#Silver would also be another welcome judge

[sorrygotthesesacks]

I posted a thread of times when Ace has said “bang it out” over on That Other App so I figured I’d post it here, too.

Happy Birthday to one of my fave (but not my very fave) judges!

I'd wanted to bang this out last year (if you're wondering why I'm bringing up the Culinary Crucible when we haven't even had it yet, it's because this has been in my drafts since 2023), but we can't all be Ace Trappola.

I mean...

I'm working on it, Birthday Boy!

Of course, there was also the time that you did the same - exhibit 1:

Ace really is just the archetype of the average teen, isn't he?

Even his groovification line!

And finally...

🥳

Good job, Ace! Happy birthday!

[dat-town]

another social casualty

Characters: golden boy!Jaehyun & loner!female reader

Setting & genre: hurt/comfort, coming of age, high school au

Summary: One fears not being lovable, the other fears losing people. Two lonely souls find each other.

Warnings: mentions of academic, parental and peer pressure, loneliness, nosebleed, past friendship fallout, abandonment issues (MC’s father left), anxiety, medication, crying, the romance is very slow burn, it’s more like finding safe haven in each other?

Words: 8.8k

Author’s note: title from the 5SOS song, though i listened to a whole lot of Keshi and Conan Gray while writing this. heavily inspired by Jaehyun’s crazy academic background and how he said he was in a dark place before joining KOZ, i can’t find the entire list of his school activities but here and here are some. header pic of Jaehyun is from starry-eyed

@restlessmaknae you chose this as the one you would be most interested in from my list, so i hope it doesn’t disappoint!

i did not expect to finish this before 2024 ends but here it is. wishing all my readers a 2025 spent with joy, in health, happy new year! <3

→ BEFORE

Myung Jaehyun is a people pleaser.

You can tell because you used to be the same. Not anymore. Still, you can’t look away because it’s like watching a train wreck. Terrible because you can see the cracks in his personality but intriguing at the same time. Just how much a person can mold their own material to make them fit into pre-shaped places? How can they make themselves smaller if there’s not enough space for them? It’s rush hour metro effect: one can always bend and push and press enough to squeeze inside, to turn into something they are not. This is how you become part of the machine.

You have been there. Now you prefer to be an observer. Now you don’t fake laughs over things you don’t find funny just to not hurt somebody else’s feelings. Now you rather sit alone at the canteen during lunch hour instead of pretending to be somebody you’re not just to be welcomed at a popular table. Now you prefer to be invisible rather than seen and judged. Ghosts have it better off in high schools.

Myung Jaehyun doesn’t seem to know that yet.

The first time you really saw Jaehyun, the principal called him in front of the lined up classes during the school year starting ceremony and pinned a badge with the title ‘school president’ onto his uniform. You looked up from the creases of the back of your classmate’s white shirt in front of you to see a boy on the podium as rigid as the pole with the Korean flag. His dress jacket was perfectly ironed, necktie tucked in, no wrinkles in his entire attire. Not even a piece of hair was out of place. He stood there, in front of the entire school, tall and proud, as an example just like the principal called him while listing all his achievements. He was not only a straight A student, a member of the student council and the vice president of the Economics and Business Management club but he also proved his worth as part of the football team and representing the school in various regional writing competitions. The list went on and on, Principal Lee was really emphasizing just how much he wanted to have more students like him, dedicated and hard-working ones, at the school, but you tuned out everything after the first few sentences. Myung Jaehyun caught your attention not because of the way the silver badge shone on his chest or the way he kept his eyes strictly on one point ahead, mouth pressed in a firm line, but rather because of the way his fingers twitched by his sides. When you looked closer, you could tell he was picking at the skin around his nail, a nervous habit. Everything about him was proper and perfect except that.

Ever since then it hasn’t been hard to notice him. Although you don’t share a class, with all his clubs and one too many responsibilities he is kind of everywhere. He’s announcing details about the upcoming annual trip on the school radio, he’s on the top of the list that’s pinned in the school hall about the midterm results, he’s holding a trophy in a photograph for the vitrine in the hallways that lead up to the school gym.

It’s not like you’re watching him. There’s nothing weird or stalkerish in it. You’re not even like the girls who whisper scream his name when he walks by and wonder if they should ask him out. You just notice him and observe. You keep looking for flaws in his picture perfect demeanor. You look for signs that there’s a human beneath that machine he seems to be. You just watch him from a distance and you’re content with that.

Until he notices you too.

→ SEPTEMBER

It happens on a Friday evening, early in the new term, long after the last classes ended, so the school library is pretty empty. You don’t like crowds, so you prefer to visit when most students have already retreated. This way you can also avoid running into people you don’t want to meet. You greet the tired librarian by the door with a bow and with your bag hanging from your shoulder, you head straight towards the Literature section because of an essay you have to write. It isn’t due for a week more but you don’t like to leave things to the last minute purely because of the stress that rushing brings. You trace the spines of the books with your fingertip as you walk past them, searching for a specific author and when you find it, you grab it from the shelf. You press it to your chest and slip out on the other side of the aisle, ready to head back towards the librarian’s desk when you hear a sniffle. You look up, towards the source of the sound and see him.

Myung Jaehyun is sitting at one of the tables in the back, hunched over text books. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and it comes back red. It’s vivid like a blaring warning sign and your gut twists as the school president scrambles to hold off his nosebleed before it would get everywhere. His movements seem frantic, almost panicked as he fumbles with the zipper of his backpack but he freezes in spot when he notices you watching. With two fingers pressing his nose, blood splotches on the sleeve of his immaculate white shirt, he stares at you wide eyed, just as frozen in place as you are.

You’re startled. The moment your eyes meet, you feel his gaze burn. You cast your eyes down and take a step backwards, ready to leave and pretend nothing happened. Because nothing did. But then you halt, thinking better off it. You swiftly reach into the front pocket of your bag and take out a small packet of tissues and a piece of chocolate you always keep with yourself in case your blood sugar dipped. You can feel Myung Jaehyun’s eyes on you the entire time you walk up to his desk. Realistically speaking it doesn’t take more than a few seconds, it is six steps at max but it feels longer with his scalding attention on you. You’re not used to being watched, you’re a wallflower after all.

You put the tissues and chocolate down on the table and turn around to leave. You don’t wait for the boy’s reaction. You don’t even look at him. You don’t stop when he calls after you. You leave as quickly as you came. Blend back into the shadows where you like to be.

Myung Jaehyun doesn’t let you though.

Next week when you leave your classroom on Tuesday, he’s out in the corridor in front of the door, waiting. For you. There’s not much guessing about it since you are the last one in the class, everybody else having somewhere to run off and here you are, taking your time. You only falter for a moment when you step over the threshold and take in the sight of the school president in all his glory. Then you look down onto the laminated floor and turn down the corridor.

Jaehyun pushes himself away from the window frame he has been leaning against so far and catches up to you fast.

“Wait,” he calls after you, his voice is an echo of the sound he made back in the library.

Thinking back on it twists your gut uncomfortably as you remember the blood and how the boy looked at you like he never received kindness from a stranger. Much to your dislike, you slow your steps and eventually come to a halt when you realize you can’t just brush off the boy’s presence, so you decide it’s better to get over with. You look up at him questioningly, nails digging into the straps of your backpack as you wait.

“Can we talk?” Jaehyun asks, polite like anytime you heard him talk and he looks relieved that he doesn’t have to chase you down. His tie is a little crooked today but other than that there’s nothing out of place about him. Although from this close you see the dark circles under his eyes and can’t help but wonder how much he slept last night and the night before that. He has always had the best score but it didn’t stop him from running himself thin last week if the nosebleed is anything to go by.

“If you’re worried about what happened in the library, don’t. I won’t tell anybody,” you shrug because why would you? He certainly isn’t the first senior who drives himself over his own breaking point. You had heard stories about hospital IV dip visits, students fainting after handing in their papers and ‘vitamins’ passed around before exam week. The stakes are high. The competition to get into a Seoul university, especially a SKY one is cutthroat and you know that the school president aims for that. Everybody expects him to do so. With his list of achievements and history of high scores, it sounds viable. But at what price?

“It’s not that,” Myung Jaehyun protests but despite his words his shoulders visibly go slack with relief. You can tell that he cares a lot about his reputation and it sure would have left a stain if people knew that the all so perfect school president was human too, bleeding from academic pressure right on his homework. You grimace at the thought.

“You don’t owe me anything either,” you clarify because you never expected anything in return for being a decent human being and you don’t know what else he could possibly want.

“But…”

“Really. Just forget it,” you sigh, tired of arguing already. The boy looks conflicted under his wavy fringe, almost like a puppy before schooling his expression and clearing his throat.

“Thanks anyway,” he says before stepping out of your way, so you can keep going and you do. You move on with your life, watching from the sidelines as he receives praise for his participation in a regional essay contest and when the football team returns with another hard earned win.

Days pass in a blur. Like they always did. Just another day to get through. Just another week. Just another term. Gosh, you can’t wait for high school to end. You have had enough of seeing these people.

On Monday you make eye contact with Mijoo when you come out of a stall in the girls’ bathroom and she’s in front of the mirror fixing her already perfect makeup. She used to not do that, care too much about her appearance, not before she befriended Kim Soyeon. Now you awkwardly hold eye contact for one, two, three seconds and then she looks away. You’re the one who walks away just like you did before but it doesn’t make it easier. There’s something hollow and painful in your chest, still missing something you once had.

Three days later your mother asks you about school while you help clean the tables at the café. She asks about the midterms and if you’re still friends with ‘that ponytail girl’. The reminder feels like a slap and your throat closes up.

On Friday you skip out on lunch hour and spend it lying on the bench in the yard, staring at the sky. You’re caught like that when it starts to rain. You watch it through spread fingers as the first raindrops fall then close your eyes and smile. You have always loved the rain and even though it’s impractical to get soaked in the middle of the school day, you can always change into your PE clothes, you reason.

But then the rain stops. You can’t feel the cold drops on you even though you hear the rhythmic sound of them hitting the ground and you pry your eyes open only to see Myung Jaehyun standing above you with an umbrella held over you. You shoot up into a sitting position quickly, then stand up and smooth down your uniform. Not necessarily because you’re embarrassed but because you hate being a burden to others and while you didn’t ask for his help, based on his persistence from last time you know he wouldn’t have just left no matter what you told him. Hell, he even moves to shrug off his jacket before you stop him.

“It’s okay. I have a change of clothes inside,” you explain but there’s no arguing with the school president about walking you inside. You can tell he wants to ask you something but you don’t give him a chance to. Once you are between four walls, you mutter out a polite thanks and then head to your classroom.

→ OCTOBER

On another Friday evening, Myung Jaehyun asks if he can sit at your table in the near empty library. You don’t understand what he’s getting at, so you just shrug, still focused on your homework. When you steal a glance at the boy on the other side of the table, you see him go over pages of ink writing, highlighting certain parts. There’s torn and nipped skin around his thumb nail. You turn back to your workbook before he could notice that you were looking.

“Are you coming to the school trip?” The boy asks when half an hour later you start packing your bag. The question surprises you because he shouldn’t care. He doesn’t even know you.

“No,” you answer curtly, not going into details. He doesn’t need to know that you’ve always been a homebody and you don’t enjoy social interactions, especially not school-related ones. But Jaehyun is stubborn and curious a bit too much.

“Why not?” He asks and you sigh.

“It’s not really my scene. I don’t want to spend more time around my classmates than I have to,” you shrug nonchalantly but there must be something in your voice that gives you away because the boy furrows his brows in worry.

“Did something happen?”

“No,” you lie or well, not really. Technically, nothing really happened regarding the trip. But if things were like they were a year ago, you would be excited about going with Mijoo. Things just change, people too. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.

“You’re always alone,” Jaehyun says in a quiet voice in the library’s dead still silence. He says it like it was something you should be sad about. A part of you wants to question whether he had been stalking you to notice that but that would have been rich coming from you who had been watching him from afar all along, so you decide against it.

“Yes. I prefer that way,” you tell him instead and it’s true. Better alone than with fake friends. Yet, the boy can’t even seem to fathom the idea.

“You can’t mean that,” he mutters with widened eyes and it leaves you with something bitter in your gut.

Can’t you? Just because a pretty boy runs himself thin to get everybody’s appreciation, can’t you want some peace of mind alone?

“Not everybody needs constant validation,” you snap at him and it comes out harsher than intended. You can see the hurt mirrored in Jaehyun’s eyes but you don’t let yourself linger on it as you hoist your bag up to your shoulder. “Don’t make me your charity case.”

“I don’t… I’m not…”

The always so eloquent Myung Jaehyun seems speechless now but you don’t wait for him to figure out what he wants to deny more, whether he can at all. You leave him there at the table. You’re good at that: leaving. Better be the one doing it than being the one left behind.

It’s been four years since you last saw your father. A part of you misses him, or at least the idea of a reliable father. At first you had been angry at your mother for giving him an ultimatum but then realized that at the end of the day, it wasn’t her fault. It was your father who chose his gambling addiction over you. So maybe you were better off without him.

It was around that time too when you realized that being left short on money limited your future opportunities. Not that you ever dreamed about going abroad or attending the best schools in the country. You didn’t even know what you wanted to do with your life and it sounded stupid, spending so much money on education just because everybody else was doing it around you. You started helping out your mom at the café then too, so she wouldn’t have to hire another part-timer and even though now, when things are better, your mother tries to convince you from time to time to go to after school studies instead of wiping tables and washing dishes, you don’t mind doing it. You can choose the melody coming from the old retro music box, help her come up with decoration ideas for holiday seasons and taste test new baked goods. You also take your role as her social media manager very seriously, posting aesthetic photos on Instagram periodically. It’s a simple life, a comfortable one and you’re content with it.

Your homeroom teacher not so much.

He called you into the teachers’ office to talk and you already knew why. It made it a bit easier to brace yourself for the impact of his words. Him asking about the reasons why you didn’t apply to any university. He doesn’t accept your answer and your satisfaction easily, he pushes relentlessly, telling you that you would regret it one day but you know it’s not about your future, it’s about the school’s yearly statistics. You tune out most of his speech, focusing on a loose thread of his worn knitted sweater, of the low hum of the coffee machine in the back and the printer coughing up papers. Then a familiar voice reaches your ear and you glance over the cubicle wall to see Myung Jaehyun with a punch of papers in his arm. His homeroom teacher pats him on the shoulder, proud, and for a moment you wonder how the boy feels about it.

“Y/N! Are you even listening?” Your own teacher chides and you avert your gaze back to the man but in your peripheral view, you can see the school president turn towards you just when Mr Hong clicks his tongue in annoyance. “It’s always the ones without fathers. They lack discipline.”

His words burn you deeper than expected. Him blaming something like this on your lack of father, on your mother’s loving care and hard work essentially. It makes you clench your hands in fists by your sides until you’re dismissed with a resigned promise to think about it.

When you finally leave the teachers’ office, Jaehyun waits outside. His eyes are gentle and a little sad but not pitying as he asks: 

“Are you okay?”

“I will be,” you nod because it’s not a big thing, you will get over it. Jaehyun doesn’t press and you’re grateful for that.

You don’t know when it happens and how. Letting down your guard around Myung Jaehyun of all people. It happens gradually like the trees changing their green leaves to more colourful attire. You’re very different: he cares too much about his grades and image and you care too little. He has all these big ambitions and you have none. He basks in glory in front of the school and you let out a sigh of relief when you can get over a day without anybody talking to you.

You have never stopped looking at Jaehyun though. You see him in the corridor, tall and proud and confident. You see him celebrated for his achievements on the school podium and even in the canteen surrounded by all his so-called friends and admirers. The difference is that lately he has been looking back. His gaze meets yours in the busy canteen when you sit at a table with strangers like you usually do if there’s no empty table. Your eyes meet in the hall when you arrive two minutes before the bell rings and he’s on gate duty. He never talks to you, never approaches you and it makes it easier to relax in his company, knowing that he wouldn’t bring unwanted attention to you.

He finds you in the almost empty library though, sits at your table in silence and minding his own business. He doesn’t bring up the trip again and you don’t call him out on his unusual behaviour either. You just exist in the same space, without judgement, without expectations. It’s actually quite nice.

It gives you the push to go up to him too when you see him alone at your usual table in the library on a Thursday late afternoon. As you get closer you see a brochure for Seoul National University open in front of him and that he’s reading a book about writing personal statements and study plans for college applications.

“So SNU?” You ask quietly enough not to startle him as you slip into the seat across from him.

Jaehyun looks up, his hair a bit messy, probably from running his hand through it more than usual but you like this look on him. Not being oh so perfect makes him seem more approachable.

“Yeah. What about you?” He inquires, trying to make a conversation probably because you didn’t hear the beginning of your conversation with your homeroom teacher back in the teachers’ office. You used to be nervous when people asked such loaded questions, afraid of disappointing them but once you accepted that their opinion didn’t matter more than yours, it all became easier.

“Oh, I won’t go to university.”

“What? Why?” The school president’s eyes widen in surprise as if he couldn’t even imagine that and maybe he can’t. With the competitive job market of Korea, people are made to feel like they worth nothing without a degree but you never dreamed of a white collared job, so you don’t care about that. There are many respectable ways to live without pursuing higher education.

“I don’t need a university degree to help out at my mom’s café,” you explain matter-of-factly and then out of curiosity you look up at Jaehyun, the boy who picks on his skin and works hard until he gets nosebleed, who is always number one and the teachers’ favourite yet never really smiles.  “Why? Is it really you who wants to go to SNU?”

“Of course it’s me! Who else would it be?” Jaehyun’s voice pitches higher than usual, his tone defensive. You quirk a brow, not deeming necessary to answer. It could be his parents, his teachers, the society. He must realize it too because he cast his eyes down and his fingers twitch nervously over the papers in front of him.

After a few minutes of silent shuffling around, his phone buzzes and he curses under his breath, hastily packing his bag.

“I have practice. Sorry,” he apologises, which must be a force of habit because it’s not like you agreed to hang out, nor it’s like he should be sorry for leaving early.

You just nod at him, thinking of the pressure he must have on him with all these responsibilities of which you barely see a fraction. And if you take a detour to pass by the football field on your way out of school, it’s only for you to know. You can’t help it, you get too curious for your own good sometimes and you wonder how the school president is when he plays. It’s easy to spot him when you stop to watch a bit. It’s just practice but you can see how hard he tries, how he pushes his own limits. Running and running until he can’t. He doesn’t seem to do anything half-heartedly. He’s like a flame, burning bright, but you wonder just how long could his passion last before he burns out.

“You know, for somebody who doesn't plan on going to university, you’re here a lot,” Jaehyun mentions one time after he opens his Ethics book. There’s a question hidden in his statement but you don’t mind it as much as you thought you would.

“My mom doesn’t let me help out on school days and I like it here better than in the empty house,” you admit because no matter how much you like being alone, an empty, cold house has a different feel. This way your mom also has the illusion that you have friends to hang out or study with after school and doesn’t worry about you that much. Half of the time you don’t even do homework, just grab a book and read.

Jaehyun hums and stays quiet for a while but you can tell he lingers, he hasn’t flipped a page in the book in front of him for ages. You wait patiently for him to speak up, for his gaze guiding to your features again, tentatively this time.

“Do you… really don’t mind being alone? Aren’t you like… afraid of not having anybody in your life? Of being lonely?” He questions and you aren’t sure what happened that prompted him to ask about that but you would be the last person to judge him after voicing out fears so human.

“I’m more afraid of losing myself while trying to make myself digestible for others and I don’t like the idea of people leaving. It’s easier to avoid that if you don’t get attached,” you answer the best you can without sharing too many details, too many scars of your past. It already feels a bit too much, a bit too personal. You aren’t exactly friends after all. He’s just a boy who sometimes sits at your table. It’s not like you would see each other after graduation, it’s safe.

“Digestible?” Jaehyun mumbles, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Everybody does it. They pretend to be somebody they aren’t, so others would like them,” you explain but the boy shakes his head, not exactly in disagreement though.

“You make it sound so bad. But what’s so wrong about only showing your better sides to other people?”

You don’t answer right away. Just look into Jaehyun’s eyes, letting your gaze linger over his dark circles and the bitten ends of his nails. You sigh, quietly.

“Isn’t it tiring? Being in somebody else’s skin just to be liked?”

Jaehyun could argue that it’s still his skin, that it’s just a better version of himself and you would let him. If he wanted to hide his flaws and imperfections, he has every right and you wouldn’t tell him not to do it because you know how scary it’s to bare yourself in front of somebody else and it’s not like you’re not hiding parts of yourself, it’s just easier to not have anybody around you close enough to see them.

→ NOVEMBER

CSAT exams are approaching fast: students get busier, teachers try to squeeze in just one more type of question in their classes and you can tell that everybody’s nerves are fizzled.  One would think that the school president with his consistently high scores is calm and prepared but you know Jaehyun better than to believe that facade. Still, you don’t expect to catch him on a call with his mother when you leave the football field’s bleachers. These days the school library is full of people day and night, too busy, too stressful, so you prefer killing time on the white painted benches as long as the weather’s not too cold. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, you just halt in your steps when you hear Jaehyun’s voice, unsure of what to do.

“Everything’s okay, mom. Yeah, you don’t have to worry, I’m doing fine.”

His voice is cheerful but you can tell that it’s fake. You can hear him let out a deep breath when he lowers the phone in his hand. He isn’t fine. He has been running himself paper thin. Barely eating, barely sleeping. His hands tremble as he takes the pills. Whether it’s supplements or medicine for stress you never asked. He says it’s only until the CSAT is over. He says it like it’s natural, like it’s a rite of passage everybody goes through.

When you step out of the wall’s cover and Jaehyun sees you, he momentarily tenses before relaxing. You have already seen him in moments of weakness, he knows he doesn’t have to pretend in front of you.

He walks you to the bus stop before going back to squeeze in one more hour of studying before his body would give up on him. You think about stopping him, about telling him not to overdo it but you know that he’s smart enough to know he’s burning the candle on both ends and it could end badly. It also feels unfair of you to tell him to stop when you could never understand his ambitions, so it’s easy for you to say so. So instead of arguing about principles, or trying to stop him knowing it’s useless, you push a bottle of C-vitamin rich juice drink into his hands next morning when you meet by the school gates. It’s you saying that he isn’t alone without saying it. Because the thing is, he never was alone, not physically. But one can be lonely even when dozens of people surround them.

The day of exams is a nerve wracking one, even for you, who doesn’t care about it much because your future doesn’t depend on these scores. You can’t even fathom the pressure and how it feels for those who base their dreams on this one day. Your head is hurting from being in the stuffy classroom solving Maths problems and answering questions about paragraphs from classics all day but instead of heading straight home, you watch as students file out of the school in batches and then one by one. When Jaehyun steps outside of the building, he seems deep in thought and his hands are full of exam papers he’s still reading through. He doesn’t even notice you at first, not until you pull on the sleeve of his jacket. When your eyes meet, you realize that he looks beyond tired and anxious. It breaks your heart a little.

“How do you feel?” You ask carefully, taking the exam papers from his hands and folding them neatly, ready to be packed away.

“I thought I would be relieved that it’s finally over but I keep going back re-thinking my answers, wondering what if I messed it up,” the school president sighs deeply, a shaky little sound and he looks so worried with furrowed forehead and nervously tapping fingers that you have this urge to wrap him in a warm blanket and make sure he can be without worries just a bit.

“There’s nothing you can do about it now though. Maybe you should focus on something else,” you suggest, gently as you hand him back the papers and the boy nods, his fingers brushing yours as he takes it back.

“Yeah, you’re right. The regional football championship is on the corner and I need to write an essay for the school paper. Then there’s…”

“No, I meant…” You cut his anxious rambling off a little frustratedly but when you have Jaehyun’s deep brown eyes on you, curious and confused, you suddenly feel awkwardness sweep into your bones at your silly little idea. Nevertheless, you push through it.  “If you’re free this weekend, would you come with me somewhere?”

“Sure. Where are we going?” The boy doesn’t even hesitate even though he does sound a bit doubtful for which you don’t blame him. It’s the first time you initiate any kind of planned program when it’s actually you who claims she just wants to be alone and doesn’t want to get close to anybody.

“You’ll see. I swear I’m not kidnapping you,” you clear your throat, a bit nervous now that Jaehyun’s full attention is on you so unabashedly. 

“Very reassuring,” he laughs but it’s a little forced sound, the weight of the day still pulling him down, exhaustion slowly wearing him down. So after agreeing on the details like the meeting location and exact time, you usher him to go home and get some sleep.

You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything. It’s not even a friendly thing, it’s just a thing. A fun thing because you have never seen Jaehyun do anything just for fun. Almost like if it doesn’t count towards his final evaluation in life achievements, it wouldn’t make sense to do so. Or as if he wouldn’t deserve it, which is just sad. So you plan to take his mind off the CSAT results that should come out in a week or two and make sure that he relaxes a bit even if just for a few hours.

You meet up near the metro station and while you show the way, it’s admittedly a bit awkward at first, since neither of you is used to small talk between you. Luckily, the theatre where you bought tickets to a contemporary comedy isn’t far and Jaehyun’s reaction is positively taken aback when you lead him to the entrance.

“Do you like it?” You inquire tentatively, trying to assess his reaction but it’s not easy Jaehyun looks more dumbfounded than anything.

“Yeah, but… how did you know?” He blinks at you a little awed.

“You’re applying to SNU’s Literature and Theatre department. It wasn’t that big of a guess that you appreciate theatre plays,” you shrug, trying to play it off coolly as you line up for ticket inspection.

Since it’s a smaller, more local theatre you don’t look that out of place even though you’re definitely one of the youngests in the audience. Luckily, the play is as funny as the reviews claimed it to be, so you have a good time and from the looks of it, Jaehyun too. It’s the first time you see him smile, really smile without forcing it, and you wonder why he’s hiding it. It’s a beautiful thing.

When the play ends, the boy insists on treating you to dessert as a celebration for getting over with the exams in exchange for the theatre ticket and sitting in the warm, already winter-decorated place, munching on brownie, the remaining awkwardness melts away. For the first time you don’t talk about school-related or heavy matters but rather things like your favourite season, sweet cravings in the colder weather, books you read and your families. It’s new and unfamiliar, a little scary because you can tell you’re getting attached but it’s nice and you decide to focus on that. You let Jaehyun walk you home because it’s late and dark, he reasons and there’s no arguing with him.

“See you at school,” he bids his goodbye when you arrive at the building where you live just above your mother’s cozy little café.

“Yeah. Take care,” you smile shyly and you can see a slow grin make its way to Jaehyun’s lips too. It looks genuine, just how he looks at ease as if some weight was lifted from his shoulders. It’s a good look on him.

→ DECEMBER

Frost is already decorating your window in the mornings when the CSAT results are delivered. Students are buzzing with anticipation and nerves. Once the scores are out, everybody’s guessing whether it will be enough for their first pick or they should scramble for extra points somehow. Most people accept their results eventually and get ready for the holidays instead. You know that Jaehyun did well enough to be hopeful, though you know better than to congratulate too early because SKY universities have much more complex acceptable criteria than other public universities. Not to mention, you know that even with great CSAT scores and good GPA, the competition for scholarships starts even before universities would notify the students about acceptance.

When you see Mijoo cry her eyes out in the girls’ bathroom, her mascara running down her pretty cheeks, something heavy settles in your chest. You haven’t talked in a year and you avoided each other after you got into that argument about how you wanted to live your lives but it would have felt wrong to just walk out without a word. For the sake of your happy memories before the fallout, you could still try to comfort her if she needed it.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly, fully ready to be sneered at and sent away but your former best friend looks up at you with red rimmed eyes and relief.

“I will survive,” she lets out a shuddering exhale, her voice breaking between syllables. “My points are not good enough for a scholarship at Hankuk, so even if I do get in, I can’t enroll. We don’t have that kind of money. Soyeon and the others dropped me the moment they found out.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and you mean it because even though you never wanted to go to university, you know how important it’s for Mijoo. More important than your friendship. And even though you have already warned her about what kind of person Soyeon is with her rich family and nicely paved future when they first started hanging out after hagwon, you don’t remind Mijoo that you told her so.

“No. I’m sorry,” she mutters and forces a hopeful smile looking at you. Slowly, you reciprocate it as you help her up. There is clearly something broken between you and it certainly can’t be fixed from one day to another but maybe it’s worth trying.

When Jaehyun asked about your winter break plans, you didn’t think he would make a visit at your mom’s café where you are now working most days. Usually it’s not you who interacts with customers, your mother and the part-timer handle it, so you’re quite surprised when Donghyun pokes his head into the kitchen and tells you that somebody is looking for you.

You’re confused but wipe your soapy hands and go outside only to see Jaehyun at one of the tables shyly waving at you. He wears a cute beanie that has snowflakes melting over the knitwear and his cheeks are tinted pink from the cold. But most importantly, he looks well rested.

“Hey,” you greet him when you reach his table and you can practically feel your mother’s curious gaze on you. “Donghyun said you were looking for me?”

“Uh, hi, yes. Actually I just asked if you were here but he said you would get you, so…” Jaehyun trails off with a casual shrug. “I hope it’s not weird that I’m here. I don’t want to be a bother.”

You hastily shake your head no.

“No! It’s okay, really. I hope you like it here,” you say and brush a piece of hair behind your ear a bit self-consciously. You love your mother’s place with your whole heart, so sharing it with him even if unintentionally feels a bit like sharing a part of yourself. But you don’t mind, you realize, not if it’s him.

“I do. Your mom makes a killer hot choco,” Jaehyun smiles softly and his compliment sounds so sincere, you can’t help but smile too.

“She will be delighted to hear that,” you note as you sneak a look at the boy’s mug which definitely has more marshmallows than the standard. You turn to look at the woman behind the counter but she just waves you off, not so subtly telling you to keep your friend company, the dirty dishes can wait.

So you end up sitting down by Jaehyun’s table, talking about how he spent Christmas with his family, visiting relatives in the countryside and bickering with his older brother while you tell him about your cozy Disney movie nights and eating too much of your mother’s holiday butter cake. It’s when Jaehyun leaves and you glance at his empty spot that you realize you would miss him after graduation and joke’s on you, really, because you were the one to first approach him. You should have known better if you weren’t ready for the consequences.

→ JANUARY

The days leading up to graduation are a rollercoaster of emotion.

“So what’s with you and the school president?” Mijoo asks playfully on one of the last days of school when you’re eating together in the canteen and she catches sight of the boy with other football players as she follows your line of sight.

“Nothing,” you claim, bewildered, quickly averting your eyes back to your food, scrambling to find some excuse but Mijoo doesn’t even listen.

“Yeah, sure. I know your mother’s café is good but he’s practically a regular now,” she huffs and you start regretting that you told her that. “And don’t tell me it’s because he’s tutoring your part-timer during his shifts.”

You close your mouth without saying anything because you were just about to bring up how Jaehyun and Donghyun seem to get along, the school president helping out the junior student with his English.

“Not to mention, you went to his last football match and you don’t even like sports,” Mijoo continues and yeah, that’s on you. You even dragged her along (not that she needed much of a convincing) because you didn’t want to go alone, to be so out of your element and the girl was just happy to spend time with you again.

“I was just… curious,” you mumble, poking your tofu cubes with your chopsticks on your plate.

Seeing Jaehyun on the field was like seeing a different side of him. You know thanks to his stories that he liked football since he was a kid and he appreciates the teamwork aspect of the sport but watching him play during a match felt special. Sure, he still looked focused and determined, a bit uptight like he did when it came to his academics but after the winning goal point, being huddled by his teammates, he looked so proud. It’s a look he never allows himself when it comes to his individual success because he’s too hard on himself, as if he didn’t deserve it, as if he still should have done better. So you’re glad that you went, that you could see him genuinely be happy with his team over the win. Still, you slipped away without congratulating him, letting the school crowd surround him because he was supposed to be in the center of the attention and you wanted no part of that. You didn’t think Jaehyun noticed you, not until he shyly asked how you liked the game the next time you met.

“You know,” Mijoo speaks up thoughtfully, humming against her utensils before putting them down the metal tray and looking you in the eyes.  “It’s okay to let people close. Even if it doesn’t last forever, wouldn’t that be still better than wondering about the what ifs?”

For the longest time you thought that no, it wouldn’t but you glance at Jaehyun and how he shines brighter than the Sun but hides so many moonlit parts of himself that you’re privileged to know and you think that maybe, just maybe it’s okay to let yourself be vulnerable with some people.

The last day of school brings so much snow that the entire school yard is covered in cloud-like white and even the teachers give up preaching about life lessons after lunch hour. A bunch of eighteen year olds run to the field as if you were still kids and it’s that moment when it dawns on you that maybe it’s really the last time you can be freely child-like without adult responsibilities would weigh you down. Maybe that’s why you don’t protest that much when Jaehyun finds you and drags you outside to join the fierce snowball battle. For once, you don’t care about the looks you might get, you don’t care about potentially being put in the center of attention just by being with him, you don’t care about what it means to your future and you have never felt lighter.

You have snow in your hair, cold sweeping into your bones through your soaked shoes and your cheeks still hurt from laughing when later Jaehyun suggests going to your mom’s for hot chocolate to warm up. You agree easily and follow him inside to get your stuff. You shake snow off your coat, trying to warm up your cold-bitten hands by rubbing them together when you notice that Jaehyun abruptly stopped beside you.

Confused, you turn back to look at him just to see him stare down at his phone, his smile long lost from his face. You’re not sure whether it’s your place to even ask what happened, not when Jaehyun finally meets your eyes and he looks like he just saw a ghost. All pale and eyes glossy.

“They…” He starts but his voice breaks before he could get the sentence out. “They rejected me.”

“What?” You ask, dumbfounded. You watch as a drop of snow slides down Jaehyun’s face, leaving a tear-like trace behind on his flushed face and your heart aches before you can really process what’s going on.

“SNU. I just got the rejection email,” the boy mutters and lets out a way too forced laughter. He reaches to his messy locks with trembling fingers, scattering snow everywhere as he takes a shaky breath and starts walking up and down anxiously.

You just stand there, frozen, your heart sinking at the sight of him. There’s frustration and disbelief and bitterness as a scoff scratches his throat. You can see him fighting tears, not wanting to fall apart, not here, not in front of you, maybe not ever.

It was his dream, getting into SNU, and everybody told him he could do it, that for him it would be easy and while it’s flattering, people’s trust in his abilities, it still put him on pedestal, under such pressure that it almost broke him and now you can see him being crushed down from the same weight.

You don’t know what makes you do that, from where you take the courage but suddenly you stand in front of him, stopping him in his pacing, and take his shaking hand in yours.

“How… how will I tell my parents? What‒” Jaehyun gasps for air and you can feel him squeeze your hand for support as he struggles to fill his lungs with oxygen. “What do I… do now? I don’t… I didn’t…”

“Shh,” you slide a hand over his nape, massaging the tight muscles there in a weak attempt to calm him down before he could drive himself into hyperventilation. He’s so tense from the sheer effort to not break down, tear drops clinging to his eyelashes, blurring his vision. “Just let go. It’s okay.”

“No,” Jaehyun pushes back, stubborn but he’s clinging to your hand like a lifeline.

“It is. It’s just me,” you insist because you don’t judge, not for this, never for something like this. “I’m here.”

That’s all it takes for Jaehyun to give in and his tears start falling. You can feel when tension leaves his body and he all but crashes into you, his broader form slumping against you with his forehead on your shoulder, crying into your neck. You put a hand over his back, rubbing soothing patterns against his spine.

You don’t know how long you stay there. You wait until Jaehyun’s quiet sobs die down and his breathing slowly normalizes, until he pulls away enough to look into your own teary eyes. You know you couldn’t say anything to calm the mess in his head because you can’t quite understand how much this lost opportunity means for him, so you don’t tell him frivolous things like how it’s not the end of the world.

“You will be okay,” you whisper, quiet and sacred like a wish. “You don’t have to figure out how, not right now.”

A week later you graduate.

Myung Jaehyun stands on the podium in front of the lines of students and seated parents. He has a pledge of honors students on his suit and a bouquet of flowers in hands, an offer from another still prestigious university in his inbox and his parents, proud, in the crowd. His speech makes you feel nostalgic and when your eyes meet, a small smile appears on his lips, imperfect but happy, so pretty. You watch him and feel yourself smile too. Maybe it’s not actually that bad; being seen.

→ AFTER

Contrary to what you expected, Jaehyun stays as a permanent fixture in your days even after graduation. He hangs out at the café, sometimes stays even after closing, helping you put the chairs onto the tables and watching you learn how to make coffee and latte art. Sometimes you go to theatre plays or to the cinema, he invites you out to help him buy a present for his mother and then buys you hotteok as thanks.

Then university starts and he gets busier but you can tell that he doesn’t let school work bury him under like it did in high school. It’s good for him, starting fresh in a place where nobody knows him and his perfect student reputation. It’s less pressure on him and he can form genuine friendships without the fear that he’s approached only because of his influence as school president or his diligent note taking.

“I met this guy in Sociology class and he just asked if I wanted to be friends out of the blue. He invited me to hang out with him and his friends over the weekend. It was so random but it felt nice,” he says one day, leaning against the mop in his hands. You hum, letting him know that you’re listening even while cleaning the countertop. Apparently he and Sungho bonded over football, so they made plans to play one of these days.

“That’s good. You love football,” you note lightheartedly when you move to take the mop from him, checking if he missed any spots but of course he didn’t.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun hums, fixing his hair now that his hands are free and he turns after you when you walk farther to put the cleaning tools away. “I wanted to ask if maybe you wanna come along? To watch?”

You freeze, avoiding looking at the boy. You do want to watch him play but being with strangers isn’t really something you’re comfortable with, even if he’s there, even if he says they’re cool. Jaehyun knows you enough though and he can tell you hesitate, so he adds:

“You can bring Mijoo too if you want. And I’m thinking of inviting Donghyun too because Sungho also has younger friends.”

Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad. At least you would know people other than Jaehyun too. Maybe it would be fun.

“I will think about it,” you promise and Jaehyun beams almost as if you already said yes. He’s humming along to the music from the radio while you make sure everything is ready for closing. These days your mother lets you do so a few days a week just as she’s more comfortable with the idea of actually employing you.

Once the lights are switched off and the door is closed, Jaehyun walks you to the staircase leading to the upper floors where you live and for some reason he looks nervous standing in front of you. You lift your hand to wave him goodbye and tell him to take care on his way home like always but he beats you to it with a rushed out question.

“Do you wanna go to the movies this Friday after your shift?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply easily, without hesitation because it’s him, just him, and you’re comfortable with him even if he sometimes makes your heart beat irregularly. Like right now when he blinks, all puppy-like and licks his dry lips to clarify.

“I mean… like a date?”

“Oh,” you mumble and feel air punched out of your chest as you process the information along with the unsure tilt of Jaehyun’s words. He really does look nervous. You make him nervous.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to make things weird between us but sometimes it already feels like we’re dating and I have to stop myself from holding your hand or… khm, so like I just wanted to put it out there,” he stops his own rambling, eyes darting everywhere before finally settling on you, his words filling you with warmth. “That I like you.”

“Okay,” you let out a long exhale, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your light cardigan, then clear your throat. “What… what are we watching?”

“Wait, is that a yes? To the date?” Jaehyun asks with widened eyes and a grin so wide you can’t help but chuckle fondly.

“Yeah,” you nod shyly, pink painting your cheeks under the yellow hue of the lights. “And you can hold my hand.”

You were fine alone but if it’s Jaehyun, you don’t mind taking risks.

Spin-off: hold my hand, my love

[sandsorghum]

Mystery Fic/Free Day

wc: 4.4k

tags: Higuruma Hiromi x Reader | Established Relationship | Humour | Mildly suggestive/18+ [only towards the end]

synopsis: He’s faced down bigger and much better financed legal firms, cutthroat prosecutors, a thousand year old demon who literally sliced him limb from limb - But today Higuruma Hiromi confronts his cruelest, toughest opponent yet. And he’s doing it all for you.

a/n: I'd also like to dedicate this fic to @tsukimefuku. thank you so much for welcoming me into a space to meet so many brilliant, warm souls and indulge in the silliest shenanigans! 💛💛💛

Higuruma Hiromi has accomplished and established a lot over the course of his life, typically without too much effort: His intelligence, eloquence, an intense, charismatic presence, to name just a few. Combined with his ingrained traits of focus, ingenuity plus perseverance, he’s a force to be reckoned with; whether that was before a judge’s bench or on the jujutsu battlefield. 

They should serve him well now that he’s facing his most formidable foe.

Should being the operational word.

A couple Saturdays ago, Higuruma had found himself in an asbestos infected attic crawling with cockroaches. It was also full of broken pipes rife with the threat of tetanus, not to mention all the mustiness and mildew leaching through ominously warped floorboards, with jagged wedges dug through their wood. Barely able to breathe, he had encountered a curse with eight eyeballs dangling from its crimson optic nerves, each extruding from amidst a slimy, squelching tangle of tentacles scabbed over with suction cups, cinching and gaping to reveal extra irises weeping blood and puckering with pus.

He recalls the room dense with decay, its walls sagging and sopping with the monster’s repugnant ectoplasmic slobber emanating a rancid miasma, low rotten rafters wetly echoing the high-pitched chittering of its ivory maw stained carmine and caulked with marrow, strands of sinews from previous victims clinging to its fangs. An unholy cacophony undulating with a grating, guttural gurgling, a yowling insatiable appetite for more gruesome deaths. Higuruma remembers too, how he had jerked his jugular out of the way by scant millimeters when the saber-jawed, acid-spewing slavering creature had lunged at his throat.

Man, he misses that friendly face now. 

His current opponent stares him down and yawns wide, revealing two rows of tiny needles. Then proceeds to wash its face.

“You’re hardly as cute as your mistress.”

“Meiew.”

It’s Day 3 of his interminable battle with your cat, and of fighting an ever mounting urge not to casually leave a window open in this high-rise apartment.

Higuruma had unthinkingly accepted your request to cat-sit while you were away on a mission, despite having minimal experience with pets. 

(That is, apart from one brief acquaintanceship with a guppy when he was 5 which, according to his mother, had been exceptionally adventurous:

“Romi-chan, Mr Rainbow will reach the ocean faster through the city pipelines okay? It’ll be like a mega water slide for him, you know how much fun you have with those! So come on, put your hands on the magic push button. 1,2,3 and whoosh!”

This was to be Higuruma’s earliest lesson in manufactured consent, the ramifications of which are a tale for another time...)

You’d known your partner wasn’t a foremost expert with animals, but in the 3 years you’d been dating him, he’d been a consistently considerate, doting presence. That hadn’t changed when you two finally agreed to move in together a month ago, hence your certainty that even in your absence, Higuruma and your sweet-natured, precious Goma would get on just wonderfully.

“I’m only gonna say this once, you devil.”

Higuruma’s steely gaze meets his opponent’s obsidian slits glimmering in the afternoon sun, as it imitates the lethargy of the dust motes delicately drifting and gilding its sleek fan of whiskers silver. From its perch on the second-highest bookcase shelf, the ‘devil’ preens and peers down its pink-daubed nose at Higuruma, with all the regalness and regard a sphinx might reserve for an ignorant mortal obnoxious enough to brave its riddles.

“Get down from there,” Higuruma growls, back hunched and knees buckled in a half crouch as he attempts, once more, to anticipate and preemptively block the cat from its most acrobatic endeavours.

All day his feline foe had been treating the furniture as its personal Cirque du Soleil, a sabbatical from the previous days’ singular devotion to mangling freshly washed duvets.

“Don’t make me get the spray bottle,” Higuruma warns. His furry adversary has the audacity to yawn, front paws oozing out from under its furry tummy, a black back arching high into the air. 

Higuruma tenses; his enemy is making its move. 

Goma saunters along the shelf, stopping in front of a framed picture. 

It’s one of Higuruma’s favourites of you and him, from the early days of your courtship. The photo is a casual snap taken none too surreptitiously by a mutual friend at some rooftop bar; A casual, cosy celebration of someone’s birthday, the second ever event you had attended as a couple.

The place had been garlanded with fairy lights, the type of chic atmosphere that might border on kitsch in a few years - Not that Higuruma had noticed, his attention had been entirely monopolised by you on that slivered-moon night. There’d only been tungsten-tinted ambient lights and the honeycomb-glow of the Edison bulb on the table behind you both, so the shot had turned out rather underexposed and grainy - but Higuruma’s smitten gaze couldn’t be any clearer, only his cheek splitting grin rivalling it despite his mouth being partially obscured, tucked next to your collarbone as your head is tipped back against him, mid-guffaw. 

Eyebrows pinched, lashes clumped, mascara streaking down to the maraschino gulf of your lips, forging twin ravines in your uneven make-up and complexion - you’d been mortified when your friend sent the shot to him. It was incontrovertible, if inelegant, evidence of the raw hilarity that only Higuruma could provoke in you so frequently.  At least there hadn’t been any cameras in the elevator on your way down when the festivities finished (although you and your boyfriend’s night wouldn’t quite conclude then, but that's a different story). 

You couldn’t deny Higuruma looked utterly magnetic in the photo however, almost as much as how you saw him in person - so you had relented when he insisted on printing and displaying it. He’s sure that eventually you’d view the photo how he does, that its many charms would reveal themselves and grow upon you, and you’d identify all the merits and magic of that moment.

Like the way one of your arms was stacked across his, coiled snugly around your waist, while your other fist was curled into his collar, the creases in them reflecting the ones crinkling around your eyes, ruinous and gorgeous all at once. 

Equally delightful and damning proof, Higuruma’s embrace and your fingers entwined in his demonstrated a futile attempt to contain the fallout from the war of witticisms and sly compliments you regularly waged against each other. He can’t recollect who had emerged triumphant that evening, but it’d be obvious to anyone looking he’s got a winner. 

(And, if they’d peer closer, they might spot the crimson impressions ribboning your nape under swabs of concealer, hinting at the private medal ceremony he’d given you the previous night, when you’d taken a smidge too much pleasure from his petulance over conceding some other arbitrary debate. Though you’d been the victor of that particular verbal sparring match, Higuruma had made sure you weren’t in any position to deny him his concession speech, delivered smug and snug upon his silken tongue, skillful in other ways besides the oratorical.)

It’s a picture of an accomplishment he wants to repeat over and over, earning the fruits of your resplendence with that rosy flush across your face. Perhaps that was the moment, the first of many, that he’d fallen for you, completely and irrevocably. Higuruma remembers the night that photograph was taken with crystal clarity; The inevitability of your gravity, the thrills and comfort of such an immutable fact. He recalls it every day, even without proof, without this portrait of your shared adorations piercing through the glass, but it was wonderful and rare for him to be caught so unabashedly mesmerised by your mirth, reveling in the symbiosis of your sweet laughter making his heart ever more effervescent.

Goma casts an idle eye over this very same photo, apathetically dragging his tongue over a paw while he does so. His attention drifts as he fusses with a thorough cleaning of his face, ears flicking every so often in the direction of Higuruma’s baited breaths.

“Niiiice kitty,” Higuruma wheedles, shuffling forward as silently as possible in his socks. 

“Let’s keep calm just like that, and consider coming down off the bookcase, ok? It’s dangerous up there.”

Dangerous? For who? Goma tilts his head towards this pathetic creature, making its creeping advance toe by toe. Was this its idea of stealth? It can’t even get the basics of prowling right. Pitiful.

Goma’s tail starts swaying, skirting the spines of several novels (Higuruma’s hardcover collection of special edition Tolstoys, including War & Peace) as if oscillating between mysterious instincts, known only to its owner. Wearily, Higuruma eyes the ponderous pendulum for a full minute, hypnotic as it brushes along the tomes, over and over. Which is why he doesn’t notice a paw looming over the photo in his periphery until it's too late.

“Don’t you dare-”

Swat!

Higuruma dives forward for the frame, grabbing blindly and plunging face first into an accelerated blur of fur as four paws punch him in the nose, a tail whipping his mouth and smacking across his eyes for good measure as Goma sinks claws into his scalp, scrabbling to the top of his head before bounding off down his back, zipping into the kitchen. 

Higuruma sneezes, stumbling backwards and clutching his head with one hand, the other flailing against vertigo. 

SKLAP!

Higuruma lurches back onto his feet, feeling his soul splinter like an icicle snapping off the roof of a grotto. His eyes dart down to the picture gripped tight in his trembling hand. An avalanche of relief thunders over his heart when he sees it’s unmaimed, apart from a tiny notch on the bottom part of the frame. He must have knocked it against some corner of the bookcase. 

Higuruma’s shoulders slump as he exhales, gingerly restoring his prized photo to its rightful place. He frowns at how it sits a little askew now, a bit of the walnut veneer visible in the gap between the frame and shelf as it lists awkwardly on its left.

He’ll have to replace it some other day; right now he has some comeuppance to see to. Higuruma huffs, spinning on his heels, hell-bent on justice - and that’s when he hears the thinnest, most dreadful sound.

CrrRricCcckK. 

Higuruma cranes his head very, very slowly over his shoulder, at the mental playback pace of a ten vehicle pile-up. But it’s too late, reality has careens right into his eye line. 

A fracture, as conspicuous as it is hideous, runs over his visage. Starting at the edge of his hairline, it  zigzags over his forehead, then directly down across his slim, dark brows and a single eyelid, before tapering off at his cheek. Higuruma stares at the photo, now more closely resembling a caricature of some yakuza crony or belligerent pirate laughing maniacally at his successful kidnapping of a distressed damsel, clutched to his side, held against her will. 

A shadow grazes Higuruma’s countenance. His eyelids flutter like malfunctioning mechanical blinds. His temples throb. He pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. 

Higuruma Hiromi considers himself a civilized man, a consummate professional. He was always perfectly courteous and patient with the most recalcitrant delinquents, snivelling scammers, remorseless murderers. He’s never cussed out a single conniving senior counsel or those prejudiced prosecutors. He’s kept his rigid composure and rarely has he ever raised his voice even against infuriatingly obtuse bailiffs, those middle management bullies obsequiously pious to the bureaucracy they’re all entrapped in yet insist on enforcing against the least fortunate, in an idiotic exhortation of extortion.

Higuruma takes a deep breath, clutching the photo in both his hands, tendons at his wrists swelling, pulsing with an ichor thrombosis.

When Higuruma swears, it sounds less an expletive and more like an oath.

“Jealous bastard.”

He stashes the photo in the far end of a drawer, sliding it shut with a thump more reminiscent of a casket lid being sealed.

If his nemesis was on its eighth life, Higuruma Hiromi was going to usher it expeditiously towards its ninth. And then probably revisit it in that reincarnation anyway, so it could attain samsara with terminal velocity. 

Goma had a sufficient construct of sentience, of will - or at least, the spiteful creature certainly had an agenda. More than enough to warrant Higuruma unleashing Deadly Sentencing on it. 

He’d heard of a case before where a parrot had provided witness testimony. So Judgeman could probably prosecute a cat. It made perfect sense.

A long time ago, Higuruma was definite in his belief that a certain darkness and depravity was unique and exclusive to humans, a quality singular to our species.

He’s convinced otherwise now. 

Higuruma shucks his socks, and strides towards the kitchen.

“Goma, it’s time for your supper!” Higuruma croons, surreptitiously drumming his fingers against a tin of Fancy Feast and making the requisite pspsspsspt noises the YouTube tutorials had recommended. 

He peers around the doorway, swiftly scanning the four corners of the room. 

None of the cabinets were swinging open - Checked.

The alcove between the microwave and toaster oven - nothing there.

Top of the fridge - not a follicle. Good, no aerial advantage for it then. 

Which whittled Goma’s hiding spots down to a pair of possibilities - it could be hiding in or near the laundry machine, or lurking somewhere under the large circular dining table opposite it. However, this limited Higuruma’s range of movement too. If he checked the machine, most of his torso would be turned away from the table. Goma could vault off the chairs and attack from the back - and Higuruma was not about to cede the territory of his hair for a second time that day. He’d spent 15 minutes styling it this morning, in anticipation of your return - and he’d run out of mousse. 

He’ll be damned before he lets this menace get the better of him. 

“Come on buddy, how about a truce? I’ll throw in some tuna treats.”

Did cats have cursed energy? This one had to, Higuruma thinks, sidling towards the front-loading washing machine. He notices its door slightly ajar but he can’t sense a nefarious aura leaking from it - though it didn’t hurt to check. Ever so carefully, Higuruma nudges it open with his foot, cautiously peering into its gloomy maw. 

No Goma. He shuts it with a click. One less option for refuge.  

That left the table then. It was set against the walls, with four chairs pushed beneath it; a cosy, secure fort for his nemesis. Slowly Higuruma crouched down, wrapping a hand around the leg of the first chair to pull it back. It’s barely scraped an inch or two across the tiles when he hears a fierce hiss eclipse this sound. 

“Got you.” Goma is low on all fours, ears pressed flat to his skull, his tail hanging straight down, staring daggers at this intruder  - in full fight or fight me bitch mode. Higuruma expected about as much. He sighs, long-suffering, and cracks the tab on the tin, peeling back the aluminium lid.

“Look, I can’t help it if I was the dog that chased you into traffic in my last life,” Higuruma states, keeping his tone calm and reasonable, slowly extending the tin in his palm, “but maybe we should try starting afresh in this one?”

Goma’s ears swivel forward, pupils dilating. His nose twitches at the peace offering held in Higuruma’s hand. Slowly, like an ancient accordion, his neck and spine stretch towards the tin. Goma takes a single sniff. Then the teensiest, smallest shimmy possible forward.

“That’s it…” Higuruma scarcely dares to breathe.

Goma takes another sniff. 

This wasn’t the promised tuna treats.

Swifter than lightning a paw strikes at the can, splashing its contents all over Higuruma’s shirt. He jolts backwards with a curse, flinging the chair to the side but Goma’s much faster, darting between the legs and bounding gleefully out of the kitchen, escaping to the living room. 

Higuruma fumes as he clangs! the can onto the table, grabs a rag to run it under the tap and daubs aggressively at the smears and flakes of pate on his top. 

Higuruma flings the cloth down on the counter, storming out of the kitchen. 

Goma had chosen war.

Higuruma hastened into the living room, frenzied gaze casting about. 

Everything seemed calm. Too calm.

The curtains weren’t in tatters. 

The upholstery wasn’t in jagged shreds.

Even the magazine he’d been reading that afternoon seemed unmolested, abandoned in its original spot on the sofa.

Higuruma surveys the rest of the room, eyes narrowing at the spot where his law degree had been displayed, up until two days ago. The faint scent of ammonia still permeated the air, under the harsh reek of bleach. Right, the accident on the mantelpiece. The mantelpiece that was only a couple inches adjacent to Goma’s litterbox. 

Higuruma wasn’t taking any chances. He squeezes the miniature stuffed trout in his hands, the rough felt fabric against his palm like a reassuring charm to ward off evil.

Even more reassuring are the thick plastic grips of the scissors in his other hand. 

“Goma…” Higuruma sings out, fingers flexing to open and shut the metal blades of his weapon. 

Sschlick. Scschlick.

“You know what this is, don’t you?” 

A furry head pops out from behind the couch, black eyes flitting high and low at the toy being tossed up and down in one of Higuruma’s palms. Higuruma grins.

Sschlick. Scschlick.

Goma’s ears twitch.

“We humans call this an ultimatum.”

The rest of Goma slinks away from the sofa, haunches tense, tail swishing like a live wire. He glares balefully at the man sneering down at him, the toy still bouncing in his hand. 

“There you are. I’m glad you’ve come to the negotiating table. Now here’s what I expect.”

Goma hops onto the sofa, poising primly on a cushion. 

Higuruma frowns, but continues. “The furniture isn’t your playground. You’re going to keep off the shelves. And stay out of the cupboards.”

In as much as it’s possible for cats to shrug, Goma does, sprawling itself onto a cushion with a witheringly lackadaisical glance at Higuruma. He returns a venomous stare, holding out Mr Trout and giving it a vicious squeeze.

“Aren’t you forgetting something-”

Higuruma is about to elaborate on his threat when he hears a key turn in the lock of the front door. Goma sits up, eyes gleaming. 

“Tadaima!” 

Higuruma glances, alarmed, at the scissors in his hand. Quickly he stashes it beneath the pages of the magazine. As he bends forward to do so, Goma jabs him in the nose before springing off the sofa. 

“Damn c-”

“Sweetie!” 

Higuruma sighs, vexed at his disrupted stalemate but relieved that you’re home.

“How have you been? Did you miss me darling?” 

“Of course I did, and it’s been-oh, you’re talking to the cat.” Higuruma turns to greet you, only to find you face first in Goma’s fur, dropping a dozen kisses on its head, as it purrs at a timbre Higuruma can only describe as triumphant.

“It’s so good to see you again baby,”  you coo, scratching Goma’s ears fondly. Higuruma clears his throat. 

“The feeling is mutual, by the way.”

You stand, scooping Goma up in your arms, grinning at the particular inflection of Higuruma’s tone - it had been a while since you got to hear it. You drop a peck to his cheek, far too brief for his liking.

“Hi Hiro. Made any dinner plans?”

“There’s a tin of Fancy Feast out. Let me just fetch the candlesticks then I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Mmhmm, and don’t forget to fold the napkins into swans,” you hum, making your way to the kitchen, still carrying that dratted cat. “You both been getting along?” 

“Neoowr.”

“Yes,” Higuruma says shortly. He fills a glass with water and passes it to you. You take a few sips as Goma mewls, rubbing against your ankles. Setting down the half-drunk glass, you empty Goma’s dinner into his bowl, rubbing your index affectionately across his cute nose.

Higuruma slouches against the wall, crumpling the tin into the bin. You glance over at him.

“How was the mission?” he mutters. 

“There were a couple of hiccups,” you respond, standing with an extensive stretch of your neck, craning it far to the side. Higuruma’s brow lifts fractionally but you give a reassuring pat to his arm, a wan smile lining your lips. 

“But I’m back now.” 

Higuruma brushes his forehead to yours. “You’re home,” he says quietly. His finger skims your cheek, brushing a black strand off it, too short to be his or yours. He flicks it to the floor.

“I gotta unpack and then let’s order in. Oh, and I wanna watch that Knives Out sequel?” 

Higuruma nods and smiles, “Don’t take too long.”

You did, unfortunately. 

You hadn’t intended to collapse into bed after stuffing your suitcase back in the wardrobe, you’d only sat on the edge of it for a moment to peel off your jacket, but somehow the mattress had swallowed you up, seduced by memory foam and lavender-scented sheets.

You slip further and further into the cool, satiny darkness, welcoming it with an arm flung over your eyes, which is why you don’t take any notice of the mattress dipping slightly and why you ignore the silky sensation tickling your thigh.

“Goma…” you groan, “just give me five minutes.”

The fuzzy mound nudges past your knee to butt insistently against your hand, and your fingers thread through the soft hairs instinctively. 

Grumpily you mumble, “Hey, you know you can’t share the bed anymore. I got a less annoying companion for that.”

A low rumble travels up your wrist, strangely baritone - and some parts of Goma’s fur feel oddly coarse, yet the weight pressing into your palm is still familiarly warm…

Your eyes flutter open, to discover Higuruma Hiromi on all fours, back arched, trying to nuzzle his whiskerless cheeks into your palm. “Hiromi?”

“Exactly how much less annoying?” he purrs, tracing his mouth over your knuckles.

You feel the laugh start to bubble up in your chest, and the stress from the past few days melting off your shoulders. 

“Maybe not that much of a difference if you keep this up.”

Higuruma’s only response is to nip at your fingers. 

“Hey! I never had to muzzle Goma!”

“Sure you didn’t.” Higuruma drags his smirk across your skin, lips roaming along your calf.

“I didn’t,” you insist, though you card your fingers through Hiromi’s inky tresses, scratching lightly at his scalp. His eyes slip shut and you feel his full body shiver in your lap, stirring a little flutter in your belly. 

“You really missed me that much?” you whisper, tracing a thumb along his fine jawline.

He nudges his nose against your hips, sighing, “Almost as much as our cat.”

You smile at him, patting the pillow next to you. “C’mere, Hiro.”

Higuruma practically launches into bed with feline reflexivity, but not without first trailing a scattering of smooches over your thighs, belly and chest before he settles beside you, eye level at last.

Your breath catches briefly in your throat when he wraps a strong arm around your waist, and you skate your fingers along his biceps, your adoring gaze flickering only when you find a thin, red line etched above his elbow.

“Was this Goma?”

Higuruma shrugs, secretly pleased at the lilt of incredulity in your voice. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, he’s probably still getting used to the new apartment,” Higuruma cups your face in his warm, broad palms. “And being demoted to number 2 in your heart.”

“Goma takes bronze actually. Daniel Craig’s the runner up.”

“Suddenly I’m having second thoughts about Glass Onion tonight-”

“A very distant runner-up,” you interrupt Higuruma, a grin splintering your face as you observe the pout, puffy at his lips.

“He better be,” your lover flourishes a scowl at you, “Daniel Craig’s not the one who’s been clearing the sink of furballs all week.”

You press a lingering kiss to Higuruma’s nose, and feel his hands tighten around your hips.

“Goma wasn’t too much trouble, was he?” you ask eventually.

“Make it worth it,” Higuruma grins at you, rolling you on top of him in one fluid motion. “He’s a headstrong little guy, but we’ll figure out a way to settle our differences.” 

“Right, differences,” you snicker against Higuruma’s throat. He fixes you with a quizzical stare, stopping his hands wandering beneath the hem of your blouse.

You only smile, sliding your fingers under his chin and tickling him briefly. “I’m just realising my affinity for picking up wilful strays.”

Higuruma scoffs, but rubs his face against your nape, peppering kisses along your clavicle. You relish Higuruma’s hungry touch, his lips roving across your skin, eager to reconnect with you after a prolonged absence.

“You know, there is one area you’re more agreeable than Goma,” you say a little breathlessly after a few minutes as you sit up, your lover quickly mirroring your motion.

“Just the one?” he drawls, dragging you more firmly into his lap to keep your hips flush with his.

“Well, for a start,” you loop your arms around his neck, “It’s easier to convince you to get in the bath.”

And you're aware, to the casual eye, Higuruma Hiromi is a very handsome human and definitely no cat, but you swear you see his ears prick up. Before you can even blink, Higuruma has stripped you of your trousers and scooped you up in his arms, bundling you towards the bathroom. His gravelly chuckle reverberates against your flesh as you scramble to tug his shirt off along the way.

“Hiro…why does this smell kinda fishy?” 

Fuchsia tinges his face ever so slightly, and his voice gets gruff.

“Fine, so maybe Goma got the upper paw on me once.” You start to snigger, even more uncontrollably when Higuruma nuzzles his heating cheeks irritably to the tender column of your throat, only for your laugh to fracture into gasps as Higuruma reminds you how he very much isn’t a cat, with those opposable thumbs for instance swiping pettily through the sodden seam of you.

He smirks, “Still, Goma’s not the one about to share a shower with you, so who’s the real winner here?”

You hadn’t really considered yourself a contender in the matter before, but as Higuruma slips to his knees between yours, a feeling skitters deliciously up your spine that to address the question, the rest of the night will be spent on determining a tiebreaker between you and your lover.

© sandsorghum. 2025

a/n: yeah im heavy on the black cat dad Higuruma agenda...just might be a roman empire. The origins of inspiration for this fic can be traced to this! Thank you @kanashiki79 for every adorable drawing!

[greenleaf4stuff]

In Convenience, Chapter 1, Part 2

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience" and "In Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage to marriage of love AU, post story chapter 1, part 2. Despite Adar’s reassurances, the smith tries to overcome his own apprehension and create the wedding rings himself. After facing difficulties, his uruk husband offers them both an alternative solution.

Poor Celebrimbor is getting hit with a dose of ambition again. It's good he has Adar with him this time. A big thank you to @plotdesigner once again, who undoutably inspired some of the ideas about uruk marriages and related customs with her writing! <3

As Celebrimbor quickly found out two days later, the thought of forcing himself to make rings for himself and his husband was, indeed, a bit of a foolish one.

It was frustrating, to say the least. He’d given the others instructions to spend the day outside and rather help the uruk better set up their camp to brave the bright sunshine, since there had been few clouds during the last couple of days.

It had been both an honest attempt to help Adar and his children, but also a welcome opportunity to sit in the remnants of the forge and try to reclaim another part of himself.

A part that Celebrimbor felt had been stolen from him, tainted and twisted, when 'Annatar' had taken his knowledge and skill and used it for his own means.

Some of it, he had already regained in Gurlak’s little forge. But some facet of him – his pride, he’d come to suspect with a scowl – wasn’t satisfied with that. It wanted to work in his own forge again, and it wanted to work on something similar yet wholly different than what he’d last worked on in here.

Weddings bands. Simple, elven wedding bands.

Celebrimbor knew the tradition well – silver rings for engagement, and then a simple gold band for married pairs, worn on the right index finger.

Of course, as a smith with his heritage and due to the fact that this was not a traditional Eldar marriage, Celebrimbor had felt as if that would have been too simple a task for him.

No, he wanted to create something that encompassed both the beauty and the depth of the love he felt for his husband, perhaps even rivalled the elven rings of power. Something that Adar would be proud to wear and display, simple enough for a warrior, yet distinct. Shaped with intention as well as skill.

Yes, that would be a good way to represent their union.

The problem was that Celebrimbor had been unable to complete even a single, satisfactory sketch.

He was ruffling his own hair in agitation as he faltered, then stopped, with yet another design – too clunky, too big, too elaborate – and leant back in his chair with a loud, frustrated groan while he rubbed his hands over his face.

He’d been at this for hours, judging by the movement of the sun outside. And yet he had nothing to show for it.

The elf flung the graphite he’d used across the table in a sudden, almost petulant surge of anger at himself. It jumped off the table once and, as it did so, broke apart.

Celebrimbor’s anger broke right alongside it.

At the door to the forge, he heard movement. The elf could immediately guess who it was, but did not consider himself to be in the right state of mind to turn around and greet the other. Instead, he leant forward and buried his face in his hands, elbows propped up on the table.

Out of anyone, he’d hoped his husband might not be the one to find him here, like this.

"A very kind gesture, to send us your assistants to aid my children in erecting sun tarps," the uruk spoke as he entered the forge proper. "However, I must admit that I was missing your presence at the camp."

It was said in a teasing manner. And yet, Celebrimbor almost felt as if that made it all worse.

He remained hunched over his work table, unmoving, and let the thought pass him by. This was his husband – he had obviously missed Celebrimbor, had actually decided to come and visit him in his forge despite his many tasks. He did not and could not know of the smith’s struggle with himself.

The uruk fell silent when he got no answer, and soon, measured footsteps were nearing the table. While the elf didn’t particularly look forward to the conversation they’d undoutably soon have, he felt a weight fall off his shoulders knowing Adar was here.

He had felt terribly lonely, all by himself, amid the remnants of destruction and previous failures.

The uruk finally came to stand directly next to Celebrimbor’s table, so close that the elf could feel his body heat. It was tempting to remain in the dark and imagined safety of his own hands, but Celebrimbor had never been the one to choose the easiest route over the most sensible.

Most of the time, anyway.

He let his fingers slip off of his face, before he folded them and pressed his mouth against them, staring straight ahead. He needed a moment, and then glanced up at his husband, aware that his unhappiness, the sheer dismay in regards to his current predicament, was likely showing on his face.

Adar had leant his hip into the side of the table where he stood next to Celebrimbor, close enough that his cuirass was almost touching the elf’s arm. If they hadn’t been together, perhaps the proximity, the other’s stance, the way he looked down at Celebrimbor with a straight back and a tilted head, would have been intimidating.

As it was, the elf knew it to be concern, and he didn’t make any attempt to hide his failed sketches or the broken graphite as Adar took in both his husband and the work table with quiet, intense eyes.

There was a slight frown to his face for a moment, before that expression smoothed itself out again, as the other seemed to come to a realization, or perhaps a conclusion. He looked at Celebrimbor for a while longer, then turned around and stepped back into the room.

It only took a short moment for him to return, this time carrying a stool, which he placed close to the smith’s own chair.

Adar soon sat down upon it, legs facing away from the table and into the room. He propped the elbow closest to Celebrimbor onto the table’s surface, and then leant over, moving in close enough that their upper thighs were pressed against one another.

His face was open, and it carried a silent request – that Celebrimbor talk to him.

They stared at one another some more before the smith finally lifted his face from his hands and averted his eyes. His words came out haltingly at first.

"I thought I was ready. It would have been...I’d hoped to replicate what I managed to do with Morgoth’s crown, I suppose. I wanted that same feeling of – of doing something worthwhile. Something beneficial. That would not cause harm and misery."

He paused, took a breath, leant back in his chair. Why did he feel so defeated, when the evil that was darkening his thoughts had already been vanquished?

The slump of his frame felt uncharacteristic even to himself. "I know you said I shouldn’t push myself for your sake, and I also know you were right about that. And yet, who but you would deserve to have a ring made for them? It might not have the power of the three, granted. But I wished for yours to have a measure of their beauty, at least."

He felt his face pull into a grimace for a moment, and tilted his head this way and that as he grit his teeth. "He doesn’t deserve to taint this. He’s done far too much to you, to both of us, to also steal this. My joy in creating, and you having a token that shows the whole of Middle-earth what you mean to me. I- it feels like a defeat, that I cannot overcome this hurdle. As if he’s won, in some small way."

He turned towards Adar again, and could feel excess moisture in his eyes before he managed to blink it away, but barely. "Do I make any sense?"

Adar considered him intently, but not for long. He hummed. "Far too much, in fact. Yes."

The elf blinked, and moved forward in his chair as Adar reached out to wrap an arm around his waist. Soon, Adar had pulled himself into Celebrimbor’s side, against his arm and hip, and lifted his own chin over the elf’s shoulder.

He placed a kiss at Celebrimbor’s temple before pressed their faces together, his nose and lips and jaw to the elf’s cheek, his chin on the elf’s shoulder, both staring at the sketches.

Celebrimbor, himself, reached out and held onto the arm Adar had propped onto the desk still. He soon found his hand held in Adar’s as they both applied gentle pressure.

"It honors you, that you would wish to display our bond so openly to the world. In a manner none could misunderstand," Adar said, slowly. "That you wish to claim me like this. Believe me, you have already done so, even without a public display."

The reassurance was like a balm to Celebrimbor’s troubled mind.

Still, Adar continued. "Eventually, you will reclaim this part of yourself as well. I have no doubt about that. You are far too passionate about your craft not to."

"But not today, not here, and not like this. You cannot force a wound to heal. Even if your intentions are noble. And truly appreciated."

The elf hummed in response, and turned his face into Adar’s until their foreheads and noses touched. He let himself lean onto the uruk as he breathed a quiet sigh.

"I suppose you might have a point there," the smith replied and a small, but humorless grin found its way onto his face for the blink of an eye. "I’m sorry, I know you have a lot on your plate right now. And don’t get me wrong, I do not think of our marriage as diminished if we do not wear rings, or if I’m not the one make them for us."

A pause. Being this honest with both Adar and himself was still a novelty, and at times a little painful. "I suspect it’s less my love for you so much as the expectations I have for myself that are making this such a difficult topic for me. I love you, and us, just as you are. Never doubt that."

That was important to him. As much as he still struggled with what had happened during Sauron’s stay in Eregion, he never wanted Adar to feel as if their relationship needed to hold up to some kind of outside notion. The problem was, at least partially, in Celebrimbor’s own head. And not with their marriage.

He could feel Adar smile against his face, and opened his eyes to see the uruk with his own half-open, watching Celebrimbor with an incredibly fond, if sad look.

The elf felt as if his own feelings were directed back at him.

He wanted to further reassure the other, but Adar was faster to speak.

"Let me try something," he asked. The way his expression was changing had the elf perk up quickly; there was a spark in the uruk’s eyes, as if he had gotten a particularly good idea.

Intrigued, Celebrimbor nodded.

Adar leant back from his husband, taking his warmth and his hands with him. The elf, however, was far too curious to mourn their loss.

The uruk grabbed his own belt; he had stopped carrying his large broadsword everywhere he went, but as the smith soon saw, that did not mean he was unarmed. He carried a small knife, made in a similarly improvised manner as most uruk weapons. From what the other had told him, it had been fashioned from the broken-off tip of his sword.

Celebrimbor briefly frowned in response, especially when Adar lifted the knife up and towards his own head. The only thing the other did, however, was to grab a fine, thin strand of his own hair, and then cut it close to the root.

The elf blinked and raised his eyebrows in confusion as he watched Adar put the knife away again and tie a small knot at one end of the strand of hair. Soon, his husband was reaching forward and grabbed a hold of the elf’s hand.

He put the knotted end of the strand in between Celebrimbor’s digits, tucked between thumb and index finger. As he pressed the tips of the two digits together with his own, he sought out the elf’s eyes once more.

"Hold onto this tightly."

Again, Celebrimbor could only nod mutely.

And then watched as Adar sat back, separated the strand into three smaller sections, and began to braid it.

Judging by the speed and the evenness of the braid as it came together, he had done this before. Not even the gauntlet seemed to be a detriment, but rather, the pointed tips helped him separate errand pieces of hair from each other. It was quite fascinating to observe.

"Among the uruk, marriage in the traditional, Eldar sense of the word did not exist for a long time," Adar began as he braided, focused on his task. "Unions between two of my children have only become somewhat common after the first time I managed to defeat Sauron. Under his and Morgoth’s reign, it was just not feasible."

"But my children endured, and developed their own traditions and customs in response. We had no precious metals, but we had other means to show affection and loyalty."

Finally he had finished the braid, and tied another small knot at the end. Gently, he slipped the side that Celebrimbor had held onto from between the elf’s fingers. Though not without brushing his own over his husband’s hand as he did so.

The elf kept his eyes on the finished braid, now utterly captivated, as Adar twisted it around and into itself. Again, this seemed to have been something the other had done before, Celebrimbor could not guess how many times.

His mouth fell open and his eyes widened slightly when, by the end of his motions, Adar was left with a braided ring in his hand. Small, thin, yet intricate. Beautiful. Made with intention, and skill.

Celebrimbor stared at him in what was both surprise and awe, eyebrows raised and mouth still slightly open. The uruk took his husband’s right hand, held it up with his gauntleted one, and used the other to slip the braided ring onto the elf’s finger.

Celebrimbor found his breath stuttering on his next exhale, as his eyebrows knitted briefly and he stared at the little trinket he now wore. It fit perfectly.

A myriad of emotions overcame him then, from astonishment, to wonder, to love. He looked up into Adar’s eyes again, and his face split into a wide smile as he did.

The uruk had looked...not apprehensive, per se, but a little questioning. After seeing Celebrimbor’s reaction, he seemed to be fully at ease once again.

"We usually carry braids or strands of hair, but sometimes turning them into rings is a safer option, to avoid losing it. Perhaps, this might serve as a solution to our conundrum until you have healed enough to attempt making rings again."

Celebrimbor smiled and felt moisture creep into his eyes once more, though this time, for a much more welcome reason. His smile turned lop-sided as he looked down and carefully moved his fingertips over the ring, felt the smoothness of the hair, marveled at how it shone in the color of rust in the sunlight.

"That...that is more than a compromise," he decided, and looked at Adar again. "Or a replacement. I quite like it, and what it represents. As well as the thought of renewing it with you. Thank you, Adar."

He tilted his head to the side a little. "Do you think my hair might be long enough for a braid as well?"

It was Adar’s turn to be stunned for a moment. Soon, a small smile touched his face, and the edges of his eyes crinkled. The uruk grabbed his knife again. "I think I can figure something out. Turn your head a little, so I can find a good strand to cut."

Celebrimbor gladly let Adar touch his jaw and chin to move his head in the direction he desired, smiling all the while.

It took the uruk a bit more time to fumble with the hair for the second braid, but Adar did end up making another ring. When Celebrimbor gingerly took it from him and then slipped it onto Adar’s index finger, it contrasted nicely against the uruk’s skin – and the hair of Celebrimbor’s ring.

Both of them held up their hands next to each other, turning their new tokens about this way and that, watching the light play off of them, the delicate details of the braids. When their eyes found one another once more. They both were smiling.

Yes, Celebrimbor would need more time to fully reclaim all that which he felt he had lost in the last few weeks. But the fact of the matter was, he had also gained something in turn.

He and Adar both had time, now. They’d figure it out together, and forge their own path.

[numberonetacostan]

Sometimes I think certain contestants (in gijinka form) would have been created with things like scars that didn't actually come from an injury or braces/glasses they don't actually need.

Like it's easy to find stereotypical nerdy characters in shows and the like having glasses or braces so Mephone applied that to contestants like Fan and Test Tube without knowing what they're actually for.

There's also the thing where evil characters are given certain types of scars/more noticeable scars than good characters which I can see Mephone using, even if that's a trope that I don't particularly like for a few reasons.

That's not to say there aren't contestants that have bad eyesight or that need braces (among other tropes like that) he might even do the thing where people with glasses become essentially blind if they take them off.

-🌸

[Hi sorry for sending another ask so quickly after my last one but it's sort of related to it and I was going to add it to my last one anyway but I forgot and then remembered like a few seconds after sending it.

In gijinka form, I think Mephone would have a very vague idea of human anatomy.

Like there's certain things that he knows happen to a human body sometimes but not why they happen, things like hunger or period cramps I suppose? I'm pretty sure Mephone eats the cookies more because he likes how they taste than that he gets hungry (correct me if I'm wrong)

I don't think he would know enough to make their organs be the same as actual people either, like he'd screw up their anatomy in certain ways because he doesn't actually know how they work.

Their appearances too, with certain contestants having things that wouldn't really be possible for people to have. Borrowing a but from your Taco gijinka but characters like Yang and her for examples would probably have more claws than nails and teeth sharper than they really should be.

I kind of view them in gijinka form to have something off about them, wether it's obvious from just looking at them (like Goo and Floory) characters that have features that are distinctly non-human or uncanny valley looking but not as in your face (using Yang and Taco again) and those who look like a perfectly normal human but still have screwed up anatomy that someone could probably catch onto eventually (like OJ, I imagine he bleeds orange juice rather than blood in gijinka form)

Their personalities can also be an issue if you're trying to talk to someone who isn't made by Mephone, because some of them have exaggerated personalities for the sake of the show not to say some people don't act like that irl, more that certain people would judge them for it yk? (I hope I'm explaining it right)]

---

Hi Flower!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in your asks!! :)

Definitely! Scars, glasses, braces, they're like clothes and hair colour, all parts of a character's design! Nerdier characters like Fan and Testy would, like you mentioned, have glasses and such to show their personalities through their appearances! The scars aspect, while yes, not being a good trope, is a common one, though I can't say it would apply to many antagonist-contestants we see in II, other than Knife and maybe Trophy? Taco is fancy, put-together, and deceitful- visible scarring would hurt her facade in that sense, and though I do think of her as having a large facial scar post s2 ep13, that's not something she was made with. Balloon isn't actually malicious, Silver is a similar type to Taco, and Blueberry, well, I suppose he could have a scar, but again he's not really the sort of villain who would have one, yeah?

I'd think most if not all of the glasses-wearing characters are essentially blind if their glasses are off, since that would be Mephone's impression of vision impairment. Cobs put his glasses back on after Knife broke them, he definitely can't see much without them, and Mephone would pick up on that.

[Mephone definitely only eats for taste- almost all of the Meeple devices following him, save for 4S, don't even have mouths. They don't need to eat.]

Yay Mephone's vague idea of what humans are like!! He'd have no idea why, yeah. He'd get that they need to eat and they feel bad if they don't, but that's probably the extent of it. Mephone tried asking Cobs what a period was once and he was grounded for two weeks. Omg yay borrowing from my Taco gijinka!! :D Clawed hands sharp teeth slit pupils pointy ears because she's inspired by villains Mephone saw in movies and shows he'd watched (I like to think Taco is somewhat based on demon/vampire villains :3c)!!

They all have something off about them, whether it's not something easily identifiable at a glance like OJ's orange juice blood or Marsh being... squishier than the average person, or if it's something obvious like Taco's impossibly sharp features, Goo/Floory's entire bodies, or Candle being slightly on fire all the time, they're all not quite what a human normally is. They all feel off to the average person, somehow.

I like to think their non-humanness parallels the season they debut in. Season one is rather normal, but they're not as accurate imitations of humans as later contestants. Taco is the most extreme example, appearance-wise she fits in more with the season 3 cast, but even contestants like Baseball, Paper, and Bow are a bit out-there in one aspect or another (Paper and Bow appearance-wise, Baseball more for his size and oddly fabric-y skin.) Season two contestants are the most accurately human. Mephone is getting better at show-things in general, including making the contestants look human. Though Yang's size of Yin-Yang would be a notable exception, like Taco in season 1, they'd all look and be relatively normal. They could fit in with regular people the best, even if not 100% perfectly. Season three, on the other hand, are by far the least humanoid. Almost all of them have something or somethings clearly non-humanoid about them, yeah? Because Mephone is going very far into escapism with this season, he wants to be away from reality, and this goes into his making of the season 3 newbies.

Personalities could be a challenge for some of them too, depending on how much they're able to change, now being outside of MeLife. Particularly contestants like Cherries and Goo, who are much more child-like. Are they able to mature into an adult, or adult-ish state of mind? Or are they eternal children? Will any average person be able to tolerate Silver Spoon for more than 5 minutes? Who can say, really.

[colettebronte]

Presumptuous: Chapter 2

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Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: At dinner you once again encounter the handsome stranger and learn a few things about him from various sources

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+ for the overall fic, but for this chapter, still no smut just yet. Minors DNI. I will put this up on Ao3 so please do not repost my work elsewhere

Author’s note: I hope you enjoy this second chapter! I need to give a BIG thank you once again to @fayes-fics for her beta skills

Chapter 2: Dinner and a Show

That night finds you seated at the bar, waiting for your table to be ready. Wearing the lovely white dress the man from the shop bought you earlier, you feel very elegant as you sip your cocktail. You’ve just set your drink on the bar top when someone sits down beside you. They’re close enough that the pleasant scent of their cologne wafts towards you. It reminds you of fresh, cool water and lilacs.

You turn to find it’s the same man who bought your dress for you. Not sure what to say, you watch as he lifts two fingers and the bartender places a tumbler filled with amber liquid on the napkin before him. Mesmerized, you watch as he first takes a sniff of the drink and then a small sip before smiling. 

“An excellent choice tonight John. Thank you.” 

You watch as the bartender, John’s ears flush bright red. “You’re welcome, Sir. We got that whiskey in earlier today and I had a feeling you’d enjoy it.”

The man takes another sip, his silver pinky ring clinking against the glass. “You were, as usual, correct.” The man pulls his wallet out of his white suit jacket and places a one-hundred dollar bill down on the bar. “This should cover my drink, as well as my friend’s.” He pauses to gesture to you. “Please keep the rest with my compliments.” He glances at you for the first time since he sat down and adds, “If my friend orders any other drinks tonight, please add them to my tab.”

The bartender takes the cash and smiles, ears still crimson. He nods at you both and then moves away to help other customers.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “Wow. that was . . . ,” you pause to find the right word for what you just witnessed.

He swivels on his barstool to look at you. Amused, he attempts to finish your sentence. “Smooth? Charming? Extremely gallant?”

You shake your head as you find the right word. “Presumptuous. But yes, also maybe a little bit charming.”

He laughs, warm and rich, igniting a not-unpleasant feeling in your belly. “Presumptuous. That is a new one.” Lifting his glass towards you, he offers up a dimpled smile before taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Considering how you bought me my dress this morning and then my drinks for the evening, I feel it’s an accurate assessment.”

 “Agree to disagree,” he says around a mouthful of whiskey.  He then sits back to give you an unsubtle once-over. You can’t help internally preening a bit at the obvious approval in his eyes. You also take the time to fully take in his immaculately pressed, yet soft-looking white suit. He purses his lips as you continue to study him. “Do you like the suit, Miss?” 

Normally you’d feel embarrassed at being caught staring but the little you know of this man, you feel fairly certain he doesn’t mind. “I do. Is that the one you had tailored today?”

“It is. In truth, I just had to have the trousers taken in a bit.” He pauses to lean closer to you before whispering, “Now they cling to my ass perfectly.”

If any other man had said that, you would have slapped them into the next week but there’s something about him and his honesty that is just so damn charming.

Before you can stop yourself you say, “I’ll have to judge that for myself, later.”

He pulls away to laugh. “Indeed you shall, Miss.”

You take another sip of your drink. “As flattering as the whole ‘Miss’ thing is, my name is Y/n . . . .” You're about to tell him your last name when he puts up a hand to stop you.

“Please no last names. We’re on vacation. Let’s have a little fun. Y/n No Last Name, it is nice to meet you. My name is Anthony.” He extends his hand to you.

This man.

You take his hand and shake it. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Anthony No Last Name.”

He looks ready to say more, but the hostess approaches you. “Your table is ready Miss.”

Anthony stands to help you down. Your bodies are mere inches apart as your feet touch the floor. He stares down at your lips. Surely you’re not imagining the chemistry between you. You step back, taking your drink off the bar and after a sip ask him, “Would you care to join me?”

His eyes darken as he gazes at you. He takes a step back and stares at you a moment before his whole demeanor changes. It’s jarring to watch. He slouches and puts his hands in his pockets, looking abashed. You try to keep a straight face as cold washes over you, bracing for the rejection you know is about to come.

“I’m sad to say I have already made plans for tonight. But I would be happy to share a meal with you another time,” His words are sincere and yet there’s something off in the tone of his voice. You can only nod as you turn to follow the hostess, feeling confused as the air around you, once charged, now feels stifling.

The hostess seats you at a small table that, to add insult to injury, gives you a perfect view of Anthony, still seated at the bar.

“If you like, I can see if we have another table available.”

Wincing, you shake your head. “There’s no need, this is fine.��� You sit as she places a menu in front of you. 

She glances over her shoulder at Anthony before leaning in conspiratorially. “You dodged a bullet there anyway, Miss.”

Curious, you ask her, “How so?”

The hostess looks around before quickly sitting in the empty seat across from you. The look on her face tells you this should be good.

“Well, I haven’t worked here long but I was told by some of the other staff that to spend time with him,” she pauses to hook her thumb in Anthony’s direction and then leans in closer to whisper, “you have to pay for it. Pay for him.”

You rear back in surprise. You look up to find him chatting with John. You remember the bartender’s reaction to him.

You look back at the hostess, ‘Bess’ her name tag reads. You whisper, “Are you saying he’s a prostitute?”

Bess nods quickly before standing. She straightens her skirt and leans down to add, “In a place this upscale, they’re called Escorts. But yes. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.” She gestures to your drink. “I’ll have another one sent over, on the house.”

You glance back at Anthony, who’s returned to sipping his drink. You look back to Bess. “Make it two, and put them on his tab.”

Bess huffs a laugh and walks off, leaving you to peruse the menu and think back on the day, the events of what unfolded between you and Anthony reframing in your mind.

***************

As the evening progresses, you’re treated to quite the show while you enjoy your six-course meal.

Over your hors d'oeuvres you watch as a pair of well-dressed women who appear to be in their early fifties, sit at the bar, several seats down from Anthony. He catches their eye and raises his glass to them.  They devolve into a pair of little girls, giggling. Anthony signals for John who brings him a fresh glass. Anthony hands him a card, leaning in to say something to the bartender. Moments later, John is presenting the card to the women. Whatever is written on it, has them bowing their heads together, in what appears to be an intense conversation.

Next, your soup arrives, along with another cocktail and a wink from Bess, who points to the drink and nods her head in Anthony’s direction, signaling that this one is on him too. You smile at her, raising the drink in a silent toast. When you next look back at the bar, Anthony is gone but the two women still remain.

Sometime during your appetizer course, a string quartet begins playing and a few couples take to the small dance floor in front of them. You’ve never stayed anywhere even remotely ritzy enough for people to get up in the middle of their meals and dance, so you watch, mesmerized. A flash of white catches your eye and then there’s Anthony, dancing with a woman, who appears slightly older than you, dressed in a short, black sequin dress. Everything about her screams wealth. He smiles and dips her and you can hear her laugh all the way from where you’re sitting.

Feeling self-conscious, you look down at yourself. The dress Anthony bought you is easily the nicest one you’ve ever owned. You wonder what your demeanor says about you. Whatever it is, it was enough for him to decide you weren’t worth his time. With a generous swig you finish your drink, gesturing to Bess for another cocktail.

You wonder if it’s uncouth to ask her if your drink can be brought in a pitcher-size. Or better yet a bucket.

By the time your salad arrives, Anthony is back at the bar, surprisingly alone. He’s sitting at the seat he previously occupied, slicing into a steak. His tumbler of whiskey has been replaced by a glass of red wine. 

The woman he had been dancing with walks by him, running her hand over his back as she passes. Something that looks like a room card, flutters out of her hand and lands on the bar next to his plate. He seems to ignore both her and it, eyes firmly on his dinner.

You’re not sure what to make of that. 

You’re feeling slightly tipsy when your main course arrives so you decide to switch out your cocktail for ice water.

Anthony has finished his meal and is nursing a whiskey. His eyes find yours and despite yourself, that same not-unpleasant feeling from earlier returns. He holds your gaze for a moment, and then he looks away, downing the contents of his glass in one go. John approaches him, holding another tumbler of whiskey and a small piece of paper, gesturing across the bar. You can’t help yourself as your eyes track his hand to see him pointing at an immaculately-dressed woman of indeterminate age.

Anthony raises his glass to her. She offers him a small smile and raises her glass of white wine in return.

You’re nearly done with your main course when the woman approaches Anthony, leaning down to speak in his ear, offering him her hand. Whatever the elegant woman says clearly piques his interest as he gives her an appraising look and then stands, taking her hand, allowing her to lead him to the bank of elevators. 

You can't help but be transfixed by the scene but also by just how well his white pants cling so perfectly to his ass as he walks away, just as he told you earlier they would.

You debate switching back to cocktails for your dessert course, but ultimately decide against it.

You’re nearly finished with your dessert when you get a text. Pulling out your phone, you recognize the number as Michaela’s, who you had exchanged with so she could keep you updated on your missing luggage situation.

MS: Good news! I’ve finally heard back from the airline and they’ve assured me they put your luggage on the next flight out here. It arrives in the morning. I’ve left instructions for the shuttle driver to pick it up. When it’s here I’ll have it brought to your room

Y/n: You are THE BEST. What can I offer you as a thank you? Wine? Jewels? Riches? My first born? Name it and it’s yours

MS: You’re very welcome. Sadly, I’ve no need for any of those, especially your hypothetical child. Would you like me to let you know when your bag arrives before sending it up?

Y/n: That would be lovely, thank you. And hey, if you ever change your mind, my womb is your womb

MS: Noted. Have a good evening

Y/n: You as well! Goodnight!

With a spring in your step, you head to the elevators. Now, mostly sober, you’re ready to head back to your room, avail yourself of the huge jetted tub in your bathroom, watch some Netflix on your ipad and digest your truly excellent meal.

The doors open to reveal Anthony. His suit is slightly disheveled and his hair is mussed, making him look irritatingly even more handsome. His eyes widen and then you’re staring at each other from opposite sides of the elevator door. Your joint trance is broken as the elevator dings and starts to close. Anthony reaches an arm out to stop it and then you’re both jockeying to switch sides of the elevator. You slip in while he steps out. He looks ready to say something as the doors start to close again. You frantically push the close button, not sure you want to hear whatever he has to say.

Once you’re on the move you rest your head against the cold metal of the wall, wondering yet again, what the hell just happened.

Next Chapter

taglist: @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @faye-tale @cosmiclove330 @abridgerton @fiction-is-life @kmc1989 @alexandrainlove @ietss @itsyagirlmeee @multi-fandom-lover7667 @turtle-cant-communicate @queenofmean14 @syraxnyra

[somefanchick]

-Rollo's Angelic Obsession-

(This story is from Rollo's perspective during the events of the visit to Nobel Bell College. I only know information from the English server story and events so sorry if anything is terribly out of character. This fic is cannon for my female Yuu-sona, but I do just call them Yuu in the story. Yuu uses she/her pronouns. Hope you enjoy! TW: Rollo is obsessive and Delulu with a major crush on Yuu. Found the banner pictures in a post by @ raven-at-the-writing-desk, they are not mine. I got the event book 1 transcripts from the Wiki, and the book 3 transcripts from @ kanasmusings!)

TWST Masterlist

It was disgusting. The headmaster of Night Raven called to inform us that his group of ten had grown to thirteen, not including the chaperone. I had requested Malleus Draconia so I could execute my plan, but to add two more students to the group was borderline infuriating. I didn’t even have the time to see how powerful these other students were, or who they were. I had no idea if they would be an issue or if it would be better to rid the world of them like the others. The only information the headmaster gave on them was that they counted as one student, and that one of them was magicless. That last note made me somewhat hopeful.

The portal lit up and all of the students stepped through. I recognized each and every one of them, so I assumed the new ones were tucked behind the others. I even recognize the chaperone. None of them were a threat. None of them were pure. They all would burn.

“I've been expecting you,” I stepped out of the shadows, vice president and aide on my left and right, “ Esteemed guests from Night Raven College, welcome to Noble Bell College.”

Mozus Trein, the chaperone, spoke in a tone much like my own, “Judging by your uniform, you must be the student the headmage mentioned.”

“That's right,” I put my handkerchief over my mouth for a moment before speaking again, “My name is Rollo Flamme. I serve as the student council president here.”

Riddle Rosehearts was the next to speak, “Oh, interesting. Our school doesn't have an independent student council, but it sounds like you all do.”

I removed the cloth from my lips, “Indeed. And while it may sound presumptuous, one could call it the face of our school. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Idia Shroud’s voice was shrill with surprise or fear, “Ack! Immediate encounter with strangers!”

Azul Ashengrotto seemed equally annoyed and used to the outburst, “Isn't the whole point of this social to meet strangers?”

I could hear some of the freshmen mumbling to themselves, about me undoubtedly. I pressed on, “This is our vice president, and this is our aide. When they heard they could meet with such an esteemed group, they dropped everything and came running. The entirety of Noble Bell College welcomes you. Our school is small compared to yours, and you may find it lacking in some ways, but we beg your indulgence.”

Trein looked like he could almost smile, “How courteous. You have impeccable manners for someone so young.”

Deuce Spade whispered to Silver, a guard of Malleus Draconia, I kept speaking, “We couldn't allow you to keep hauling your luggage around, of course. Let me show you to your rooms. I'm afraid it's a bit of a walk. We can use it as an opportunity to get better acquainted, though.”

I began leading the group forward as Idia Shroud made another winey comment. They were infuriating, and I hadn’t even gotten a glance at the unexpected visitors. They all deserved death.

Azul Ashengrotto made his way to the front with me, “So you're a junior. I imagine it's quite an honor being student council president, considering there can only be one in the whole school. I'm sure your academic performance is also superb and will guarantee you a promising future.”

I tried not to grit my teeth, “Noble Bell simply has a smaller student body. I can hardly compare to those of you from the great Night Raven College.”

Ashengrotto coated his words in flattery, just as we had done with their headmaster, “Please, you needn't be so humble or formal. Why, you're technically my upperclassman! Everyone at my school would be overjoyed to acquaint themselves with such a fine individual.”

I hummed as if amusing the idea, “All right, as you wish. I won't stand on ceremony so much.”

Ashengrotto got involved in a side conversation with Shroud. Leaving me to do nothing but move forward and suppress the urge to strike them down where they stood.

“Ah, but where are my manners? I've gotten ahead of myself,” Ashengrotto pulled himself back to me, “Apologies for the belated introduction. I'm-”

“Introductions won't be necessary,” I waved it off, bringing my handkerchief back to my lips, “I already know who all of you are. You're Azul Ashengrotto, housewarden of Octavinelle and a merman from the Coral Sea,” I kept going, “And you're Idia Shroud, housewarden of Ignihyde and affiliated somehow with the Shroud family. And you-!” I quickly kept myself from flying off the handle at the sight of that Fae, “You are Malleus Draconia, scion of the ruling fae in Briar Valley and one of the top five mages in the world. Correct?”

I felt sick as he smiled, “Indeed, I am Malleus Draconia.”

Sebek Zigvolt butted into the conversation, “Of course the great Malleus would be known even in such a tiny burg!”

I lowered my handkerchief once more, “You are Sebek Zigvolt, and you hail from the same land as Malleus. The one next to you is Silver. And over there chatting with our vice president is Riddle Rosehearts, housewarden of Heartslabyl, Rook Hunt, vice housewarden of Pomefiore, Jamil Viper, vice housewarden of Scarabia, Ruggie Bucchi, Deuce Spade, and Epel Felmier. I thoroughly perused the documents Mr. Crowley so kindly sent, you see.”

Ashengrotto’s eyes were almost wide, “It's like privacy's a foreign concept to that man-”

Shroud gave me a dirty look, unacceptable, “That could get you sued in this day and age.”

Silver almost smiled, “You must have a very good memory, to recall so many different names.”

“It's simply because I was eager to meet such talented mages,” And that’s when I saw them, “But who have we here? You two there. Might I ask your names?”

The first unknown student was a monster. A tiny mythical beast that resembled a cat with fiery blue ears. A familiar that was almost pure magic and fur. Disgusting, “I'm the great Grim, future great mage!”

But the one standing beside him was something else. A woman. Her hair looked silky like a festival scarf. Only one of her eyes was covered by her bangs, but the other one looked like it had seen so much, yet so little. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It made sense that she couldn’t use magic. She was an angel. I couldn’t help but wonder what the school had prepared for her to wear later.

When she spoke, it made the bell seem like nothing in comparison, “I’m Yuu. Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm. Nice to meet you Rollo.”

I loved the sound of my name on her lips, “Ah, you must be the student attendants Mr. Crowley mentioned,” I tried not to smile, “He said you couldn't use magic. I certainly wasn't expecting you to bring a familiar.”

“A familiar-?” The wretched thing spoke, “Wait, are you talkin' about me?! It's the other way around! I'm the boss, and Yuu's my hench-human!”

“I hate to say it,” She rolled her eyes at the creature as she whispered, it was almost as if she had been speaking to me alone, “But at this point I almost can’t debate that.”

“Heh, what a dependable companion you have,” My sarcasm was almost indistinguishable from my normal speech. I let my voice soften as I moved closer to the magic-less angel presented to me, I almost let a smile slip for her alone, “Yuu, I imagine it must be taxing living among mages all the time. I entreat you to forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City. And I hope the rest of you will enjoy the social.”

Her eyes seemed to widen. She looked shocked at my words. She must be so used to brash animals that it sounded odd to be treated properly.

“I actually-”

Malleus Draconia didn’t hear her and spoke over her. I wish I could have killed him in that very second, “I'm truly grateful for your hospitality.”

I moved my handkerchief to cover my scowl, “Think nothing of it.”

I stood by the statue of the Righteous Judge while the pests changed in a building nearby. I had made sure that there was a separate space for Yuu to change. I couldn’t let any of those monsters see the angel in her purest form. Her exposed body would be a gift from the saints above. A gift that I had to keep from being tainted though those devils that called themselves her classmates.

The brats talked loud enough for me to hear them. It was all I could do to keep from lighting the building on fire with them inside, “All this goofing around-”

Trein approached me, “Hello, Flamme.”

I put on my ‘show’ once more, “Ah, Professor Trein. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to thank you for your generous hospitality. Clothing is an embodiment of the culture it comes from and can provide us with a glimpse into different time periods. This is a fine opportunity for my student to get a hands-on history lesson,” Trein was respectable, for a mage.

“Please, think nothing of it,” It was easier to show him hospitality, “Perhaps we should have arranged attire for you as well, though. That was a grave oversight on our part.”

“It's quite alright, I assure you. I don't need the other teachers poking fun at me for dressing like the students when I get back.”

I hummed, “Sounds like you're on friendly terms with the rest of your faculty.”

He released a dry laugh, “Hardly. They're a raucous group and a constant source of embarrassment.”

We broke into humble laughter. I watched as the brats came out, commenting on how me and their professor ‘got along’. 

The familiar came bursting out of the building, laughing, “I'm all done changin' too,” He turned towards the building his master was changing in, “Whaddaya think, Yuu? Isn't my getup way more stylin' than yours?”

“I don’t know about that,” She looked amazing.

The others on the council had scrambled to find female festival clothes for her, and I hated that they couldn’t do better. It wasn’t nearly extravagant enough. Dark blue high-heeled boots, thin black pants, a flowing black and purple asymmetric skirt, multi-blue corset with hot pink lacing, a flowy off-white shirt, bracelets and golden bangles, and a silk chiffon scarf in a lavender color that flowed off her head. She was a saint.

The familiar ran over to her, “Oh, you think you can go toe to toe with me? Don't let one set of cool threads go to your head!”

She smiled and scanned herself over, “I’m just glad it wasn’t too extravagant. Those extreme duds might look fancy, but I prefer something simple and somewhat practical. And this fits the bill.”

She was right. A simpler ensemble let her natural beauty shine though.

Sebek Zigvolt scoffed, “You're both equally unbecoming.”

Trein looked like he could almost smirk, “Goodness, don't you all make a striking ensemble.”

Rosehearts smiled as he dusted off his outfit, “The clothes have a very classical design, I note.”

I removed my gaze from Yuu and addressed the group, “I believe they're patterned after designs that are over 500 years old. Supposedly people in those days had a tradition of wearing new clothes and shoes on festival days. And the outfits grew brighter and more elaborate as the years went on. People would emulate those in prominent positions, such as nobles, royalty, merchants, knights- Which led to the outfits you're wearing now. There were simpler styles that rose to oppose this trend. Though more people gravitate towards the extravagant style in the modern age.”

Ruggie Bucchi was checking himself out, “I getcha. Everyone likes getting fancied up, even if it's once a year.”

Rook Hunt’s accent was almost insulting, “It must have been quite exciting for everyone. I can tell this festival was beloved then as it is now.”

I couldn’t help but mutter into my handkerchief, “Indeed. More's the pity.”

Zigvolt noticed my slip up, “Hm? Did you say something?”

“No, nothing at all.”

I had been tasked with visiting all the Night Raven groups between duties, and I had the misfortune of never running into Yuu. However, the Topsy-Turvy Festival was a mandatory event for all students and chaperones from the visiting schools. It was the last bit of normalcy before I burnt the magic away from this world. 

I locked my eyes on Yuu and approached the Night Raven group, “There you are, Night Raven College.”

Trein did his own kind of smile, “Hello, Flamme. Are you here to watch the festival as well?”

“Yes, this is part of my duties as the Student Council President,” I realized that it may benefit me to stay closer to the group, ‘keep your enemies close’ and whatnot, “May I take this opportunity to sit with you? I’d like to hear about your experiences, too.”

Ashengrotto put on that sleazy grin, “Yes, you’re very welcome to! Please have a seat.”

The fae questioned his classmate, “There’s not enough space, correct? What will we do?”

He smiled as if it was obvious, “Simple. We let Grim sit on Yuu’s lap instead.”

Zigbolt seemed shocked, but Trein only nodded, “Yes, that will do. I’m interested in hearing from Noble Bell College students, too, so please feel free to join us.”

“No way!” The ungrateful monster yowled, “I’m not sitting on Yuu’s lap!”

Shroud smiled creepily, “How about you sit on my lap instead?”

“That grin’s freaking me out,” Grim pushed Yuu onto the bench, “Sit on the chair properly, Yuu! Imma make space for myself.”

I took advantage of it all and sat beside Yuu, “Pardon me. I’ll be taking this seat, then.”

I tuned out the others and focused on Yuu as she watched the mages and the festival goers. There was a slight sign of joy, but she remained mostly neural. She did make a point to try and hold in some laughter at Zigbolt’s outbursts. 

“Hello, everyone! All eyes and ears on me, please!” The same Jester I had seen every time the festival came into town spoke, it seemed he was leading this year, “Come one, come all. Forget about all your work and worries for today, and let’s enjoy the festival. Welcome to the Topsy-Turvy Festival!”

“Topsy-Turvy Festival?” The familiar spoke. Ignorant as a newborn baby, “That sounds weird. Will everyone be upside-down or something?”

I covered my mouth with my handkerchief, “No, he’s just talking about the participants in general. It’s the one day people get to live their lives without titles or status. The weak can become strong, anyone can pretend to be king, so on and so forth.”

Negative emotion coursed through me as I realized Malleus Draconia had sat on the other side of Yuu, and now he was speaking, “Ah, so ranks are put aside for today?”

I grit my teeth behind the cloth I held, “Yes, that’s right. That’s why everyone wears masks for the festival.”

Past Malleus Draconia was Ashengrotto, “I see. I think I understand the appeal now. You get to live as freely as you want today.”

“I saw lots of stalls selling masks, too. There’s a kind of romance to hiding your identity behind a mask,” I swear Shroud was smiling.

Grim spoke up and pointed at some performers, “Everyone looks like they’re having lots of fun!”

The Jester kept going as performers kept prancing, “It’s our long-awaited Topsy-Turvy Festival! But let’s not forget that it’s the ‘Kindly Bell Ringer’ who loved this festival the most!”

Yuu and the familiar spoke in unison, although Yuu’s voice was quiet – as if it was for me alone to hear, “‘The Kindly Bell Ringer’?”

Malleus Draconia spoke again, “Oh, did you not know?”

The little beast was the only one to respond, “Nope, I didn’t!”

Ashengrotto rolled his eyes, “You didn’t even bother researching about the City of Flowers, Grim?”

“I’m not interested in anything except for the food.”

Shroud smiled, “I’ll praise your straightforwardness.”

I then tuned out, I had heard this story a million times. While I did love the tale, it was hard to stand it being said from the lips of a jester and his ragdoll puppet. I but in for a moment to tell the animal what a ventriloquist was, but then I resumed just watching Yuu’s reactions out of the corner of my eye. 

The Night Raven students had turned the festival into a horror show of magical fireworks and mage tricks. It was despicable. Although it did give me a moment alone with Yuu while we said on the Night Raven bench. She was watching the fireworks with a neutral smile. Her lack of ‘joy’ made my heart beat loudly in my chest. Part of me was afraid she was going to hear it over the commotion of the festival. 

I tried to make conversation, “Mages are quite a handful, don’t you think?” She turned to me, her eyes were mesmerizing, “It must be difficult for you to keep up with noisy mages who don’t understand the severity of it all. It would be nice if magic didn’t exist so we could avoid all this fuss. Don’t you agree?”

Her eyes widened, but she just chuckled, “Yeah right. I’m used to it by now.”

I was almost speechless, I couldn’t keep the horror from my face, “You’re ‘used to it’? Oh you poor thing! I can’t blame you for becoming numb to the absurdity after spending everyday practically swimming in it. Mages will use magic to deceive people around them. They cloud the eyes of the righteous. Truely how vexing. But rest assured. This kind of world will soon vanish.”

She froze, “Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?”

As soon as the words left her lips, her familiar called out, “Yuu! Stop standing around and spacing out over there. Behold! I’ll show you the Great Grim’s Special Golden Fire!” The monster sent out a spray of golden fireworks. 

I used the distraction to slip away. Maybe she didn’t understand right now because she had become accustomed to the horrors of magic, but one day she would. She was too pure. She was an angel. She would be saved from the dirt and grime of magic once it all burned away. 

Then she would be mine.

[prehnite-soul]

Pirate!AU story (snippets)

so- this is both Rowan’s first appearance in the story AS WELL AS Souls and Pirate Nightmare first interactions, so be warned- if you want to follow the story through the very slow going comic, don’t read this :)

also, Souls name is Wave in this AU, yes, but I’m still used to writing Soul, so when I do, please tell me so I can correct it! :)

Wave shifted. She'd never seen such a gaze before. It was equally open and deep and captivating as it was unreadable and mysterious. A shiver ran down her spine, and she gently clapped her palms together. Clap clap. Clap clap. … A hulking figure stepped between them, breaking their staring. Not that Wave wanted to keep looking into this strangers eye- that would've been rude by land-dweller standards, if she remembered correctly, and besides, she had to focus on not losing her family in the crowd.

~~~

Nightmare knew. Of course he did. The subtle dots in her fur, her aura, the way she'd cocked her head, her entire appearance. She seemed… naked. Of course, she had a coat of what seemed to be thick fur- monsters with scales and fur weren't required to wear clothes, after all- but she seemed like she was missing something. Another cloak. "… Horror. Keep an eye on the others." Neither Horror nor Dust or Killer got an explanation as their captain left them alone at the stand, pressing through the crowds of humans and monsters. His height was of help here.

~~~

Wave ducked past a group consisting of a snake like monster, two humans, and a dog monster, clutching her bags of goodies to her chest. Simple stuff- one contained fruits, the others vegetables. Her sister had two bags too, containing all necessary tools to patch up a coat. Neo had tore his own last moon during a fight with a killer whale by another coast. Speaking of their father, he carried one bag filled with dried fish. Wave wrinkled her snout at the thought of that. Sure, they would stay in a tavern, but they could easily smuggle in some raw fish, no? "… and remember to not speak to ANYONE." "Yes father." "Of course." The two sisters agreed.

'The Last Drop'. What a fitting name for a tavern where humans, monsters and all in between mingled. Aside sirens. Wave shuddered at the long stripe of purple scales (probably siren scales) that hung over the bar as they entered. When she tilted her head, the sirens scales appeared golden. The bar was cozy. Big, but cozy. Dark, too- not a problem for selkie or monster eyes though. It smelled like alcohol, warm, wet wood, sea salt and meat all in once- Wave felt like rubbing her nose until the smell left her nostrils. When Wave looked to the sides of the room, she'd see round tables and booths, some of which occupied by the occasional monster.

Behind the counter, an old, sheep like monster was cleaning glasses with a (surprisingly) clean wash cloth. They barely looked up as the three new faces entered, but Wave could feel their judging gaze almost physically, like a gust of wind. She laid her hands together, tapping her fingers against each other. "… g'day. Welcome to the last drop. What'ya want?" "A room, please." "Mh. One silver per person." Neo huffed, his eyes narrowing at the second once-over the barman gave them. Then, they extended a hand- hoof- towards them expectantly. Neo pulled the small bag of coins from inside his other bag, and counted out three silver coins. The barman accepted them, and gave a key to Neo, who barely nodded, before turning to step up the stairs to their stay. Both Lei and Wave followed their father.

Their room was… decent. It had two beds- no problem, Wave and Lei could share one- and they could view the ocean from here, a reminder of their home. But the smell of sweat and wet wood was almost suffocating. The floorboard creaked, and the window couldn't be locked. The selkies couldn't care less about whether or not their mattress was thick or thin. They were used to sleeping on beaches, in the woods, and to doze underwater. A good or bad mattress didn't matter, as long as it was a mattress.

~~~

Nightmare didn't enter the 'Last Drop'. Oh no- not yet. He knew better than to scare off his prey. It was all about observing with selkies. Find out their habits, their routines. Identify their weakest part, and then you circle them. He made a mental note of the tavern before he turned to return to his crew and adjust their purchases. They would stay a few days, it seemed. "… Horror, put that back. We don't need the chickens yet." "We don't?" "No. I've found three…" Nightmare glanced around. No one paid attention to him, surprisingly, even though his coat was rather expensive looking. "… targets."

The brutes eye seemed to light up, and he instantly dropped the chicken he'd just held. The birds scurried off in between the shoppers legs, causing a few curses and stumbles from bystanders. "On it, boss." Horror grinned. Nightmare hadn't even given a command, but protocol was the same. Horror turned to search for Dust and Killer, easily being able to look over the crowd. Soon enough, all three pirates stood in a somewhat close circle around Nightmare. "Dust. I didn't see them carry coats, so you'll look through the jungle between the bay and here for their hides. Killer, you and Horror will be responsible for looking for information about those wretched creatures. Selkies like to stick to places they already know, so they must've been here already at least once." No arguments or discussions. As usual.

He wrinkled his nose as he stepped into the 'Last Drop'. Geez, and the selkies couldn't've picked a more respectable establishment?

He marched up to the bartender, the sheep's head twitching upwards. "One silver per person." The monster grumbled, their ear flicking. Piercing red met an intense cyan as the bartender locked eyes with Nightmare.

"Two rooms. One for three, and a single." The barman didn't bat an eye. "Sure. Four coins." Nightmare squared his shoulders ever so slightly. "Three coins." "Three? No can do, sir. I have a tavern to finance." The captain offered the sheep a sharp smile. "What a shame that I frankly couldn't care less." "Four or nothing." At those words, Nightmare felt the urge to strangle that sheep. The two stared at each other for an entire minute longer, unmoving, unblinking, until Nightmare reached into his coat, and threw four silver coins onto the counter. The corners of the sheep's mouth twitched upwards, and seconds later, Nightmare held two keys in his hands.

No matter how much he wanted to commit various hate crimes against the bartender that just outlasted him and his pressuring, he held himself back. No. He was here for something else. Passing the key to one of his crewmates, he glared at the bartender, before turning and stepping up the stairs to the quarters. He passed three doors, before the number on his key matched the number of one of the doors. He unlocked the door, stepped inside.

Mh. Not the worst. He eyed the bed, and with a flick of his wrist he rid the mattress and covers from ticks and other bugs. The suffocatingly stale air was like a thick blanket, weighing him down. With a scowl, Nightmare pushed open the window, breathing in the fresh, salty breeze outside. Better. A LOT better. He exhaled. The lost standoff against the bartender still bummed him- he could go for a mug of rum now. How much would that be? A few bronze coins? A silver coin? Not that it mattered. Nightmare had at least 67 gold coins worth of siren scales in the cargo deck of his ship anyways… and a single selkie pelt was 30 gold coins. 40 if he managed to preserve the magic. A challenge for a magicless human, but to him? Merely a flick of his wrist. So he could expect a payout of 120 gold coins once he was done here.

…

He still wanted some alcohol. So, after pulling up a half serious magical barrier around his room to keep intruders out, he stepped back out onto the corridor. Horror stood there, waiting for the others to settle in their own room. The giant had to duck even in the corridor, and when he bent down to step into the room, his back arching to a sickening degree, Nightmare doubted he would fit inside TWO beds. He peeked into their room as he passed it, observing how Dust pushed Killer off to squeeze past Horror and claim a bed, when he collided with someone.

~~~

Wave hadn't moved as she observed the giant skeleton squeeze through the corridor. She was embarrassed to admit it, but seeing such a BEAST pass her room had made her curious about just WHAT his business here was. When that other skeleton had ran into her, though, she'd instantly forgotten about that curiosity. That GAZE. That color. The cyan eyelight of the skeleton burnt into her, like a torch in the darkness. It blinked, slowly. Only then did she notice that her claws dug into his jacket as she'd instinctively reached forward to grab onto something to prevent both from falling.

“O-oh! Apologies, sir! I’ll- I’m sorry.” His glare felt like it burnt into her very flesh, so she clasped her hands together, turned around, and fled the scene down the stairs.

With swift steps, Wave hushed through the bar- not without greeting the bartender, who merely nodded in response.

[[ Pirate!AU belongs to @superbfirnacho ]]

[[ Wave & Rowan belong to me]]

[majesticwren]

as warned, I am going through an intense gabe kidd fase and now this exists. also there's a concerning lack of gabe kidd's fics around and we must correct that have you seen the guy?? this is 6k of mostly smut and a little angst/comfort just because. don't judge me please. i am so invested in this dynamic I am already 3k deep in a prequel lmao shoot me. also, also, quick p.s. as per usual, my oc has a set aesthetic in my own vision but she isn't described so she can fit whatever you like. k bye. enjoy.

Trigger Warning/s: smut, unprotected sex (as per usual, don't take this as example, follow your sexed! peeps), mention of power and pleasure play, mention of kinks and gabe being dom even though this is pretty tame, kinda, angst/comfort at the very end, breeding kink if you squint really hard.

Masterlist

The small private gym her husband had taken the liking to going and spending all his time in was hardly a welcoming environment. Especially at one o'clock in the morning. Especially to her. And particularly after Gabe and her had yet another disagreement and he left abruptly to go lay off some steam. And didn't come back.

Vanessa hated it when he did that. She hated going to bed alone. She hated missing him so badly. 

He was an asshole but he was still the man she married and the guy she swore her heart to. Even though Gabe could be a stubborn motherfucker, he was her stubborn motherfucker and she felt the need to go remind him.

It was precisely why Vanessa practically marched through its doors with her chin raised by pride, floating effortlessly on her high heels. She was ready for another fight if it needed to be. She was ready to fight him as well as all of his group of little friends who liked to hype him up and stir his more violent side if only to get him into yet another fight they could bet on.

She hated them. They treated Gabe just like a racehorse, like a fighting dog. And she hated him for letting them. Countless were the useless arguments they had on the matter.

She hated his so-called friends just as much as they hated her. She was unwanted and despised because she was Gabe's only weakness. His only distraction. Most times, especially in public, Gabe respected her will more than his own. She was his queen and never once he'd let anyone forget that. They may argue sometimes but never once Gabe dared to undermine her. Her husband had nothing but respect and love for her, even when they didn't see eye to eye. 

Even the crowd knew her by now. Missus Vanessa Kidd. And they loved it when she escorted Gabe to the ring. They loved how she supported him and how she was the only one able to get him back on his feet to keep fighting. And they loved it when she rallied them to support him.

She became known as a warrior just as fierce as Gabe ever since that time she took his blood-covered face in her hands and softly prompted him to look at her, whispering soft praises to give him just enough strength to get back on his feet. The picture of them with their foreheads touching after his win went around the internet only feeding into the way the fans adored him. They ate it all up and it just helped Gabe grow in his career.

It was yet another reason why his little group of bootlicking collaborators didn’t like her. She was simply more important to Gabe than any of them ever would; even and especially Freddie, Gabe’s manager and trainer, who thought he could ride Gabe’s fame from here to eternity and despised her ever since she appeared in the picture. Funny that he had been the very reason why she and Gabe met when he had decided she had a pretty enough ass to invite her to the club VIP area to offer her to Gabe like a dessert on a silver platter like he was used to doing with countless other girls. Too bad she had stolen Gabe’s heart with one look.

Part of her liked to always remind everyone who she was and how she always had the upper hand and the last word. She liked to stir them and bother them. Haters gonna hate and she had all the weapons in her hands to get them to only simmer more. She was always the victor and God if she loved to rub it in Freddie’s face the way she made Gabe unbearably and stupidly happy. 

It was time to remind everyone Gabe was hers.

The small gym wasn’t operating and it was barely lit. From the small entrance corridor, she could hear the group of boys chattering loudly. Someone’s laughter bounced off the empty walls. Someone else was hitting a punching bag. And the rest were talking about the coming weekend's scheduled match.

The second Vanessa entered the room, Gabe’s sharp gaze was drawn to her. His blue eyes slashed the air, hitting her and never moved away.

He sat on a bench, elbows dropped on his knees, looking bored and exhausted as he caught his breath. The conversation around him was going on without his attention and she found herself wondering for how long did no one notice he wasn’t paying attention to them. His pale skin was reddened and pearled by sweat, which soaked through his tank top. Stupid man. She thought to herself. He had probably just spent the evening pushing his body to the extreme of exhaustion and would have been so sore tomorrow.

On the floor around him, there were several forgotten heavyweights and cans of beer. 

One of his pals was hopping around the punching bag, pretending to be in a fight, and one guy stood in front of one of the mirrors, looking at his reflection as he flexed his muscles, Freddie walked in between them talking loudly and drinking a beer, and two others sat around Gabe just watching him exercise. Guess she was the last person who was gonna judge them, that was a generally entertaining hobby.

“Everyone,” she began, already pointing to the door behind her back, “leave us.” 

The chattering quieted down as everyone looked back at her. Her attention didn’t move from Gabe.

Freddie approached her with a cynical smirk printed on his insufferable mouth. He was the only one who had the guts to always confront her openly. Even though he’d always come to regret it. “The princess has arrived, uh?” He wondered looking around to get his mates' support, “What can we ever do to help you, Missus Kidd?”

A cold, sharp smile crossed her lips as her uninterested gaze bounced off Freddie for a moment. “You can leave me alone with my husband.”

“No can do. This is my gym, you see?” He dramatically opened his arms, as if he was trying to show off. Though Vanessa was hardly impressed. “Who’s gonna lock up if I am not here?”

Vanessa promptly pulled her hand out, palm exposed and cheeky smirk curling her lips. “Give me the keys then,” she wasn’t joking, “You got this place only for my husband's delight, after all.”

“And you aren’t welcome here.”

“Wanna bet?”

Freddie was utterly offended but even before he could think about any colourful response, he was promptly stopped.

“Do as she says.” the order came from behind him and stopped everyone from second-guessing the situation. Gabe didn’t move an inch. His blue eyes stayed focused on Vanessa like laser beams. 

“Mate,” Freddie tried to appeal, to no avail, Gabe was unmovable.

“I said,” he continued coldly, “Do as she says. My wife’s wish is your command. Just like mine.” 

Freddie huffed angrily but bent under Gabe’s order without opposing. He better than anyone knew how stupid that would have been, Gabe was someone you wouldn’t want to anger. 

He released a frustrated grunt, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket. He looked at Vanessa, still trying to square off with her and then, only out of spite, he turned away and left the keys on the edge of the practice ring in the middle of the room instead of in her hand. 

“Let’s go, boys,” he hinted at the others to follow him.

Neither she nor Gabe moved until they heard the door slam. Then, the small gym fell under a surreal silence. They still only looked at each other for a few moments. 

Gabe wasn’t usually a guy of too many words and yet never once Vanessa had been mistaken about reading through him and understanding him perfectly. Just like now. He may appear proud but his prolonged silence was only to allow her to act freely. The ball was entirely in her court. If she wanted to argue some more, he would have let her. If she wanted to make up, he would have apologised.

Finally, Vanessa decided to move closer. “You need to put a muzzle on your guy. I don’t like the way he thinks he owns you.”

“No one owns me but you, love.” He looked up at her.

“You must remind him more often.”

Gabe released a tired sigh. “Do you always have to fight him?”

“Yes.” She pointed out, “He doesn’t like me, remember?”

“And?” Gabe dared to pull a smile, “Tough shit, you are my missus. Nothing will change that, love.”

“Am I?” She wondered daring to provoke him, “Didn’t feel much like your wife when I was left to go to bed alone waiting. I do not like that.”

“I am sorry,” 

“That’s not enough,” Vanessa approached him. She stepped in between his spread knees and loved to see the way he bent his neck, looking up at her with nothing but devotion pouring out of his eyes. She was quickly inebriated. Nothing made her knees feel like jelly like that big, scary man on the verge of falling on his knees for her. Vanessa smiled evilly and pushed a finger under his chin, making him lean further. “You gotta apologise like you mean it, Mr.” She then gave him a small push and took a step back, and then another. “Am I your wife? Make me feel what it means. Because from where I stand now, I feel more like the forgotten woman.”

“Never,” Gabe inhaled deeply, “I would never forget about you. I am sorry I made you feel that way.”

Vanessa's tempting smile only grew. She took another step back, only waiting for Gabe to follow her, as she slipped out of her heavy pink fur coat revealing she was only wearing a short nightgown made of lace and silk. The bitter air of the gym hit her, but it wasn’t the cold that gave her goosebumps, it was the shift in Gabe’s attention. He hissed as his eyes cruised across her figure, studying what she was wearing, or better the lack of it. 

“What are you doing?” He snapped between gritted teeth.

Vanessa pretended to not know what he meant and propped herself on the edge of the ring, sitting and elegantly crossing her legs. “I don’t know,” she started, “What does it look like I am doing, Mr Kidd?” She checked her freshly made manicure.

“I am not about to fuck you on that dirty ring, love.”

“No?” She wondered pulling a small pout, “Not even if I asked nicely?”

She wasn’t stupid. She knew they had unfinished business to discuss but she was done with that for now. She was ready to raise a white flag first. She wasn’t gonna fight to have the last say. She just wanted to be held by her husband. There might be times they weren’t able to understand each other, both too stubborn by nature to listen, but sex would always be their way to find each other again.

Daring to peek back at him, Vanessa recognised his hesitation and decided to give him a small encouragement, letting one of the thin straps slip down her shoulder. “I am getting cold, Gabriel,”

He was on her in a second. With a grunt, he grabbed her legs rudely pulling her closer, guiding them around him just so he could sit nicely between her thighs as he pressed his chest against her. Vanessa welcomed him with a victorious giggle, quickly wrapping herself around him like a branching tree. 

His hands had barely moved from engaging her. He held her ankle in one palm and her knee in the other and yet, even though he had barely touched her, it was enough to send her ballistic. 

When their lips found each other, Gabe’s were demanding as he expressed freely his desire for her. And Vanessa was nothing but ready to match him.

He was generally taller than her, but now that she was propped up, she had all the freedom to embrace him and she took the advantage, feeling the consistency of his broad shoulders under her arms and pushing her hands to run free across them and down his back or up his thick neck and around his shaved skull. 

Vanessa squeezed his sides between her thighs and released a soft moan into his mouth as she rubbed herself against his solid body. 

“Fuck, love,” he hissed softly, “If I’d known it gets you this desperate, I would have done it more often.”

“Don’t you dare,” she pinned him with a threatening gaze, “I’ll ask for divorce.”

He pulled a soft, confident smirk looking at her. “You would never, Missus Kidd.” As he said it, he pressed his face into her neck, inhaling deeply her scent.  

“No,” she sighed letting her head fall backwards, leaving him all the space he needed to do as he wished with her. “You are right, I am too crazy about you Mr Kidd.”

She felt his smile on her skin as he followed the column of her neck up. His blonde beard tickled her. “That’s right,” his breath was hot on her skin and made her entire body crawl with goosebumps. “Even when I am an ass?”

“Unfortunately,”  

In response to her pretend indifference, Gabe playfully bit down on her neck and then his tongue followed, tasting her sensitive skin. His mouth was quick to latch on her, suckling on her with every intent of leaving a mark.

“I have work in the morning,” she pointed out but with no intention of pushing him off. The pleasure of him sucking on her skin like a hungry vampire was too great. Even when it meant showing up at the office with her neck covered in hickeys like a horny teenager. And Vanessa didn’t miss to let him know, whining softly in his ear.

“Good. Let all of them fuckers know how well your hot husband shags you,” and then he didn’t speak until he was satisfied with his work. He pressed her down on the ring ropes, pushing himself further in her embrace. His hands traced up along her legs, pushing the edges of her nightgown up around her hips and grabbing on her exposed flesh, guiding her to rub herself against him, encouraging her with a grunt.

Her pleasure quickly burned through her and became frustration as soon as she realised just how much more she needed. And she was never patient enough to wait for him to give her what she wanted. 

“Gabe?” She panted, digging her nails into the nape of his neck, hoping to get his attention. No response, he had moved down to her shoulder, still sucking and marking her skin with hickeys. “Shit. Please,” she pleaded, rolling her hips against him, only causing him to squeeze down on her. “Please, baby. I need you now,” she tried again, this time succeeding in getting his attention.

He stood back up, looking down at her with a satisfied grin on his puffed lips. His light blue eyes glimmered with satisfaction as his gaze crossed her figure. “Look at you,” his hands cruised across her legs, “Such a mess already, uh?”

“All your fault,” she puffed her chest up, “You got me all angry and frustrated,” Vanessa grabbed his chin, pulling him closer, “As I said, I had been waiting for you.”

“In this state?”

She nodded biting down on her lip, watching how his eyes fell on her mouth. Gabe's smile transformed into something more twisted as he looked at her like a hungry wolf. And God how much she wished for him to devour her.

Just as if he had read her thoughts, Gabe pulled her leg across his figure and up, so his lips could kiss her ankle. The softness he revealed as he held her was astonishing considering his size and the way he could easily snap a grown man in half.

“I must fix it,” he mumbled, eyes closed in devotion as he leaned down, following the inside of her leg with his lips. “Can’t have my wife this desperate.”

“She is always this desperate when her husband isn’t around.”

Gabe smiled against her thigh. “Don’t tell me that, love, or I won’t be able to leave you again,”

“Then don’t.” Vanessa stretched, releasing a soft moan as her hands solidly grabbed the ring rope in anticipation. 

A low growl came from the middle of his chest as Gabe finally looked up at her. His eyes were the colour of ice but burned like the hottest of flames as he threw her legs over his shoulders. He pressed a kiss on her tender skin just by her knee and then another, lower down, enjoying watching her react to him. His hot breath on her skin was enough to make her whimper.

God, he was so pretty in between her thighs.

“Gabriel,” she called him out in a silent plea, bucking her hips up.

He wasn’t gonna let her beg any further. Just as impatiently as she was, Gabe’s fingers hooked on the thin material of her panties and easily tore it apart, exposing her completely to his assault. 

Gabe buried his face into her, eating her pussy out and not letting a single drop of her sweet juices go to waste. When she bucked her hips up into him, he was ready to catch her, wrapping an arm solidly around her, granting her the support to angle herself as she wished against him, only so he could grant her as much pleasure possible. By now, she knew how much he loved to make her come. He could be particularly dominant, rude and rough most times, which sent her into outer space, but his priority was her satisfaction over his.

Vanessa tried to suffocate a louder moan into her own hand as a wild wave of pleasure curled through her, reviving her and, at the same time, leaving her wanting so much more. She wished him to take her and use her up until they were both breathless and exhausted.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled dangerously, lifting his head and ripping a whine out of her. “Let me hear you.”

“But-”

His eyes twinkled. A dangerous smile crossed his tumid lips. Her juices smeared all over his beard. “Nah Missus Kidd,” his tone was soft but carried a warning, “You came all the way here wanting to get shagged by your husband, yeh? So, now, you will be a good girl for me and be nice and loud as I eat your pretty pussy, yeah? Make me happy, will you, love?”

“Fuck, Gabe,” she hissed looking down at him. He had a mad look to him, like he was spiralling into obsession and it drove her insane to know she was the cause. 

“Yes?” He insisted.

“Yes, sir,” she purred submissing to his will, knowing how much he liked some powerplay. “Please,”

“Good girl,” he praised delving into her once more. 

His tongue was merciless running across her slit, poking her entrance and then slipping up to her clit, where he would stop and suck her tender, hot flesh into his mouth, making her see stars. Her moans were quick to fill the space, bouncing off the walls and echoing around them, only prompting Gabe to continue giving her more.

He made her come once, grunting in approval as she unravelled against him, calling his name. And then again, straight after, fucking his fingers into her until her moans became cries. And then once more, just because he could, only this time he took his time and was gentler, allowing her to ride her high and settle as he pulled himself up, looking down at the mess he had made of her.

He smirked, licking his fingers clean as he let her catch her breath. “Was this what you wanted, love?”

She nodded, barely able to focus and formulate words.

His cocky smile only grew. “I’ve barely started,” he gently grabbed one of her hands and guided it into his crotch so he could rub himself against her palm, impatiently demanding direct contact with her. “Look what you did to me.”

Vanessa purred like a cat, pulling herself up and rubbing her nose on his neck. “My big boy,” she smiled proudly kissing his jaw, and then his cheek, “you are so hard for me baby,” she rolled her fingers around his erection, feeling it through the material of his gym shorts. “You do want to fuck me on this dirty ring, after all.” She whispered those words on his lips and then pulled him into a famished kiss, becoming more feral by the second as she tasted herself on his lips. He whimpered softly into her mouth, rubbing his cock into her hand.

“You have no idea,” he nodded against her, “Do you need a second, love?” He wondered attentively, letting his hands run across her legs and around her hips. “Or are you ready for me?”

Vanessa bit hard on her lip, smiling temptingly, stretching under his eyes. “What do you think, Gabe?”

He smiled, looking at her. His hands squeezed her soft hips and felt the curve of her back in his fingers as he pulled her towards him. “Right you are, Missus Kidd.”

Gabe then slipped out of his tank top. They both forgot about it the second he threw it on the floor. He flexed his muscles under her gaze and Vanessa enjoyed the show, watching avidly the edges of his pale skin. She wanted to lick the sweat off him. He was broad and strong and God, she had never considered herself particularly vain, but her husband’s body was a work of art able to mesmerise her.

Vanessa's hands crossed his shoulders and down across his large chest, following the edge of his imposing abdomen and further down, following the pale happy trail under his bellybutton. She hooked her fingers on the low edge of his shorts, licking her lips as her gaze fell on his hip dips. She couldn’t wait to have him pound into her. It was a wild desire she couldn’t explain. Again, she had never thought she would know what it meant to be cock-drunk, until she met him. She had lovers before, even good ones, but no man ever made her as desperate and needy as Gabriel could. And he knew it.

He helped her pulling his shorts and boxers down and hissed, surprised, when she impatiently rolled her fingers around his shaft, guiding him to position himself by her entrance. “Please, Gabriel,”

“You are so impatient,” he whispered grabbing on her chin to make her look at him. “I will hurt you if you don’t let me warm you up a little, love, you know that.”

His voice and accent alone were enough to drive her insane. Let alone everything else. Vanessa shook her head, stubborn as always. “I can’t wait any longer.” 

He nodded, resolute, as he forced his thumb into her mouth at the same time as he pushed the tip of his cock into her, finding little to no resistance from her. “Fuck, love, you are so wet and tight.” 

Vanessa smiled proudly, letting him watch as she rolled her tongue around his digit and adoring seeing how he puffed up his chest. “C’mon, big boy, give it to me,” she dared to challenge him. “This is not the place to be soft.”

“You are so cheeky,” he began, at first his gaze was soft, but it hardened as he let his hand slide down her throat, squeezing her neck into his hold. “Want it rough, don’t you?”

Even before she could nod, Gabe gave up and gave her exactly what she asked for. She wasn’t the only impatient one. He pushed himself all the way inside of her, watching avidly as her expression changed under the intense wave of pleasure that was ripped out of her. 

Her body stretched around him and he still granted her a second to get used to his size before he started to fuck into her. His clarity vanished just as quickly as his pounds became rapid and hard, ripping her sanity just as easily as he did with her moans. He was quick to give into the frenzy of his desire for her and they both seemed to forget everything else but that moment.

Gabe hooked his arm under her knee and pushed her to bend in a more favourable position. He pushed his face into her chest and growled at the material of her gown but, even before she could hint to slip out of it, he got rid of the problem easily ripping the material above her chest and tearing it up in half with his bare hands.

“Shit, Gabe!” She scorned him, not entirely serious, “Could you try not to trash all my clothes?” She pointed out, only to be shushed by him pumping his cock harder and deeper into her, latching on her and sucking her tits into his mouth. She quickly forgot everything about her clothes and cried her pleasure out loud, grabbing onto Gabe’s shoulders to keep steady.

“Wear something else next time,” He grunted catching his breath.

“Hard to find something that doesn’t make you want to tear it off me.”

“Shut up, Missus. You love it,” He was smiling as he dived on her neck, following her throat with his tongue from the base to her chin. “God, you always taste so delicious.” The way he proceeded to release a soft series of whimpers in her ear, following the rhythm of his thrusts, sent her to another planet.

“Fuck, baby,” she huffed, this time digging her nails into his back. Her focus had dissipated. Her skin was hot and sensitive as her body charged up with waves of pleasure that followed each of his thrusts only growing in intensity, making her core tense up. “I am so close.”

“Yeah?” He wondered, “Come for me then, love,” he encouraged her softly, sliding a hand in between them to rub his thumb on her clit, ripping a loud moan off her. “Be a good girl and give it to me, yeh? I want to feel my wife’s pussy squeeze my cock.”

Vanessa was gone in his arms by then. His voice alone was enough to guide her through her pleasure, throwing her off the edge as he kept fucking her to a merciless rhythm. She cried his name out loud as her entire body quivered underneath him, but Gabe was still not done. He didn’t give her a second to breathe. The selfish prick kept pounding into her, proudly praising the way her pussy clenched around him and taking everything from her. 

It didn’t take him long to follow her, though. The closer he got to come, the more erratic his thrusts became. Gabe wrapped his arms around her solidly and pushed a hand into her hair, grabbing the back of her neck, bringing her to look at him, diving into her eyes as he came. Vanessa watched his bright eyes glimmer with all the love he had for her as he gave himself to her completely, letting her see straight into his heart. Nothing matched that feeling to her. That look was everything. Those eyes changed her life forever and nothing made sense without him by her side. 

Damn him. She hated loving him that much. And yet there was no other way to be. She had known he was the one ever since their first glance and hadn’t been able to let him go ever since.

He collapsed in her arms heavily, pushing his face into the crook of her neck as he caught his breath. Gabe didn’t ease his hold around her, keeping her as close as humanly possible even though he was still lost in the high of his orgasm.

Vanessa smiled, partially satisfied as she kissed softly his forehead, squeezing him in between all her limbs. “Well, that was something,” she whispered brushing her smile across the line of his eyebrow. 

Gabe nodded, “Won’t be able to look at this place the same way ever again,”

“Good.”

They stayed silent for a few moments, just enjoying their embrace as their bodies cooled off. He behaved like a big feline, rubbing his face into her and gladly taking all the soft kisses she left on his features as her grateful lips followed distractedly the high line of his square cheekbones. His forehead. The arch of his eyebrows. The solid line of his nose.

Then, almost too suddenly, Gabe finally moved, looking up at her. She watched him hesitate and recognised thoughts formulating behind his eyes, even though words didn’t come out.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she pointed out tapping her index on his lips with an encouraging nod. “I love you, Gabe. Sometimes I feel like I love you too much and it will ruin me, but I still love you.”

“Me too, love.” He said, almost sounding desperate, “I am sorry for before,”

“Please,” she tried to hush him, sliding her fingers on his lips once more only for him to shake his head. 

“No. You have to let me say it, love.” He looked into her eyes and then pressed a kiss on her fingers and into her palm as he guided her to press her hand on his cheek. “I was an asshole.”

“And I was a bitch,” she pointed out pushing herself to pull a smile, trying to ignore the memories of the bitter argument they had. 

“That doesn’t justify any of it. I am sorry. I should have talked to you like an adult instead of panicking and behaving my usual way, losing my shit.”

“I-” For the first time, Vanessa looked away, trying to hide from him. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please, Gabe. Can you not just take me home and-”

“And what, love?” His gaze was insistent, “Fuck you some more. Fuck you until we both forget about it? I don’t think that’s the right way, Vanessa.”

It didn’t sound like such a bad plan to her.

“I want a baby. You don’t. End of story.” She admitted bitterly. “Now I don’t know how to move on from there. I am scared out of my mind that this is it. That it will be the reason why we keep arguing and we’ll eventually start to resent each other. So, yes, Gabe. I need you to stop me from spiralling into my head and remind me that I am yours and that you’d never let me go. Baby or no baby. Can you do that, Gabriel?” She wondered now looking straight at him, not hiding away. “Can you do that for me? Because the only thing I keep thinking is that I am not good enough and we won’t make it. And I just know I cannot be without you. So, can you get over here and fuck the fear right out of me, please?”

Panic started to grow in her as all the fears she had tried to ignore crept back around her.

“Oh, baby,” he cradled her gently. “I am so sorry,” he whispered, cupping her face in his big, rough palms. He kissed her once, twice, hoping to get her forgiveness, trying to seal the wound their disagreement caused. “I love you.” He made her look at him, “Do you hear me? I love you. You are my one and only and I will never let you go. I cannot bear the idea that you are hurting. That I somehow fucked up. You want a baby? I’ll give you a baby.”

“No. You didn’t fuck up,” she was ready to raise a white flag and forget all about it. She kissed his face tenderly. “I do not need a baby. But I need you. I am sorry. I will not push you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want a baby with you,” he spoke in between kisses, losing himself in their hug, “I do not want to fuck him up like my parents did with me. I am not made to be a father.”

Vanessa melted away. She wrapped her hands around his face and looked at him, finding in his eyes and his closeness everything she cherished. “Oh, baby,” she whispered, caressing his face. “You need to stop considering yourself as a good-for-nothing guy. Look at all the good you do.”

“What good, love?” He sounded desperate, “I do not know what you see in me and I never will. Every day I try to live up to the expectation you have of the man I am, but I am nothing more than a guy with a bad temper. I fight for a living. Until someone will either end my career or put me in my grave. I know nothing else.”

“And you call all of that nothing? You are feared and respected. But more importantly, you are inspiring. Every time you get back up, someone remembers how important is to keep fighting. Every time you win you remind everyone you are better than them. I wouldn’t want you to be anybody else.”

“I am mad all the time, Vanessa. You are the only that showed me how to feel anything else. That doesn’t make me a better man. It just makes me a fool in love with you.”

“You are a good man. I know you don’t see it and you don’t want others to see it, but you have been nothing but a good man to me. And you are loyal and fearless and so much more.”

“To you. I am a good man with you.” He hesitated, “What if that doesn’t reflect on my baby?”

A small smile popped on her lips just by hearing him already defining a hypothetical child as his. “You don’t believe that.” The way Gabe looked at her like she was the only light in a darkness constantly swallowing him, made her feel the visceral need to pull him into her chest and protect him from the world. “You are my husband. My person. My family. And my home. And I am the luckiest woman alive for having you.” Vanessa caressed his face and kissed his lips. “I don’t need anything else. Only you.”

“And what if-” he hesitated some more, swallowing what it looked like rocks. “What if I wanted more, love? What if, maybe, growing a family with you is what I want?”

“Then,” she cut through his words, speaking close to his face, cradling him and kissing his features, “Then we can talk about it. Mh? How does that sound, baby? We can talk about it just the two of us. No more arguments and no more outsiders’ opinions influence.”

Gabe looked at her like a scared kid and then he nodded, finally hiding into a kiss. 

He pulled his shorts up and then solidly wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ring and carrying her away with him like she weighed nothing. “Let’s get you home, love.”

“For what it’s worth,” she started hanging on his shoulders and looking up at him, so smitten it was hard to breathe, “I think you’d be a dashing baby-daddy.”

Gabe smiled, trying to hide the blushing on his cheeks as he looked away. “Don’t say shit like that, love.”

“Why, baby?” She wondered drawing circles on his buzzed-off skull, only pretending to have no clue what she was doing. “You would. Just imagining you carrying our baby in your arms – or you pushing a pram around, makes me feel all kinds of things. You’d be a very sexy baby-daddy if you ask me. Playing pretend-wrestling with them when they grow up,” Vanessa giggled feeling a buzz warming her stomach up only thinking about it. “Our baby would grow up to be just like you, I know it.”

Gabe hissed, shaking his head, “See? You can’t go saying things like these Missus Kidd,” he teasingly warned her, “Because it just makes me want to put a baby in you right now.”

“Good,” she smiled proudly even though she found herself having to suppress the thought of it very quickly. The desire to take him to the letter was too big. “Was the play pretend-wrestling that convinced you, right?”

“Definitely,” he winked, pulling a confident smile. “And knowing just how hot my wife would look with a swollen belly with my baby in it.”

“See? You cannot go saying things like these Mr Kidd,” she mocked him, “It makes me go insane.”

“I’ll give you something better,” he continued, putting her down by his gym bag but still offering a helping arm, to make sure she found her balance. “Let’s go home and we can talk about it in bed, uhm?”

Looking up at him, Vanessa pressed herself by his side purring like a cat. She traced his chest up with her fingers feeling her heart could explode with love any moment. “It sounds lovely.” 

[vilandel]

Silver Cats & Black Roses

Chapter 30 – Finding Strength

A/N Our two main couples are going discovering a whole theft organization, facing the culprits and some surprises are also showing up 💜💙

Ao3 link

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“It is kinda risky to do this here, Mylady.”

Charlotte didn’t recognize that cold, almost calculating and submissive voice. It probably belonged to the servant she didn’t know.

“What I do and what I pay you for is very risky, so don’t judge too quickly, Robin, and don’t give me that attitude. Don’t forget where you would be without me, you would be in prison for that amateur fraud.”

That arrogant voice could only belong to her dear aunt Rosamund. Although, Charlotte never heard her sound like this before. So determined, as if she was a leader.

“I know what I owe you, Mylady,” Robin replied, still sounding cold and submissive.

“We won’t have such an occasion like this ball again, even though it’s risky. And besides, we don’t have much time anymore, the shipping will tomorrow now, as the date changed all of a sudden. The sooner all this crap leaves the Clover Kingdom, the better. Now follow me, you still need to help Stein, Alban and Daisy with the rest.”

Rosamund and the lad called Robin left the room and Charlotte immediately behind a statue, so that they wouldn’t see her, pulling her wide dress close to her legs. Who knows what her aunt might say if she discovered her niece, who was also a Magic Knight Captain, more or less spying on her?

Thankfully, Rosamund and Robin went in the opposite direction, not looking at all towards the statue Charlotte was hiding behind. Still, she waited a bit that they disappeared completely form the hallway before she moved.

Rosamund didn’t locked the room she just came out. Charlotte didn’t know if her aunt was just stupid or terribly overconfident.

Maybe both.

There was nothing in this hallway, only doors, statues, paintings on the walls on one said and windows on the other, letting in the first moonlight. She was alone. Time to risk and go into the room.

“Captain Charlotte?”

Charlotte immediately jumped, getting in an attack position. But she relaxed when she saw that it was only Vanessa, who put her hands up with smile.

“Whoa, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“I apologize, Vanessa, I’m just a bit too much on the edge right now.”

“Captain Rill told Nozel and me what he knows. So, is your aunt involved with the thievery in the Common Realm?”

“I still hope not, even though I don’t like her, but… I just have a gut feeling.”

“It’s always good to follow your gut feelings. Why do you think I started to reach to Nozel after the whole raid in Spade?”

“Speaking of, where is he?”

“He went to search captain Yami, so that they can both have our backs once they join us. And captain Rill continues what you ask him to do, search the Wizard King and warn the other captains if he sees them. As for me, I’m here to help you.”

Charlotte smiled. Help was certainly welcome and she liked Vanessa more than enough to trust her. So, she quickly told her what she overheard. Which wasn’t much, but after working so long as a Magic Knight, Charlotte knew that every little detail that seemed insignificant can have its importance.

Vanessa only nodded during the explanation, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“It really does sounds suspicious. I can’t think of another possibility, honestly. But why would one of your aunts and member of your house be involved into those thievery in the Common Realm?”

“I have no idea and honestly, I still hope that my suspicions are wrong. I don’t like Rosamund, but she is still my aunt and it would be such a shame still if she is somehow behind all this. For house Roselei of course, but also for nobility. No matter what most nobles believe, they aren’t exempted from justice just because of their rank. If the judge isn’t corrupt or if the crime is enormous or if there are enough witness, they can still go to prison. The Wizard King worked a lot that Justice should be the same for everyone and even though he doesn’t seem like it, Damnatio Kira agreed with him.”

“Really? I can’t believe he would accept that, given what happened to Asta. But at the same time, there was the case with the Devil Believers…”

“Yes, Damnatio has often very questionable methods and I don’t agree myself with his way of thinking. But he sincerely cares for the Clover Kingdom, no one can take this away from him. And nobles already tried to bargain him, but Damnatio always refused.”

“Really? Well, I give him that, then, even though I don’t like him. So, how about we stop chattering and see what your auntie has hidden in this room?”

Charlotte nodded. She was curious, but also a bit anxious. If her suspicions would be true, what would she do?

At least, she wasn’t alone right now. And it helped to know that Yami would soon be there as well. Having him at her side for something like a mission, counting on him for something rather delicate… It felt Charlottes heart with pride and love.

The two Magic Knights slowly opened the door, who seemed to have been oiled recently. Interesting.

The room was some kind of little salon or boudoir, with sophisticated furniture, normal for a royal room.

It would have been nothing special if it weren’t for the strange baskets that were placed around the room. There were all sizes and forms, each one of them covered with some dark velvet sheet, hiding what was inside the baskets.

Charlotte quickly kneeled down to one basket on the floor, removing softly the velvet. Inside were some little wooden sculptures, of regular animals or mystical creatures. Charlotte couldn’t help but frown as she covered the basket again.

Weren’t wooden sculptures on Marx’ list about all the things that had been stolen in the Common Realm?

“There are some stone sculptures in this one. And that basket is filled with things made of iron and steels. This is a lot of craftwork in those baskets. But also common things like common clothes or daily accessories. What does your aunt want with all of this? Nothing looks like luxurious enough for a noble.”

“Because all of those things have been stolen in the Common Realm during those last few months. Marx has made a list and I took a look at it from time to time. My aunt has actually something to do with all those thievery acts.”

The conclusion felt like a hit for Charlotte. It was really uncomfortable feeling that someone of your own family was behind a crime and even more so, a crime you have been yourself investigating for quite a while.

But the worst part for Charlotte was… that she wasn’t even surprised that aunt Rosamund was behind something like that. She wasn’t even totally disgusted by this revelation, she was just… done. Not surprised at all. No shock, just almost plain indifference, a little bit of disgust, a bit of frustration.

Charlotte didn’t know if this made her a terrible person towards her own aunt or if she just knew Rosamunds nature well enough and that she was instead a bit upset that she hadn’t figured it out before.

Vanessa actually came over to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for you. It must be hard to know that your own aunt is behind a criminal organization.”

“Thank you, Vanessa. But to be perfectly honest with you, I was never that close with aunt Rosamund and I never liked her, even when I was a little child. The worst is not that she is part of my house, but more that I’m not even surprised about… all of this.”

“Ouch, this is hard.”

“You can say that.”

“But, why would she do something like this, then?”

“I have no idea, honestly. I know her personality, but this doesn’t mean that I know a lot about my dear aunt Rosamund. It would really important to find out her reasons to do something like that and there are so many questions still we don’t know the answers. But I doubt we might find most answers here.”

Charlotte also started to wonder if Rosamunds stubborn attempts to marry her of with Reginald Évantail has also something to do with those thievery acts or if it was something else entirely.

There were many possibilities to everything and Charlotte hated to ignore which door was the right one.

How she wished that Yami was here, to hold her, to give her strength.

Vanessa looked thoughtful for a second, before she said, “You did tell me that your unkind auntie mentioned something about shipping. Could it be that all those goods were not only stolen, but were planned to be brought to another country? How is it called? Crap, Nozel explained it to me once! When you can’t sell goods in another country due to complicated reasons, that you need to do it on criminal ways… This has a special word! What was it again?”

“You mean, smuggling?”

“Yes! That was the word Nozel tried to explain to me!”

“It is a possibility, I admit. But when it’s about smuggling, there would be more luxurious items, more things from the Noble Realm. All those things are common, not luxurious at all, everything was stolen in the Common Realm. So, why smuggle them?”

“Maybe it’s going to be smuggled in a faraway country were items that are common for us are actually expensive?”

“It’s possible, of course. But I doubt it. Something feels of and I can’t say what it is. This is so frustrating.”

“I know, not knowing can be a curse when you at least know that there is more. What should we do? If we go to search for more people, we might lose some precious time while your aunt and her accomplices might come back and take everything away. Should someone stay here? Or do you have maybe a communication device on you?”

Charlotte didn’t had time to answer, because now voices were coming nearer and nearer.

And one of those voices belonged to her dear aunt Rosamund.

This was bad. As near as they were, Rosamund and her helpers would certainly see the two of them leaving this room.

Charlotte looked more or less panicking at Vanessa, who thankfully understood the problem immediately. She took Charlottes wrist and pulled her behind a curtain. Right one second before Rosamund and her accomplices entered the room.

Taking a discreet peek from behind the curtain, Charlotte recognized Robin immediately. The other three – Stein, Alban and Daisy, if she remembered correctly – were a very huge man, buffer than Yami, who looked really, really dumb, a little boy, very pale, with white hair, and woman who seemed to be young and old at the same time, with too much and cheap make-up.

“There is still a lot of crap to transport,” the woman said, certainly Daisy. Her voice sounded young, but the bored tone made her sound old and mature for some reason.

“Don’t complain, Daisy, it is an important task. And don’t forget where you were before I engaged you.”

“How can I forget, you love to remember me every two or three hours, lady Rosamund,” Daisy replied, still bored, but just like Robin, it now also sounded submissive. At least those two seemed to have some respect for her aunt and Charlotte was almost certain that it was genuine. But did they like Rosamund as well?

“Isn’t the shipping for tomorrow?” the little boy asked. Charlotte immediately felt compassion towards him. What could have lead a little boy like him to participate with a criminal organization?

“The ship will leave for Hino tomorrow night, but it is still better to make it tonight. Everyone is busy with the ball and to finally engage people to the best party, like it always should be. If we’re lucky, there will be a lot of betrothals celebrating tomorrow, so no one will take notice of the ship leaving for the land of the sun.”

Charlotte flinched and felt Vanessa doing the same right next to her.

Hino.

The land of the sun.

Both names that were given to Yamis homeland.

Yami didn’t talk much about his homeland, not to mention about his past before he was stranded to the shores of Clover. Charlotte suspected that something terrible must have happened back there, because her boyfriend also always had a sad, nostalgic glance in his eyes when someone mentioned the land of the sun.

Yami did promised her that he will tell her about his past and about his homeland one day, once he’s ready. And Charlotte was ready to wait decades for him to be ready to talk about that.

But also, Yami never mentioned that he wanted to go back. Charlotte even ignored that there was a way to reach the land of the sun, no one ever talked about that and so, she assumed that it was just impossible for now.

So, how the heck did someone like Rosamund Roselei found a way to that faraway land? Why was she even interested in a foreign country, she who always seemed to hate anything that wasn’t from Clover or at least from the Heart Kingdom?

It was really frustrating that the more little details she learned, the more it left her confused.

“Alright, let’s not waste too much time,” Rosamund commanded, clapping her hands two times. “We still need to bring all those baskets to the ship and I would like to write my letter to our customer back there sometime before tomorrow noon, if possible.”

“Mylady?”

“What is it, Robin?”

“Lord Reginald Évantail is coming this way and he looks kinda upset for some reason.”

Rosamund groaned in frustration, which honestly surprised Charlotte. Wasn’t her aunt at least on good terms with Reginald Évantail? Why this reaction?

She didn’t need to wait long for an answer, as the number one of the suitors she refused to marry came into the room, looking upset and nervous.

Charlotte couldn’t help but make a face when she saw that suitor again, looking so gaudy in his purple and golden suit, his hair ridiculously styled with gel, leaving his forehead looking bigger than it was and of course, he hid his grey hair with hair colouring again. And this was the man her aunt Rosamund wanted to marry her of to?

Vanessa looked like she was about to burst into laughter. Charlotte didn’t know if it was because of lord Reginalds gaudy outfit and hairstyle, or because of the face she made when she saw him.

But now wasn’t the moment to get caught. So, Charlotte put a hand on Vanessas mouth and looked sternly at her, her eyebrows raised very high. This seemed to make her companion wanting to laugh even more. But thankfully, Vanessa was now holding back better.

“Dear Rosamund, this can’t continue like this,” Reginald started to talk and now Charlotte was holding herself back to burst into laughter. How ridiculous was his voice, sounding like a spoiled five year old brad with the voice of an old man?

“Reginald, can’t you see that I’m in the middle of important business?” Rosamund replied, annoyed. Well, if this wasn’t the proof that lord Reginald Évantail was at least aware of the truth behind the thievery within the Common Realm.

“But I’m still not engaged to Charlotte, like you promised!”

Vanessa let out a silent gasp and Charlotte immediately put a hand on her mouth. She would explain this to her friend later, but right now wasn’t the place for having such a discussion.

Reginald didn’t even let Rosamund answer, as he continued, “Don’t forget this, you let me marry your niece and she becomes my sixth wife. In addition, I won’t tell anyone about your little organisation-“

“Little? Just because it’s only Robin, Daisy, Stein, Alban and me, plus our contact in the land of the sun, doesn’t mean that MY organisation is a little one!”

And she was even proud about that? Okay, this was truly disgusting.

“Listen, Reginald. The Three Leaves Waltz already happened, didn’t you just grab Charlotte for it? You would have been betrothed already, without all this draining discussions and hearings that would usually happen.”

Charlotte felt sick and was grateful that Vanessa grabbed her hand in comfort immediately. So, this ball and especially this waltz were really meant to engage people against their will, despite this tradition being officially removed. And for some reason, Charlotte also had the feeling that it was very tightly bonded to this thievery organisation.

“I couldn’t! You haven’t been there for the waltz, Rosamund, so you haven’t seen how lord Nozel Silva has chosen to dance with the Black Bull witch of all people. He destroyed the meaning of the Three Leaves Waltz by dancing with someone out of his circle, because why would he even choose a WITCH to be his future wife?”

Now, it was Charlottes turn to grab Vanessas hand in comfort.

“Lord Nozel and a witch? What an idiot. Does he think that he’s in a novel or something?” Daisy commented annoyed while controlling a basket full of cheap fantasy necklaces made of steel, wood or stone. Charlotte frowned. This woman certainly wasn’t a noble and for some reason, she was still for the status quo.

Rosamund looked rather pissed. “I knew that lord Nozel was the worst royal Head of House, even his naïve late mother wasn’t that stupid.” Now, Charlotte had to hold Vanessa back, just in case. “Such a useful way to organize arranged marriage without the usual, long paperwork and he destroyed it on one ball. But you don’t need to panic, Reginald. You’re still going to marry Charlotte. You know that I have very good reasons to have my stupid niece out of house Roselei once and for all.”

Another reason to hold Vanessa back. Charlotte wondered why her aunt wanted her so badly out of house Roselei. But at least, she knew now how Rosamund really thought about her. Which was actually relieving, in a way.

“But I’m still not betrothed to Charlotte,” Reginald said again, clearly upset. “I told you already, I’m going to tell the authorities about your organization of thieves if I’m not going to marry Charlotte!”

Wait, was this blackmail? Rosamund was being so stubborn to marry Charlotte of to Reginald Évantail just because that jerk was blackmailing her about her criminal organization?

Charlotte felt sick for a moment.

But Rosamund didn’t look scared or that she was feeling threatened. “And do you think that the authorities would give you a pass? You haven’t told anyone about my dear organisation for a rather long time and you can’t even bring the argument that I have threatened you.”

As much as Charlotte disliked her aunt, she had to give her a point for this. Under some circumstances, keeping silent about a crime can be considered a delict. And in her books, Reginald Évantail fell under those circumstances right now.

“You’re also jealous that I, a woman, managed to organize something like this, while you couldn’t. But again, I have good reasons to have Charlotte out of house Roselei and in yours, she would be just another Évantail. And by marrying her of, there are good chances that she will stop being a Magic Knight captain anymore. It gives her too much freedom and her so-called curse didn’t help to put her in her place.”

Okay, this was enough. Charlotte had no patience anymore to listen to all those stupid things. She was strong, but her endurance to stupidity still wasn’t limitless.

So, she came out from behind the curtain, Vanessa right at her side.

The other people present in this salon were all surprised, plus showing other emotions. Rosamund was clearly upset as well, Reginald couldn’t hide his panic, Daisy was annoyed, Robin had a cold glance and the buff giant looked like he wanted to break bones. The only one who didn’t looked unkind was the little boy.

“L-lady Charlotte… I-I didn’t expect t-to see you here.”

“Obviously so, lord Reginald. You wouldn’t be stuttering, otherwise.”

She knew her voice was cold. But Charlotte also knew that Reginald Évantail didn’t deserve any kindness. She wouldn’t have the strength to be kind to someone like him, anyway.

“Charlotte, dear niece,” Rosamund started with fake kindness full of venom. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Why are you in the company of a witch?”

“Aunt Rosamund, her name is Vanessa. Vanessa Enoteca. You better don’t forget that name, because I have the feeling that you’re going to hear it more in the future. And drop your act, please. You know that we overheard everything you said.”

“Nice collection of items,” Vanessa said cheerfully, as if this was a circle of close friends. Maybe she would be able to handle nobility rather well, with this kind of attitude. “Not expensive even. It’s nice to see that some nobles are also interested into less luxurious things, you’re opening more doors to get items.”

“That’s why I hate witches, they’re always so cheeky,” Robin said coldly.

“You clearly haven’t met the Witch Queen then, sugar. In fact, you react so much like her that I wonder if you’re not related to Her Majesty in some ways.”

“You are really bold, for a witch. I don’t what lord Nozel might see in you, except maybe being good in bed,” Rosamund said and Charlotte was ready to slap her for this words, but Vanessa was faster.

“You clearly don’t know Nozel at all, lady… Rosamund, was it? Maybe you should change your prejudices on royalty, it might help you open your eyes.”

“How dare you, witch? I am lady Rosamund Roselei, member of a noble, ancient-“

“Dear aunt, don’t go through all your titles. It won’t help you to get away with this,” Charlotte replied, in such a cold tone, that everyone in the room except Vanessa actually flinched at her words.

“How dare you talk to me like this, Charlotte? I’m your aunt and a member of your house, of your family! Besides, I’m older than you, your senior, you have to treat me with respect, young lady.”

“If you don’t respect others, you shouldn’t expect to be respected still. I heard you how you talked about me not even a minute ago. I’m your niece and a member of your house, your family and you still talked badly about me. Even stated that you wanted me out of house Roselei.”

“I had no idea you were here!”

“Which actually makes it worse.”

“Who cares about that? You and your witch friend, who dared to believe lord Nozel loves her, were spying on us, on something that doesn’t concerns you at all.”

“Oh, it concerns both of us, we are Magic Knights, after all. And unless I’m wrong, thievery is a crime, which is something Magic Knights are fighting against. Besides, it also concerns me. You were willing to marry me against my will in order to keep your criminal organization a secret. Worse, you wanted to marry me to an arrogant old man, from a house with a rather complicated family tree, who has history with marrying again and again and again, to whom I’m just a prize. I refuse to marry lord Reginald Évantail and no one can force me to do so!”

“Old, me?” Reginald whined, clearly offended. But no one paid him any attention. Rosamund lost all cool and put out her grimoire, ready to attack. Charlotte and Vanessa did the same with theirs, while the helpers stood ready but probably awaiting for Rosamunds orders. Reginald just stood there, pouting like a five year old.

Charlotte knew that Rosamund had like many nobles, a lot of mana. But even though her thorn magic could hurt a lot, Rosamund still never trained, so she could only throw spells. It would be easy for Charlotte and Vanessa to overwhelm her, if necessary.

Reginald wouldn’t be a problem. Same for the poor little boy, who actually just hid behind the baskets instead of taking an attack position. But the other three… Charlotte didn’t know how to determine Robin and Daisy. As for the buff giant, well, he didn’t looked like he needed magic to knock anyone out.

But before anyone could move or say something, the door of the little salon was opened again very loudly.

“What the fuck?”

Even though she didn’t move still, a wave of relief washed over Charlotte as she recognized this unique voice she loved so much.

Yami was here.

♣♣♣

Vanessa felt so terribly relieved as she heard her captains voice and when Yami entered the room, looking pissed and confused, and frankly, in a mood that it would be a true death wish to provoke him right now.

She was even more relieved when she saw Nozel coming in right after Yami.

“Lady Rosamund. Lord Reginald. Miss, sirs.”

His voice was terribly cold as he greeted Reginald and Rosamund, plus the helpers. The two nobles immediately flinched, which was funny to witness.

“Good evening Charlotte, sorry it took us a while,” Nozel now said to his colleague, his voice warmer.

Then his eyes meet hers and Vanessa felt her knees becoming like butter. He always looked at her so lovingly, so deeply.

Nozel immediately walked towards her, cupped her face with both hands and put a soft but deep kiss on her lips.

Okay, now Vanessa was certain that she would melt right here, right now.

She heard vaguely some people gasp in shock, Yami groaning something that sounded like “gross” then yelling “ouch!” while Charlotte was all “aw”. But her entire focus was on Nozel, on his lips, on his presence, on his heart beating in sync with hers.

Sadly it didn’t last long, but to be fair, they weren’t alone. Still, Nozel kept an arm around her waist, while glancing back at Rosamund, Reginald and the helpers, coldly and judging, looking more like a king than the current one.

Was he, maybe, about to scold them while holding her close to him? Gosh, this was so hot in a way! Vanessa felt her mouth going dry and her face getting hot. This really made her thirsty for him and Nozel was just looking down on jerks while holding her! Damn, would she still be able to focus on the affair at hand from now on?

Why was Nozel so hot with such a cold glance?

“Lady Rosamund, lord Reginald… I’ve already known that your moral compass wasn’t working so well. But it seems that I still gave you too much credit. Never would I have thought that you would go so far to become thieves of items that you would normally consider unworthy of your noble status.”

“I’m innocent, I have nothing to do with this!” Reginald protested in panic, sounding like a child trying to get out of trouble. Vanessa couldn’t help but snicker discreetly. This weak lord wouldn’t have survived even one week of married life with captain Charlotte.

“Shut up, you perfumed gaudy freak,” captain Yami groaned, while immediately joining Charlottes side.

“How… what… dare… Excuse me, you scoundrel of a low peasant foreigner, how dare you insult me. I am lord Reginald Évantail, member of the noble house of-“

“Don’t you dare insult captain Yami Sukehiro ever again, especially in my presence,” Charlotte whispered dangerously, her eyes getting darker with each word.

“Shut up, lord Who’s It of house Who Cares! You may not like captain Yami, but this is not a reason to be this insulting and disrespectful!” Vanessa snapped as well, angry like always when someone she cared about was getting disrespected. If that stupid noble would also start to insult Nozel, she would strangle him with her threads and those from his gaudy clothes immediately. “Unlike you, he doesn’t get offended at insults, he stands far higher than that. How ironic, aren’t you the one that is from a higher class?”

“Not to mention that being a foreigner is the only thing that can be maybe hold against the captain of the Black Bulls and even that term isn’t even that much of an insult in the first place,” Nozel added, cold voice like before, but still holding Vanessa to him. “Aside from that, he has achieved and done more for this kingdom than you ever did for even half of your children, lord Reginald. And Yami is a Magic Knight captain, you’re just a member of a noble house with no leader position. From nobility’s flawed logic, the foreigner captains is standing above you. Thank goodness.”

Oh, Vanessa would have kissed Nozel for those words. She knew that despite his genuine respect for Yami, her boyfriend was often irritated with her captain, for many reasons. To hear him take his defence like this, in front of others, it meant so much to her.

Yami looked stunned and rather irritated as he heard Nozel defend him. Charlotte just smiled.

“But… but… He insulted me too!”

“Yeah, Reggie, because you’re a fucking dumbass liar.”

“Liar? LIAR? How dare you, foreigner, I am NOT a liar, I’m the most innocent one in this room!”

Charlotte took a loud step forward, which made Reginald Évantail shut up immediately. Now, that was some authority, Vanessa hoped that Charlotte could teach her this one day. She would definitely need this kind of strategy once she enters the world of royalty and nobility for good.

“Innocent? I don’t think so, lord Reginald. Oh, you’re certainly not part of my dear aunts thievery organisation, you probably lack the intelligence for that.”

“What? How-“

“I wasn’t finished! You aren’t a member of this organization, that is for sure, but you were still aware of its existence and this for probably a long time now. But instead of warning us Magic Knights and the Wizard King, you kept it for yourself and even thought you could gain something out of it… Like my hand in marriage, by more or less blackmailing my aunt. This points alone can make you guilty. And despite the reach house Évantail, you can escape justice and what is right. Shall I also remember you that Damnatio Kira can’t be bribed or bargained? You can promise him the moon and thousands of stars in the sky, but he still will judge you. In fact, he considers bribery as a crime as well. Just to remind you.”

Whoa, that speech was so impressive. Vanessa looked at Charlotte with admiration. No wonder she became a captain with that kind of mindset and attitude. Auntie Dea raised her well.

But the captain of the Blue Roses wasn’t finished, as she turned towards her fuming aunt, her eyes darker than ever. “And this is the man you absolutely wanted to engage me to, dear aunt Rosamund? I know that behind policy and family duty, we were never close. In fact I despise you, especially after what you did. You brought shame upon the Roseleis with your crime organization and you can’t excuse yourself for that. Your position as a noble lady isn’t a pass for crimes and thievery.”

Rosamund Roselei looked like she was about to explode. She could be considered as a beauty despite not being that young anymore, but her current stated negated any of her beauty, each traits of it, into oblivion. Some strands of blonde hair escaped from her complicated hairdo, her green eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their holes and Vanessa wouldn’t be surprised if she would tear her poison green dress with the red roses from her body if she would lose it completely.

Really hard to believe that this harpy here was related to captain Charlotte and that she was of the same family of auntie Dea.

“How dare you talk to me like that, Charlotte? Do you really think that being the most eligible member of house Roselei gives you the freedom to be this cocky?”

“I’ve never chose to be the most eligible member of our family, Rosamund. In fact, this was more a pain than anything. In your eyes and in many others, my accomplishments as Magic Knight, as a captain, as myself, is negated and I become just a very beautiful and eligible noble lady. Who just needs to smile and to wave and to be betrothed and to even fake gratitude when a spouse is chosen for me.”

“You ungrateful young lady! I knew that being a Magic Knight will make you too cocky, too impertinent and disrespectful. Orchidea was too soft while raising you.”

“Don’t insult lady Orchidea, you bitch,” Vanessa yelled and if Nozel wouldn’t still have hold her, she would have scratch Rosamunds venom green eyes all by herself. No one should disrespect auntie Dea like this. “She is more a noble lady than you will ever be.”

“How DARE you speak to me like that you-“

“How about I call my buddy Jack from the Green Praying Mantises and we cut you in pieces before you insult one of my brats, auntie Rosabitch? And before you actually say more bullshit about Charlotte and Blue Rose Mama, for that matter, this pisses me of even more.”

“And why should it concern you how I treat my niece, you foreigner captain?”

“Yer not good at insulting people, are ya, auntie Rosabitch? But to answer your damned question, it does concern me, I’m Charlottes fucking boyfriend!”

Silence was placed in the room, as everyone except for Nozel and Vanessa tried to understand this declaration. Yami was still fuming and looking at Rosamund like he wanted to kill her with a dimension slash through his eyes, while Charlotte had a proud smile on her face.

“That’s a lie,” Reginald finally said in a whine, which really sounded like a child. “Lady Charlotte can’t be with this… this… this man!”

“I don’t know how this should concern you in any way, lord Reginald,” Charlotte replied coldly, but still smiling with immense pride. “We’re not betrothed, as far as I’m concerned and besides, I’m not a minor anymore. It is up to me to choose who I spent my life with and it’s definitely not with you.”

“I can’t… We can’t tolerate that! Rosamund, tell your lackeys to attack the foreigner and the witch!”

The one called Robin replied immediately for his boss. “That would be a bad idea, Milord. My colleagues and I are from the Common Realm or from the Forsaken Realm, with not much magic power. And those people are Magic Knights, three of them squad captains. Sorry, but there are more agreeable ways to kill myself.”

“Not to mention that finding helpers of their quality is nearly impossible, these days, where do you think I can find more lackeys like Robin, Daisy and Stein? Alban was just a bonus, since he’s a child.”

Vanessa hold back another insult. How dare she talked like that about this poor little boy? But Nozel still had something to say. “Can I ask you why you became a criminal mastermind, lady Rosamund?”

“Why does everyone make it sound as it’s a bad thing? My life was boring and since someone told me that I need to find myself something exciting, I-“

She couldn’t continue as the door of the salon opened again. Vanessa hoped that maybe their cavalry arrived. But when she saw who entered the room, a chill came over her body.

“What I nice reunion do we have here,” Lac Silva said casually, as if it was about the weather. But there was an arrogant assurance in his eyes, eyeing everyone as if they were chess pieces on his game board. There was even a hint of anger in his magenta eyes as he looked at Nozel.

Vanessa instinctively hold Nozel closer. He immediately did the same. They wouldn’t let this man go between them, no matter how difficult it might be. Vanessa refused to let Lac hurt Nozel ever again, as he had done enough damage to his own son already.

He was her strength and she hoped she was his as well.

Rosamund, Reginald and even the lackeys looked quite unsure all of a sudden, glancing with cautious at Lac Silva. But Yami and Charlotte glared at this man is if he killed someone dear to them for some reason.

Clearly enjoying the effect he had on others, Lac Silva looked around with a satisfied smile. Vanessa never looked away, refusing to yield to him. After a few seconds that felt like centuries, Lac Silva opened his mouth…

But just before he could spite some of his arrogant venom, the door of the salon opened again, breaking the effect Lac Silva had.

Vanessa hoped that it was their cavalry this time. But the person entering this scene of crime was surprising for everyone, even for Lac Silva, as if he just witnessed a game move he had never seen before within his game.

“Lady Rosette Vitrail?”

[thejewelsway122]

Cobra Kai Characters' and their Enneagram types

I love Cobra Kai so much and enjoyed SEASON 6 as well so I decided to write out their potential Enneageam types.

Now I want to be clear that this is my opinion, so you might not agree with me, but I still hope that this post will be helpful and you will enjoy it as well.

Enneagram 1 (The Reformer)

The Reformer are individuals that have a strong desire to be good and their core fear is being bad/wrong. This type is in the gut triad, because they have instinctual energy, and their dominant emotion is anger, but they repress it. These people are critical, hardworking, principled, organized, honest, and absolute perfectionists.

The reason they are like that is because in their childhood, they learned that it wasn't okay to make a mistake. Psychreel.com states, "Enneagram One as children felt harshly criticized, punished, or inadequate. It’s possible that the household rules were incongruent. As a result, they grew preoccupied with being perfect and avoided making mistakes in order to escape being judged. “You should always strive to be better than you really are,” was the main theme."

Kim Da-Eun, Devon Lee, Chozen Toguchi and John Kreese are definitely Reformers. Now I know it seems strange that John Kreese, Kim Da-Eun, Chozen Toguchi or Devon Lee would be a Reformer but when you consider some hints that they throw out, you can see it. For an example, Kim Da-Eun always speaks on being absolutely perfect, Devon Lee mentioned that she strives to not make the same mistake twice, Chozen always speaks about having honor, and John Kreese always talks as if his way is the right way.

I also want to mention that all of them have always shown to be calm and collected unless provoked and they show a desire to want to do the right thing as well. As an example, Devon felt very guilty about unintentionally humiliating Kenny until she finally confessed to him about what she did or even how Kreese readily defends others like Terry Silver, his late girlfriend Betsy, Tory and Kim when they were in danger or abused.

(I couldn't get a gif of Chozen Toguchi, it won't let me add another gif)

Enneagram 9 (The Peacemaker)

The Peacemaker are individuals that have a core desire to create inner peace and harmony with themselves and the world around them. Meanwhile, their core fear is being in conflict, tension or feeling shut out and losing connection with others. The Peacemaker also has instinctual energy and their dominant emotion is anger but they numb themselves to it until they lash out. These people are creative, supportive, empathetic, and very accepting.

The reason why they're very accommodating is because in their childhood they learned that it wasn't okay to assert themselves and that their presence or opinions didn't matter. 9wing1.com states, "They fear that if they express their opinions or needs, they will be rejected and cause conflict. This fear can lead to a tendency to avoid confrontation and merge with others' opinions and desires. They doubt their ability to assert themselves and often feel overlooked or ignored."

Daniel LaRusso, Aisha Robinson and Moon are definitely Peacemakers. There are multiple times that they tried to de-escalate tense situations because they want to keep the peace with others. I also noticed that Daniel, Aisha and Moon are initially welcoming towards others, and even forgiving towards people who have wronged them as well.

Now, Moon has shown to merge with her friend Yasmine and she also appears passive but she also is very friendly, sociable and accepting. Meanwhile, Daniel and Aisha have shown to have a temper, however Aisha will confront the issue and Daniel will try to avoid it until he lashes out.

All in all, they definitely display the traits of the Peacemaker.

Enneagram 8 (The Challenger)

The Challenger are individuals that have a desire to be strong in order to guard against injustice. The core fear of a Challenger is being vulnerable or powerless because they fear being controlled. The Challenger also has instinctual energy so they dominantly feel anger, but compared to the other members of the Gut Triad, they are more in tune with their anger and more willing to express it. These people are confident, strong, protective, inspiring, independent, and confrontational.

The reason these people become Challengers is because in their childhood they learned it was never okay to let their guard down. Enneageamgift.com states, "Eights bear a childhood wound originating from insecure relationships with parental figures ... This instability propels Eights to adopt the role of the protector, compensating for the absence of guidance and positive leadership."

The Challengers are definitely Tory Nichols, Mike Barnes, Kwon Jae-Sung and of course Johnny Lawrence. There are multiple times that these people showed the traits of the Challenger like how all of them are rebellious which shows the fear of being controlled. They are also very intimidating as well because of their temper but their anger has led to them getting into trouble.

They also struggle with being vulnerable especially Tory, but they later on learned to overcome that. Sadly, Kwon never got the chance to reach that point in his life, but he definitely showed strong traits of The Challenger like the others for this type.

I'm going to make a Part 2 for the other characters. I hope this was informative too and interesting too!!

[bellatrixxmarierose]

TAG GAME!!

I was tagged by @ashyjingles 🥰

answer as many or as few as you want!!! its a free for all <33

1. are you a night or morning person? Night person mostly.

2. what's your favourite thing to do when you have some free time? Read, listen to music, binge shows, write(when my brain lets me)

3. dream job? Actor, Writer, Singer.

4. are you an extrovert or an introvert? Introvert.

5. what's your favourite season? Autumn I love seeing the leaves fall and I love the not too cold not too hot weather.

6. favourite food? 🍣 🍟 🌮 & penne alla vodka.

7. favourite genre to read/watch? Anything with supernatural/paranormal with romance especially lgbtq+ romance 😅

8. what fictional characters) do you see yourself in? (and if you're comfortable, why?) Liam Dunbar, Theo Raeken, & Harley Quinn.

Liam: He has a mental illness that he has trouble controlling and is very stigmatized like I do. Although it was never mentioned it could be how he got his was from a violent parent/childhood trauma like me. How smart he actually can be is often over looked as well and that is something I identify with no one listens to me because I can never be right because I’m just not smart enough to them. He often overthinks/has a lot of anxiety like I do.

Theo: He went through trauma his entire childhood like I did and he did some terrible things resulting in that as have I in the past(not to his extent) but we both had guilt and changed ourselves for the better. He is often judged for his past mistakes without anyone really knowing his story like me. He often overthinks/has a lot of anxiety like I do.

Harley Quinn: She was with the joker. I too had a joker. She did everything for him changed for him went insane because of him. She was abused by him. But she kept going back and stayed and at first tried even to help him or save him for so long because she loved him because he twisted her mind up so much she thought everything he did she deserved or was out of love. She thought that’s the love she deserves. She thought she was no one without him and I felt that and feel that currently because I too feel like I’m nothing without my children’s father who is gone now and our relationship was like the Joker and Harley.

9. if you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? Probably Canada or England or another country that’s safer than the US is.

10. if you could shapeshift into one animal, what would it be? Wolf.

11. what fandoms) shaped you as a person? Teen Wolf fandom especially my discord fam I have never felt more welcome or like family with any group of people like I do them I love you guys!

12. what's your favourite theme/motif in media? I don’t understand this question 😅

13. pancakes or waffles? Pancakes because I can dip them in my coffee.

14. what's your biggest aspiration? To be happy and to make sure my kids have a happy healthy environment to grow up in.

15. what's the achievement your most proud of? (as bit or little as you want!!) Still being alive.

16. if you had a superpower, what would it be? Every power imaginable.

17. whats a question you wish people would ask you more? (and whats the answer?) Are you really okay? No, I’m not. But idk what to do about it anymore.

18. what's your favourite piece of advice? Don’t focus on losing weight focus on getting healthier.

19. gold or silver jewelry? Silver.

20. whats your favourite video game/book/movie/ show? (choose as many or few as you want)

Book: Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls by Emilie Autumn

Movie: A Walk To Remember

Show: Teen Wolf

21. what's your favourite animal (and why?) Wolf because Teen Wolf mostly but also because they are beautiful creatures and protective of their pack.

I tag @planet-ek @chasing-chimeras @jesse-is-spiralling sorry all I could think of at the top of my head 😅

[ziasann]

star-crossed streets (first draft)

AU where Neuvillette is a running Presidential Candidate for the Court of Fontaine in the upcoming elections. Furina is a rising actress from the Opera Epiclese on her way to receive her own prestigious Teyvat Star Award. 

Neuvillette only ever knew her name uttered by the mouths of other gentlemen.

“Miss Furina!” 

The backdoor of the reserved VIP club splayed open, gorging out two figures of a man and a woman. They weren’t a couple, but it was obvious with how the inebriated man leered after the gorgeous lady that she was the object of his drunken infatuation for the night. 

The silver and blue-haired woman called Furina, however, did not seem as enthusiastic as the lad. Her face was painted with a forced smile and crossed eyebrows towards her admirer.

Furina…

She was the soloist earlier at the beginning of the party, wasn’t she? Neuvillette recognized those striking indigo eyes and her gentle voice when she introduced herself after her splendid performance. 

“Alas, sir, I am not very much interested in dating or so…” Furina politely refused as the man encroached further to her small form.

His fellow politicians were excited when they heard the Lady Furina would sing for their party. Navia, his running mate, had a friend who had another friend acquainted with the famous songstress Furina. She was able to pull some strings and invite her to their celebration tonight. 

According to the latest polls, Neuvillette was the leading candidate in the Liffey Region. The entire campaign deserved some drinks and reveling after weeks of persevering work. A boost to their morale for the harshest weeks were yet to come.

Neuvillette, after finishing his rounds of greeting friends and colleagues, had enough socialization. He stayed in the shadows of the smoking area at the back alley, a lit cigarette between his fingers, unseen as he watched the singer and her pursuer before him.

When the stranger grabbed Furina’s gloved wrist, Neuvillette dropped his stick and stepped in. His boot squashing the half-smoked cigarette under his heel. 

“Lady Furina had clearly explained her disinterest towards your affections, sir.” His presence was not welcomed as he spoke over them, the minimal light shining over his features as Neuvillette emerged out of his hiding place. “If you still decide to pursue her, we can take this matter easily to the Court.”

“M-Monsieur Neuvillette!” The man stammered, eyes as wide as saucers at the sight of him. “There is no need to raise this tiny issue at Court, I was merely hoping that Lady Furina would grant me some time of her day.”

“And she had refused you already,” Neuvillette retorted. The way Furina settled her riveting gaze towards him almost had Neuvillette shuddering. “Either you apologize to her right now, or the judges will grant you some time of their day soon.”

“My sincerest apologies, Miss Furina,” the bloke humbly bowed to the singer. “I could not help myself with such beauty and voice of yours.”

A woman worthy enough to commit a crime for, Neuvillette mused. How dangerous.

“It is fine,” Furina dismissed, but her eyes never averted from meeting Neuvillette’s stare head-on. “Please leave me alone now.”

The rejected man scampered away from them, his hurried steps toppling over the silence between Neuvillette and Furina. 

Her brows were still slanted, and there was no smile of relief on her lips after thwarting her nuisance away. Her unusual reaction befuddled Neuvillette.

“Is there any other problem, Miss Furina?” Neuvillette asked. Maybe this wasn’t also the best place for a conversation, the road reeking of smoke and alcohol, the cold air buzzing with club music from the speakers indoors. 

“I can handle it,” Furina glared, the softness on her tone was replaced with haughtiness. In a blink, the angelic atmosphere she exuded inside the club had dissipated in a wisp. “It’s not the first time.”

Gone was her pleasing personality, she was rough all around the edges. Her drastic change in behavior astounded him, he swore she was charming the people inside earlier with her meek smiles and amiable exchanges. 

He couldn’t imagine Furina biting back, but here she was. 

Neuvillette couldn’t stifle a chuckle or two in the desolate vicinity, no wonder the man moments prior was fascinated by her. He doubted that the man had caught a glimpse of Furina like this. 

“W…What’s wrong with you?!” Furina accused, crimson blooming on her cheeks. The fierceness fading in her skin. “Never have I ever seen a Presidential Candidate making fun of his constituents like this!”

“I find it amusing, your act of a fine, proper lady during the party,” Neuvillette confessed. “You had me fooled into thinking that you needed help, when it is obvious you could have handled your persistent admirer anytime.”

“I was only saving his face,” Furina huffed. “If I reject him in front of his friends, he will never recover.”

“Which would not bode well for your popularity as a rising actress, would it?” Neuvillette observed.

“It would not,” Furina affirmed, then glanced at the pavement behind him where his shadow was drawn. The flat cigarette sticking to the ground. “In the same manner that your smoking habits would have a negative impact on your approval ratings as a future President of Fontaine.”

For a second, Neuvillette impulsively thought he could quit the nicotine if Furina asked. Maybe the wine they clinked their glasses with at the party was stronger than it seemed. 

“Well,” Neuvillette admitted, a bit too honest even though he shouldn’t. Not when the elections were nearing, and every weakness of his could be exploited. 

“It’s better than the people.”

A statement that could be taken out of context by the journalists, or the citizens. Every sentence he declared, every comment he stated since his filing of candidacy for presidency had to undergo the scrutiny of his advisors. A single approval or denial could destroy the entire career he had carefully built over the years. 

Neuvillette expected the worst, one less vote since Furina found out he was not perfect. Maybe she’d tattle to the news outlets tomorrow and his team would battle a scandal early in the morning with a hangover. But she only smirked beguilingly, her cerulean eyes teasing under the moonlight.

“I agree, anything is better than the people around sometimes,” Furina seconded. “Now we know each other’s secrets.”

“That, we do,” Neuvillette nodded, and the longer he talked with her, the more he was in peril. “I bid you luck in your nomination for this year’s Teyvat Star Award.”

He sauntered towards the backdoor, ready to enter the bar again and return to his campaign managers. Wriothesley and Sigewinne would worry too much if he wasn’t in their sights for more than an hour. 

“Thank you, Mister President,” Furina leaned by the bricked wall. As much as Neuvillette would like to, they could not barge into the club without attracting the attention of the tabloids both in the politics and entertainment sectors. Furina would either wait a few minutes more before going in or leave the night altogether. 

“Congratulations again for your win in the Liffey Region, and I wish you the best in the upcoming elections.”

They wordlessly bid their farewells to each other, their masks and persona donned again in order to achieve their respective dreams. A sacrifice but a necessary one. Neuvillette couldn’t remember the last time he was this transparent and honest to another person, maybe during his time in the university. 

He was glad he was witness to a side of Furina the world could never see. She was destined for far greater things, as he was also trudging on the path less traveled by the common folk. 

Neuvillette wished they’d never meet again.

Or else, he would hopelessly fall in love with her.

[prvtocol]

RDA Identification Tags

RDA identification tags are for personnel and do not appear the same as the ones worn by SecOps sentry. That is, these tags are worn by miners, technicians, scientists, those in the service sector, and so on; the personnel who make up the majority of the RDA's population on Pandora.

The tags we see Recom Lyle Wainfleet retrieve from Quaritch's human remains appear more similar to military-style silver metal dog tags and seem to lack a picture ID. Recom tags also take on the same fashion.

Judging by this comparison alone, it would appear that So'lek killed numerous civilians/non-soldiers to make up those chains donning his chest plate. As you can see, unless the gray tags are SecOps ones and the photo ID is on the back/not shown, then all those tags are taken from non-military personnel.

Another note is that the earliest script (Project 880) suggests that personnel tags carry a transponder that won't alert sentry guns. We do know Identification Friend or Foe (IFF) Transponders exist in-world for troopers and vehicles. We also see the recoms wearing them on their person. However, civilian personnel may also have transponders in their tags suited to keep them safe on the perimeters of their station.

Lastly, the "DMT" denotation is not far off, even if it seems the RDA leaves behind their dead more often than not. But to be a new arrival and given a "dead meat ticket" ...welcome to Pandora.

[ere-the-sun-rises]

I'm a classical historian and this is actually a huge and valuable perspective!

When we look back on ancient works like, say, the Iliad (ei. part of the story of Troy), there are a lot of things there that disturb us. Slavery, rape, graphic violence, abusive leadership, sexual violence - these are all deeply troubling aspects of the poem. However, the poem is also at least 2800 years old. It is one of the first works ever composed after Greece learned how to write. This thing is closer to the building of the first pyramids in Egypt than it is to us (c. 2600 BCE).

If you dismissively approach the Iliad as "a product if its time", you'll see a bizarre and brutal culture that makes no sense to live within and dismiss the poem outright. If you proactively approach it as "a product of its time", it has a wealth of information to share.

For instance, the Iliad takes place (and was written within) a pre-law society. There is no authority or shared moral code - only a culturally-enforced code of conduct. Really cool facets of this make themselves known, like "xenia" (zen-ee-ah). Xenia loosely translates as "guest-friendship", and descibes a custom where travellers could approach a nearby warlord's home and be welcomed without fuss. The host would be obliged to feed and clean the visitor as well as provide lodging. Between rich people, this usually came with a symbolic exchange of gifts (a gold cup im exchange for a silver sword belt, for example). Xenia was also governed by Zeus, so a trespass against xenia was not only culturally shameful, but straight-up blasphemous and would bring godly wrath upon your people. Xenia is also passed down between generations. This means the grandsons of two men who had xenia also have that same bond, and they're forbidden from harming one another.

This is demonstrated in the Iliad when Diomedes (a Greek) meets Glaucus (a Trojan) on the battlefield. They discover they have xenia from their grandfathers, exchange armour and let each other pass. They are enemies, but it's a very personal moment that highlights how impersonal this war is for most of its participants - and that they know it. They're here because of a pact they made, and the same honouring of oaths that sparked the war is the same honouring that goes into xenia.

And xenia isn't just a feature of a semi-mythical past! Classical Greeks had xenia relationships all the time! This was a huge touchstone for real people and a lot of its function we understand from the Iliad (and its sister, the Odyssey).

It has a lot of value for understanding how a culture used to think, what issues needed resolution mechanisms or who needed protection. In our last hundred years, the world has changed enormously. It may seem straightforward and self-evident because it's not so far away but the reality is that most of us haven't lived through that time. It's worth a lot more to understand everything, including alk the ugly and uncomfortable stuff, than it is to judge.

Not "It's a product of it's time" as a way to excuse its problematic undertones but rather "it's a product of it's time" to say that the issues it tackles were relevant then and its stances that now seem milquetoast were radical then, and that heavy handed, cheesy driving home of those viewpoints was sometimes necessary, and our acceptance and normalization of those viewpoints is in large part because of media like it normalizing those viewpoints and imagery, and watching it in the modern day turns into a loving study of history of the masses and public opinion

Yes this is about the original star trek

[rekucchi]

Chapter 2: The Dawnseeing Mansion (2)

Aylarik’s new residence consists of a large three-floors building and several small buildings. Aside from having many bedrooms, it also has a home theater, a ballroom, a barbeque area, a large garden and even a greenhouse. You heard a famous architect was involved in the creation. Looking at the building itself you can indeed feel the art. The house looks classic but with modern touch. It looks expensive without feeling gaudy. As you enter the house the gentle smell of lavender tickles your nose. A tall ceiling with large and gorgeous chandelier can be seen directly from the main door. A man in black suit, a boy, and a girl greet the two of you.

“Welcome home, sir,” the man says.

“Thank you, Geraldo,” Aylarik answers before turning to you. “(Y/N), this is Geraldo. He is the butler of this house. Make sure you don’t make a mess to avoid his judging glare!”Geraldo doesn’t react at all from his introduction but you can tell how it would feel being judged by him. Without waiting for any reaction, Aylarik moves to the boy and girl pair.

“This is Elliott and Elena, they look similar don’t they? They are twins! Due to circumstances they are working here as servants while going to a school nearby. Please excuse them for not being able to fully attend to you!”

High-schoolers? Is he employing minors??

Like Geraldo, both Elliott and Elena don’t have a change in expression when Aylarik introduced them so you can’t tell whether he is telling the truth or not.

“There are only three of them responsible for housekeeping here so please don’t make too many mess!”

After saying that, the silver haired man grabs your hand and leads you to another room.

“Now we need to see the doctor!”

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