sink. Could Lady Silence have done this to the ship? The thought terrified Irving more than any belief in her magical ability to appear and disappear at will. Could a young woman not yet twenty years old rip iron hull plates off a ship, dislodge heavy bow timbers that it had taken a shipyard to bend and nail into place, and know exactly where to do all this so sixty men who knew the ship better than their mothers' faces would not notice?"

Resolving to follow Silna, who he knows only left a few minutes before, Irving finds he can't fit through the tunnel and has to all but disrobe before he can squeeze through. Is there something symbolic there, do you reckon? Something about shedding bits of yourself as a means to move forward?

Irving is drawn to her location by the sound of some mysterious droning amelodic music playing in the distance and for some reason, as soon as he's outside the ship he becomes Irving the Fuck-Machine again: "The playing - which seemed to begin suddenly, increase its rhythm almost sexually and then stop abruptly, as if in physical climax..." "The hooting - seemingly just behind the next blue-glowing serac...had begun again, rising quickly to the loudest, fastest, deepest, and most frenzied noise Irving had heard so far. To his amazement, he found that he had an erection. Something about this instrument's deep, booming, reed-fluttering sound was so...primal...that it quite literally stirred his loins even as he shivered."

When he finally finds Silna, she's with the Tuunbaq and it appears that the mysterious music is emanating from her, as if she's the instrument itself and Tuunbaq is, for lack of a better phrase, playing her. Irving the Fuck-Machine again has some thoughts: "It was everything he could do to keep watching in a sort of sexually excited horror."

Once the show is over, Tuunbaq disappears, Silna gathers her things and prepares to return to the ship. She sees Irving as she does so but she's doesn't appear to give a shit about him. I am forced to read the phrase - "his now detumescing, burning erection..." - and with that, the chapter is over.

[briamichellewrites]

Just something I decided to write. Leave a comment and let me know what you think —————————

1350. Emma was all alone. Her village had been wiped out by the Black Death. The healthy fled with what they could take with them, leaving the sick and dying behind. She was one of them. Her family fled into the country. The plague doctors did what they could for her, which wasn’t much. All she could do was lay there dying, as the disease spread throughout her body. It was a punishment from God for their sins. But, she was a good Christian girl.

She obeyed her parents, prayed, and went to church regularly. Now, she was alone. Until a woman visited her bedside. She was beautiful, like an angel! The woman touched her buboes, healing them. As she did, her symptoms also disappeared. She then granted her eternal life, meaning she would remain eighteen years old forever. The woman gave her instructions. Leave the village.

Lest she is burned as a witch. The woman then disappeared into the sunlight. Emma got up and walked outside. The village was empty. The shops had been abandoned. She continued walking, following the woman’s advice. If anyone found out she survived, she would be burned at the stake or hung for being a witch. She found the countryside where everyone had made their homes. Before they could see her, she ran in the opposite direction until she was no longer in sight.

She came across a house that had been abandoned in quite a hurry. The food was still on the table and the door was open. She let herself in and looked around. Nobody. Not even in the beds. She sat down at the table and started eating the still-fresh food. Her stomach was begging for food. Once she was finished, she cleaned up her mess. She then fed the animals with food she found in the barn.

The house would keep her safe while she waited for the plague to pass. She stayed in that house, tending to the chores and feeding the animals until 1400 when she returned to the city. London was different from what she remembered. She immediately got new clothes that fit the latest fashion because she stood out like a sore thumb. Her family and everyone she knew had died, so she was safe from being recognized. At sixty-eight years old, she too should be dead.

But she couldn’t die. She was forced to live eternally. After finding her old house still abandoned, she moved in. It was just as she had left it fifty years before. She did the chores and went to the market to buy food. After bringing them back, she put her purchases away. London had a new king. King Henry the Fourth. He was born in 1367. She knew nothing about the king or his politics.

For ten years, she remained in London. Until she was forced to move. She couldn’t remain eighteen years old forever. People would become suspicious. For years, she was forced to go back and forth between the abandoned house and London. Being immortal was not easy. She couldn’t tell anyone her secret. At the same time, she saw the world changing. There were new technologies and countries to be discovered. In 1590, she saw a play by the writer, William Shakespeare.

She was able to meet the great Queen Elizabeth and kiss her hand. There was art and music and dancing and literature! London was alive! There was philosophy and medicine and advancements! When the Queen came through the city, people stopped what they were doing and bowed to her. She was beautiful with long red hair. But it wasn’t to last.

The great Queen died in 1603 without being married or leaving an heir. William Shakespeare died in 1616, leaving only his writings. In 1620, she boarded a ship going from England to the new world, The Mayflower. After twenty weeks at sea, they arrived in the new world. The new world was strange. She stayed with a puritan family and did what she was told. It was household responsibilities and training to be a housewife. She lied and gave her age as fifteen years old.

What was her name? Sarah Black. Her birthday was the seventh of January, 1615. They wanted to marry her off, so she fled in the middle of the night with only what she could carry. She ran away from the village until she could no longer see it. Then, she hid from the natives. When sunlight came, she continued walking around the strange landscape. She didn’t know where she was.

All she knew was that she had to keep walking. She was two hundred eighty-eight years old. But, she couldn’t be Emma Taylor anymore. She had to be Sarah Black. And, she had to continue walking. She wondered if her family was looking for her in heaven. Did they know what happened to her? Why her? After two hundred seventy years, she still didn’t have an answer to that. When she found shelter near a stream of water, she made it her home.

She used the water to wash and drink. For over a hundred years, she stayed in that hideout. From 1692-1693, accused witches were arrested and hanged in Salem, Massachusetts. She happened to be in Salem during the trials. As such, she did her best not to stick out.

Upon finding paper and a pen, she wrote in old English: name is emma taylor. I was born 'i london towards the seventh of january, 1332. Mine issue thinks i’m dead. She signed her name at the bottom before folding up the paper and putting it into her pocket. Hearing noises outside, she realized they were rounding up the accused witches to be hanged on Gallows Hill. There was terrible screaming from the victims. I’m innocent! God in heaven, save me!

But it was too late for them. Nobody could save them. In 1775, she found herself caught up in the chaos of the American revolution. British and American soldiers marched and fought their way across the original thirteen colonies. It all ended in 1783 with the British surrender. America was born, as the colonists celebrated their independence.

The newly elected government worked hard to form a new country. They elected General George Washington as their very first president. On August second, 1776, the continental congress officially signed the Declaration of Independence. After buying a journal, ink, and a pen, she started writing her life experiences while sitting in her rented apartment. She had kept the piece of paper from years before with her.

She kept the journal with her as she continued traveling through the new country. With every memory, she wrote about it. On April second, 1861, the country entered into a civil war. Once again, she was caught in the middle. The country was divided. Brother against father against uncle. All on the issue of slavery. The war lasted four long years before finally ending in 1865.

The country was working on repairing itself once again when President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated. There was a great outcry in the streets. The president’s been shot! The doctor did everything he could to save him but he died eight hours later. The country on both sides mourned him. She was among those who stood in line to say goodbye and express her condolences to his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln. The great president was dead.

To be continued……

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia @boricuacherry-blog

[citrusreadstoa]

Reading The Dark Prophecy: Chapter 3 (SPOILERS)

"Some old lady drops the mic / And kills everyone" That's a much larger mic than I expected. Or the people are a lot smaller. Maybe both.

"I volunteer for death!" Insert Katniss jokes. Apollo, I understand the situation was dire, but...

"What would you consider yourself, Calypso? A Titan? A demi-Titan?" Exactly what I've been wondering since she was introduced in The Battle of the Labyrinth. She exists in, like, a weird limbo zone (Hey, just like her island!). "Calypso cleared her throat with a noise that sounded suspiciously like idiot." So she considers herself an idiot? Got it.

"You're breaking my rhythm." Oh gods, is he singing this? "most worthless of teens!" Every time they repeat this, I am reminded that they're trying to make this somewhat musical and I just. I can't keep a straight face.

"making his way toward the bulldozer under the guise of an interpretive dance routine" I'd love to see this. I can guarantee you that what he's doing is so painfully obvious that the only reason he hasn't been called out yet is because the blemmyae don't want to accidentally insult his "dancing."

"Vary your adjectives" Cut her some slack, she's halfway into shock. She's doin' her best.

"stapled the bulldozer operator . . . right where his actual eyes would be." AAAAHHHHH my worst fear being realized! "Our friend is only giving you a dramatic interpretation of how we beat the Cyclopes." HAHAHAHA this poor little pathetic excuse--

"They're getting away!" "No, not at all! . . . You see, we traveled for many weeks like this..." I am fully laughing now. Also, many weeks? Half of it I chalk up to Apollo's exaggerated interpretation of events which he admittedly does all the time and not a single word out of his mouth when he's recalling a story can be trusted, and the other half I attribute to Festus being wonky. "Imagine you are Camp Half-Blood . . . and we are traveling away from you." HAHAHAHAHAAAA

"our getaway ride shuddered to a halt." Wow, I expected the bulldozer to last a lot longer. More than a page, at least. All that interpretive dance for nothing...

"The naming celebration is in three days" Is someone being born? Is a new building being opened? If it's a baby, I hope the baby doesn't end up dying or something. It's innocent in all this! "the main attractions in his slave procession!" Meg got demoted by a lot, huh?

"Suddenly an arrow" ARTEMIS. Don't even finish your sentence. It's Artemis. "A shrill whistle" NEVER MIND, IT'S HER HUNTERS. I don't need to read further. It's the Hunters. Every time a whistle sounds in these three series, I swear, it's the Hunters. Every time they describe the Hunters of Artemis entering a scene, it's gradual and dramatic with clue after clue in separate sentences or even paragraphs like, first it's an arrow. Then there's the whistle. And the wolves. And then some girl does a dramatic pose in an iconic parka like jumping down and landing in front of them or epically lowering a bow from on top of a tree far away. It's the moviest cinema thing ever.

"this woman was at least sixty years old" What??? I was so convinced. There wouldn't be any Hunters this old, right? I know they've made some exceptions for older teens, but this seems pushing it.

"sweeping red targeting lasers in every direction." Awfully modern technology for them.

"And that ghost you saw--that was Agamethus." Agamethus? I only know Brieanna. Is this some kind of underground resistance against the Triumvirate? Have we officially met the communists?

"the bomb-diggity." "Thank you.. I think." Hey! You never question when someone calls your crossbow trinkets the bomb-diggity! It's the highest of compliments.

"'If you knew Zoë, then you must be one of my sister's Hunters. But you can't be. You're...' I stopped myself before I could say old and dying." Good job, Apollo. OMG is this an ex-Hunter who broke her oath? Did she fall in love with someone and have to leave? If she is, it would explain the dramatic entrance. Holy geez, what if it was Apollo? 'Cause he keeps flirting with his sister's Hunters, it wouldn't be surprising if it worked at least once.

"Come, I'll take you to the Waystation." Holy guacamole, this is an underground resistance. It's all about the principle, baby!

[my-head-is-an-animal]

It Shouldn’t Be You

Plo Koon x Reader (N: Master Y/N Dolrook)

Warnings/Content: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Force Bonds, Lightsaber Battles, Inappropriate Use of the Force. 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Master Plo Koon is asked to seek the help of a woman who can save Master Fisto and destroy the weapons that are about to tear the planet in half. Sadness is all he feels at this request, in truth, the Council don’t want to ask him to do this at all, but there’s no other choice. He agrees and allows his mind to linger on things he’d rather not think of.

Notes: Okay, some of this is a little self-indulgent, but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head! Most of it takes place three years before the first chapter before Ahsoka is Anakin’s Padawan. I’ll label the chapters when there’s a time change, but I’m hoping it’ll be obvious. 

Chapter 1 – Present Day – A Grave Situation

It was a grave situation and getting worse.

    Master Yoda and Master Windu were not taking this decision lightly, even Obi Wan agreed they’d reached the point of desperation. Plo would not enjoy what they were about to ask of him.

    Ahsoka could sense the Council’s anxiety before stepping foot into the control room, it seemed Master Plo had sensed it long before walking down the corridor, because he’d gone very quiet indeed.

    ‘Master Plo, are you okay?’ She asked, almost afraid of the answer. ‘Is something wrong? I’m sensing a lot of anxiety.’

    ‘I’m sure everything will be alright, Ahsoka.’ The Kel Dor answered, stoically as ever.

    Ahsoka could feel him blocking his true feelings from her, he’d never done that before, but he was now putting his defences up and specifically keeping her out of his memory.

    ‘I sense you are unnerved, young one.’ He said, still thinking hard.

    ‘It’s just…’ Ahsoka didn’t know how to say what she wanted to say.

    ‘I am entitled to privacy,’ he chuckled. ‘I do not mind your curiosity when in the heat of the mission, the opportunity for you to learn is one I believe should not be missed, but I feel a personal matter approaching, and far sooner than I anticipated. You will find yourself somewhat isolated in the coming days. I recommend you use the time to think on your own feelings.’

    Ahsoka was surprised to hear Master Plo speak in such a way, of course there were some things she would never pry into, but she just never anticipated him completely shutting her out.

    They stepped into the control room where Masters Yoda, Windu, Kenobi and General Skywalker were gathered. A hologram of Master Fisto was also there, they all remained silent when Master Plo dragged his feet towards them.

    He sighed deeply. Sadness penetrated the whole room, everyone felt it. ‘Is there no other option?’ He asked, as if he were about to be given a death sentence.

    ‘Desperate, the situation has become.’ Yoda stepped forward.

    ‘We are trapped old friend.’ Fisto spoke up. ‘There is no way off world for these civilians and the planet is becoming unstable, they are getting ready to drill through the core and destroy the planet.’

    Each of the Masters in the room gave their words of encouragement, convincing Plo that they needed his help, but with each word spoken, his whole life Force seemed to slump. Ahsoka wanted to help, but she wasn’t sure of what was happening to be able to do anything.

    Plo finally bowed his head, thinking on the situation. His hand coming up to stroke the metal of his mask, thoughtfully.

    ‘What you’re asking will be no easy task, so I must be sure of one thing before I leave,’ he stepped forward, making the seriousness of his point clear. ‘Have we exhausted all other options? Even those with less than ideal odds?’

    The whole room took a collective breath.

    ‘We wouldn’t ask if there was any other way.’ Obi Wan shook his head. ‘There are sixty billion innocent lives on that planet, on top of Fisto’s men and a few other off worlders, including two hundred thousand refugees looking to settle on the nearby moon. Plo, I’m so sorry to ask this of you, but no one else is capable of removing the blockade and destroying their weapons inside the planet’s core. If we get this even a little wrong, it could be catastrophic.’

    Plo sighed heavily, his whole being seemed to ooze sorrow and disappointment. Ahsoka turned to Anakin.

    ‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered. ‘What are they asking Master Plo to do?’

    Anakin seemed unsure of how to answer.

    ‘To seek the help of one who has been promised a life of solitude.’ Plo stated directly at Ahsoka who felt a wave of something deeply complex wash over her. ‘A life away from war and death, a life without the company of others, and a life without choice.’

    Ahsoka frowned, not understanding. ‘So, he’s dangerous?’ She concluded. ‘Shouldn’t we try to fix this without enlisting criminals?’

    The room was silent. Ahsoka realised she’d crossed a line and even Anakin had a saddened expression.

    Master Plo clasped his hands behind his back and stepped towards Ahsoka. ‘She is the most dangerous person in this universe.’ Plo’s usual baritone voice hit a depth of gravity that Ahsoka hadn’t known existed in the Kel Dor. It was a warning, to tread carefully. ‘My instinct tells me, your presence will be most welcome on this mission, young one.’

    Ahsoka wasn’t sure whether to be afraid or not, but Master Plo didn’t give her much option as he began leaving the control room. Anakin nudged her to follow him, which she did, tentatively.

    The council members left, all exchanged looks with each other.

    ‘Do you think he will succeed?’ Windu put the question out for the room to contemplate.

    Yoda hummed, searching his feelings for a moment. ‘Clouded, his judgement remains. Uncertain, is the future. We can hope, she sees cause to intervene.’

    ‘And if she says no?’ Anakin stepped forward.

    No one dared answer, but it was clear there was a lot at stake and all of it riding on the success or failure of Master Plo Koon.

Stay up to date with this fic here. New chapter posted every day!

[talesofstyles]

Happy Anniversary

look, we all need lawyer harry in our lives. and we need to shag him in his office at least once. this piece is a mix of pure filth in his office and cute dad harry moments with his little girl at home. anywaay i’ll just shut up now. hope you lot like it! xx

[4k]

Balancing two cups of coffee and a yellow folder in your hands, you stride off the lift and onto the 30th floor of your building. Your own office is just two floors below on the 28th, but you have a meeting scheduled on this floor in about twenty five minutes and you thought it would be nice to surprise your husband before you head to the conference room together. To maintain your professional image at work, both of you don’t make it a habit to pop into each other’s office even though you work in the same building unless it’s absolutely necessary, but today you thought you’d make an exception since it’s your anniversary after all. And you sure he wouldn’t mind.

Hell, you know he’d be elated.

You gracefully navigate through a sea of cubicles, stopping for a second here and there to greet back some of your colleagues as you make your way to Harry’s office in the corner. He got the corner office a little over two years ago after he got full equity partnership, and God, you love Harry’s office. There’s not much of a difference regarding the interior with yours, but the view is ten times more spectacular.

You stop as you hear your name being called, and as you glance to your right, you see his secretary smiling at you. “Hi! Happy anniversary!”

“Thanks Claire,” you smile back at her. “Is Harry in?”

She nods. “He’s got a conference call earlier but I think he’s done now.”

“I’ll be quiet just in case then,” you reply, walking past her. “See you!”

You shut the door with care and slowly turn the lock as you enter Harry’s office. You can see that he’s frowning ahead in that silent way he gets when his brain is dealing with some huge, knotty problem, but as he looks up from his computer and sees you, the frown immediately turns into a grin. “Hi wifey.”

“Hey,” you feel a pleased little smile coming to your lips as you creep along the edge of his desk until you’re in front of him, turning around for a second to set the cups of coffee and your folder on the table. “Got you some coffee, thought you’d need it.”

“Thank you my love,” he reaches out, curling both of his hands around your hips. When he looks up at you, he’s smirking. “I think we both do.”

His eyes are sparkling as he licks his lips, scanning the length of your body. Without a doubt reminiscing last night after you tucked your little girl in bed and had a little pre-anniversary celebration right there on your kitchen island. 

It still gives you jolt sometimes, the way he’s looking at you, as if he’s looking at a breathtaking piece of artwork. You feel like you’ll never get used to it even after four years of marriage and two years of being together prior to that. It never fails to make your heart skip a beat every single bloody time.

It’s not much help, the fact that he’s in a suit. You see him in a suit every day yet it never gets old. Whoever invented the phrase ‘a man in a suit is to a woman what a woman in lingerie is to a man’ is brilliant and you can’t agree more with them. Your favourite piece of clothing on him is a long sleeved button-up shirt, and you’re pretty sure it has something to do with your attraction to your husband’s shoulders. There’s just something with the way they look when he’s taking it off — and how much you enjoy unbuttoning it. And when you layer a coat on top of that, it’s like getting to enjoy it twice. Like a very beautifully wrapped gift that you just can’t wait to rip open. 

You choose his left thigh to sit on, the one with a tiger tattoo hidden underneath his black trousers. Your favourite thigh. His face is only inches away from yours, you can just smell the scent of his Armani aftershave and hear the crisp cotton rustle of his shirt as he moves.

“Happy anniversary,” he mumbles against your cheek. His lips warm against your skin, and you can feel he’s smiling as he layers kisses down your jawline.

“Four years,” you turn your head to have a proper look at his face when he’s done doting on your face. Your fingers dance along his jawline this time, before sliding back into his hair. He lets out a happy sigh when you rub his scalp, leaning closer to lock your mouths in a sweet, light kiss.

“Don’t chuck me just yet,” he jokes, and you can feel the words said against your lips at the same time as you hear them.

You give him another quick kiss, giggling as you pull away. “Don’t worry,” you shake your head. “Not for another fifty years.”

“Make it seventy, will ya?” A sly smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Sixty five,” you deadpan. “Give or take.”

He’s chuckling as he lets one of his palms slide up your leg, the other running down your back, stopping just above your arse. His grins widen when he doesn’t feel anything else beside your work dress covering them. “You’re not wearing anything under this?”

“Not a stitch,” you murmur.

“Fuck,” he breathes heavily just inches away from your ear, sending a ticklish sort of shiver through your whole body. “We’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes.”

“We can do the whole ‘make love and explore each other’s bodies’ thing later tonight,” you shoot him a smirk as your hands wander south to undo his belt buckle, turning around to straddle him and letting him pull your dress up until it’s bunched around your hips. “Now you just have to quickly shag the hell out of me.” 

Harry growls in your ear as you unzip his trousers and reach inside, feeling him go from interested to rock hard within seconds, and the sound of it makes your core flex around nothing. He adjusts himself in his chair, pulling down his boxers just enough to get his cock out before he settles back, giving the full control to you.

You hold onto his shoulder with one hand and lift your hips, not wasting another minute before you let him in with a quiet moan. He’s nibbling your bottom lip before tracing it with his tongue.

“Fuck, love,” Harry swallows every small sound that you breathe, crafting them into a low, desperate moan that rumbles from his chest. “So bloody wet f’me.”

“Been thinking about you all morning,” you whisper in his ear, your voice as seductive as he’d ever heard, making him growl and shift his hips upward. 

You lean back with your elbows on the edge of his desk, letting him have a better view of where he disappears so deep inside of you, filling you nearly past your limit.

“I love you,” he groans softly, biting his bottom lip as he brings his thumb where you need it the most, pressing down in small circles. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, one of your elbows slipping off his desk but he is quick to catch you. You’re about to protest when he moves his hand up instead, his fingers digging into your hips, but the feeling of him basically shoving you down onto his cock definitely making up the loss.

He lifts you up without warning before setting you down on top of the scattered draft contracts and financial reports on his desk. He is far from gentle, every thrust sending you further and further across his desk that he needs to pull you back. Every drag of his cock out of your sensitive core sends delightful shivers of euphoria racing through you.

You desperately try to find something, anything, to hold onto. His arms, his shoulders, finally settling with hair as you pull him down by his tie closer to you. With a gasp of his name, you fall into bliss. Your eyes closed as he kisses you intensely, breathing against you deeply as he lets go of himself, spilling all he’s got into you.

He chuckles against your jaw as you both try to even your breath, giving you one last kiss. He pulls out and quickly reaches out for tissues to clean you properly before wiping himself and tucking his dick back into his trousers.

He gives you a moment to come down your high, certainly not complaining about the view of you laying on top of his desk with your dress still bunched up around your hips. There’s no way he can look at his desk the same again.

He reaches out to help you to sit up, stealing another kiss or two as you try to stand. Your legs are quivering and his lips quirk into a gentle smirk. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you nod as you adjust your dress and fix your hair. “How do I look?”

“Freshly fucked,” he teases you, but hastily amends himself when you look like you’ve seen a ghost. “I’m joking, I’m joking. You look amazing as always, my love.”

“Oh shit,” you mutter as you glance towards the clock. You quickly grab your yellow folder and your cup of coffee and head towards the door. “We need to go. The SC and HSBC people and the insurer must already be in the conference room by now.”

“Wait,” Harry suddenly stops you as you walk towards the door. Pulling you close, his eyes fixed on yours before he leans even closer, giving you a wink before he whispers, “you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had. Happy anniversary.”

***

“Mummy!”

You’re smiling through the mirror on your dressing table at the reflection of your two and a half year old peeking her head into your room. She’s wearing an adorable pink smocked dress with the cutest fabric bow at the back and she’s clutching a painting she must’ve just done. 

“Hi poppet,” you turn around to smile at her, opening your arms to sweep her into a hug.

“Mummy, look!” She proudly shows her painting. “It’s a pish!”

She still can’t say ‘f’ so she always pronounces ‘p’ instead, and both you and Harry can’t get enough of her baby talk. She grows way too fast but the way she talks reminds you that she’s still pretty much your baby. And you love it.

“Wow,” you gasp admiringly. “That’s a beautiful fish, my love. Shall we put it on the fridge later?”

“Uh-uh,” she nods as she climbs onto your bed. When you’re sure she doesn’t need your help climbing up, you turn your attention back to the mirror and continue with your makeup.

“Where’s daddy?” You ask her, glancing towards your bed where she is sat before you do your eyebrows.

She shrugs casually. “Seepin?”

Honestly, she is so petty. You wonder where she gets that from. Now every time you ask her about Harry she’ll say that he’s sleeping. It all started the other day when Harry was putting her to sleep. Minnie was telling him about her day but Harry was so tired that he fell asleep on her bed in the middle of the story. And you can’t really blame Harry because as much as you love your daughter, you know she sucks at telling stories. It takes ages and there are so many times where you smile at her but actually all you want to do is to yell ‘GET! TO! THE! BLOODY! POINT!’ (but of course you don’t do that, that’ll make you a terrible parent). 

You laugh and shake your head. “No he’s not.”

You barely finished your sentence when Harry walks into your room. He’s changed out of his work suit and into his fancy one. It’s slate gray from Prada, with an unbuttoned black shirt underneath (that you’ll definitely ask him to button them up later just so you can unbutton it for your pleasure). He looks so dashing that you can’t help but stare through your dressing table mirror.

“There you are,” he strides to the bed before plopping himself down to sit beside Minnie. “Turned my back for a second and you already ran off.”

Minnie giggles as Harry attacks her with tickles. “Daddy!” 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Harry suddenly stands up, walking towards his wardrobe and takes out a wrapped box before walking back towards you. He’s smiling sheepishly. “I know we said no gifts, but I can’t resist.”

You roll your eyes comically. “I knew it.”

“Open it,” he hands you the box, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Happy anniversary.”

You can’t believe your eyes when you open it. It’s a black Alexander McQueen dress. The black Alexander McQueen dress. The one that you’d been saving for and promised yourself that you’d get it as a reward after you’re done with the big case at work that you're currently working with Harry, because it’s the biggest case you’ve ever had, and it’s just so stressful that the idea of a reward is basically the only thing that keeps you going. 

“Harry,” you look at him, dumbfounded.

“Thought you’d like it,” he smiles at you as he sits back down on the bed, and Minnie quickly sits on his lap.

“I don’t know what to say. I mean… how-”

“Darling, you’ve been looking at that dress on the iPad before bed every night this past month,” he chuckles. “Hope you like it?”

“Of course I like it!” You grin. “I love it! Now, I knew you would get me something anyway even though we clearly said no gifts, so I got you something as well.” 

You head to your wardrobe and rifles at the back behind your shoes. As you turn, you’re holding the wrapped present and you hand it to Harry.

“You shouldn’t have, darling,” he shakes his head, smiling at you. “But thank you.”

“Open it, daddy!” Minnie exclaims excitedly and Harry nods.

He sets it down on the carpet and carefully opens the wrapping paper. “A suit carrier!”

“Now it’s not as fancy as the dress, but I know you need a new suit carrier. You’ve got your old one for ages.”

Harry buttons your lips together for a proper kiss, earning a shriek of “eeew!” from Minnie as she closes her eyes with both of her dimply baby hands, and you both can’t help but laugh. 

“M’gonna get you!” Harry playfully growls and catches her into his arm before she gets the chance to run away, kissing her little face over and over. It’s the sweetest sight and seeing them together always makes you more broody than you already are.

“Daddy, stop!” She giggles as she tries to hide her face from Harry who is now trying to blow raspberries on her cheek.

You take the dress that you were going to wear back into your wardrobe and pull out your new dress from the box instead. And as you slip into your brand new dress, both your husband and your daughter are looking at you like you hung the moon.

“Wow!” Minnie gasps. “Beautiful, mummy!”

You smile sheepishly. “Thank you, my love.”

“Mummy’s hot isn’t she, Min?” Harry nudges Minnie gently, tilting his head towards you.

“No!” Minnie frowns. “Mummy’s not hot. She’s warm. Mummy gives warm hugs,” she enunciates carefully.

Both you and Harry are dying with laughter. “You’re right, you’re right,” Harry hastily amends. “Mummy’s warm. Sorry.”

You check yourself once again in the mirror and you finally put on your lipstick, before quickly realising that you’ve made a mistake. Minnie has been obsessed with your lipsticks these days that you can’t put it on without her asking to do the same.

“Mummy!” She yells in delight as she spots the lipstick. “Miiiine!”

“Minnie,” Harry turns to her, scolding her gently. “We don’t say ‘mine’. What do we say?”

“Please mummy?” She looks at you with puppy dog eyes. “I do it, please?”

You just can’t say no to your little girl. So all you can do is just sigh and sit her down on the dressing table, helping her to put on the lipstick. When you’re done, she gasps admiringly at her own reflection in the mirror and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Beautiful!” She exclaims. “Like mummy!”

“You are, my darling,” Harry walks towards the dressing table and stands behind Minnie, squeezing her from behind and kissing her on the cheek. “Just like mummy. Gonna be a little heartbreaker, aren’t you?”

Minnie lets out another fit of giggles as Harry blows raspberries on her neck. And Harry’s about to give her another kisses attack to her cheeks when suddenly the doorbell rings and Minnie’s eyes light up. “Auntie Gem!”

“Shall we go and say hello?” 

***

Harry is taking you to Wolseley in Mayfair, one of your favourite restaurants which also happens to be the place where you went on your first date. Technically it wasn’t a date, it was supposed to be a dinner meeting with some other people from the firm who were working on the same case with you and Harry, but one of them was stuck somewhere dealing with an even bigger case, and the other one had to go home for family emergency, so that left only you and Harry to deal with it. 

You’re looking at your husband in front of you as you take a sip of your champagne. He’s clearly trying to ignore his phone, but after the 10th time it vibrates, he gives up.

“It’s Halford isn’t it?” You ask him, guessing the person who’s been texting him for the past hour.

He nods, taking a gulp of his champagne before finally setting his phone down. “What?” He’s gazing at you, a quizzical expression on his face.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You still think they need to go with the merger,” he accuses.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to, it’s written all over your face.”

“Fine,” you give up. “Since you insist, I still stand by my opinion. There’s no way out of it. They need to accept HSBC’s offer to merge.”

“Are you insane?” He looks at you in disbelief. “There’s no way Standard Chartered people would accept that. Halford would never say yes to that!”

“Harry, SC is going bust,” you retort. “They’ve been in denial long enough, don’t you think?”

Much to your surprise, he suddenly smiles.

“What?” You look at him in annoyance.

“I’ve missed this,” he’s hiding behind his champagne flute but you still see him smiling. “

This time you give him a quizzical look. “What?”

“This,” he makes elaborate gestures with his champagne flute before taking another gulp. “Working on the same case together. Reminds me of the good ol days, you know?”

Of course you know. That was how you met, in a conference room (in fact, it was that very conference room you both went to earlier today), working on a case together. You didn’t particularly get along well in the beginning, and that’s just to put it nicely.

“Darling, I love you,” you begin. “But I don’t really like working with you.” 

He laughs. “Oh come on, I’m not that bad!”

“Minnie is the only case that I actually enjoy working with you.” You roll your eyes comically and Harry can’t help but snort.

“Speaking about that kind of case,” he clears his throat before he begins. “I know it’s been perfect. You, me, our… case. But, I s’ppose we could, um, try for another case now?”

“Harry,” you reach across the table to squeeze his hand. “I’d love to have another… case. But,”

“Oh.”

“No, listen to me,” he breaks off into silence and you feel terrible at how hurt he sounds. “I’d love to have another baby, believe me I do, I really do. But right now we’re both just so caught up with work that we barely even see Minnie. I want us to try and learn how to have a better work-leisure balance before we go through that again.” 

You sigh in relief when he finally smiles at you. “I understand.” 

“Christmas,” you say out of the blue and Harry looks at you in confusion. “Christmas. Let’s try for another around Christmas. Which gives us around six months to figure this work-leisure thingy. That’s enough time don’t you think? Or when we’re done with this Standard Chartered case. Whichever comes first.”

“Darling, there’s no need to rush,” he assures you. “Honest. I’m ready when you are.”

“Actually there is,” you joke. “I’ve still got some vouchers for Mothercare that’ll expire by December next year.”

He chuckles. “So I’ve got to knock you up by March the latest?”

“No, February,” you reply and Harry appears a bit bemused. “Minnie was born way past her due date and I’m almost sure this one will come late too. We need it to be born before December, because- what?”

“Nothing,” Harry grins wider. “It’s just crazy, you know. Us. This. If someone came to this very table back then and told us that in six years we’d come back here to celebrate our four years wedding anniversary and talk about having a second baby…”

“Oh my god, I’d be livid,” you can’t help but laugh. “God, I hated you back then. I thought you were the most arrogant bastard I’d ever met.”

“Look at us now,” he makes another elaborate gesture with his champagne flute. Clearly making reference to that Paul Rudd meme.

“Who would’ve thought?” You laugh, playing along.

***

It turns out that Harry has another surprise for you.

After dinner, instead of driving back to your home in Kensington, he drives you both to Covent Garden instead. Turns out he’s booked a room in Rosewood for the night, and he didn’t want to say anything because he was sure you would say no. And he’s not wrong. You’ve never been away from Minnie overnight ever since she was born, and you would definitely overthink it and ended up saying no.

God, you love your husband.

The suite is amazing. It has panelled walls and plush sofas and a massive bed that looks insanely cosy. Now that you’re here, you’re fully convinced that it is not a crime to have a night off, and that Minnie will be just fine. In fact, you’re almost sure that she’s having a better time with Gemma than she is if you and Harry had stayed home. Gemma adores Minnie and Minnie is obsessed with her.

Harry hands you a glass of wine as he kisses your neck lingeringly. “The bath is ready.”

“You’ve got a text,” you murmur, tilting your head towards the coffee table where his phone is.

“Don’t care.”

“No, you do,” you insist. “Just look at it.”

He rolls his eyes but he listens to you and walks towards the coffee table. He grabs his phone, taking a second to read before he looks at you in astonishment.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” You play it cool, trying not to smile because actually you’ve read the notification about three minutes ago.

“Look,” he says, showing his phone to you.

Halford (Standard Chartered)

Harry, we’ve had our internal meeting and we’ve come to a decision to proceed with the merger.

You grin. “I don’t like to say I told you so.”

“You fucking love to say that,” he’s beaming at you. “Sweetheart, I know you said we can try when this case is over, and it is now. But just so you know I’m happy to wait til Christmas before we try too. There’s no rush.”

“Just shut up and put a baby in me, Styles.”

[joontier]

Parallel Palpitations | V1; report i

pairings: dr. park jimin x female reader 

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: romance, slice of life, humor

warnings: none to note

word count: 2k

g/n: this is just an intro basically ksjdfksjdf but i’d also like to inform yalls this coincides with the Subliminal in Scrubs universe (jk’s installment of TWA) 

Parallel Palpitations (the records) |  navi. | m.list

Closing his locker with his foot, Jimin tries to carefully balance his books placed precariously on top of each other in his arms as he walks back to the dean’s office where he’s also arranging most of his stuff to take home. It’s already been a week since he’d officially graduated medicine from Busan National University, and he had only kept going back to school to gather all his belongings so he could start reviewing. 

“Jimin, is that you?” The question almost knocks clumsy Jimin off his feet, surprised at how there was still any other person in the office besides  Kyungjo who was also collecting his stuff to take home. Jimin sets all of his books down first on a desk and turns, only to come face to face with none other than Jeon Jungmin himself, associate professor and chairman of the Jeon Medical Center. 

“Professor Jeon! Good evening Sir...It’s already late, professor?” 

Jeon Jungmin laughs, patting Jimin on the back, “I was going to say the same to you kid. You should go home.” Jimin flashes the older man a small smile, “Ah...yes, Professor. I’m just grabbing the last of my stuff then I’ll be on my way. This won’t take long.” 

“It’s fine, Jimin. The staff know you well anyways,” Jungmin sighs, then rests his weight on a pillar as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You know, Jimin...you’re a very bright student...I think even one of the best in Korea if I do say so myself.” 

The young man momentarily pauses with what he’s doing, taking in the professor’s words, “Oh, I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Sir.” 

Jungmin chuckles as he shakes his head. “It’s true - you’re driven and you’re smart. It’s a fixed formula for someone who achieves great success in life later on. Your parents must be very proud. I would be too, if you were my son too.” 

“Thank you, Professor. Everything I do, I do for my parents.” 

The older man lets out a deep exhale and gives Jimin another pat on the back. “Just wanted to let you know that you’re going to be a fine doctor Jimin - and the Jeon Medical Center would definitely need fine doctors like you. I realized I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I really hope you will choose JMC for your post-graduate internship. We have a good program here,” Jungmin’s voice goes down to a whisper, “If you wish to, just let me know…” 

Someone enters the office and bows to the both of them and recognizes the same man as the professor’s driver. The man collects the professor’s briefcase and coat with one nod of Jungmin. “Well, I’ll head off first, Jimin. I can give you a ride home if you’re done with those.” 

Jimin shakes his head quickly, declining the one and only Jeon Jungmin’s generous offer. He’s unsure about the other offer though, but if he lets himself get a car ride home with the chairman himself, the latter might take it as a favorable answer to his proposal to which Jimin is still undecided. “No thank you Sir. I’ll be alright. This might still take a while after all,” Jimin says with an awkward laugh, tapping the top of the stack which was rivaling Jimin’s height. 

“Alright Jimin. Get back home safely. And I...hope to see you again very soon.” 

Jimin gives him a curt nod. “Good night, Professor.” 

He continues on with his remaining tasks, wanting to finish quickly so he could finally go home and rest. “Is he gone?” Kyungjo’s voice startles Jimin, the book in his hands nearly causing the tower of books to collapse. “My god! Stop doing that!” Jimin scolds his friend as it wasn’t the first time Kyungjo’s sleuthing had given Jimin a fright. 

“Yeah, he left already. You done with your stuff?” 

“Uh-huh. All set and ready to step into the real world,” Kyungjo replies, waving his hands in the air. Jimin narrows his eyes at the other boy, judging him silently. Kyungjo has a particular inclination towards alcohol and Jimin wonders if today was one of the days where his friend indulges himself yet once again. 

“Have you heard about his actual son? What was the kid’s name again...uh…” Kyungjo snaps his fingers in mid-air as Jimin asks what was the issue with the chairman’s son, likewise reminding Kyungjo it wasn’t best to talk about it in the dean’s office. “Ah! Yes, Jeon Jungkook. Heard that their relationship got so bad that Jungkook completely cut himself off from the family once he graduated high school and went to Yonsei instead of BNU because of his daddy issues.”

Jimin, unsure how to handle and process that kind of information, simply shakes his head at Kyungjo. “It’s wrong to gossip about other people's lives like that.” When Jimin looks over at his friend, Kyungjo is no longer listening, fumbling with the remote as he turns up the volume of the office television. 

“In other news today, two thousand five hundred sixty one students of Seoul National University graduated this afternoon 25th of February, 2023. The ceremony was held at COEX Convention Center in Samsung-dong, Seoul to accommodate the number of graduates this year. With a yearly average of at least two thousand three hundred graduates, this year’s commencement ceremony records the highest number of graduates in the history of the national university. 

“Not only did they record the highest number of alumni, but this year also marks the first year to have a foreign national graduate as the school’s valedictorian.” Jimin is listening just as intently as Kyungjo now with both boys focused on the TV screen. “Jeong Yeorum, also known as Summer Jeong by her colleagues, graduates with flying colors today from Seoul National University’s College of Medicine. Here is part of her valedictory speech this afternoon.” 

A girl appears on screen and she stands behind the podium with a bright and reassuring smile on her face. “As we embark on the journey of the rest of our lives, I implore you all, to do what you love, because I believe it’s what you’ll do best. There will be countless times of trial, but keep in mind that perseverance will always prevail. Always aim for the moon, because even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. Class of 2023, good luck. And remember, graduation is only the beginning.” 

“Wow!” Kyungjo claps his hands enthusiastically as he marvels at the girl. “The twenty-six year old, who along with her  family migrated to South Korea back in 2015 when her father was reassigned to an office here in Seoul. The valedictorian says she’s not entirely foreign to Korea as her paternal grandmother is actually a native of Jeju. Jeong Yeorum then attended a co-ed high school in Mapo District, where she likewise finished her secondary education with academic distinction.” 

The reporters, equally impressed with the girl’s achievements, couldn’t help but add their own comments to the news report, “Wow...I guess some people are simply born for greatness.” 

“I agree with you there, Dongho-ssi. We might be looking at the next Bae Jeonjoo, the only woman in the group of doctors who pioneered neurosurgery in South Korea. Ms. Jeong Yeorum, if you are seeing this, we’re rooting for your promising career. Fighting!” 

As soon as the news anchors proceed to report other news, Kyungko turns off the television and mentions the time. “Well, she was pretty cute, wasn’t she? Totally my type! Maybe when we get to Seoul to review, we’ll get the chance to meet her...and make her my girlfriend!” 

Jimin rolls his eyes at Kyungjo, placing a firm grip on the shoulder, “My friend...you are either drunk, hungry, or high. Either way, you should go home. Don’t worry about me, I’ll just close up here.” 

Kyungjo shrugs his shoulders. “You’ll still go, right? To Seoul?” 

“I will. Don’t worry.” Jimin gives the other boy a reassuring nod. 

“Still half half with the rent, a’ight? I’ll be counting on you, Jiminie...and don’t let me down. Also, tell me when you’re leaving for Seoul so I know when I’m not supposed to bring hot city girls home...they have the tendency to be...loud sometimes.” 

This boy was definitely high, and whatever substance he’s taking, Jimin wants none of it. 

“That’s your cue, Kyungjo. Go home and take a cab instead.” 

“I can drive! I’m not high or drunk!” Kyungjo puts his hands up in the air in defense. “Hey, look, I can even moonwalk!” He proceeds to dance wildly as he exits the office, leaving Jimin questioning how he even became acquainted with Kyunjo in the first place. 

You barely hear the sound of your name being called on stage when the audio of Hoseok’s loud whooping completely dulls that of your professor’s. “Oppa! Nobody would be able to make out my name with your audio input!” Playfully shoving your cousin’s phone back into his hands, you continue to mumble your complaints about the poor video quality. 

Indignant with your words, Hoseok retorts, “Hey! I’m not a professional videographer, alright? What’s important is the actual moment happening and not how the moment was captured!” Hoseok hooks an arm over your neck, bringing your head to his chest as he gives you a noogie. “Oppa, my hair!!” 

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you quickly pat your hair down but not delivering a solid smack on Hoseok’s back. As you’re fixing your hair, you weren’t able to put much thought into where you were walking, ultimately, and accidentally bumping into someone in a blue and black graduation robe similar to yours. 

Quickly, you look up, apologizing profusely at the person. “Oh! I’m so sorry- I…” “It’s okay,” the guy smiles a little, “_________, right?” You’re sure the surprise is evident in your face when he mentions your name when he barely even talked to you during the entirety of med school. “Yes! I mean...hello, Jungkook..” Clearing your throat, you quickly think of something to divert the impending awkward silence, “Well...um, congratulations to you for graduating as the batch valedictorian!” It now dawns on you that he really did graduate on top of the class, “Wow! You’re real smart!” comes your thoughts, unconsciously voicing them out. 

‘You’re real smart?’ Really? That’s the best you could’ve done? 

Jungkook chuckles, slightly taken-aback by your audible observation. “Oh yeah...um, thanks.” From behind you, you hear Hoseok clear his throat before speaking up. “Hello!” You hang your head low momentarily, already imagining Hoseok making fun of you later for this. 

“Right, Jungkook, this is my cousin, Jung Hoseok. Oppa, this is my classmate - Jeon Jungkook.” The two men shake their hands briefly before Jungkook speaks up, “Well, I’ve got to go now. Congratulations to you too Soomin. And Jung Hoseok-ssi.” 

As soon as Jungkook gets out of your sight, Hoseok nudges you with his elbow. “Please tell me that man was Jeon Jungmin’s son,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. Nodding your head, you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Got a crush on the dude?” Oh god. Here we go again. 

“No! Jeez.” 

“Why were you so awkward around him then?” 

“We barely talked in class. Hell, I don’t even think we were within at least fifty meters from each other.” 

“But he’s a handsome man?” 

“Maybe you’re the one that’s got a crush on him?” 

Hoseok glares at you. 

“Do you think maybe you’d know which hospital he might be interested in taking his PGI? Woocheon perhaps?” 

It’s your turn to glare at him. “I told you. This incident was only one of our very few interactions ever. I think the last time he talked to me was when he borrowed a pencil during a class and that’s it.” 

“Well...if you’d discover where, let me know. Because if he does apply for Woocheon, and we’d happen to get the girl from SNU too....” Hoseok nods his head slowly, stroking his chin “Woocheon will have the A-Team interns this year, you included.” 

You roll your eyes, resting your arm against the car door that Hoseok opens for you, “You really think that’s going to pay for you ruining my hair?” 

“No, but you’re going to thank me if Woocheon manages to snag the dream team!” 

© joontier 2021

[kangaroo-writes-trash]

“The Herbalist”

With the minutes-past ringing of a bell and a fourth prompting cough, a human woman skirting her late-sixties, despite the clear pale skin and pristine look of someone one-third her age, slinks out of the ‘staff only’ hallway from the back of her brightly-lit store. A baggy-white blouse is worn over her torso and is tucked into an ankle-length black denim skirt, with a thin red string delicately tied around the collar. Through the soft-pink hair that at times obscures her similarly-coloured eyes, she looks upon the couple that’s been calling her forward: two men she doesn’t recognise, both wearing heavy winter clothing which almost entirely hides the leathered armour that they’re clad in, that and the sheathed blades and bows that hang off their harnesses which clearly hasn’t seen the excitement of a single fight. The one on the left, younger than his partner, whose fiery-red ponytail and barely-grown facial hair is the first to pique her interest. He appears to be enraptured by the trays of soil lining the wall to their right, which dutifully grows a wide variety of vegetables, flowers, and mushrooms, just to name a few. The man on the right, however, has his attention squarely on the woman who made them wait, his bushy-brown eyebrows firmly set angling downwards, and with dry lips that have unlikely to have smiled in years. “You should invest in more seating, girl.” The older man snaps, with a curt gesture to the single stool that's sat by one of the three vine-covered supporting pillars. The seat already having been taken by a sleeping white cat; a faithful customer. “And you could do with some patience, boy.” She retorts with a flick of her chin, her voice youthful if not dripping with a bead of playful venom. He squints, before closing the distance between him and the counter that the woman stands behind. “…me and me son need something.” “…Well,” her nails slowly, purposefully, drag across the wood, sporadic wraps as her eyes move between him and his self-proclaimed son who’s still yet to notice her arrival.  “Something? I can manage that, I’d say.” “Orion, for the love of the gods, stop messing with the damned plants!” Orion startles, quickly rubbing his hands free of the idly-collected dirt and hurrying to his father’s side. “Sorry. Sorry, miss.”  At least one of them has manners. “Now, that mysterious something, I’m going to need more. Neither of you looks outwardly sick, so probably not a tonic or antidote, right?” “Yes-“ “I could concoct something to keep your eyes on the straight and narrow? Keen reactions, and keener senses?” As she speaks, she starts pulling free an assorted collection of bulbous vials filled with liquids of various colours and viscosities. “We-“ “There’s always the few old faithfuls. One that makes you stronger, or smarter?” Deep orange and beaming blue, respectively. “Faster on the draw, longer in the-“ A beat, hesitating on the latter vial, “-well, never mind that one. But! Old Helvella’s got anything you’d need. I can fix a sickness right up and stop a disease in its tracks, you’ll be right as rain. Even though you say you don’t need it right now, there always comes a day when you do! Eventually! There’s one that helps you sleep, and one that keeps you awake? Given a week, I might even find the drive for one more… lucid, in effect. Besides, there’s always a plethora of ones that can keep you healthy!” “That!” The son answers quickly, if only to halt his father’s tightening grip on the edge of the counter. “Something that rights us when we fall, that’s what pa’s been looking for!” “Things to heal your wounds, then? Rather boring, but still, a popular choice for a reason.” Four more bursts of her fingers against the wood, before quickly leaning over the counter, far enough that the pair lean back to compensate. “Now! How many?~” “…A hundred gold coins for three.” The nameless-father orders a rather stark haggle - as if he holds any sway.  “Now, why would I do that? One hundred and twenty-five, no budging. Orion, sweetie, hop over and pluck three of those orange-spotted mushrooms, okay? They’re the ones in the yellow soil. And… one of the purple-capped, and two cloves from the smallest bulb of garlic. Don’t let them touch your skin, or you’ll be needing an antidote sooner than expected. Oh, and a leaf from the succulent on your way back? Good boy.” If headlights existed, he’d be a deer stuck in them. Only after an empty ‘shooing’ motion does he jump into action, leaving his father alone with the woman who named herself Helvella. “You’re going to make them? Don’t you have some already made? We’re in a rush.” “Like I said. Patience. If you were really in a hurry, you wouldn’t be haggling prices with me.” She speaks behind a polite smile that they both know isn’t so, returning the many displayed mixtures, medicines, and elixirs to their place beneath the counter. “…Is this necessary?” Not in the slightest. “You’re free to wander your way to another store if you’re so sorely inclined?” A satisfying moment of silence. “…No? Oh! Right, my mistake! Helvella’s Helluva’ Good Garden is the only reliable herbalist this side of the city! Silly me! Seems like you’ll have to make do.” He sends out a disapproving grunt that she clearly couldn't care less about, eventually admitting defeat on the unwinnable staring contest by turning to his still-busy son. “Get a move on, boy. I want us gone by nightfall.” “Busy trip ahead of you?” She inquiries with a sly smirk, before shifting to a sweet smile in the direction of the delivery boy; Orion, with the requested ingredients held in the pseudo-basket made from his shirt. “That’s right!” Orion answers in his fathers stead. “We’re heading north, to visit my ma! We’re gonna-“ “-enough chatter already. We’ve been here long enough as it is, just make sure those things get done soon, yeah?” “Shouldn’t take more than an hour! Thirty minutes, if you want to risk ruining the settling.” Helvella claims, whilst not at all moving to get to work. “Half up-front, if you wouldn’t mind.” Somewhat surprisingly, it’s the son that carries their coin- who thankfully doesn’t make a fuss about the seventy-odd coins that get neatly stacked between them. “We’ll be back! An hour, right?” “An hour.” She confirms, sliding three coins back their way. And with only a traded smile and a tasty glare, the pair take their leave. Three orange-spotted mushrooms, one purple-capped, two ripped-free cloves of garlic, and one of the healthier leaves from the plant by the door. To join that list is two vials of liquid pulled from beneath the counter, both easily mistaken for water by their clear look- if only they didn’t reek of iron and gunpowder respectively. “Am I forgetting anything, my little dove?” She asks into the mostly-empty store, a response extending from the snoozing cat through a soft trill. With a nod, she brings the ingredients with her as she ducks back through the ‘staff only’ hallway, returning a minutes later with two small plates covered in an assorted mess of foods, including cooked meats, diced vegetables where carrots reign supreme, and, some rather-recently collected garlic and mushrooms. After setting both on the counter, she doubles back for one more thing: a saucer of milk. Helvella sets that and one of the plates underneath the stool, running her fingers through the stray’s still-beautiful fur. They’ll get to it when they get to it. Talking about getting to it: she grabs three vials from beneath the counter, all the same, rose-tinted red, and places them on the far right of the counter. Order complete. “They don’t deserve homemade,” followed by a soft giggle, and a well needed hour-long lunch break.

[thetravelerwrites]

Courtship of the Headless King: Chapter Two

Rating: General Audiences Fandoms: 忘却の首と姫 | Boukyaku no Shirushi to Hime | The Princess and The Forgotten Head Relationship: Female Human/Male Headless King Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Political Marriage, Power Dynamic, Headless King Content Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Abductions Words: 4448

Lilya conducts her marriage interview with His Majesty. Please reblog and leave feedback!

There was a tense moment in which no one moved. The triplets and the king’s attendants watched apprehensively as Lilya stood there, taking in the sight she was seeing. Slowly, she took a step forward, and then another, and stopped right in front of the desk.

“Does that hurt?” Lilya asked softly.

The king actually took a small step backward, clearly not expecting this. For a moment, no one knew how to react to her question. After a minute of heavy silence, His Majesty picked up a pad of paper that lay on the desk in front of him and began to write.

~No, it doesn’t hurt.~

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Lilya said, placing a hand over her heart. “I’ve seen people lose their heads before; it always looked like it hurt terribly.”

The king began to write again. ~You were present during such barbaric acts?~

Lilya nodded shakily. “The royal family in Tritsia was captured during the war and were forced to witness many terrible things. Able-bodied countrymen were rounded up and executed en masse in a horrible show of power, even if they were just farmers or merchants. We were made to watch them all.”

All five attendants exchanged looks of horror.

~That must have been harrowing. How old were you when this happened?~

“It started when I was ten, after my father was killed, and carried on until Couliea claimed our land for themselves three years ago. I helped dig a fair number graves during that time.”

~How old are you now?~

“Nineteen, Your Majesty,” Lilya said.

Conversation died briefly, but after a moment, the king began to write again.

~Would you like to sit down?~

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Lilya said. Raba brought a chair for her and she took a seat. His Majesty waved his hand, and all five of the attendants bowed and left the room, closing the door behind them. Peridot winked at them as she exited.

~Are you not afraid of me?~ His Majesty asked.

“Not really, no,” Lilya replied. “After all that’s happened, I’m not afraid of very much anymore. Should I be scared?”

~This meeting marks three thousand, six hundred and sixty-two marriage interviews that I’ve conducted. You are the first and only woman who has seen me and not screamed, run, fainted, vomited, burst into hysterics, or begged me to let them go, fearful that I’d eat them or some other nonsense.~

“How awful. I couldn’t imagine someone treating you so cruelly. Why would they even come if they didn’t want to?”

~Pressure from their families. The political gain of a union with Banfarie would be a boon to any country on the continent. The appeal of that power and influence drives people to do things they don’t want to do. Either the women would cry hysterically and run away, or they would swallow their disgust and force themselves to conduct the interviews as if it were normal, all the while looking as if the idea of marrying me made them sick.~

“That was terribly rude of them,” Lilya replied, incensed.

His Majesty’s shoulders shook slightly, and Lilya thought he might be laughing.

~In all fairness to them, I am unusual and a little frightening.~

“That’s no excuse! So what if you’re a bit different? That’s no reason to make such a fuss. How would they like it if people acted that way around them? I know my feelings would be hurt. They should have been more considerate.”

His Majesty was completely still for a full minute. Lilya was beginning to wonder if he was alright, when he started to write again.

~You’re rather unusual, aren’t you?~

Lilya laughed good-naturedly. “I suppose so.” She looked at the paper and pen in his hand thoughtfully. “It must be difficult for you to communicate sometimes. I know most people of royal or noble birth are required to learn to read and write, but even in a prosperous nation like this one, many people are illiterate. Do you have trouble communicating with your staff?”

He moved his shoulders in such a way that it put Lilya in mind of someone shaking their head.

~No, since most of my staff are made up of fairies and spirits, my magic allows me to communicate telepathically with them. If needed, they can convey my thoughts to others.~

“Oh, I see! That’s how you spoke to Raba when the door was closed.”

~Yes.~

“Do you know any of the signing languages? Perhaps we could talk that way.”

His Majesty visibly perked up and began gesturing.

“Oh! No, I’m sorry, I don’t know the signing languages, I just meant that I’d be willing to learn it so that we could communicate easier with each other.”

He stopped signing, but he didn’t seem disappointed. Rather the opposite, he seemed touched.

~You’d be willing to learn an entire language just to be able to talk to me?~

“Well, yes. After all, if you accept me, I’d also need to learn this country’s native language to talk to the citizens. Adding another language to my curriculum wouldn’t be so bad.” She leaned forward a little, and His Majesty leaned back, as if intimidated. “This may be an impertinent question and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but may I ask how you lost your head?”

~It’s alright. I removed it myself.~

Lilya looked both horrified and impressed. “Whatever for?”

He paused for a moment before writing again, and this time he wrote out an extended statement.

~I was the son of a concubine who died during my birth. Apparently, I resembled her very much and did not take after my father, the king, at all. The queen’s children, my half-siblings, bullied me relentlessly, often questioning the legitimacy of my birth and whether or not I was indeed my father’s son. They spread rumors about me and my mother, which eventually got back to my father. He also began to question my birthright and threatened to send me into exile. In anger, I somehow managed to pry off my own head and throw it into the Aurora. I think I’d meant to end my own life, but I survived somehow. When my father saw this display of my magical power, he reversed his position and put me first in line for the throne, even though he had four sons by the queen who were all older than me. I was crowned king the following year, and the year after, my father passed away.~

“How old where you when you became king?”

~Twenty-two.~

“How old are you now?”

~One hundred and sixty years old.~

Lilya’s eyes widened in shock.

~Does my age upset you?~

“No, not at all, it’s just…” She frowned in sympathy but fell silent. It must be lonely to have lived alone for so long, she thought to herself.

~I have not aged since I lost my head. I think the magic of the Aurora is what keeps me alive.~

“That’s incredible,” Lilya breathed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing happening.”

~My family has always been strange.~

Lilya chuckled a little. “How are you able to see and hear without a head?”

~Magic. It’s hard to explain to in simple terms, but I don’t see or hear in the same way as normal humans. It’s more of a perception of the wavelengths created by light, shadow, and sound by my whole body instead of my head. I can perceive those sensations similarly to true sight and hearing, but it’s not quite the same.~

“That’s fascinating,” She said, leaning closer. “May I ask you something else that might be a little personal?”

He seemed to laugh again. ~More so than you have already done? Please do.~

“You’ve only been conducting marriage interviews for the last sixty years, right? That means you had already been ruling for almost eighty years without a queen. Why did you suddenly start looking for a wife?”

~My attendants began to pressure me to marry and sire an heir.~

“Is that the only reason?”

~What other reason would there be?~

“Weren’t you lonely?”

His Majesty’s hands were motionless and he seemed to be thinking.

~Perhaps.~

Then he fell still again, as if he didn’t know what else to say.

Lilya smiled a little. “You don’t enjoy these interviews, do you, my Lord?”

He gave another shoulder-shake of laughter. ~No, not at all. I believe this may have been the longest conversation I’ve had with a human woman in my entire life.~

“Oh, goodness,” Lilya said, holding a hand to her mouth in surprise. “I hope I haven’t bored you, my Lord.”

~Not in the slightest. This has been surprisingly pleasant.~

“Oh good,” She said, relieved.

~You’ve asked me a fair number of questions. May I ask you something in return?~

“Of course, My Lord.”

~What is one thing you wish for more than anything?~

Lilya looked out of the far window and thought about the question. She had never spent much time wishing for anything, knowing that wishes did little to affect reality. After all, she had wished for her father back numerous times, and for the terrible atrocities committed against her country to stop, and that had never happened. The only thing she really wished for was the safety of her people, but how could she achieve that?

“Walls,” She said suddenly.

~Walls?~

“The borders of my homeland have no defenses. People from outside the kingdom come in and steal food, destroy crops, take livestock, and even abduct people right out of the fields, and we have nothing to stop them. My land grows smaller every day because people just come in and take whatever they like, whenever they like. I wish we could do more to protect ourselves, but we have no military or security forces. Walls would be just as effective as guards, perhaps more so.”

You care very much about your home and people, at your own expense, it seems.

“Yes,” Lilya said, clutching the pendant on her neck. “I… I sold the tiara you sent to me so that I could feed the people affected by a famine on our southern border. It was a lovely gift and I was quite touched by it, Peridot even took this jewel off for me to keep,” She pulled it up to show him. “But… my people needed food more than I needed a crown. I hope you won’t be too disappointed in me, but… I didn’t want to lie or mislead you.”

~I see. He sat quietly, as if in thought. Very well. It will be done. I’ll have construction teams sent out to Tritsia right away.~

Lilya looked up in shock. “Wha… You’re Majesty! I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…”

~I know you didn’t. It is my gift to you for your understanding and patience. This has been one of the most enjoyable mornings I’ve had in many years. That alone is worth giving you some peace of mind.~ 

He stood up and made for the door. Overwhelmed by his generosity and on the verge of tears, Lilya jumped out of her chair as his Majesty passed her.

“I’ll marry you!”

His Majesty stopped dead in his tracks and turned. He hadn’t brought the paper with him so he couldn’t respond, but he was rooted to the spot as if frozen.

“This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me or my people. How could I possibly refuse?”

This spurred him to action. He walked briskly back to the desk and wrote on the notepad.

~I didn’t do it to buy your cooperation,~ He protested. ~It’s only a gift, nothing more. I expected for us to continue the interview after I made the arrangements. You don’t have to accept because you feel obligated to repay me.~

“No, that’s not it at all!” Lilya protested. “I don’t know what all those women saw when they looked at you, but it can’t be the same thing I see.”

~What is it that you see?~

She took a deep breath and attempt to gather her thoughts into a coherent fashion. “Maybe when they saw you, you reminded them of a storm that covered the sky at night, full of destructive power, and it made them afraid. But… all I can see when I look at you is what’s behind the storm.”

~Which is?~

“You’re the stars, not the storm. Your Majesty, you’re the light that shines when the storm passes.” She shook her head and laid it in her hands, unable to keep her overwhelmed tears from spilling. “Oh, I don’t even know if I’m making sense. But, Your Majesty, please believe me when I tell you that I don’t just want to marry you because I feel as if I’m in your debt, even though I most certainly am in your debt. I want to marry you because… I… I just do! I don’t even know how to explain it properly. I just… I would be happy to be your wife and honored to be your queen. If that’s what you want.”

~Wouldn’t you be happier marrying a normal man?~

“My Lord, I had no thoughts of marrying at all before I received your summons. If I did marry, it would most likely have been someone my family chose for me. With you, I get a choice. And I’ve chosen you.”

Slowly, he wrote, ~Are you sure?~

“Yes, I’m certain.”

~Then why are you crying?~

“Because I’m happy,” She replied, her voice shuddering as she laughed.

He held out his hand to her. ~You truly mean this? You’re accepting the proposal?~

“Yes,” She replied, taking his hand. “I’ll marry you right now if you want.”

He seemed to chuckle. ~It is enough that you said yes freely and without reservation. I am pleased.~

He turned toward the door, and it flew open after a moment, and all five of the attendants stood there with their mouths hanging open, staring at the pair holding hands. He must have told them the good news telepathically.

“Sire, congratulations!” Larima said. “It’s about time one of these women saw sense!”

“Larima, hold you’re tongue!” Aquamarine said, boxing one of his ears.

“His Majesty says that the wedding will have to be soon,” Raba told Lilya. “He regrets to have to rush it, but there is a political upheaval brewing to the west that he must take care of. He honestly hadn’t expected you to accept, so he hadn’t canceled his plans to intervene.”

“That’s quite alright,” Lilya said, grinning a little giddily. I can’t believe it! I’m really getting married! “I understand his Majesty must be terribly busy. I don’t mind if the wedding is soon. Oh!” She turned back to the king. “Can my family attend the wedding? I promised that I’d keep in touch with them, and I’d like them to meet you. Would that be alright?”

“He says that would be fine, except he’s worried that your family will not like him, which doesn’t normally bother him, but that it may cause trouble for you,” Raba said.

“It’s fine, I’ll explain everything to them. Thank you, Your Majesty!”

Lilya threw her arms around His Majesty’s waist, hugging him. He went completely still and his body tensed under hers, as if he were at the mercy of a pack of rabid dogs. Lilya, sensing his discomfort, released him immediately.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep! I was just so excited that I acted without thinking.”

If a headless person could gulp, His Majesty would have done so. He straightened his lace collar and waved his hand.

“He says it’s alright, he was just startled,” Peridot said. “He also says that as his chosen queen, your word is equal to his. You may give any order you wish and the staff with follow it without hesitation.”

“I understand, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

He bowed deeply in response, his arm across his chest as a show of respect.

Peridot clapped her hands eagerly. “Come now, princess! There’s much to do to get ready for the wedding and only a short amount of time to do it!”

The triplets led Lilya from the room, tittering happily. Once the door closed behind them, the king fell into a chair as if exhausted.

She’s like a whirlwind, He said to Raba and Larima. I am completely at her mercy.

“I’ve never seen you like this, My Lord,” Raba said. “She must have made one hell of a first impression.”

That is an understatement. Send a letter to her family inviting them to the wedding. It’ll make her happy to see them.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Larima said. “But… are you sure she’s the one? In all these years, after all those interviews, are you sure you’ve found your queen?”

It’s her; I knew it the moment I saw her, the second I heard her voice.

“The second she didn’t scream, you mean, sire?” Larima said. Raba flicked him in the forehead.

I’ve spent sixty years… no, much longer than that, looking for her. I���m not going to wait anymore. Begin preparations for the wedding immediately.

“Yes, My Lord.”

It took only a week for the preparations to be complete, seeing as the wedding would be a small affair. His Majesty said he would give Lilya any kind of wedding she wanted, no matter the expense, but she said all she wanted was for her family to be there and nothing else. All that was left now was to wait for Lilya’s family to arrive.

She hadn’t seen his Majesty since the interview, but she knew he had to have been incredibly busy. He was the monarch of a vast empire, after all, and he genuinely didn’t think he’d be getting married so soon.

A day before her family was due to arrive, a dress appeared in her quarters. It was gorgeous; a white, princess cut ball gown with a sheer layer of silk over the top painted with pink roses. The neckline was a low square-cut and it had half-sleeves with lace frills. On top of the mannequin holding it was a lace veil that trailed the ground and glittered as though it was woven from diamonds.

“Oh, how beautiful!” Lilya said. “Is this for me?”

“Yes, it’s your wedding gown,” Aquamarine said. “His Majesty had it sent down for a fitting.”

“It’s lovely,” She breathed, daring to reach out and touch the fabric, though it looked so delicate that it might disintegrate under her fingertips.

“Here, let us help you,” Garnet said, beginning to untie the laces.

Garnet, Aquarmarine, and Peridot assisted Lilya in putting the dress on. Though it fit like a glove around the waist, the skirt was just slightly too long. The sisters assured her it was a quick and easy fix.

That night, she was alone in her room looking at the dress, newly tailored and ready to be worn, and began to get anxious.

“What if I trip and tear it?” She fretted. “A dress like this couldn’t have been made in just a few days, no matter how many seamstresses worked on it; The lace on the train alone would have taken months to tat. It must be some kind of imperial heirloom. What would I do if I destroyed it? Would His Majesty be angry or cancel the wedding? What if he decides he doesn’t want a klutz for a wife?” Lilya scrubbed her face and sighed forcefully. “I need some air.”

She went to the long gable windows and unlatched one side, letting it swing open. The night air was cool and refreshing, and the aroma of the nearby gardens was soothing.

As she was about to close the window again, a wild gust of wind rushed in and caught up the veil, blowing it out of the window.

“No!” Lilya yelled, throwing her foot out of the window and jumping to the ground. It was a good thing her room was on the ground floor. She chased the veil across the lawn until it eventually got caught in the branches of a tree.

“Oh, come on!” She groused. The branched were too high for her to reach, so she was going to have to climb the tree in her nightgown to get it back. It didn’t help that there were no low branches for her to grab on, so she was basically going to have to shimmy up the trunk. How dignified.

“Okay,” She said, taking a breath before she started up. One foot, one hand, over and over. It seemed to take ages, and when she looked down, it was as if she hadn’t moved at all. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have stopped working in the stables. I have no core strength anymore.”

She was nearly at the lower-most branch when her foot slipped and she lost her grip, falling from the tree. She expected to hit the ground pretty hard, but she fell onto something soft. Looking around, she realized to her horror that His Majesty,  was on his back underneath her, having broken her fall. He was dressed in a casual white buttoned-up shirt and simple black slacks, likely his sleepwear.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry!” She said, scrambling to get off of him. “Are you alright?”

He pulled out a small pad of paper from the inside of his shirt and a fountain pen.

~I’m fine. Are you alright? Why were you climbing a tree at this hour?~

“My veil,” She replied, pointing at the branches. “It flew out of the window. I was trying to get it back down.”

~Why didn’t you call the sisters?~

She laughed a little self-consciously. “I panicked. I was scared that I’d tear it and you’d be upset with me.”

~I wouldn’t be upset over such a trivial thing. It’s just a piece of fabric.~

“How did you know I was out here?”

~I saw you from the window of my suite. I was worried you would hurt yourself or that you were running away.~

She was a little alarmed. “Were you chasing me down to bring me back?”

~No, I was going to watch over you until you got somewhere safe. Don’t worry, you’re free to change your mind at any time. I wouldn’t hold that against you.~

“Oh,” She said, surprised. “Your Majesty, I have no intention on going back on my decision. I meant it when I said I’m happy to be your bride. You feel the same, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and easily reached the branch with the veil. He was quite a bit taller than she was. Pulling it down carefully, he folded it and handed it back to her.

“Sorry to have caused you trouble,” She said, worried by his silence. “I’m afraid you’re bride-to-be is a little clumsy.”

~It’s nothing. Let’s go back.~ He held out his hand for her to stand up, and she took it, feeling sad.

He doesn’t want to marry me, She thought. He’s just doing it because I’m the only one who didn’t refuse him. I like him very much, but he doesn’t feel anything for me. That’s not fair to him.

The triplets met them back at the castle and escorted her back to her room. His Majesty left her in their care with a bow and went back to his quarters.

“Just call us next time, My Lady!” Garnet said. “His Majesty would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

“He might be inconvenienced, but I think devastated might be too strong a word,” She said. “He doesn’t even really want to marry me, he just thinks he has to.”

Peridot scoffed. “Why on earth would you think such a thing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m just the only person who accepted. I’ve only seen him once since the marriage interview, and that’s because he was rescuing me from a fall. He doesn’t really want to be with me.”

“My Lady, that’s absurd, of course he wants to marry you!”

“How can you be sure?”

“Look,” Aquamarine said as they reached her room. She opened the door and lay the veil back on the mannequin with the dress. “You see this? Where do you think it came from?”

“It’s an heirloom, right? Something that’s been in the royal family forever? It couldn’t have been made just for me, there wasn’t enough time for that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Garnet said. “His Majesty himself made this gown for you.”

“He did?” Lilya exclaimed, looking more carefully at the gown.

“Yes, with his magic. Do you know what he said to us when we were waiting outside of the office door after you agreed to marry him?”

“What?”

“’She said yes!’ he said. Every interview before always ended the same. He would tell us, ‘I don’t like her’ or ‘she’s lying’ or ‘she looks like she’s going to pass out, take her back to her room and let her go home’ or ‘why do they keep sending these women with dirty souls to me?’ He always sounded so dejected. But when you accepted, he was so excited. I’ve never heard him sound so happy.”

“Miss Lilya, you must understand,” Peridot said. “His Majesty’s mother died when he was born, and he was raised by nurses. In truth, he grew up never knowing the love of another person. Now as a man, he has no idea how to express affection for others. Until now, it’s never come up as a problem, but he sincerely wants you to be happy.” She pointed at the dress as an example, and then to the pad of paper on her desk. “You see those notebooks?”

“Yes?”

“Ordinarily, those would only be in one place: and His Majesty’s office, since that is the only place His Majesty meets with people who can’t hear him telepathically. But now, every single room in the castle has a notebook, just in case you’d like to talk to him. He’s doing everything he knows how to do to make it comfortable and easy for you, he’s just operating outside of his, admittedly, vast expertise. Give him some time. He’s very intelligent, if a little dense and insensitive. He’ll learn.”

Lilya smiled softly, touched. “I had no idea.” She pulled the sisters in for a hug. “You’re right, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. His Majesty and I don’t know each other well, for all that we’ll be married in a few days. I think when he gets back from the diplomatic trip, we should spend time rectifying that.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Aquamarine said.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[chupacabrasmustdie]

Ovella negra

If there's one thing we love here, it's spending way too much time thinking about minor characters - and when I heard Sylvando's audiobook mentioned a circus mentor, i knew i was in for a treat.

So without further ado, have some baby Sylv meeting madam Rose. 1k words, pre-canon, gen af. Scroll down or read it on AO3!

Thanks to the ever great @venatohru ​​ for going over this <3 remaining mistakes all mine.

---

He followed the circus from a distance for a couple of days, stopping when they did, far enough to escape detection but close enough to discourage prowlers and wild animals. On the third night, his back hurt from sleeping on the ground and he was ready to make his grand entrance.

Turns out, they had little interest in who he was, and much more in what he was willing to share. The dry-cured ham put stars in everyone’s eyes; the bottle of sweet white wine (snatched from the family cellar) helped convince them to introduce him to the ringmaster.

The juggler led him away from the campfire, to a wagon parked a bit further near the treeline. Truly, a sight to behold: a pink and red monstrosity, adorned with touches of gold and floral decorations. “Wait here,” the man said, and disappeared through an impossibly narrow door. He came back after what felt like an eternity and ushered him in with a wink.

Inside, sitting among piles of colorful clothing, stage props and flashy trinkets, was an old woman with long, dark hair, her eyes outlined with heavy black makeup. She could’ve been fifty or sixty years old, maybe more; her face was covered in wrinkles, but her movements were still lively - graceful, even. Laying down her smoking pipe, she gave him a curious look, her large golden earrings tingling softly. “And who might you be?”

He’d had enough time to come up with a ready answer. “Ernesto, milady.”

She barked out a laugh, and waved at the tiny space around them. “Have you seen a lady here? ‘Cause I sure haven’t. Madam Rose will do.”

Ignoring the heat creeping up his neck, he nodded. “Understood.”

“And loosen up a little, for goodness’ sake. This isn’t troops review.” He rushed to unclasp his hands from behind his back; the movement caught her eye and she reached out to catch one of his hands in hers, turning it around and inspecting it closely. He resisted the urge to bat her hands away, wondering if she was able to guess who he was, somehow. He’d always dismissed palm reading as superstitious nonsense, but…

“Interesting,” she said, letting him go. “A soft hand, well-cared for…with a couple of distinctive calluses.” Toying with one of her earrings, she gave him an easy smile. “A young man of good breeding with a knack for fencing, then. Is that right, Ernesto?”

He observed a cautious silence, and realized that he’d somehow assumed the same posture she’d just made fun of, neck and shoulders rigid with tension. He willed his muscles to relax without exhaling too deeply.

“Thing is,” she continued, taking a long drag on her pipe. “We don’t usually take in runaway young nobles. It tends to end badly.”

“I’m not,” he started, but the look she gave him shut him up right then and there.

“As I was saying…” She blew a couple of smoke rings, lost in her thoughts for a moment. “We circus people have a bad enough reputation as it is. The last thing we need is angry wealthy people making things more difficult for us.”

He licked his lips, giving his next sentence some serious consideration. “You said you don’t usually take in runaway nobles.”

“So?”

“So I take it you have done it, occasionally.”

“Someone paid attention during their rhetoric lessons,” she smirked. “Yes, darling, we do welcome the occasional black sheep. But…” She gave him the once-over and the line of her mouth hardened. “You look both too young to make that call, and too old to start training with us.”

He forced a smile on his face, fingernails digging into his palms. “I’m a quick learner.”

“I’m sure you are, darling.”

“I’m fast, I have good balance. I can walk a tightrope.” She nodded, obviously unimpressed, but it was the shrill of desperation in his own voice that made his cheeks burn with embarrassment. There had to be something he could say to change her mind - a talent he possessed that would make him a worthwhile addition…

To hell with it. “I’m a good dancer, a decent singer. And I play a mean dulzaina.”

She took the pipe out of her mouth and turned to look at him. “You play the dulzaina?”

“Yes! Recorder, castanets, various percussion instruments, but mostly the dulzaina.”

“We could use another musician,” she mused. The lines around her mouth deepened as she added, “but not another mouth to feed.”

Last throw of the dice, he thought as he rummaged in his satchel to produce a small piece of velvet. Unfolding it carefully, he held up its content for her to see - and she gasped.

“Put that thing away,” she hissed. “Are you mad? Or just trying to get yourself killed?”

“No, not at all,” he stammered, hiding the offensive item as fast as he could. “I simply wished to show you I can pay for my tuition.”

“You absolute fool.” She hid her face in her hands and groaned. “Honey, if you have any common sense, you’ll keep that thing hidden until we visit a big city and you can trade it somewhat safely for gold coins.”

In the heavy silence that followed, he tried not to grin - and failed. “Does that mean you’re letting me stay with you?”

She snarled and he took a step back. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He held her gaze until her expression softened into something almost affectionate. “Oh, what the hell… Why not? I feel it my duty to protect such a spendy, sheltered youth. And if they happen to play a mean dulzaina… how could I resist?”

The mocking made him blush - again - but he supposed he’d earned it. He knew the pearl was precious, it was the very reason he’d brought it with him; but he’d failed to realize just how precious, and how it was bound to attract greed. He guessed he really had lived quite a sheltered life in Puerto Valor.

He bowed his head, fist on his chest - a typically caballero gesture, he realized too late. “You won’t regret it, I promise. Thank you, mil-” The word died away on his lips under her stare, “Madam Rose.”

“I’d better not, or it’s back to sword fencing for you.”

Not a bad perspective, for most people; all his training companions had considered themselves lucky. But the thought of going home with his tail between his legs - of facing his father - made his stomach twist.

“It won’t come to that.”

She waved him off. “We’ll see. Off with you, now, darling…a lady needs her beauty sleep.”

Her hoarse laughter followed him out of the wagon, and back to the campfire.

[hellzeldagirlsfanfic]

Cost of the Throne - Chapter 8

[Pervious] * [Next] * [First]

(Y/N) woke as the sun was coming over the horizon. Her fiancé was already up and was waiting for her to get up. He helped her back into the red dress again before breakfast was brought up to them.

When they had finished their meal, they returned to the carriage which was ready to take them to Quebel.

It took a little over a week for the group to returned to Quebel and its capital, Questone where the royal palace was located. A week that (Y/N) spent trapped in that tiny carriage with Vergil. It was awful. Vergil was a man of few words and was silent for the ride back to Quebel. Not that she wanted to talk to him.

It was about midday when they entered Questone and this is when Vergil finally opened his mouth.

“Welcome home, (Y/N),” He said to her.

“Quebel has never been my home,” She told him.

Vergil fave her a pointed look which she returned with a blank stare. (Y/N) could tell he was tolerating her behaviour for now but for a long how was a mystery.

A loud sound from outside of the carriage drew (Y/N) away from her fiancé’s face. She could see through the small window in the carriage’s door the people had stopped what they were doing so they welcome back their king. The people of Questone looked happy to see their king. (Y/N) remembered when Harald used to back from visiting Mallet the streets would become deserted, no one wanted t welcome him back.

The cheering continued until the carriage reached the walls of the palace.

When the carriage came to a complete stop, butterflies (Y/N)’s stomach.

Once again Vergil was the first to leave the carriage. (Y/N) took a shaky breath before she followed suit.

The half-demon waited by the side of the carriage’s door, with his hand outstretched to help her from the carriage. (Y/N) didn’t take it.

When she stepped out of the vehicle, the young woman came face to face with the grand entrance of Cedarroot Palace. She had never seen the front of the palace that she had been locked deep inside for the first ten years of her life.

The palace was as grandiose as she had imagined when she was a child.

There was stone relief on top of the hundred of windows lining the front of the palace, with each one having a different design. Over the top of the large palace door was a relief showing the first King of Quebel slaying one of Mundus’ demonic generals. It was a story that every child in Quebel knows.

Her (E/C) eyes were drawn away from the magnificent architecture to a group of men walking up to her and Vergil.

The group was mostly made up of men in their sixties. Some of their faces were familiar, their minor Lords when she was a child.

As she scanned across the group she spotted a very familiar face among them. Oswin was one of the faces in the group. He was standing at the far side of her looking gloomy.

“Welcome back, Your Majesty,” The group’s head man, Earl Templecombe she believes, said as the group bowed towards their king. “And welcome home, Lady Rozeningale,” The Earl turned to greeted her separately.

(Y/N) didn’t fave any reply, just kept her face neutral.

It was obvious by the look on Earl Templecombe’s face that he didn’t appreciate her silent response but he made no comment as he was in front of the king.

“Any news on the rebelling Dukes?” Vergil asked.

Rebelling Dukes? It must be Harald’s cousins. The males’ members of the Rose-Griffiths would never let the throne slip out of the family, even if history remembers them as villains.

“It seems like they have retreated to Hilden Mountains in the north,” The Earl explained. “We were just discussing a plan as you entered the capital,” He further explained.

“We will continue that discussion again after I introduce (Y/N) to the court and my announce,” Vergil instructed.

Said woman jumped at the presence on the small of her back, pushing her forward through the group of old men to the palace door.

(Y/N) was guided to the throne room as men continued to talk about the country’s affair.

The front of the palace looked untouched by the final battle of the war but as the group drew closer to the throne room, there were tell-tale signs of the fight. Sword slashes could be seen on the walls, holes litter the walls and paintings, burns marks and what looked like claw marks.

At the entrance of the throne room, (Y/N) noticed the elaborate craved oaks door were gone and the frame was heavily damaged. The throne room was in a terrible state, the grand tapestries and lavish curtains were gone. The tiled floor was destroyed half of the floor was already taken up. Even in this ruined room, the thrones stood there untouched by the destruction.

The hand on (Y/N)’s back left her back as  Vergil moved to take his place Quebelian throne. Automatically stepped aside along with the council, to take her place with the court like she did when she was a child.

She could feel Vergil’s eyes on her as stood with her eyes on the ground.

“(Y/N),” Oswin whispered to her. “Sit on the throne,” he told her.

Her eyes moved from the floor to the queen’s throne by side Vergil. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for Oswin, the (H/C) moved to the throne.

Sitting on the throne was strange. It was something that no one expected her to be sitting. She hoped that she would stay in Prildo Ira helping the people until her death not playing queen for people who didn’t even know that she existed.

Once she was seated a servant was called to inform the court that King had returned and was holding court, right now. Soon the room filled with nobility or what was left of them. The rumour in Prildo Ira was that most of the Quebelian aristocratic families had been killed either during the war or at the final battle inside the palace. It seemed like the rumour were only half true. It was only the families closest to the Rose-Griffiths that were missing from court.

When all of the court was presented, court began.

(Y/N) watched as Oswin stepped from the other member of the court, stopping in front of the throne. He bowed to them before speaking.

“Welcome back Your Majesty,” He greeted. “We are delighted that you have returned unharmed and successful,” Oswin said with pain as he said ‘successful’.

“Thank you, Lord Valles,” Vergil responded. “And yes I was successful in retrieving my fiancee, Lady Rozeningale from Prildo Ira,” He told the court. “Now that she here in Quebel I can now announce the date of our wedding which will be this summer,” The King announced.

‘That doesn’t leave much time,’ (Y/N) thought. Winter was just ending and Spring would be here soon. ‘I can’t rush or I’ll mess up but if I delay my escape then there would be a chance my plan could be discovered,’ She planned.

That day’s court wasn’t that long as it was only to announce officially their marriage.

Vergil stood from his throne looking over to his fiancee to follow him. Not wanting to have the eyes of the court on her so she followed Vergil’s lead and stood up. He placed his hand on her back again, guiding her out of the throne room. The council followed behind them.

The half-demon lead her and the council to a room that looked like a meeting room. A large and long table with then chairs on each side and a grandly decorated chair at the head of the table.

Of course, that grand chair was for Vergil so before he took his seat; he pulled out a chair for (Y/N) on the side furthest from the door.

(Y/N) sat in the chair with no argument as she had no energy at the moment.

Her (E/C) eyes met Oswin’s purple from the other side of the table. He gave her a strained smile as he sat opposite.

“To continue our conversation about those rebelling Dukes,” Vergil stated the purpose of the meeting.

“Of course Your Majesty,” Lord Creeveroe said. “The latest news we have received from the front lines is that Dukes of Vilotain, Celltain, Trombtain and Trumptain have retreated to Hilden Mountain in the north-west of the kingdom. It is the second mountain in Quartz-Spine Range,” He explained to Vergil. “We have ordered the force to surrounded the mountain. We’ve also sent two companies to the other end of the range to make sure that they don’t know one escape,” Lord Creeveroe finished. Oswin brought over a map to show the king the terrain around the Quartz-Spine Range.

The land around the range was flat right up to the mountains. The land was also fertile, so there was a lot of farmland surrounding the mountains.

Vergil studied the map, silently coming up with a plan to defeat the Rose-Griffiths’ Dukes.

“How much supplies do they have?” The king question.

“We are unsure but the Duke of Vilotain was apart of the war council so I’m sure they would have reasonable size. If I had to guess maybe about two to six months worth,” Oswin guessed.

Vergil hummed at the councillors response.

As the men talk (Y/N) just sat there listening to them, there was nothing for her to say. She knew nothing about war, it was a topic strictly for men. Even in Prildo Ira where women had more freedom, they couldn’t be on any council of war but even limited knowledge of war she knew what Vergil was planning.

“Do you have a plan, My Majesty?” Count Finlaggan asked.

Vergil sat up straight in his seat.

“The Dukes have an advantage at the moment,” He stated. “If they do have six months worth of supplies then those greedy Dukes will hoard all that food for themselves. Their men will either rebel against them or abandon them,” He explained.

The members of the council looked at each other, some understanding what their king wanted to do others didn’t.

“Sorry Your Highness, are you planning to siege the dukes?” A Lord asked.

“Of course, fool,” Vergil said.

“What!?” Earl Templecombe exclaimed. “We can’t do that, Your Highness! Most of the young men under the Dukes are either forced or mislead!” The Earl stated.

(Y/N) couldn’t hold back her snort of laughter as she heard Earl blatant lie.

“I find it hard to believe you are worried for the men servicing under the dukes as I remember you been quite a supporter for the Siege of Littheslingworth,” (Y/N) recalled. She paused to give the Earl a moment to realise what she had said. She watched as the old man scrunched up his eyebrow and went to speak but she opened her mouth before he could. “Or does your sudden pacifism have something to do with your favourite bed warmer, the Duchess of Violtain?” (Y/N) suggested.

It was certainly entertaining to watching the face of Earl Templecombe’s face drained of colour. He stuttered as he tried to come up with a reason.

“Y-You,” The nobleman stuttered.

“‘Blasted bastard of the house of Lovelace’, “The blighted daughter of deranged tyrant Harald-Mallory’, ‘The blemish on the noble lineage of the Rose-Griffith’,” (Y/N) listed. “Was it one of those or were going to use your favourite one ‘The Whore’s-”

“Enough!” Vergil shouted.

His voice stopped the pettiness between his fiancee and the Earl of Andden.

“This is not the time for the two of you to be squabbling about your past wrongs,” Vergil told them. “Earl Templecombe, do keep in mind the only reason you’re are here in this high ranking position is because you abandon your loyal to Rose-Griffiths,” He reminded the nobleman, his ice-blue eyes glowing with a dangerous-looking them.

(Y/N) moved her gaze to Oswin’s mortified face. She felt bad for the older man so gave him a soft smile.

The meeting continued with no more interruption but there was a heavy atmosphere.

“Hiding me away from everyone,” (Y/N) sarcastically said.

“Well considering how you acted during the council meeting,” Vergil replied.

“I’m so sorry,” She sarcastically apologised. “I couldn’t stop myself laughing at Archibald’s hypocrisy. You should be more careful when choosing your advisors,” She told as she took her seat at the dining table.

“Well, they will not be advisors soon,” Vergil reminder his fiancee. “I hope you are taking notes,”

The (H/C) silently growled at the half-demon.

Dinner passed with tense air between the king and his future queen. Vergil allowed (Y/N) to be escorted to her temporary quarter.

The room that she was escorted to was the quarters that Harald given her mother.

One of the knights escorting opened the door for her and then closed it behind her.

(Y/N) scanned the rooms that she had grew up in was stripped of all of its elegant furniture and beautiful paintings were gone. The luxurious ornaments on the mantelpiece were no longer there.

The furniture that was there now basic and plain, just two small couches and a coffee table between them.

The woman moved from the drawing-room to her old bedroom.

She was surprised to see that her bedroom had been left untouched.

The soft toys that had been brought for her were, stay present o her bed. (Y/N) walked over to her bookcase to all of her books, childish tales of heroism. Her eyes glide across the books’ spines until she found the book that made her want to become a doctor in her new life. Her fingers continued to travel across the books’ spines until they came to a series of similar-looking books. A face crossed her mind causing her heart pain. (Y/N) pulled away from the bookcase.

She moved her bed and collapse on the soft mattress. She buried her face into one of the many pillows on her bed and cried herself to sleep quietly, just like when she was a child.  

[sonorous-cicada]

Breathe Part 3

Crickets chirped in the cool night’s air as Naruto stacked his final bundle of kindling neatly by the campfire. Sasuke leaned against a tree and threw a water canteen towards Naruto’s head. He gave him a grin before loudly chugging its contents. Sasuke rolled his eyes in response and looked towards the darkening forest. It would take them two more days to reach the Land of Waves where they could finally be rid of their obnoxious and drunken client.

Chizu scared him sometimes, she had an uncanny ability to predict the future and see through people. Although, he supposed, that was normal if you lived between life and death on a daily basis.

“Be careful, Sasu-chan. I have a bad feeling about this one,” she whispered to him as they walked to the gate together.

“Do you say that to Itachi-nii whenever he leaves too?” Sasuke snipped.

“Sometimes…” Chizu cleared her throat and handed over a bag of bento lunches neatly packaged in storage scrolls. “Please remember to share. I didn’t make all of this for one person.” She winked and walked over to Kakashi as they arrived at the gate.

“Hatake-san, this is the second brother whose life you’ve held in your hands. I expect him to arrive home whole, as well.”

“Maa, Uchiha-san, you needn’t worry about ninja business.”

“Kakashi. I am perfectly serious when I say if my brother is not returned whole to me, then I will find a way to end you. Hokage’s special protection or not.” A small shiver threatened to escape as her soft gaze hardened into cold obsidian.

“Aren’t you cute.” Kakashi’s eye crinkled as he moved away with his back towards the fence. Even though she was a civilian, she was still an Uchiha. Uchiha were never to be underestimated.

Itachi had checked the time twice before deciding to leave the small tea shop. It was unlike Chizu to be late, especially when seasonal green tea was on the line. Two years ago, with their father’s blessing, she had opened up a knitting store in the heart of the city. It was only a few blocks away from their meeting place.

As with most everything in their life, Chizu had ‘offered’ Itachi the opportunity to invest before opening. Which was to say that Chizu talked him into doing something foolish and he complied. This time, however, the gamble was paying off. In hindsight, it had been worth it to empty the vast majority of his life-savings. It almost made up for the fact that her ‘investment opportunities’ turned out to be a way to grift money from him. Occasionally, it made him laugh to himself that Itachi, Captain of ANBU team two and heir to the Uchiha clan, was the proud owner of forty-percent of ‘Twining Knits and Fine Yarns’.

Of course, Chizu owned sixty-percent. Eight years of ANBU salary did not match the generous dowry that Fugaku had set aside when Chizu was born. It had been expected, given her illness. It had also been expected that she would be married at the age of sixteen, as was common among civilian nobility. What had not been expected was for Chizu to be a lesbian. The elders detested the very idea and demanded that she be cast out of their clan. Fugaku laughed at their demands and instead granted her the dowry that had been set aside for a future marriage. Seed money for the business that she and their grandmother had dreamed about for years.

His feet stopped short of the dark green door inlaid with stained glass. It was slightly ajar and the warm smells of wool and vanilla wafted through. Another note hung darkly in the air. One that he was far too familiar with and one that he did not expect at the front door of his sister’s store. Blood. For a moment, he too could not breathe.

~~~

Beep. Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Beep.

Fugaku ran his hands through his hair as the plastic chair beneath him creaked slightly. The Inuzuka hound on the bed opened an eye and gave him a cursory glance. It had come as no surprise to him that Chizu was in a serious relationship with the Inuzuka heiress. They had been best friends in the academy before Hana became a genin and Chizu began her apprenticeship. The two were inseparable. Bitterness bubbled inside him. He wanted to blame Hana Inuzuka for Chizu’s kidnapping. He wanted it to be her fault, because if it wasn’t hers, it was his own. His own for not placing enough officers in the downtown region. His own for not figuring out that his eighteen year-old, terminally-ill, civilian daughter was practically an agent for the Hokage.

The stubble on his chin rasped his fingers as they found their way to a new bruise. The last thing he remembered was feeling the satisfying crunch of Minato’s nose underneath his fist. The fact that Minato let him go out of pity was the icing on top of a cake of bitterness and self-loathing. If only for a moment it were Hana’s fault it could be bearable.

Beep. Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Beep.

“How did this happen?” he whispered to the room. The dog huffed and rose from its post. It laid a heavy head on Fugaku’s lap and licked his knee in condolence. He threaded his fingers through the thick fur and bowed his head. There was a soft rap on the door before Hana walked in. She soundlessly checked the monitors and IV’s. When he looked up, the young woman bowed before him.

“Stay, Mu,” she said to the white dog. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t enough, Uchiha-sama. If you’d like, I can tell you what happened. ANBU and Hokage-sama have already debriefed me…” Her voice sounded detached and far away.

“No. I’ve heard enough of it. I… I know you tried to stop them, Hana-chan. They told me that when you regained consciousness from whatever that white-haired freak did to you, that you tracked them until you and your nin-ken dropped from chakra exhaustion. Itachi told me it’s because of you that he was able to find the deserter… I know all this. I do not want to know the details.” He took in a calming breath, grateful that he was able to fill his lungs with air. “Sit with me, musume. We’ll watch over her together.”

Beep. Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Beep..

Beep. Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Beep.

The proof of life clinging tenuously to its last thread resounded in the sterile room.

An: Musume means daughter.

[renee-writer]

An Invisible Thread Chapter 14 Two Graduates

“You were just this big,” Julia holds her hands a couple feet apart, “and now you are getting ready to graduate.” She wipes a tear from her eyes as she helps her daughter with her gown.

 

“It does seem only yesterday that I saw Fire Jamie for the first time.” Her eyes get far away like they always do when she is thinking about her love.

 

“Two. You were two. You two have known each other for 16 years.”

 

“Yes!” she smiles brilliantly, “and will the rest of our lives.”

 

Julia sighs as she straightens the gown. Claire doesn’t see. She is lost in thoughts of her man. Of what she believes him to be talking to his own parents about right now.  “Claire, you know we love Jamie and his family?”

 

“Yes mam.”

 

“It is just, your dad and I are concerned you haven’t dated anyone else.”

 

“Why should I?” She turns her head to look at her. “Dating is for meeting the person you will marry, build a future with. I have done that.”

 

“Yes, I know that you think that..”

 

“Mam, I know that. “ she turns fully around, sending the black gown twirling. “I have known it since I was ten, probably earlier but.. Look I get what you are saying. What you and dad’s concerns are. I do but, Jamie and I are right for each other. We will never see anyone else. Never want anyone else. We are young but truly know our hearts. You needn’t worry.”

 

Her mam touches her cheek. “I will always worry. It is the nature of parenthood. May I ask you something?” she nods. “Are you and Jamie intimate?”

 

“No mam. He has strong feelings about that. It is for marriage. Only.”

 

“Good. Waiting is the right thing.”

 

“Yes but bloody hard.” They laugh together.

 

“Da, I need to talk with you about something important.”

 

“Aye.” He looks at his son, this man that stands where a little boy once stood, and not long ago either. Time has a way of rushing when it comes to the bairns.  Willy grown, married, with a son of his own, Jenny, newly married to Ian, now his youngest about to graduate.

 

“You know that Claire is the one for me. That I will never love another the way I love her?”

 

“Aye son. We ken this.”

 

He starts to pace, running his hands through his short curls. Brian looks at him with concern. What is this? He stops in front of the fireplace, unlit on this spring day. His hands travel over the Fraser name and crest carved into the front of the mantle. He stands there a moment before squaring his shoulders and turning back to his da. “I seek your permission to ask her dad for her hand.”

 

“Hard yes. But worth it.”

 

“I agree.”

 

“A long wait though. With university and medical school.”

 

“Mam, we aren’t waiting that long to get married.”

 

“Are you serious son?”

 

“I am. Very. Da, she holds my heart and has for 16 years. Why wait to wed. We are both adults.”

 

“Why, medical school, that’s why. Her dream, eh?”

 

“Yes, her dream that I fully support. I will help her anyway I can. As her boyfriend or husband. That won’t change anything.”

 

“Is this about sex?”

 

“Is this about sex Claire?” Julia stands, hands on her hips and looks at her daughter. Claire removes the gown and hangs it back up on her closet door. She takes a seat on her bed.

 

“No mam. Waiting is hard but.. no. It is about wanting to share a full life with the man I love. Wanting him by my side as I study. A hand to hold when life is overwhelming. My future has been his as long as I can recall. I want to start it.”

 

“Da, no! We have waited but.. Look, she is all I will ever want. I long to share the burden of medical school with her. Have a meal and a bath ready after a long day. Be the person she vents to, have the shoulder she cries on. Celebrate with her when she gets good marks. Our past and future belong to each other. It feels right to start it.”

 

“You are just so young.” Julia frets as she joins her daughter on her bed.

 

“Yes but we want sixty, seventy, years together. Mam, I love him beyond the ability to say. Do you understand?” She looks into her daughter’s eyes and sees pure joy.

 

“Yes, baby girl, I do. Maybe it is just not ready to give you up.”

 

They lean against each other. “You won’t be mam. Just officially gaining the Fraser’s as family.”

 

“Well, you know how much I adore little Ewan William.”

 

“He really is a doll.”

 

“You are a man Jamie. I still think you are to young but,” he sees his son about to argue, “old enough to decide your future. Yes, ask him. I am proud of you son.”

 

They marched the next day, insisting on sitting together, despite the school’s rule about alphabetical order.

 

“What shall they do? Suspend us?” Jamie tells her and their families. Claire graduates with high honors in math and science. Jamie with the same in literature and history. Their families are justifiably proud. Ewan William, Willy and Mary’s three year old, yells out, Uncle Jamie!’ when he sees him walk across the stage. The ham then stops in the middle and deeply bows to him and the rest of his family. The little boy laughs and laughs.

 

Julia and Brian cry when they see Claire. Their long awaited daughter, a woman.  After, Jamie walks up to Brian.

 

“May I talk with you? Alone sir.”

 

“Sir? Must be serious.” Jamie nods and he wheels himself after him.

[crystalgirl259]

The Flame and the Dragon Ch4

Chapter 4: The Duke

Kai sighed in relief as he dropped the bags at his feet and plopped down next to the equally exhausted Lloyd on the side of the town square fountain. The large, glistening fountain outside of city hall in the dead center of the entire city. Built only a handful of years ago, this fountain at the old town center was there to represent the importance of all generations, both young and old, and what they have to offer. Its position within the city was meant to represent the strong mind and balanced way of life the city strived for.

It was designed by Nya.

She had wonderfully captured the natural beauty of the region and used a personal style to convey her vision in this piece of art. Every element was crafted and created with deluxe materials from local suppliers, ensuring this monument will remain an important aspect of the community spirit for many more years.

"Think we got enough food?" He teased.

"Well, we got everything on Nya's list." Lloyd smiled. "You remembered the chocolate right?"

"Yes, I remembered the chocolate." Kai rolled his eyes playfully. Lloyd smiled and dug into his big brother's bag before pulling out a folder and opened. He thumbed through the pages until he found a small back of stapled pages and pulled out the top one, smiling before placing the pack in Kai's lap.

"Care to show your favorite little brother what you've been working on?" He flashed a bright smile and his infamous pleading look.

"Maybe later," Kai replied calmly, earning him a look of pure shock from the blond boy. Kai could never resist Lloyd's babyface when he wanted something. Kai just laughed and scooped his collection of papers in his hands before looking at the one Lloyd picked out. The poem was written in his hand above the image of a field of roses. At the heart was an ancient castle that dated back to the early 18th century. The only difference was this castle was pure white, each stone chiseled from stabs of pristine marble.

Lloyd leaned over his brother's shoulder, immediately engrossed in the detailed sketch of his big brother's.

"Jeez Kai, you could give Nya a run for her money."

"It's just a sketch."

"It's still awesome! Now, can I see the poem or not?" Lloyd pleaded with a whine in his voice.

"No!"

"But it's amazing!" He begged and giggled as Kai blushed.

"You think everything I write is amazing." He smiled, rolling his eyes.

"Because they are!" He insisted, kneeling over the side of the fountain to dig through Kai's folder. "Didn't you say that one goes with another poem or passage? Here it is!" He cheered in victory pulling out another passage Kai wrote and placed in his lap. "This one! I remember cuz when you were reading you had this really dreamy look on your face." His smile almost split in half at the dark blush suddenly covering Kai's face. He snatched both things away and stuffed them back in his folder.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, green bean." Kai insisted with a small smirk. It would have convinced anyone else despite the faint scarlet dusting Kai's cheeks, but not to Lloyd and Nya.

"Yes, you do! You wrote that about the Dragon Lord didn't you?" He smirked playfully. The brunette's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at Lloyd's innocently smirking face.

"How do you know that?!" He spluttered, completely flabbergasted. The youngest Smith almost burst out laughing at his older brother's panic.

"I didn't, but it's written all over your face!" He gasped in between laughs. Growling in defeat, Kai ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

"Yes, they were inspired by the fairy tale, but no it's not about him, I wrote them after I had a dream." He explained as Lloyd blinked in bewilderment. "I know silly, right?"

"No! I wanna hear it!" He insisted widening his eyes. Rolling his eyes again, knowing Lloyd wouldn't let the subject drop, he continued.

"Alright, well, every night, I dream I'm in a field of flowers outside the castle and while I'm there, I hear a song playing and I follow it; then I see a man standing there holding the most beautiful music box I'd ever seen."

"Is he handsome?" Lloyd asked, teasingly, but Kai chose to ignore that question.

"The music was so lovely; it reminded me of the songs Mom and Dad used to sing to us, but in the most amazing voice I've ever heard." He sighed in awe. "The second I woke up, I just wrote the poem down and then I just couldn't get that man out of my head; I kept dreaming about him more and more." He explained unwittingly, letting his hidden passions seep into his voice; something that didn't go unnoticed by Lloyd. His smile only widened until it nearly split his face in half.

"You're in love~" He sang and Kai almost fell off the fountain. "You're in love with your dream prince!" He teased, with a smirk that put even his siblings to shame as he leaned over his older brother. "And don't try and deny it either, that might work on someone else, but not someone who's known you as long as I have!"

"The Dragon Lord is only a fairy tale, he's not real." Kai sighed, saddened, looking heavenward for assistance to his dilemma.

"Don't worry, bro; I'm sure you'll find your true love." Lloyd encouraged, leaning against the brunette's shoulder. Kai chuckled and ran his fingers through Lloyd's blond hair.

"You're a hopeless romantic, green bean."

"Hopeful." He corrected mischievously. Both boys broke into a fit of laughter until they were interrupted by the sound of a carriage and horses pulling to a stop. Just like that, everyone in town stopped to carry out the weekly ritual that was as practiced and routine as everything else in Ignacia. Everyone was more than happy to greet the two people that were exiting the carriage. The first to exit the expensive, flamboyant carriage was a middle-aged woman wearing a simple but expensive pale green dress.

Her long black hair was tied in a high ponytail by a pretty dark green ribbon, while her toxic green eyes glowed against her deathly-pale skin.

She was a noble maiden without a doubt, but she was not the reason everyone had stopped to stare. The man she turned and bowed her head to was. The brothers recognized his walk before he even stepped out of the carriage. He looked nobler than the woman. The man stepped out of the carriage adorned in a black suit that looked like the most expensive embroidery anyone had ever seen and a necklace of the finest craftsmanship. The outfit was only a simple outing suit but it was still the most expensive thing either brother had ever seen.

The pants alone probably cost more than their entre combined wardrobes.

His white gloves were molded the man's perfect hand and the suit hugged his muscles tightly. The newly polished shoes shined as he stepped down from the carriage. Men and women became lovestruck at his appearance and some people were instantly struck with jealousy or admiration. That combined with perfectly smooth, unblemished white skin, a perfect face, long jet black hair with a green streak in it, and ghostly green eyes, Duke Morro Vento was in every inch a fairy tale prince.

After all, Morro's family had founded the town and still owned it to this day.

Kai never realized how rehearsed Morro's walk was. It was coy and arrogant, just like his glances and his audacious smile. Morro must have returned from a successful trip because he seemed more arrogant today. Kai's gaze turned to Lloyd who nodded in understanding. Both boys picked up their books and the groceries, ready to leave. But a second too late, the duke's gaze found them and he smiled, a seductive smirk that Kai hated more than anything else.

Again he strolled over, cutting off their only exit before the two boys could sneak away.

"Hello, Kai." He smiled sweetly, but the teen saw right through it.

"That's Mr. Smith, your grace." He retorted with a hard gaze. At one point he may have been allowed Morro to call him by his first name, but he had lost that right years ago. Morro's predatory gaze immediately hardened when the brunette used his title instead of his name, though he'd told him time and time again he was allowed to. Kai simply refused to. It was so hard to believe that this arrogant and pompous man obsessed with luxury and social position was the same sweet and free-spirited kid the Smiths knew as children.

Morro's grandfather and their father Ray had been close friends for years.

It was solely because of Morro's grandfather the family moved to this town in the first place. Morro's grandfather had been Duke of the city and the peasants for almost sixty years. He had made it perfectly clear he was just as much a citizen of the town as the rest of the valley. He never cared for social status or reform and only for the well-being of the town and the citizens. As a result, the two families had been quite close. Morro was only two or three years older than Kai.

Sometimes their parents joked about the two of them getting married one day.

This was something Morro's parents took to heart for the future, especially as the children entered adulthood. Ray never considered the idea, especially since he knew none of the children seemed to like Morro in that manner. But once Morro's grandfather died and Ray fell ill, everything changed. Once Morro and his family took the role of Duke and Duchess, and delighted in the royal lifestyle, the Smiths saw less and less of Morro. He'd become too comfortable in the position of his family.

"How many times must I ask you to call me Morro, Kai?" The Duke smiled sweetly, hoping for a romantic response. The brunette just rolled his eyes and gathered his papers together before tying his folder closed. He lifted it to put it away but Morro suddenly snatched it.

"What are these, beautiful?" He asked with mock curiosity, flipping through the papers.

"Your grace, please return my property." He said and it took every ounce of Kai's willpower to remain civil. It was for the sake of his family's good name that he didn't snatch it from his hands and scold him like a child.

"Did you write all these, darling? You must have way too much time on your hands if you waste it scribbling away and reading books." He laughed and Kai growled at the mockery in Morro's voice.

"That's not true!" Lloyd exclaimed and was on his feet faster than anyone expected of the young boy. "Kai's an amazing writer, if you even bothered to read them instead of spending all your time in that stupid shack you call a palace, you'd recognize some good writing." He growled at the duke. A few eyes widened and jaws dropped at Lloyd's comment, but Morro paid the boy no mind and snapped the folder closed, holding it as if it were a discarded garment.

"Oh darling, you have so much promise; don't you think it is about time you got your head out of those silly stories and started paying attention to more important things?" He asked and his voice held a seductive purr that made Kai shiver in aggravation. "I mean, the whole town is talking about it! You spend all your time working at that little shop or reading, it is such a shame." He spoke in such a dreary tone as if Kai's life was that of an unfortunate pauper.

Kai closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair.

He let the duke rant, knowing full well he wouldn't care if he was paying attention to him or not. It had been this way since Morro became the Duke. He accepted the position with a smile and had since turned his ambitions to accustoming Kai to the royal life. The trio lost touch with him as a result, especially Kai, who rejected the idea of the rich and nobility; preferring a life of freedom away from petty, materialistic things. After all, he was perfectly happy living with his siblings where the three could carry out their dreams.

Of course, Morro didn't notice or even care.

"Of course, if you were married to a more... privileged person you wouldn't have to work a day in your life." Morro grinned as his emerald eyes fixed in a cruel seductive glint and met Kai's amber orbs.

"Marriage?" Kai repeated as his eyes widened. "I don't think so Morro, I like working and besides, I don't want to marry just anyone; now, please return my folder." He ordered, attempting to mask the hostility in his voice, holding out his hand.

"Oh, but it wouldn't be just anyone." Morro continued, ignoring the brunette, and held the folder out of his reach so Kai's gaze was fixed on him. "You of all people deserve far more than just anyone; you deserve someone beautiful, wealthy, well-respected-"

"Those are all material things, Morro, not what you should be looking for in marriage." Lloyd cut him off, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"Give me my folder back, Duke Vento."

"You need someone who's known you since you arrived in this town, who's courted you for years." He smirked as he leaned closer to the brunette, irritation marring the seductive charm.

"I won't ask you again Morro, now stop acting childish and give me my stuff back!" Kai thundered in a harsh tone. Taken aback by the scolding and the looks of the townsmen, he regained his composure and with as much dignity as he could muster returned the folder to Kai.

"Very well, we'll talk later than; come along, Bansha, let us return home." He smiled as he gestured to the raven-haired girl, who followed obediently. Kai's amber eyes were almost red with rage until Lloyd pulled on his arm a bit. Kai's gaze turned to his little brother's curious stare.

"Is he really so naïve that he can't tell you're ignoring his flirting on purpose, or is he just acting?" He asked as he cocked his head cutely, making Morro suddenly freeze in his tracks and Kai burst into laughter, his anger forgotten. Morro turned around with a mortified look on his face. Did Kai's brother just insult him? Without even trying?

"How dare you!" He snapped, pointing accusingly, his composure shattered.

"Now, now, my lord." Kai chuckled. "He's only joking, come on Lloyd, let's get home before Nya wonders where we've been." He smirked and Lloyd smiled as the two scooped up the groceries and books and strolled past the duke and the noblewoman and down the street towards home. Once they were out of earshot of town and Morro, Kai turned to his smiling little brother.

"Thank you for that, green bean; I swear I would have beat the crap outta him if he called me 'darling' one more time."

"I don't know why you put up with him!" Lloyd asked with a snort. "You'd think it would finally penetrate that thick skull of his that you're not interested!"

"I doubt that." Kai sighed, annoyed. "Morro never was one to give up." He added and he knew that was true from experience. Morro had waited and tried for years to coax him to his side. "Hopefully when Nya wins this year, we'll finally have enough money to leave this miserable place." He smiled, confidently.

"I hope so!" Lloyd cheered. "Even I'm getting sick of this town, but I'd miss Dr. Saunders and Brad." He admitted. Kai hummed in understanding as he looked at the large clock tower and his eyes widened.

"Oh shit! Look what time it is!"

"We didn't even make dinner yet and you know what happened last time we got home late?" The youngest Smith groaned as he turned to his middle sibling with concern.

"Don't worry, Nya's a smart girl; she's not dumb enough to repeat her mistakes," Kai assured him. No sooner had Kai said those words, however, an explosion erupted from the Smith home, and thick black smoke pooled from the chimney and kitchen windows...

[ladynightmare913]

Red Rose, Blood Moon

Welcome to Chapter 7! This is an original inspired by the tale of  Red Riding Hood. I would like to say a special thank you to my best friend and co-author Olivia ( @asunshinepuff ​ )for joining me on in writing this world onto paper. 

CW: There is a brief mention of implied intercourse. You have been warned!

This story contains only original characters created by Olivia and myself. For those of you who want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask to me or Olivia on her blog. If you have any questions, theories, or curiosities about any of our characters or how the story will progress, send them to the ask box!

Now without further adieu!

Chapter 7: The Necklace

The hunters lead Rosabella and Bardolph to their village. The hunter hurriedly ushered Rosabella into his home, leading her up the stairs and into the room where his wife rested. Rosabella lifted the back of her hand to her nose, the room smelled foul. The scent of rotting herbs overwhelmed her. She looked over to the woman who was bed ridden.

The woman was deathly pale, her skin was clammy, her eyes were sunken and when she tried to speak, her voice croaked. Rosabella looked at the hunter who stared at his wife in silent grief at the state of her. “How long has she been like this?”

“Months, it wasn’t this bad at first. But it got worse over time, she says it feels like someone is stabbing her on her back.” 

Rosabella’s eyes scanned over the room, lowering her hand, she followed the scent of rotten herbs. She suspected the cause of his wife’s sudden illness. “What do you smell?” Rosabella asked the men. 

They looked amongst themselves, some sniffed the air. Shaking their heads. The hunter spoke. “Nothing.” 

Rosabella merely nodded, “I see,” she crouched down to her knees, bending over to look under the bed. She smirked when she found what she was looking for. She stood back up with an object in hand. Turning to the hunters, she opened her gloved palm, showing a dark purple pouch covered in markings. 

“This is the cause of your wife’s illness.” She spoke. 

The hunters all frowned, trying to get a closer look at the small pouch. “What is it?” 

“It’s a witch’s pouch. A witch can hex anyone with it from a great distance. It’s filled with cursed and rotten herbs like Voodoo Lily. Those flowers smell awful, and over time, can cause extreme pain.” Rosabella paused, looking amongst the hunters. “Someone cursed your wife.” 

The hunter frowned, the others began to mutter to themselves. Rosabella pushed past them, walking to the fireplace down stairs. She tossed the pouch into the burning flames. “Your wife should recover soon.”

“Who would do this to her?” The hunter asked.

Rosabella only gave a sympathetic glance. “It could be anyone, someone in the village could hold a grudge against your wife, and went to see a witch to get this pouch. I suggest you track down who might have done this.” 

The hunters nodded in agreement, a weak call from upstarts startled them, the hunter who’s name was called on their wife’s lips raced upstairs. She was already starting to recover.  

The hunters gave the huntress many thanks, Rosabella bashfully accepted their kind words. Bardolph whistled. “My lady, you truly are a maiden of many talents.” He grinned.  

“Why thank you Bardolph, but my talents are the product of years of study and experience. I still have much to learn.”  

“But of course.” He bowed his head. 

Rosabella rolled her eyes, catching sight of a woman walking towards then. She was a short woman with brown eyes, which widened at the sight of Bardolph. “You, don’t I-”

“Bonjour my lady, I am Bardolph Sinclair,” He grabs her hand, a smirk on his lips. “Au chanté mademoiselle.”

The woman flushed, “My word monsieur, you are too bold.”  

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Rosabella chuckled, quickly taking her leave when Bardolph called after her. 

Rosabella ignored him. Looking up at the moon, she deemed that it would be hours before she needed to return to the inn. She decided to go for a stroll in the woods. She’ll come back for Bardolph after. 

The night air was crisp and cool, Rosabella breathed in the fresh air. Twirling slowly as she gazed upon at the moon. A smile graced her face. Looking down, she stopped. An inaudible gasp escaped her. A fawn walked towards her, its nose twitching as it sniffed the air. Rosabella slowly crouched down, offering her hand. A bright smile on her face.

The fawn trotted over to her happily, licking her face, Rosabella laughed in joy. 

“Oh what a sweet thing you are!” She spoke softly, gently stroking it’s head. The fawn began to suckle her hand. 

“Oh little fawn, I have no milk to give you,” Rosabella looked over the fawn, her eyes scanning the forest, “Where is your mother?” 

A twig snapped, Rosabella gasped, turning quickly. Her heart raced, she hadn’t heard anyone following her. She searched for anyone hiding in the shadows, sniffing the air, she frowned. This scent, it was familiar. Where had she smelled it before? 

She wasn’t given a chance to ponder on her questions, the fawn trotted away from her, its tail wagging happily. “Wait I-” The fawn didn’t stop, only jumping into the brush. Rosabella humed in thought. Perhaps the fawn head it’s mother calling for it. Taking a deep breath, Rosabella continued her walk. 

She returned to the village when the moon was making its final light in the sky. Rosabella followed Bardolph’s scent, which was mostly ash and earth. But his scent was everywhere, so Rosabella decided to wait outside of the hunter’s home. 

The scent of ashe and earth reached Rosabella before Bardolph walked towards her briskly. Rosabella’s brows rose as she leaned on the wall of the house, her arms crossed. His lips were swollen, his hair was a mess, a dark purple bruise lined his collarbone, and looked out of breath. He was tucking in his shirt. A musky scent lingered on him, and the scent of the woman from earlier. Her nose crinkled. 

“Have an eventful night Bardolph?” She raised a quizzical brow. He responded with a weak laugh. 

“Why don’t we just head on back to the inn, hmm?” He smiled before he walked ahead. 

Rosabella shook her head as she walked silently behind him. Glaring at his head. He seemed to notice, he looked back at her. 

“Surely you can understand a man has needs Mademoiselle.” He chuckled awkwardly. 

Rosabella didn’t dignify him with a response, only raising an unimpressed brow. Bardolph sigh, about to turn around his eyes, caught the necklace on her neck. He frowned. 

“Where did you get that?” His eyes narrowed. 

“Get what?” Rosabella frowned in return. 

“That necklace.” He pointed to her chest. 

Rosabella eyed him skeptically, her hand gently grasped her necklace. Her fingers tracing over the gold antlers and ruby, “It was found on me as a babe. I do not know where it comes from. I like to believe it was my mother’s.” 

Bardolph stared at the necklace for a long while, “I had not noticed it before,” he muttered. He cleared his throat, seeming to come back to himself. “Forgive me, it’s just. I have only ever seen that necklace once before. It was thought to have been missing.” 

Rosabella looked at her necklace. Why would it have thought to be missing, unless… 

“Do you know this necklace?” Her eyes tracked every move he made. Maybe, just maybe, he would know where it came from, it may even lead her to her family. 

“No, but even if I did, it’s probably a fake.” He shrugged and continued on his way. 

Rosabella frowned. That was, quite rude. Rather insulting actually, to insinuate that her own mother left her a cheap copy of an original necklace. But, Red hadn’t said anything about it. Her head tilted as she walked, deep in thought. If what Red said was true, about him being older than that sixty year old man, which she sincerely doubted, he might know about her necklace. 

Red had said he was a traveler, he might have answers for her. Answers that might lead her to learning about her past. And if Bardolph’s reaction to it was anything to go by, it was indeed something travelers knew about, since he too was a traveler. But again, why hadn’t Red said anything about it?

Rosabella froze, the back of her hair stood on end, she felt as though someone was watching her. She looked around behind her, but there was no one there. Taking a breath she faced forward once more and paused, Bardolph was watching her from the window of the inn. She exhaled slowly. Why did Bardolph alarm her so?

The next day, Bardolph was nowhere to be found, and so Rosabella was alone in the carriage, not that she minded. She was relieved actually. It took another two days before they finally reached Paris. There Rosabella hugged the old man goodbye and went about her way back to her village. 

When she was about to enter the gate, she could hear a loud gasp and was suddenly enveloped with a near bone crushing hug. Rosabella laughed in joy. Cassandra pulled away with a smile and her own laughter, Felis was smiling. 

 “Where have you been? We’ve looked for you for days! I tried to track you with my magic but-”

“Let’s just say Royce has forever banned us from the kitchen.” Felis interjected. 

Cassandra elbowed Felis in his stomach, muttering about how he was a traitor. Rosabella laughed, overjoyed to hear their familiar bickering. A loud yipping raced toward her, looking down she saw Nox running straight at her.

“Nox!” Her arms opened wide as the Russian Sable jumped into her waiting arms. “Oh Nox, you have no idea how much I missed you.” 

Nox licked her cheek, giving her wet kisses as he walked over her arm to take his rightful place on her neck. Rosabella chuckled while Cassandra smiled at her sister, Lumi was perched on her shoulder. Rosabella hugged Cassandra once more, she spoke, “Oh Cassandra, I have so much to tell you.” 

Cassandra nodded. “Tell me everything.” 

Tag list: Let me know if you wish to be added!

@spookypotato

[woods2006gal]

Zoey York Series Chapter 01 - Overprotected

Zoey Stella York glances up at the top of the school bus when a thud echoes throughout. She brushes a strand of bright blonde hair behind her ear and turns her emerald green eyes, hidden behind a pair of thick black rimmed glasses, back to the book in her lap. The chatter of the students around her doesn’t stop. Sitting in front of her were Pete Ross and Chloe Sullivan.  Pete was an African-American boy with a bright smile and Chloe was a blonde haired reporter in charge of the school newspaper. While they were friends, Zoey didn’t consider them close friends. They were friends more with the son of her godparents, Jonathan and Martha Kent. As the bus nears Smallville High School, Zoey shoves the book she had been reading into her backpack. The bus comes to a stop and the students start to climb off of it. “So, anyone ask either of you to the dance,” Pete asks, walking down the bus stairs.

“Not yet,” Chloe replies. They glance at Zoey.

“No,” Zoey tells them. “And if they did, I would say no because I’m not interested in going. I’ll see you guys later.” She walks over to where her best friend, Mike Andrews, was sitting. He had jet black hair and olive skin with hazel eyes. “So, what are we doing instead of engaging of the tedious ritual of the homecoming dance?”

Mike winces. “The homecoming dance.” Zoey shoots him a disbelieving look. “My mom brought me a tux. She thinks we’re dating.” He grabs her hands and dramatically kneels on the ground. “Zoey, will you do me the honor of attending the homecoming dance with me?”

Zoey laughs. “Sure.”

Mike jumps up and tightly hugs her. “I so owe you for being my beard,” he quietly says.

Zoey shoots her best friend a soft smile. “One day, you’ll find a Prince Charming.” Mike glances over to where Clark was picking up his books. Lana Lang was helping him. Zoey rolls her eyes. “Dude, you can do so much better.”

Mike smirks. “What can I say? Tall, goofy, and plaid gets me all hard.” They laugh as they make their way into the school. He motions to where some of the football players were hanging out with their girlfriends. One of the football players, Shane Burke, eyes Zoey as they walk past. “I heard that Shane broke up with Barbie number three.”

“Let me guess: Barbie number three finally put out and then she got dumped.”

“You know it.”

Zoey loops her arm through Mike’s. “Maybe this will be the week when Shane finally leaves me alone,” she whispers.

“York!”

Mike winces. “Spoke too soon, Zoey.”

They turn to see Shane running towards them. “York,” Shane greets. He eyes Mike. “Get out of here.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you in class.”

Zoey shoots Mike a smile before turning to Shane. “What did you want?”

“You got my chem homework done,” Shane asks, pushing her against a locker. Zoey pulls out a chemistry textbook from her backpack. He grabs it from her grip. “Thanks. I’ll see you around, York.”

~*~

Zoey raises an eyebrow when the familiar red pick up truck pulls to a stop in front of the Smallville High that afternoon. She waves to Mike as he gets on his bus before heading over to the truck. “Is everything okay,” she asks.

Jonathan Kent motions for her to get in. “Clark was involved in an accident at Loeb Bridge,” he explains as she climbs in. Jonathan was a man in his mid forties with sandy blonde hair and tanned skin. Zoey remains quiet as he speeds over to where Loeb Bridge is. Police cars and ambulances surrounded the area. He jumps out of the truck and runs down to where Clark was sitting with a red blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Zoey stands next to the truck. “Clark! Son, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Clark replies. 

“Who’s the manic who was driving that car,” Jonathan demands, looking at the sheriff.

“That would be me.” They turn to see a young bald headed man. He too had a red blanket wrapped around his shoulders with a cut on his face. He holds out a hand. “Lex Luthor.”

Jonathan stares at him for a moment, then yanks off his jacket and drapes it around Clark’s shoulders. “I’m Jonathan Kent. This is my son.”

“Thanks for saving my life,” Lex tells Clark. 

“I’m sure you would have done the same thing,” Clark replies.

“You have quite an extraordinary boy there, Mr. Kent. If there is any way I can repay you?”

“Drive slower,” Jonathan retorts, then walks off with Clark.

“Are you okay,” Zoey asks, once they make it up to the truck.

“I’m fine,” Clark answers, opening the passenger door. Zoey looks between the two Kent men and silently climbs into the truck.

~*~

Zoey walks up to the barn’s loft. Jonathan had turned the area into a hangout space for Clark and Zoey, that way they could have friends over without parents hovering over them. Except Zoey never really hung out in the loft. She would mostly hang out with Mike at his house as his mom was never home. She rolls her eyes, finding that Clark was watching Lana through his telescope. Lana lived across the road from the Kent farm with her Aunt Nell. Her parents had passed away in the meteor shower. 

At first, the Kents had tried to keep Clark’s secret from Zoey. But that only lasted a couple months. Clark and Zoey had been playing in a field when she had been stung by a bee. Normally, it wouldn’t have matter. Except Zoey was allergic to bees. Seeing that her face had started to turn blue and she started to have trouble breathing, Clark had grabbed Zoey and raced her back to the house for help. Even when she had been focusing on trying to breathe, a seven year old Zoey had noticed what had happened and once she was better, she had told the Kents what Clark had done. 

“You know that’s really creepy, right,” Zoey says, sitting down on the old couch. A desk was in the corner with an old trunk as a coffee table. Clark scowls, but doesn’t respond. She constantly teased him about his massive crush on Lana. “You should just ask her out.”

“She has a boyfriend,” Clark argues.

“Then when they eventually break up, you should ask her out.”

“What makes you think that they’ll break up?”

“Because Whitney is a senior and Lana is freshman. He’ll go off to college and she’ll be here. They’ll end up breaking up.” Zoey stands up. “Anyway, Uncle Jonathan wanted me to ask you if you had gotten all your chores done?”

“Seeing as I’m not you, yes.”

 “Whatever,” Zoey replies, then walks out of the loft. Ever since the two teenagers had hit puberty, they had become more agonistic towards each other. And nothing that the Kents did, was making the two teens as close as they had been as children.

~*~

Zoey silently follows Clark down the dirt driveway that led to the Kent farm. As they reach the house, they notice a shiny new red pickup truck with a giant blue bow parked in front of the barn. “Hey, Mom,” Clark shouts, running over to the truck. “Whose truck?”

“Yours,” Martha answers, climbing down from the tractor. “Its a gift from Lex Luthor.” She pulls out a card from within her jacket and hands it to Clark.

“‘Dear Clark. Drive safely. Always in your debt. A maniac in a Porsche,’” Clark reads. “I don’t believe it. Where are the keys?”

“Your father has them.” A worried look appears on Clark’s face as he goes in search of Jonathan. Martha turns to Zoey. “I ran into Mike’s mother at the store. She told me that you guys were going to the homecoming dance together.”

Zoey shrugs. “We’re just going as friends. His mom thinks that we’re dating.” She sees the questioning look on Martha’s face. “We’re not. We’re just friends.”

Martha rubs Zoey’s arm. “Mike is lucky to have a friend like you, Zoey. I was thinking, we could go dress shopping tomorrow after school. For the homecoming dance. We’ll have a girls’ day.”

Zoey smiles. “I’d like that.”

Martha smiles back at her goddaughter. “I’ll pick you up from school tomorrow.”

A strange crunching noise comes from within the barn and the two women make their way inside. “I didn’t dive in after Lex’s car,” Clark shouts, pulling his arm out the wood chipper. “It hit me at sixty miles an hour! Does that sound normal to you? I’d give anything to be normal!” Clark walks past them, up into the loft. Martha shoots her husband a look and Zoey shakes her head, heading in the direction of the house.

~*~

“Did you know that I’m an alien,” Clark asks as he and Zoey head towards the Luthor Manor to return the truck that Lex had given Clark. Zoey shoots him a confused look. “My space ship is in the storm cellar. Dad says I came down during the meteor shower. He and Mom found my crashed ship on the side of the road.”

“So, you’re an alien,” Zoey replies, nodding. She smirks. “Have you phoned home yet?”

Clark shoots her an annoyed look as they up to the gate outside of the Luthor Manor. After getting no reply from the intercom, Clark parks the truck and they climb out. Clark pulls open the gate wide enough for them slip through. He quickly closes the gate back and they make their way inside. It was made out of stone and had many details that reminded Zoey of the old European castles she had seen in pictures. They walk around the mansion, searching for the new owner. They finally come across a couple of people in a large room with a fireplace, fencing. A fencing sword is thrown into the wall, inches away from Clark’s head.

One of the fencers pulls off their mask. “Clark,” Lex asks. “I didn’t see you.”

“Uh, we buzzed but no one answered,” Clark replies.

Lex grabs the sword out of the wall. “How’d you get through the gate?”

“We squeezed through the bars,” Zoey quickly says. She eyes the other fencer, a blonde woman. “We can come back if this is a bad time.”

“Oh, no, no. I think Hykia has sufficiently kicked my ass for the day,” Lex replies, tossing his mask on the couch. The woman nods and walks out of the room. He shoots Zoey a questioning look.

“This is Zoey,” Clark says. “She’s...my sister.” He looks around the room. “This is a great place.”

“Yeah? If you’re dead and in the market for something to haunt.”

“I mean, it’s roomy.”

Lex walks out of the room. Clark and Zoey exchange a look, then follow him down the hallway. “It’s the Luthor ancestral home or so my father claims. He had it shipped over from Scotland stone by stone.”

“Yeah, we remember trucks rolled through town for weeks but no one ever moved in.”

“My father had no intention of living here. He’s never even stepped through the front door.”

“They why’d he ship it over?”

“Because he could.”

They enter another room. This was one filled with various types of workout equipment. Lex pulls off his fencing jacket. “How’s the new ride?”

Clark exchanges a look with Zoey. He sighs. “That’s why I’m here.”

“What’s the matter,” Lex asks. He hands Clark and Zoey each a bottle of water before opening up one for himself. “You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s not that. I can’t keep it.”

Lex sets his water down and turns to them. “Clark, you saved my life. I think it’s the least I can do.” Clark awkwardly looks away. “Your father doesn’t like me, does he? It’s okay.” Lex rubs his bald head. “I’ve been bald since I was nine. I’m used to people judging me before they get to know me.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Clark weakly defends. “He’s just not crazy about your dad.”

“Figures the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Understandable. What about you, Clark? Did you guys fall far from the tree?”

Clark remains silent. “We better go,” he says, breaking the silence. “Thanks for the truck.”

Clark and Zoey start to walk out of the library. “Clark,” Lex calls out. They turn to the young billionaire. “Do you believe a man can fly?”

Clark chuckles. “Sure. In a plane.”

“No, I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about soaring through the clouds with nothing but air beneath you.”

Zoey stares at him. “Lex, people can’t fly.”

“I did,” Lex tells them. “After the accident, when my heart stopped. It was the most exhilarating two minutes of my life. I flew over Smallville, and for the first time, I didn’t see a dead end. I saw a new beginning. Thanks to you, Clark, I have a second chance. We have a future, Clark. And I don’t want anything to stand in the way of our friendship.”

Zoey and Clark make their way out of the mansion. “He’s a very intense guy.”

~*~

Zoey smooths down her pale blue dress. She hadn’t see Clark since earlier that morning when they had arrived at school. She looks around the gym. It had been no surprised that Lana and her boyfriend, Whitney Foreman, had been crowned homecoming queen and king. Chloe was dancing with Pete. Mike was no where in sight. They had agreed to meet at the school. “York?” Zoey lets out a groan and turns around to find Shane. He was wearing a suit with a lavender tie. He looks her up and down. “You clean up nicely.”

“Can I help you,” Zoey asks, forcing a smile. 

Zoey sits down on the couch next to her uncle. Max Carmichael’s house was the opposite of the Kents. Yet at the same time it was very similar to her godparents’ house. The living room was filled with items from his travels around the world. Family photos were hung around the room. The walls were white, along with the furniture. “Can I ask you something,” she softly says.

Max sets the file down on the couch next to him. “You can ask me anything, Zoey.”

“I...I have a bully. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you talked to Martha and Jonathan?” Zoey shakes her head. “You don’t want them to know.”

“I don’t want to add to their plate. They have enough to worry about.”

Max nods. “Well, you can either fight back. Which is what I did. My bullies would call me names and I called them names back.”

“Mine doesn’t do that. He...forces me to do his homework. And when I don’t, he calls me names.”

“What kind of names?”

“Poor.”

Max snorts. “You’re bully isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.”

Zoey smiles. “No. He’s not. One too many concussions on the football field.” She shifts. “He...he also calls me orphan. And he says that no one wants me.”

“So, you do what your bully says to avoid being called names?” She nods. “What do you think the Kents would say?”

“To just ignore him. Kill ‘em with kindness.”

Max nods. “Well, the Carmichael way is to fight back. But you have to do it in a more subtle way, Zoey. Gather intel on him. Then use it against him. In fact, if he’s having you do his homework, then make it to where he has all F’s.”

“Where’s Andrews,” Shane asks, looking around the gym.

“Bathroom,” Zoey replies.

Shane nods, looking around the gym. Britney Spears was playing from the speakers that had been set up around the gym. “Do you want to dance?”

Zoey stares at him disbelief. “No. You’re an asshole. And you know what, I’m not doing your homework anymore.” She spots Mike across the gym and walks over to him. “I just told Shane he was an asshole.”

Mike tightly embraces her. “And you did it while the perfect song was playing!” She shoots him a quizzical look. “Stronger by Britney!” Zoey laughs and shakes her head at her friend’s antics.

Life for Zoey York is relatively normal. Well, as much as one can have living in Smallville. She keeps to herself while Clark has adventures. It's how she liked her life. She liked being in the background, being invisible. Shane even forgot about her, which she was grateful for. 

But that all changed one late winter evening. Zoey was in her bedroom, working on the financial books for the school. She was class treasurer. School politics was the only area that she stood out in. It was also something that her Uncle Max actively encouraged her to pursue. Zoey was active in Smallville High’s future business leaders club. She knew exactly where her future lead. And as much as she might have wanted to pursue other options, she knew it wasn’t in the cards.

A knock on the doorframe of her bedroom causes Zoey to look up. She stares at Lana Lang, wondering why she was there. Lana had olive colored skin and jet black straight hair. She was also one of the most popular girls in their grade, a former cheerleader, and dating Whitney Forman, who was the star quarterback of the football team. “Hi,” Zoey awkwardly greets.

Lana smiles. “Hi, Zoey. I was wondering if you could help me.”

Zoey raises an eyebrow. Lana and her barely spoke to each other. And when they did it was mostly a polite greeting. “Uh, sure.”

“Great,” Lana says, sitting on Zoey’s bed. “Lex is buying the Talon."

“The old theatre downtown?”

“Yeah. He wants to tear it down and make it a parking garage.”

“That makes sense. There’s a lot of business downtown and no where near enough parking. If he makes it paid parking, then he’ll make a killing.”

“I want to convince Lex to renovate the Talon. It’s a special place to me. My parents met there.”

Zoey nods. “Lex wasn’t convinced, was he?”

“No.”

“And you want me to help you come up with a proposal that will convince Lex to renovate the Talon.”

“Yes.”

“Why? You don’t actually need my help. You're smart enough to do this on your own, Lana."

Lana sighs. “Zoey, you’re the smartest person I know. And you’re the reason why the business club has the most successful fundraisers in school. If there’s anyone I trust to help me with a business proposal, it’s you.”

Zoey examines the former cheerleader. She knew that Lana was being honest. “I’ll help, but I want to be a partner.”

Lana frowns. It was clear she wasn’t expecting Zoey to want something. “You want to be a partner.”

“First rule in business, never do anything for free.”

Lana softly laughs. She holds out a hand. “Deal."

Zoey turns to a blank page in her notebook. “Let's get to work.”

~*~

Zoey walks down Main Street. She was meeting Lana and Lex at the Talon. She was confident that their proposal would be successful. She spots Lana outside the Talon with Clark and Chloe. “Hey,” she greets, walking up to the group. “How are you, Chloe?”

“Enjoying the sweet smell of freedom,” Chloe replies.

Clark rolls his eyes. “Chloe, you were in the hospital, not Alcatraz.”

“You spend a week in there and you’d feel like a prisoner too. I mean, come on. Eating bad food, lights out by nine and no cable? I’m think about doing an expose,” Chloe argues. She turns to Lana. “How’s Whitney, by the way?”

“He’s taking it one day at a time.”

“Good. All right, well, bye.” Chloe turns to leave, but bumps into a stranger. “Oh, sorry.”

“Chloe, where are you going,” Clark asks.

“I’m just gonna go do a little checking with the police. Apparently none of the tattoo ink was found at the loft and Scott and Derek aren’t saying anything to anyone, so I smell a cover up."

Clark smiles. “Chloe, it’s good to have you back.”

Chloe smiles. “Thanks.”

Chloe runs across the sheet. Lana motions to the Porsche parked outside the Talon. “He’s early,” she says. She turns to Zoey. “Okay, here goes nothing.”

Zoey smiles. “We have a good plan. Lex’d be stupid to turn us down.”

Clark smiles as Lana and Zoey walk into the Talon. “Thanks for coming,” Lana tells Lex.

“I was surprised by your call,” Lex confesses. “After our last meeting, I didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”

“This time, I came prepared.”

Zoey digs into her messenger bag and pulls out a folder. “This is our business proposal,” she says, handing the folder to Lex. “All across the country, small towns are revitalizing their downtowns and returning them to social centers.”

“They did it by restoring the great old buildings that were already there, turning them into cafes, bookstores, restaurants,” Lana continues.

Lex raises an eyebrow. “You want to turn the Talon into a cafe bookstore?”

“It could also be a venue for local bands and art house movies.”

“On page twelve, it describes the tax benefits that comes with registering the building as a historic landmark,” Zoey explains.

“Who’s gonna mange it,” Lex asks, looking between the two young women.

“Nell said she’d be interested. Zoey and I can train with her after school. I’ll try running it myself in the summers,” Lana answers.

Lex glances at Zoey. “I spend summers with my uncle in Star City,” Zoey explains. “Lana and Nell will be the primary managers. I’ll mostly be a waitress and possibly assistant manager during the school year.”

Lex nods, flipping through the proposal. “How’d you come up with this,” he asks, looking at Lana.

“It was something Clark said,” Lana confesses. “He told me you like to challenge people.”

“Well, you’ve definitely risen to the challenge.”

“So, it’s a deal,” Lana asks, exchanging a hopeful look with Zoey.

“I need to look over everything, but yeah. It’s a deal,” Lex replies.

“Really?”

“Really.” Lex closes the folder. “I think this could be the start of a very interesting partnership.”

~*~

“How did yours and Lana’s meeting go,” Martha asks, setting a bowl of mashed potatoes in the center of the dining room table. The family dinners were something that Zoey enjoyed about living with the Kents. When she visited Max in Star City, they would have homemade family dinners once a week. The rest of the time it was whatever Max had delivered or where they went out for dinner. 

“It went great,” Zoey replies, smiling. “Lex is going to renovate the Talon. It's going to be turned into a coffee shop."

Jonathan shakes his head. “I hope Lana knows what she’s getting into by getting into business with Lex. You can’t trust the Luthors.”

Clark sighs. He was used to his father being against Lex. Zoey bites her lip. “I’m going to be a partner,” she softly says.

Jonathan and Martha exchange a look. This was news to them. Jonathan sets his fork down. “Zoey, we can’t afford for you to be a partner,” he tells her. “Besides, it’s not your place.”

“Lana came to me for help,” Zoey argues. “Uncle Max always says that the first rule in business is to never do anything for free. I told her I’d help if I was made a partner.”

“We didn’t raise you to be like that, Zoey. You help your friends—”

“Lana’s not my friend,” Zoey interrupts. “The only friend I have in this town is Mike.” She shakes her head and stands up. “For the record, Austin is taking care of the paperwork. I’m not stupid.” She head upstairs to her bedroom. While there were many things, Zoey enjoyed about living in Smallville and with the Kents, there were many things she hated about living in Smallville and with the Kents.

What am I to do with my life (You will find it out don’t worry) How am I supposed to know what’s right? (You just got to do it your way) I can’t help the way I feel But my life has been so overprotected