#always imagined my dream black swan piece

[thekendallkathryn]

🖤 black swan 🖤

[matchadobo]

KIDD; beauty & the beast

wc: 10754 summary: a beauty & the beast inspired story where kidd is the beast and reader is the beauty. featuring killer, law, and luffy. tw: this is my first time writing a fully fleshed out fantasy story sO PROCEED WITH CAUTION, monster au, suggestive themes but no actual seggs, fem reader, if i miss any errors im sorrrryyyyy

in the quaint village, a seemingly quiet town busy to each their own. the arch that welcomes the entrance of the city has ambrosial vines snaking up to each side of its pillars up to its voussoir and keystones that had the townsmark engraved in it.  a fountain welcoming each soul that enters the village was riddled with swans, birds, and vociferous children chasing each other. 

a vast cobbled path with shops of varied provisions: empty antique bookstores, butcher shops with burly men, bakeries jam packed with patrons, and flower shops filled with gentlemen and swooning ladies. a town as old as time where everyone knows each other. and everyone knows you as that one eccentric lady who always got her face sunk in books and hasn't got herself a man yet. 

you had just finished buying a book that you've got your eye on. a leather-covered, raven book with gold linings in the spine. you hugged the piece tight to your chest as a joyous smile decorated your face. you opened the book excitedly, relishing the scent of newly pressed paper wafted into your nostrils. your eyes sparkled in delight when your eyes skimmed across the tiny letters of the paper, breezing through the pages as you fully immersed into the fictional world. yes, it has been your solace. your imagination could run miles upon miles across the globe, galaxy, and all existence. the beauty of each tale you got lost on, wandering around the dazzling dream fiction has to offer. 

more than anything, books have shaped you as a person. a knowledgeable woman, unlike the ladies who'd dumb themselves down to be someone's bride. a visionary, unlike the people that surround you and your scientist father, you have the initiative for change and have the intellect to do so. a refined lady, wanting a man because of your standards, not just because they're a man. you want to be courted, treasured, and loved by a man who is willing to stoop himself down to treat you just how you deserve it. 

"weird lady,"

"'s why she doesn't have any man yet. pft i mean, who wants a woman who reads?!"

"she should be bearing a child right now."

mocks, jeers, and insults. the all too familiar strings of slurs which you've grown to hate and ignore. you sauntered across the stone-carved path of the town while hearing those remarks. you huffed a disappointed sigh and carried onto your way home.

"i'm home! i brought the tools you were asking, papa!" you called out, shutting the door by your feet and putting your basket full of goods and hand tools on the wooden table draped in checkered red and white cloth.

your father welcomed you to a tight hug, an ear to ear grin when he saw the hand tools. "this is perfect, thank you dear! i can now carry on to my journey to showcase my experiment!" he placed a kiss on your forehead before grabbing the tools you brought to his satchel.

"always be careful, papa!" you farewelled, helping him up by the horse. you also bid the stallion goodbye, patting it lightly by its head. you sent them off and carried onto your day.

a couple of days had passed yet no signs of your father coming back, it was one drowsy morning when you heard philippe come back with a neigh of distress, only to find out that it was only philippe who had returned and your father missing. you surmised that the stallion was sending a message with the muddle of neighs and frantic movements so you opted to ride onto where he was pointing to after grabbing your coat and draping it on your head down to your body.

soon enough the agitated, cinnamon-colored clydesdale hesitated to enter the black forest. an eerie and desolate forest barren of trees and vegetation that had bright yellow eyes lurking, unbeknownst to you what creature it belonged to. the breeze of the frigid wind sent a chill down your spine. sharp, gnarled branches of the tree lured you into its peril as you slowly entered the forest. ignoring the hearsays that uttered horrors of not returning and the forest itself leading you astray and towards your demise, you ventured in full speed with too much desperation of getting to your father before it's too late. 

not too long after your chilling journey, you stumbled across a gothic castle with bats and crows settled on the peak of each pillar. the sky remained gloomy, and brought thunderous clouds despite the sunny weather back in your village. the castle was grim; pointy gargoyles were accentuating each apex of the roofs, its raven colored stones that make up the most of the building had numerous cracks from its age, ghastly branches and vines of withering plants almost blocked the flying buttresses and the pointy, arched iron gate you were facing. what surprised you and perked your eyebrow was the garden of tulips spread across the vast yard that was beside the cobbled path where the front of the house led to.

it piqued your curiosity, the contrast of the tulips and the arid aura of the place drew you even more to its mystery. that's why you couldn't help yourself but enter, despite the danger awaiting you. crows flew across the field at your arrival, you shielded yourself in return but they went over your head, the gust of wind raising goosebumps across your skin. you mused at the beautiful batch of flowers, well-tended, yet seem to be missing a few. there you saw in the middle of the grass, your father's hat. you immediately thought that maybe, your father got stuck here. so you rushed into the castle without thinking of the possible consequences.

you knocked at the double wooden doors with the labyrinth knockers settled on each knob just above your head, desperately calling for someone. no one answered and the silence killed you. so you pushed through the towering doors, using all your weight to enter the castle. the sound of the door creaking open echoed throughout who knows where, because goodness was the castle vast. it was phenomenally dark, it scared you. tall ceilings and wide rooms. a red, velvet carpet spanning across the checkered porcelain floors. countless mirrors lined with golden, intricate details decorating the walls. lofty stairs with delineated golden railings. broken yet glimmering chandeliers. colossal paintings of individuals poshly dressed in layers of clothing and heavily styled hair that curled in ways you could never imagine, yet each painting was harrowed by scratches on each portion where it seemed to be a place where a prince stood. you tilted your head in confusion and curiosity. 

swoosh!

you could've sworn seeing a shadow in one of the balconies in your peripherals, so you sharply turned your head to that direction. yet there was nothing but a gust of wind. 

you swallowed a huge lump in your throat, mustering up all the courage you had in you. you grabbed the candelabrum settled at the cabinet near the front door to have some light as you venture deeper in the castle, calling out to your father. your voice echoed.

you heard incessant whistles by your side. you turned your head and saw a man in one of the elongated mirrors, smiling and waving at you. 

"oi, you seem to be lost." he giggled, getting a good look at you. "are you the one finally for our master?" you tilted your head in confusion as you mused at the man inside the mirror. he was wearing a red suit with a black button up and a frilly, pink tie. he had round eyes and a tiny scar below the left one. but what's most remarkable in him was the straw hat resting on his disheveled, raven locks.

"a word of advice, leave at once. and straw hat-ya, stop humoring her." another voice spoke across from you, another ominous mirror  mounted in one of the pillars beside the stairs. "we shouldn't impose on our master, he'll get his love when he demands it." he had this composed aura, more earnest than the other one. dark, baggy eyes, arms adorned with ink of varied designs, yellow three-fourths button up perfectly hugging his lean torso, he had a goatee and prominent sideburns, and he also had a white, black-spotted northern-style fur hat.

"aaaw, you're no fun torao! don't you want to finally get out of these mirrors?! we haven't gotten on that date i asked you years ago!" the red one whined, jumping in his place with a pout on his face. you could see the other one, pulling his hat down in embarrassment as he stayed quiet. 

you on the other hand, couldn't muster up anything to say. completely trying to piece out whatever the fuck is unfolding in front of you. men flirting in mirrors are certainly not what you expected in this castle! in the silence of your overwrought, another voice emerged from the corner of the castle from what seemed to be a kitchen.

"but we have a deadline, don't we? it's steadily approaching." he calmly uttered as his features got illuminated , wiping his hands with a towel. the only normal you’ve seen in the flesh so far. his noticeably blonde hair was voluminous and almost masked the left side of his sculpted face, blue eyes glowing in the poorly lit manor, his charming face contrasting his burly build clad by a stygian three-piece suit. "allow me to introduce myself. address me as killer, the butler of this castle. that red one is luffy and the one wearing yellow is law. please, follow me to your qua-"

"no!" you immediately refused, suddenly all eyes of the three gentlemen were on you. "i-i'm sorry but, i came here to find my father...! i think he's in danger. can you please take me to where he is?" you desperately interjected, hopeful tone as you pleaded through your eyes.

"i told all of you, she'll come looking for him in an instant. forget the matchmaking." the earnest guy scoffed. you could see the butler sighing but he returned to you with a smile, gesturing for you to follow him. 

as you reached the basement where a dungeon appears to be, you could hear the meek coughs of your father from the corner cubicle. you hurriedly rushed to where he was. he was shivering. you touched his cold fingers from the small window of the cell, trying to warm them up as tears streamed down your face. "n-name! you should run! you're not safe here! hurry, before he comes!"

"i won't go, papa! not without you! are you hurt? you shouldn't stay here, you must be starving. but wait...before who comes?"

in a blink of an eye, you were met with a towering creature as thunder erupted. he was much, much bigger than you, bigger than anything you have ever encountered. he was covered in a red, fur hooded cape; dimming most of his features, a crimson, satin scarf mask covering his lower face and only showing his gleaming, golden eyes, his toned torso bare; the cape shielding the sides of his upper body, his pants were incongruously varied sizes of yellow dots with a black base, and his boots that reached his calves made him even more taller. looming over you, his aura filled with hostility. it's as if he's ready to kill you. 

he reeks of blood. his anonymity, the darkness, and his prodigious size terrified you to an extent that hazed your mind. the glint of his haughty gaze, how he looks at you as something so measly that could be destroyed eventually with little to no effort. he can crush you under him, spill your brain matter in mere seconds. you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. you wanted to run. scream. just fucking get away from your inevitable passing.

“you have the damn gall to enter my castle?! who do you fuckin' think you are?! " he furiously roared. bellowing across the layers of stone carved walls, the glass of the lanterns mounted on the wall cracking at the reverberations of his growl. you stood there, frozen from the fear rushing through you. your hands felt numb. your knees were jelly. the soles of your feet digging by the hard, cobbled floor. you looked up at him teary eyed. 

his bellowing came to a stop when he met your glassy eyes, you didn't miss the hint of hesitation in his eyes. he soon rolled his eyes and avoided your gaze, scoffing. "i'll have you know that the man you call father's been acting foul, woman." 

"w-what?"

"your father took tulips from the garden, our garden. without permission." killer retorted, leaning by the pillars of the jail cell. "the tulip garden is a very important asset to our master. even if permission was asked, our master would be downright enraged."

"damn right. to say the least, i was merciful enough to just detain him." he snarked, kicking the door of your father's cell and laughing to see him flinch. you glared at the towering man, almost punching him if you could just reach him. "tch, entitled humans."

"for flowers?! you detained him for picking flowers?! that's absurd!" you fumed, brows furrowed in indignance. you leaned slightly towards him, boiling in anger.

"insolent fuckin' lass!" he bellowed once more, leaning down at you. you leaned back yet he was still so close you could smell him. you got a good look at his eyes, it's almost as if fires were dancing on the yellows of his eyes. you could see him seething in anger at the mild translucence of his mask, you inhaled his musky scent that mixed with the aroma of freshly laundered garments. "know your place." he ordered, guttural voice rumbling from his chest. 

you shivered at the proximity, stiff beneath his gaze once more. killer stepped in and put a hand on his master's chest. "please! leave her be! she's my daughter!"

"quiet! i'll have your head by midnight!" he barked, your father shivering in cold fear. you stepped in amidst the shaking of your hands, instinctively protecting your father.

"no! s-stay away! please!" you defensively stood at the space between the creature and the door of your father's cell. "whatever it is you're planning to do to him, d-do it to me...! i'll be your prisoner!" 

each man in the dungeon, including your father, had their eyes staring daggers of horror at you. "no, name! please don't!" your father pleaded, tears streaming down his place.

"fine by me!" the creature responded, whirling his cape as he stormed out. "killer, take this man to the carriage and send him to their distasteful village. as for the woman, throw her in jail! she's my prisoner." and with that the door shut. 

it was a tear-filled goodbye. killer had a difficult time prying your father off of you as he was ignoring the pleads you two are giving. and all of it happened in a blur; now, you're crying in the same cell your father was in earlier. 

"oi." luffy called out to killer, preparing the dinner at the kitchen. ignored.

"oi~" no response.

"OII!!!"

"what is it, luffy?" killer returned to the boy in the mirror beside him, voice calmly pissed. his sleeves rolled up as he doused the tarte in brandy and flambéd the dough. it's the appetizer for this evening.

"aren't we gonna matchmake master and that pretty girl?" he pouted, examining and drooling at the tarte he was making. 

"we could but, master's furious right now." he tsked lightly, turning the stove off. "mind doing some...interventions?"

luffy immediately knew what he was talking about and traveled through the master's quarters, after forcing law to come with him of course.

the beast was pacing in his quarters, dour and grubby. curtains lopsidedly hanging on each window, disheveled by multiple scratches. the mattress had its stuffing rumpled and taken out angrily. furnitures broken and dilapidated, thrown across the room. carpet ruggedly clawed. the only light source in the room was a glowing, red tulip encased in a cylindrical glass. its petals slowly falling over time. 

"master!"

"what the fuck is it?"

"torao has a suggestion!"

"w-what?! i-i don't even kno-!" law smacked the smaller lad, the hint of panic at his shaky voice sent luffy snickering. law cleared his throat and uttered, "well. you seem to be perturbed, master. mind lending me an ear to help you feel better?"

"what idiocy are you two up to again?" he scornfully answered, snarling in his seat at the presence of two fellows in the mirror. 

"quite the contrary, my lord. it has something to do with...the guest down at the dungeon." his little pause caused the beast to turn his full attention to the two, luffy hiding behind law at the beast's sudden action.

"what about that damn woman?!"

"she might be the cure to your curse, our curse." law started, earnestly holding the beast's gaze. "we have a great inkling that she will get rid of your bane." the doctor's tone was careful and solemn as he studied the beast's expression, gradually considering his proposition.

after a few moments of silence, the beast huffed a deep breath. "fine. then what do you propose i do with her?"

"a dinner would be nice!" luffy butted in, a bright smile on his face as he emerged from behind law's back. 

"dinner?" the beast asked, puzzled at his suggestion. it has been so long since he shared a meal with someone.

"yes! it's the first step for every date nowadays." luffy rubbed his chin, trying to think back when he peeked at the newspapers killer brought in a few days ago. 

"but i presume giving her a room first would soothe this volatile situation, yes?" law urged.

the beast thought to himself for a moment before finally making up his mind and rushing down to the dungeon. he found you cooped up in the corner as you hugged your knees, biting your lips to try and stop yourself from crying.

"oi, woman!" he slammed the prison cell open.  you flinched at his arrival, nothing but terror mirrored your eyes. 

"i know you're brash as fuck but this is your soon to be bride. being more gentle is the wisest option, jesus christ." law shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. the beast looked a little embarrassed but maintained his brazen front. 

"w-what is it now" you shakily asked, trying to be brave despite your prickling skin.

"...follow me." he turned around, expecting for you to follow him. yet you don't find it in you to stand up and obey this monster. your life was taken away!

"why should i follow you?" you daringly asked, pulling yourself up from the cold, stone floor.

"i'll show you to your room, stop being a fucking pain in the neck before i change my mind." he snarked, looking at you over his shoulder. his aureated orbs flickering, perilously drawing you into him.

"i wouldn't expect manners to come from you but goddamn you are ill-bred." you bit back and he swiftly turned around, bending to your height as he got dangerously close. your heart galloping in your chest.

"irreverence won't help your situation, brat." you felt cold at the gravel of his voice, reaching the back of your throat. you almost choked at the ominous ambience he gave with his words but instead looked away and cleared your throat.

"g-get it over with then." you looked away, looking at him would suffocate you more.

you followed his tall figure, still not getting a good look at him. all you remember from his physical features was his toned torso, snowy skin, piercing golden eyes, and harrowing, gruff voice that never fails to make your heart race from unease. 

"stop boring holes at the back of my head, little mouse. i won't go anywhere." he cheekily teased, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"stop your presumptuous thoughts, beast. as much as i would love to bore actual holes in your fucking boneheaded skull, a lady needs her beauty sleep." snarking, you crossed your arms and blew an air of irritation.

the beast found himself chuckling as he sauntered through the gothic concourse of his manor. "your derision is daring, perhaps you're not aware of your situation."

"i am. i'm just not scared of you." a lie. you're shivering. the tips of your fingers are cold. your mouth was dry. your knuckles were white, uncertain from anger or from fear. you are shaking. it shocked you how bold you are right now.

the beast stopped walking and the sudden urge to flee came to you but you couldn't move. even if he was glaring at you over his shoulder, sharp eyes digging into your soul. he scoffed after continuing his steps, "arrogant woman."

you opted to wisely shut the fuck up before you push yourself further to your demise. not too long after the suffocating silence, you have reached a tall, ivory door accentuated with golden roses. 

"there." he stepped aside, letting you enter. you stand before the door of your room. "don't get too lost in there, it's quite vast."

you twisted the knob in your sweaty palms and was met by an enchanting quarter. it seemed like it did not belong to the castle, it looked too serene.

milky walls generously embellished by medieval ornaments and paintings. high ceilings with exquisite glass chandeliers. a wide traditional canopy bed with upholstered headboards in ashen. a three-mirrored, mahogany vanity lateral to the bed. an arched, bay window at the far side of the room where snowy pillows settled and velvet curtains shielding the sun. it had somehow lulled you to sleep.

"once you're finished gawking, get ready for dinner. i'd like a date who doesn't smell like grime and shit." he stifled a laugh, walking past you.

your cheeks flushed, heart seemingly to fall out of your ass. you tried smelling yourself and goodness how you reek of hell. "h-hey, i didn't agree for a d-date?!"

"you are now." his deep voice echoed in the wide halls of the manor as his figure disappeared in the shadows. 

you sighed as you thought to yourself, what did i get myself into?! men speaking to you in mirrors, you were his prisoner earlier and now you're his dinner date?! what's next? are the appliances gonna move now?!

you almost shat yourself when the closet opened on its own, laying out all the clothes it had in its compartments. the vanity cabinets also sprung open, the variety of cosmetics sprawling out one by one on the desk. the bathroom door opening and the bath started running on its own. you were starting to think you were going off your fucking rocker until luffy spoke in the mirror.

"before you start crying, this is an enchanted palace." he said with both of his hands up, as if trying to stop the tears looming in your eyes. 

"i-it's not haunted?"

"in a way," law intruded, clearing his throat. "you'll know more about it when the master intends to disclose it to you." his tone was stern, it's as if he hadn't smiled in years. "for now, it'd be best to heed to his requests. the amenities in your quarters are doing the work for you. the least you could do is follow through."

"it's ludicrous that you lot think that i will easily agree to the farce you have set up. hah, i mean, how arrogant can you all be?!" you almost threw a fit, furious at the doctor inside the mirror. "unlike you servants, i don't follow that beast! i'd never! i volunteered to be a prisoner because of my father, not because i want to be his date or some other bullshit you lot imposed on me, fucking hell! i refuse to go out!" you crossed your arms, angrily sitting on your flocculent sheets.

"perhaps we might've gone too far and lacked briefing, my lady." a suave voice emanated from the balcony outside, the brawny man in a suit making his way to stand before you at a decent distance. "our master needs a bride quite badly and you appear to be a perfect candidate at a perfect time. the master has a...distinctive way of showing his affinity to particular things but i assure you, you are special to him. i mean, why else will he willingly give a mere prisoner a room himself and invite this prisoner to dinner if he wasn't keen on pursuing her?"

"why make me a prisoner in the first place?" you scoffed, leaning back in your arms and rolling your eyes. "your master's a brat."

"a brat?! she called me a fucking brat?! i'm gonna fucking kill he-"

"sure, kill the only way to save all of us in this damned castle." law blatantly retorted, his words returning all sense in the beast's head.

"i reckon that the situation is incorrigible. she refuses to get in the bath nor even look at some clothes. she's quite stubborn, much like you unfortunately." killer stifled a laughter, fixing his coat afterwards to politely brush off the informality. the beast threw him a glare so deadly common folks could shrivel up and die.

"she doesn't eat then. dinner with me or no dinner at all." he sulked, snarling once more in displeasure.

"pigheaded prince." law mumbled to himself, transferring to another mirror on a different room.

as the grandfather clock chimed across the echoey walls of the palace, the dead of the night came. your stomach was growling and you are longing for food, but boy was your pride strong.

"you and the master are stressing me out, how far do your prides go?! just fucking eat, woman!" law fumed from the vanity mirror as he looked at you in disgust.

"i don't want to see your dishonorable master." you plainly responded, still sulking. "but i can't help my stomach." and there came another growl of hunger.

after careful pacing and overthinking, you opted to make your way down the dining hall and looked for something to eat. in the far side of the room, a light was shining. a silhouette of a tall, broad build was looming at the kitchen illuminated by the fire of the stove.

"apologies for keeping you, here's your dinner." killer welcomed, setting down a bowl with a beef stew.  you thanked him, giving the beautiful man a smile after digging in. 

"you said you refused to go out, did you not?" that ominous and familiar aura sent the hairs on your neck standing, it was near to where the voice was. "funny to see you enjoying yourself here, aye?"

the spoon shook with the shivering of your hand. it's him again. "unless you'd want me dead, i'd stay there gladly. but it seems that you badly need me, as stated by your butler." you cockily retorted, munching on your food to swallow all the fear away.

"that spunk in you. wherever the fuck do you get courage to snark at me like that?" he slammed his hand on the space beside your tableware, the objects jumping at his force. 

"from something called, a mind of my own. something you appear to have none of." you answered, trying your best to maintain this nonchalant front you have. while deep inside, you have nothing but foreboding anxiety.

he laughed to himself, bellowing across the vast dining hall. "you interest me, dollface."

"i'm glad you find me annoying."

"quite the opposite." he sat on the seat across from you, not too far. "i find you amusing. a mere woman, snide enough to keep a conversation with me. you're one of a kind, huh? tell me your name."

"it's a two way street, big guy. i'll tell you mine, you tell me yours." you finally looked at him, setting aside the cutlery and holding his gaze. his eyes were so hypnotic, the swirls of his buttery orbs grew more prominent each time you see him. he contemplated for a while before taking his hood off. 

his thick and bouncy curls resembling flames sprung up at his gesture. he then combed through it with his fingers, pointy nails coated in dark crimson. chunky, curling ram horns were mounted on each side of the crown of his head. he looked devilish and ghastly; you grew more scared and more riveted. a prominent scar on his left eye that appears to be extending down somewhere, you couldn’t see since the mask obstructed his visage. "eustass kidd. the twenty-first generation prince of the eustass monarch." despite his gruff tone, his words managed to smoothly reach you. shit, he's pretty. you almost gawked seeing more parts of him but you restrained yourself.

"name. full name." you returned. "i have to say, for a prince like you, your vulgarity is unexpectedly natural." you went back to your meal, hearing a scoff from him.

"for a lowly townsfolk like you, you've got some damn nerve insulting me like that." you fell silent, his cavernous voice never fails to make the hairs on your back stand. "tell me little mouse, how are you not scared of me?"

"you're no different from the fools in my village." your response was blunt, eating a mouthful of the stew in indignance. "arrogant, selfish motherfuckers."

he clicked his tongue, anger starting to boil. he almost mauled you off of your seat but stopped when he saw a piece of food stuck in your cheek, snickering to himself when he knew how hungry you were.

"you have shit on your face." he blurted out, pointing at you. you stuck your tongue out, trying to reach over at where he was pointing at but with how he was laughing at you, you thought he was fucking with you. 

"whatever game you're playing, i'm not having it you stupid prince."

"oi, you're the stupid one. you really do have shit on your face, dumbass." he insisted. "here let me-" he reached over, you felt his sharp, dark-tinted nails prick lightly on your skin as he scooped the piece of food on your cheek. you got a good look at his scarlet tousled locks and its contrast on his white, porcelain skin. his chest and biceps gravely close to you. you almost recoiled but with the difference of his whetted nails and his velvety touch, you were uncharacteristically undaunted and drawn to it. so much so that it brought heat rushing in your cheeks and your heart hammering to your chest you could hear it going crazy.

what the fuck is going on with you?! why are you flustered?! you berated yourself. you sucked in a deep breath and downed the tall glass of water, swiftly excusing yourself and bolting to your room. man, you need to get some serious talk with yourself. 

kidd plopped down his wingback chair, bitter at your departure.  "why the fuck did she leave?!" he snarled at his servants, as if they could calm him down. 

"i can't deal with this dumbass." law had his head in his hands, agonizing over the moronic prince's thought process. 

"you did a good job, master." killer spoke from the kitchen, wiping the golden wares and storing them in the cabinets. "i presume she's hiding in her room to suppress her budding feelings for you."

"whatever the fuck do you mean?"

"she was blushing, my lord." the blond insinuated, finally looking at the prince who immediately flushed at his remark. a gratifying smile on the butler's lips at his master's realization. "the proximity between the two of you may have gotten to her. her frantic behavior is enough evidence for it."

you on the other hand felt like you were going to faint. you had your back pressed against the door as you had both of your hands at the sides of your face, trying to cool your burning cheeks and collect yourself. your fuzzy mind going places it shouldn't be. he just took food off your face, stop being thirsty! he's a beast for fuck's sake!

you've decided to sleep it off before it gets worse.

once morning came, you were awoken by the bright light outside and a gentle voice jolting you awake. "name, name. wake up, your breakfast is waiting for you."

"what?" you groggily responded, still trying to stomach the fact that you just awoken at the castle of a beast.

"a bath and a new set of clothes has been prepared for you as well, you may choose among the garments; whichever fancies you. i'd rather not hurry you but, the food master left for you might run cold." he said, turning off the faucet of the tub and pointing to the hanged clothes at the rack as he spoke.

you made your way to the dining hall and reveled on the aroma of pancakes, strawberry purée, and brewed coffee. you quickly feasted on the scrumptious food prepared just for you.

too consumed in eating, you didn't notice kidd watching you at the balcony from the second floor, an unseen smile in his lips at the sight of you happily stuffing yourself. 

"falling already?" kidd almost jumped at his butler's voice, almost cursing him out the castle. 

"shut the fuck up."

"why don't you join her, my lord? staring would only make you want for more." the blond teased, inducing the light tint in the prince's cheeks.

killer had been kidd's butler ever since the prince could remember. killer's family have been the butler of the eustass monarch for ten successive years, their families have been deep-rooted and became friends rather than master-servant. when kidd was a little boy, killer and he would always play by the yard and would spend most of the afternoon together doing whatever little boys do. up until kidd reached his adolescence, killer was his servant and confidante. even until the curse was cast upon the prince, the two remained close friends. fortunately, killer wasn’t present when the curse was brought upon the castle since he ran some deliveries but bearing the sight of his family, including the servants and the prince himself, being anathematized; he suffered the same loneliness as them.

“tell her to meet me at the garden afterwards, refusal is not an option.” he ordered, making his way to his quarters.

“what folly does that prince want?” you raised a brow. 

“he didn’t mention anything else other than that, my lady. although i have a hunch that what awaits you is something special.” he smiled, picking up your used wares.

you pondered and gazed over the garden. it does look pretty. what could possibly go wrong in the garden? it wouldn’t hurt to explore a little, right? as much as you don’t want anything to do with that beast, your curiosity at his peculiarity and mystery weighed more than your rationality. as someone who is imaginative, your affinity to books has honed this attitude of yours; sometimes benefiting you and often not. and so you listened to your heart rather than your head, such a rare occurrence.

as you pushed through the arched, glass double doors, you were met with the sun blinding you. you covered the top of your vision with your hand to take in the sight before you. you felt the damp soil under the soles of your sandals. the whistling of birds, skittering squirrels, and fluttering of butterflies across the viridescent bushes as they appear to be greeting you. the breeze of the wind rustled the leaves, soon blowing through your hair and soothing you. you inhaled the aroma of the pleasant tang of tulips, hydrangeas, sunflowers, camellias, amaryllises,  and berries. and at the far side of the garden you saw that all-knowing, fiery, currant hair, your heart hitching at the sight. you almost drummed your chest to calm it down but took a deep breath instead.

you sauntered across the dense fields of grass towards the gazebo where he was standing tall and gazing at the river. “saw anything you like?” he started, turning to you as you reached him. you somehow got lost in his eyes once more, the clarity of his features in the sun intoxicating you. 

“t-the tulips were…cute.” you rubbed your arms, avoiding his gaze.

“what’s wrong?” he furrowed his brows, leaning down at you to try and get a view of your expression. “saw anything you hate?” 

“other than you, no.” you mumbled under your breath, turning your back to him to try and get away from his stifling presence.

kidd chuckled.  there she is. he thought to himself. “tell you what, little mouse.” he leaned down closer to your ear, resting a hand on your shoulder. “i don’t normally do this but, pick whatever you like, it’s gonna be all yours.”

he was so close you thought he heard how fast your heartbeat thundered. you quickly pulled back, walking backwards to the field of tulips as you waved at him. she really does get flustered at the closeness. he mumbled grinning, pleased at himself.

he watched you as you strolled across his garden, heading straight for the pink tulips. you bent down to their height, smiling to yourself as you plucked out a handful. you take in delight the blossomy aroma of the garden and the pleasant singing of the birds surrounding you. what a sight to behold. how his heart won’t stop fluttering at the sight of you dear god. how peaceful you are, how he never seem to feel serenity before you arrived. never in his life, has he witnessed someone so delicate, so divine, and so feisty enough to measure up to his own pugnacious self. he’s pissed off at you, yes. at how daring you are and how sharp your insults are. yet he can’t get enough of it. the fire that doesn’t seem to falter even if he daunts you. he finds it annoyingly attractive.

“he’s completely under her spell, don’t you two think?” killer muttered to the two lads in the mirror. 

“he’s whipped as fuck if you ask me.”

“oi that’s how i look at you, torao.” luffy blurted out. the older lad intensely blushing and hitting the smaller at the remark.

“tulips, huh?” he abruptly spoke behind you. you almost jumped at his presence.

“yeah. they’re rather exquisite.” you smiled at the bouquet of tulips clutched close to your chest.  “a unique one out of the bunch.” you mused at the widespread flowers at the yard. 

“it means perfect and deep love in the language of flowers.” you continued. “it dates back to when two lovers fell in love and met a tragic end. much like romeo and juliet but… juliet actually died; driving the other one mad, he killed himself and the tulips grew where his blood was spilled.”

“s-sorry, that was witless. i-i just read about stupid shit like this a lot, i’ll shut u-”

“fuck no.” he interrupted. “go on with that thing you call stupidity then, i want to hear more.”

a shaky smile on your face starts to widen once his words had sunk in. you giggled, carrying on a tangent about flowers, its legends, and etymologies. while he sat down on the lawn with you, listening and remarking from time to time. admiring the way your eyes beam with genuine happiness and how you never ran out of things to say.

“ten years? you’ve been isolated for a whole fucking decade?!”

“damn right, no contact from the outside. drove me crazy for a while, but it grew on me. i wore insanity as a fuckin’ cape.” he laughed to himself, seemingly proud for reaching this far.

“how’d you last this long?”

“i’ll… show you somewhere.” he had hesitation in him but it was clear that he was eager to show wherever it is he wants to show you.

he took you to a place, not far from the garden. it was a little shack, quite dilapidated. built of planks as its walls and cobblestones as its roof. he entered first before opening the door for you. and you have to say, each time you enter a room in this castle, you are enchanted.

you couldn’t help but be enamored at the trinkets that filled the shelves that was mounted on the walls of the vast shack. they were all intricately done, meticulously built with torques, bolts, and metal scraps of varying sizes. a range of sculptures of animals, mythical creatures, abstract designs, body parts, and the like. a big, wooden workbench settled at the far side of the room where different knicknacks reside messily.

“done gawking?” he nervously laughed. “you don’t have to fucking like it, i know it’s not that mu-”

“shut up, kidd! this is breathtaking!” you clasped both of your hands together before your mouth. “the amount of patience, the creativity, the time it took, h-how did you…”

“y-you shut up.” he looked away, thankful for his mask which covered the flushing of his cheeks. 

“can i touch them?”

“can i hold them?”

“can i keep one?”

you were giddy and he found it adorable. he doesn’t understand what he was feeling and he hated it. he hated how he wants you to fawn over him and his works. he hated how he craves for your elation. he hated how he wanted to show off more of his aptitude to you. he hated how funny you make him feel. “j-just don’t break anything. i’ll make you do it all over again if you do, numbskull.”

“but if you’re gonna take something, take this.” he towered over you, reaching at one of the shelves above you. “‘s a necklace, nothing special.”

your heart melted at the sight of gold-lacquered jewelry in your hands, glimmering at the glowing afternoon. “when did you make this?”

“it was a long time ago, i was like…fuckin’ 12? ‘s my mom’s.”

you looked up, surprised. “hold up! 12?! and why are you giving me this if it’s your mom’s?”

“j-just fuckin’ take it and stop yammerin’ off, fuckin’ hell.” he stormed out the workshop, ears red. was he that angry that it reached his ears?

“h-hey!” you hesitantly called out, running out the shack into the field where he was standing. “thanks for… not treating me like shit. and this necklace too..!  you create… beautiful things.” you fiddled with the bundle of metal on your palms, not meeting his eyes because your cheeks are outright ablaze right now. your mouth is running dry. your head is fuzzy. the base of your fingers sweating waterfalls. and all you could hear was your wavering voice and the deafening pummels of your heartbeat.

there was a moment of silence. you tried and peek at his expression because christ does the complete absence of sound gnawed at you. you saw him covering the span of his upper cheek from the left side, across the bridge of his nose, into the right side with his palm. his eyes also refusing to meet yours. to your surprise, he was also brightly red; it was evident even if his scarf mask hid most of his face. 

“i-it’s fuckin’ nothing, s-shut the fuck up and let me fuckin’ breathe jesus christ.” he said in one breath, trying his best to not slur his words. “i-i need fuckin’... air.” he mumbled, not even looking at you as he sauntered far, far away.

he left in the middle of the field; dizzy at the events, flushed and bothered. you bent down and hugged your knees, burying your face in your palms as you screamed through your nose silently. resting both of your hands beside your face to regulate your temperature once more. cause fuckin’ hell has it been going wild ever since you arrived here. 

as days passed through, you had either spent most of your days doing chores or experimenting with food in the company of the three servants. you had managed to establish a camaraderie between the four of you. baking with killer has been delightful, he always has the most intriguing stories about the prince.

as for the prince, you almost never see him after that incident in the shack. whenever you find him in a room and it’s just the two of you or the other way around, he always leaves you and won’t say anything. absolute avoidance. 

so you’ve decided to take matters in your own hands and head to his quarters. they’ve told you it was forbidden, that he would be more than bent out of shape. as if that ever stopped you. 

you traversed the west wing. same high ceilings, aristocratic paintings, and golden chandeliers. in the far middle of the vast room, there lied a scraped up wooden door. you immediately knew that it was his.

you tried knocking a few times but was met with silence. so you entered and was met with an ominous, abraded room. frayed carpet, broken windows, scratched curtains, broken bed frames, rugged furniture stacked upon each other. it scared you, and made you want to call out to him. 

until you saw that tulip encased in a glass, emitting a soft glow. unlike any other tulips in his garden, this one looked distinct. you got closer to have a better look. tilting your head as you examine the glittering object.

“the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“i-i’m sorry you didn’t answer so-”

“you fuckin’ trespassed, is that it?! get out before i change my mind!”

“b-but i still have some ques-”

“out!” he growled, thunder erupting once more. for the first time, fear had completely taken over you from the force of his voice and his aura. minatory gaze chilling in your spine. you ran out his room, into the garden of tulips, trying to calm down and get some air.

“it seems you have made a wrong move, master.” killer spoke, as the both of them gaze out the window.

“i don’t care.” cold. but man, killer’s right and it’s painfully annoying.

a few hours after, you were with the men in the kitchen as you ranted your heart out. 

“what’s wrong with him?” you frowned, kneading the dough in your powdered hands. almost as if pouring all of your frustrations in the paste between your hands.

“everything.” law said in passing, rolling his eyes. 

“i suppose you’ve bewitched the master.” killer returned as he mixed the gouache for the dessert later at dinner. “your little thanks and gesture at the garden had sent him into a state of deep coma. he almost never eats too, says his stomach felt funny these days. ”

“i-i don’t understand…?”

“other than his late mother, he never felt anything remotely close to rapport to other women; only indifference. you see, the master is awfully confused. emotions are somewhat foreign to him. why don’t you help and make it clear to him?”

“make what clear?”

“that the feeling is mutual.”

“w-what feeling?!” you grew rather agitated, trying to piece out whatever killer was saying.

“ah. they’re both dumb.” luffy snickered, rubbing his nose. 

you could see the mild frustration in the butler’s eyes, he sighed softly before continuing. “nevermind that now, the master has prepared another something for you.”

the mention of him jolted you awake, “is he finally gonna come out of his fuckin’ cage?” it sounded bitter but boy were you hopeful to see him again, not like you’d admit that.

“as a matter of fact, he will. he is waiting right now.” he straightened up, gesturing at the yard leading to the riverside.

“h-huh?!” you tilted your head in confusion, “but it’s… dark out.”

“precisely.” a playful smile crept on the blond’s lips.

“how can you have a bonfire when it’s bloody bright out?” law’s tone was sardonic, crossing his arms.

“aww torao they’ll stargaze at the riverside! do you remember when we do that?!” the rubber boy shook the doctor in excitement, instigating the bright tint of pink in the taller lad’s cheeks.

“what took you so fuckin’ long?” the prince ‘greeted’ you with a frown. before him was a bonfire, not far from the riverside as water splashes against each other. he was sitting on a snowy, silk cloth spread across the silty ground. a woven basket, red and white checkered fabric blanketing the inside, a variety of sustenance ranging from loaves, finger fruits, packed sandwiches, and two bottles of exorbitant-looking rum. 

“that’s not the issue here, kidd.” you firmly started, brows furrowed and face red from fury. the scowl in his face got deeper since he expected you to be delighted, he was stunned at your tantrum.  “you’re baffling me! you shower me with all those romance, ignore me for seven days, and then have a bonfire, stargazing at the beach date after?! make one thing clear, eustass kid! what the fuck do you intend to do with me?! are you just doing these things on a whim?! are you having fun playing with my feelings?!”

he avoided your gaze. hands curlings into fists because he’s mad that you’re right. he doesn’t even know what’s going on with himself either. he always feel sick around you, feels like he’s gonna vomit fuckin’ glitter as he put it. his head is all fuzzy and full of the thought of you. 

“...sit down.” he said under his breath. you sighed and did so.

he took a deep breath before going on a tangent. “even i have no fuckin’ idea how this romance thing works! i thought the solitude in this castle will drive me crazy but no, you fuckin’ did!  i want to avoid how good i feel about you. i hate that you’re right about every little thing and i want to praise you for it. i hate how i always want to hear your voice. i hate how i always seem to fuckin’ look for you. in those seven days of avoidance, i stopped myself. because i know that if i didn’t i’ll be far too gone. i fuckin’ hated that i’m starting to fall deeper with you, goddamn it!  all these damn years i’ve been condemned to hell on earth, i lost all hope. and then your cute ass fuckin’ showed up.” 

your chest tightened as butterflies bloomed in your chest and your ears rang continuously. you were frozen. he repeats ‘hate’ a lot but it all sounds like love to you. the way he frolics in his seat as he tries to muster up his words. with the contrast of how red he is and how he ‘hates’ you so much, you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself and grow cocky.

“you think i’m cute, huh?”

“fuck off, little mouse.”

“if that’s your declaration of love i’m taking it.”

“it’s not.”

“really?”

“no.”

“‘cause i feel the same way.”

“fuck yo- wait really?!”

you hid your face in your palms, trying to regulate your heartbeat and temperature. after a long while of silence from getting tongue-tied at the confessions, you both faced each other and laughed it off.

“since you love me so much, fulfill a request for me.” you scooted closer. hands brushing by his sinewy arms, up to his broad shoulders, up to the thick column of his neck, to his half-clothed face. you could feel him going hot under your touch. “take it off for me. the mask.”

he hesitated for a while, before untying the knot behind his head. the satin material flowing graciously down his lap, revealing the lower part of his face. the canines of his lower teeth were prominent, both reaching up to his cheekbones. his scar that you noticed a few days ago, extended down the left side of his face down to his neck; seeming to be extending even further to his chest. 

he carefully watched how your face will contort. will it be fear? disgust? prejudice? he expected you to recoil from whatever grotesque visage you’re seeing but no. even you got shocked at your actions.

you reached over, cupping his cheeks with glassy eyes and a smile as you tried stifling your sobs. you then wrapped both of your arms around his neck and pulled him close. he grew awfully red at your embrace. “thank you for being brave enough to show me.”

his heart swelled in his chest, it seemed surreal that such words were uttered to a beast like him. how could you endear someone so inhuman and jarring like him? no one has thanked him for showing his face, only shrieks of fear and disgust yet here you are smiling before him.

as the night deepens, so was your warmth for each other. talking about all things possible. the moon scintillating, casting a soft glow on each other’s faces. 

in the quietness of the river and the tree branches you two were under, it was not too long after both of you started taking swigs of rum. the sweet yet bitter taste filling your being. you were settled between his legs, he was leaning back to the tree bark to support your and his’ weight, his heartbeat steady on your back, his thick fingers combing through your locks; his piercing nails giving your head little cozy scratches as it lulled you to drowsiness, while the other hand intertwined with yours. 

“you feel warm.” he lowly mumbled, placing his chin on top of your head. you snuggled closer to the juncture between his neck and shoulders. “it’s sweet.”

“am i?” you purred, hiccupping afterwards; obviously drunk as shit.

“that was just half a bottle, how are you drunk?”

“i don’t drink much.” you giggled uncontrollably. startled by your own actions, you suddenly straddled yourself on his lap. 

you held his face between your hands and placed a kiss on his forehead, holding it for a while. “never knew i’d fall with someone like you.”

“what, someone like a beast?” he scoffed.

“someone so out of everyone’s leagues yet i managed to draw you into mine. i like it. more than the fantasy of ideal men in fiction. more than the love stories i dreamed of being on. more than the written words i dreamed of hearing. more than the romance the books had taught me.” you declared. “you stand on top of all of them, my prince.” you rubbed your thumb on his tinted cheeks, tracing his horns with your fingers. you soon got lost in his eyes reflecting the rising sun from the east, falling deeper as you stare even further.

“why’re you gettin’ all fuckin’ sappy,” he tried looking away, quickly heating up. shortly after, you soon nestled in his arms and returned to the cuddle position you two had earlier where he was behind you. 

“do the books also tell you that,” his hand crept up under your shirt, immediately startling you as his cold hands stung in your warm skin. “couples do this.” he continued, hand rubbing on your stomach, precariously trailing up to your chest.

“w-what are you-” you tried stopping him but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, melting in his touch.“we’re not a fucking couple.”

“not yet.” his hands roamed even further inside, playing with the seams of your bra. “tell me little mouse, how does it feel?” 

“p-prick.” you should stop him before it escalates to something more yet you want him to keep going, even further. his breath is hot against your neck. his fangs brushing by your ear.  “i feel like throwing my fist in your stupid face.”

“mm.” he grinned, both hands running on your waist. he pressed his nose on your head, inhaling your scent before placing a kiss on your ear. “want me to keep going?”

“fuck you.”

he then unhooks the clip of your undergarment, you felt the peril creeping up in your neck together with his small hums. “never knew you were this hungry for me.” you added.

“oh, you’ll find out now.” he whispered in a low voice. “the sexual tension was too palpable, no?” his hands slid beneath your now loose undergarment, his serrated nails poking you from time to time as he kneaded your mounds in his massive palms.  

“degenerate.” you said it bitterly through half-lidded eyes. but you were just trying to mask the great amount of pleasure he’s arousing off of you.

“but you love it so much, aye?” he whispered, his fangs poking in your ear. “by the time dawn comes, you won’t be whining so much, i promise you.” his words spread electricity across your body, his smoky voice drying your throat and awakening something in you.

“go on then,” you turned around and slid your clothes off over your head, watching him fall completely red and crazy over you as his eyes scanned each curve and detail of your body. “do what you want with me.”

moments after, the alcohol soon had taken an effect and you had a hazy memory of whatever unfolded. but you know one thing for sure, you fell asleep in his arms after a long while of pleasure under the stars. 

the blinding sun jostled you two awake. you grumbled lightly as you nuzzled your face in his chest, where the minimal shading of the tree you two are under was prominent enough to hide from the light. he hugged you tighter, rubbing your bare shoulders. “oi, wake up and get a good look at your prince.”

it took you a while to register what he was saying, your mind was still cloudy from sleep. but you sprung up immediately and got a good look at his face, the daylight glow accentuating his sharp features.

“who the fuck are you?!” you instantly got on your feet, clutching the blanket wrapped around you and getting the most amount of distance from this dashing young man before you. 

he bellowed a laugh. but this time, it’s not chilling anymore, it’s dreamy enough to bloom flowers and spread butterflies on your stomach. 

“it’s me, the man you’re so crazy about.” he smugly retorted, opening his arms for you.

you narrowed your eyes before it all finally came back to you. you ran to his arms, hugging him so tight he fell on his back. he returned your hug. one arm spanning across the width of your back, getting tighter with each second while the other propped you both up. burying his nose in your neck, the absence of fangs makes it easier to plant kisses at the juncture between your neck and shoulders. brows furrowing as he inhaled your scent once more, relishing at the touch of you. 

“a little fuckin’ tight, mouse.” he complained, almost choking. 

you pulled away, scrutinizing him as you placed both hands at the sides of his face while you straddle his lap. you traced your fingers across his high cheekbones and hollow cheeks sculpted by the gods. mused at his intense, canary eyes reeling you in as you studied each feature in his face in the aurora. you run your fingers across his extremely defined and narrow nose bridge. down to his plump lips that kissed you all night until daybreak. “you’re fucking stunning, i can’t believe i got my hands on you.” 

despite his rose-tinted cheeks, he managed to plaster a cocky grin on his face. “i’m all yours, don’t worry.”

“NAAAMEE!!!” you hear your name being shouted from a distance, it grew closer each second. you furrowed your brows and looked back. there you see luffy and law, jogging by the vast fields. “we’re turned back! y’all did it!” you raised a brow in confusion. you assumed that since kidd turned back, they might as well too?

as luffy jumped in both of you two’s arms and rejoiced loudly, law and killer stayed back watching the two of you try and manage luffy’s embrace.

“who would’ve thought master would find love?” killer sighed in relief.

“they’re both crazy, of course it’d work out well.” the doctor responded, arms crossed.

after having a banquet for breakfast with the members of the manor, you and kidd have decided to bathe in his black, porcelain tub at his master’s bedroom. washing each other up, scrubbing each other’s backs, playing with the foamy bubbles, and rambling about all sorts of things. time seems to pass by but you couldn’t care less, you have all the time in the world to spend it with him.

subsequently after lunch, kidd decided to take you somewhere after blindfolding you. guiding you as he held your hand and shoulders to arrive at where he wants to take you.

“what is it?! stop pushing!”

“be fuckin’ patient, alright?”

as soon as he took off your blindfold, you were met with walls upon walls of books. two balconies with mahogany railings, extending to each side of the room. shiny, porcelain floors where you could almost see your reflection on. a reading nook on a tall window seat with pillows and linen sheets. books of all kinds filling all the shelves brought enormous bliss to you.  

“kidd this is…”

“yeah it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he scanned the room, then back to you. “it’s all yours.”

you turned to him, smiling ear to ear. you wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping into his embrace. “it’s everything i ever dreamed of.”

he placed a kiss at the crown of your head, hugging you just as tight as you did. you spend the afternoon rummaging through the sets of books as he follows you around like a puppy, taking pleasure in your euphoria. once you’ve picked out books, you read it to him and he patiently listens and watches how your face always has that gleeful sheen when you’re around your books.  you even taught him how to read piece by piece, it was an intimate moment you’d want to relive over and over again.

shortly after, you got yourself fixed up for dinner. the servants had taken their time in applying cosmetics and perfume to you whilst preparing different sets of gowns. lines of dresses with shades of varied colors and unique designs. but what caught your eye was the voluminous, off-the-shoulder, dandelion ball gown. it was conically tiered as the ruffles of the silhouette extended down to the floor. there were matching creamy, yellow gloves and golden pearl earrings. 

finally getting dolled up, you made your way to the castle ball room. before you went down the stairs, you saw kidd waiting in a three-piece, blue and white suit with a tailcoat. you snorted at yourself because of how proper he looks, he furrowed his brows at you at your remark.

“the fuck you snickerin’ at?” he said, holding out his hand for you. 

“nothing,” you pressed your lips together to contain your laugh. “you just look too formal, ‘s not like you.” you took his hand and he grabbed your waist, eventually getting into position for the dance. 

soon, the melody of the classical orchestra resounded. 

“you’re a good dancer, not bad.” you praised him.

“‘s nothing, one of the few things they drilled into royals back then.” he bragged, “you suck, though.” he snorted, looking down at you.

you blushed in embarrassment at his remark. “shut up or i’ll step on you.” you said through gritted teeth.

“by all means,” he winked. “you look fuckin’ amazing.” he leaned closer, placing a kiss on your ear.

“how’ll you tell your father? he probably hates my guts.” he instigated, laughing bitterly.

“he’ll love you… soon. trust me.” you tried comforting him with a soft smile. “for now, let’s just have ourselves a good dance, yeah?”

you hugged him close, placing your chin on his shoulder as he rested atop your head. reveling in each other’s arms according to the tune of the music across the lofty ceilings, porcelain floors, and widely decorated walls. 

when the next day came, you two had visited your village. your father almost had a heart attack from the attractive man you’ve brought home. when you told him it was the beast, he almost threw all his tools at him but you explained it to him and he calmed down. it’ll take some warming up, but kidd is more than happy to go through all that for you.

BRO FINALLY PUTTING THIS OUT GODDAAAAAAAAMNNN this is actually my first time using writing guides and thorough description i hope it was immersive uwu

[wurm-food]

I posted 6,653 times in 2022

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#seriously it's been like all of puberty 2 and then a random alice glass song and world is mine because uta has to have miku on her playlist

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

wake up friends, Halloween Uta just dropped from Oda!

231 notes - Posted October 25, 2022

#4

Cheering Up Their S/O (Katakuri + Law x GN!Reader)

Request: katakuri or law headcanons on how they'd cheer their partner up when they're feeling bad?

Word count: 0.9k One Piece Master List

CW: SFW, fluff, reader is feeling down

Notes: for @undying-gayboy, I hope you like them! This is my first time doing head canons so hope these turned out ok :) Read this work on AO3!

Taglist: @theogonies @nekomacheercaptain @uchihabbynic @spiderheaven @jordyn-degas @hooliescorner Join my taglist

See the full post

239 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

#3

Sunrise | New Day (Sanji x F!Reader)

Summary: "Sanji raised a curly eyebrow at you, not buying your half-assed excuse for a moment. But alas, he decided to humor you. After all, when a woman lies, a real man forgives her."

You awaken early before your crewmates and find yourself hanging out with Sanji while he makes breakfast. Only problem is, you haven't figured out how to process your feelings for him yet.

Word Count: 2.5k One Piece Master List

CW: SFW, Fluff, friends to lovers, terrible lying about your feelings on your part, Sanji may be a simp but you're worse

Notes: I can't stop writing fluff for Sanji, so please enjoy this new sweet offering. :) This work is lightly inspired by the song "Sunrise" by Norah Jones. Follow this work on AO3!

Whether you liked it or not, you were awake.

The black vignette of sleep slowly receded from your vision as you rubbed your eyes. You sat up from your bed and looked out the window towards the vast horizon, the soft glow of the sun awaited to kiss the edge of the sea. It was beautiful and serene. These were the last few hours of peace before the hustle and bustle of the Thousand Sunny would soon awaken.

Beautiful, but far too early for your liking.

You turn to your sleeping compatriots. Robin slept peacefully in her bed, a pair of reading glasses barely hanging from her fingers from her late night reading. Nami was asleep at her desk, arms crossed underneath her face as she laid on top of her latest map. A great feeling of peace washed over you even more than the impending dawn. You had only been a part of the crew for a short time, you became close to your shipmates rather quickly. Friends weren't something that came to you easily and family was a complicated concept to you. But seeing the dreaming faces of your fellow nakama warmed your heart. You quietly left your bed and walked to Robin's side, softly plucking the dangling glasses from her fingertips and setting them on top of the book she was reading. Grabbing the soft throw blanket at the foot of your bed, you gently lay it across Nami's shoulders. You can't imagine sleeping like that was comfortable, but you didn't dare wake her.

Making your way to the vanity, you stare back to your own puffy eyes and messy, tangled hair. Hey, good lookin' , you quipped to yourself. You always had a sleepless, unkempt look about your appearance no matter how much rest you got. You grabbed the worn, baggie hoodie you brought from your home and pulled it over your head, brushing your voluminous waves to one shoulder. You noted the special feeling of being wrapped in something soft to cut the chill of the morning ocean air. Carefully opening the cabin door, you intended to make your way to the washroom. Suddenly, a tall, slender figure appeared from the corner of your eye.

He stood on the stairs, leaning against the wall to light his first cigarette of the day. Radiant blonde hair fell in his face as he lifted his head to take a drag and exhale slowly, opening his brilliant blue eyes. Those same eyes slowly met yours, followed by a head tilt and a soft smile.

"Well, good morning, beautiful. Didn't expect to see you awake this early." Sanji spoke coyly with a dash of pleasant surprise.

Despite what your heart was telling you, you scoffed and rolled your eyes at the compliment. You gesture at your haphazard appearance, "In all my glory".

Sanji chuckled, which made you return a sleepy smile back. "Whatever you say, sunshine. Join me in the kitchen, will ya? I'll make us some coffee."

"Sounds great, be there in a sec." You turned and waved as you made your way to the washroom, slightly holding your breath. As soon as you close the door, you let out a long sigh.

You figured you'd run into him at some point this morning. As the ship's cook, he was often the first crew member awake. He loved his crew just as much as he loved his craft, so he rose early to prep ingredients for the day, check inventory (especially if Luffy was seeming extra devious around the meat stores), and began breakfast for the Strawhats.

You put your face in your hands and squeezed it hard enough for stars to dance around your vision before looking at your beet red complexion in the mirror. Sanji was a chronic flirt with literally every woman with a pulse and two tits. But something about him made your heart flutter and your brain turn to mush. And that feeling made you nauseous. After all, nakama was the name of the game in piracy. And though he drove you crazy (in more ways than one), he was your friend and family above all else. You would much rather be eaten by a Sea King than damage the very precious bond you had with your crew. Cold water slapped your face, hoping to wash away the residual sleepiness and school-girlish infatuation from your eyes. Pull it together, Y/N . Taking one last deep breath, you exit the room and make your way to the kitchen.

"Hey, Y/N!" Sanji turned towards you as he poured hot water from a kettle. The smell of coffee wafted towards you and you feel your senses come back to life. You take a deep inhale as the warm, caramel aroma fills your lungs. "Give it a few minutes to brew, then I'll pour you a cup."

"Thanks, Sanji", you reply with a smile. "Need any help with breakfast?"

His head turned to you again, eyes a little brighter. You were one of the few crew members he allowed in the kitchen while he worked and the only one he let help him. You never tried to steal food out from under him or pestered him about how hungry you were. You were typically silent, helping clean dishes as they were dirtied or minding the pot while Sanji attended to something else for the meal. You occasionally asked about his cooking techniques, watching with wonder as he effortlessly deglazed a pan or fileted a fish. You'd listen to him talk about the dishes he made, how important it was to care for every ingredient no matter how small. Sometimes, he'd share a story about his time growing up on the Baratie , fondly reminiscing about his teachings from Chef Zeff.

"Why don't you do the honor of choosing today's meal? I'll cook whatever your sweet heart desires.", he said with a boyish smile that made your heart sing. Though, that was a tough choice. Sanji took care in preparing meals that were balanced, filling, and delicious, perfect for a life at sea with some of the hungriest pirates you'd ever met. One dish in particular stood out in your mind. He made it a short time ago, but the delicious and comforting taste stayed in your mind, beckoning your thoughts back to your childhood. You thumbed through one of his cookbooks until you finally found what you were looking for. 

"This one,” you finally said. It was a humble dish with not a lot of substance, made on a whim as a snack for the female members of the crew. Not something that would keep the crew filled for very long. "I know it's not much, but I haven't stopped thinking about it since you made it. It reminds me of home, I guess."

A small smile curled on the edges of Sanji's lips, eyes softening again when you finally look back at him. You feel a flush beneath your skin. "As you wish! I'm glad know it was well received," he said, proudly. You couldn't help but notice the slight tinge of pink on his own cheeks. You gave him a very high compliment, after all.

"I'm sure Luffy will give you a hard time looking for his next meal." you stammer, slightly embarrassed, wishing you could take the suggestion back.

"I'll prep some extra meat, don't worry. I can't pass up a special request from a very special lady, you know!", his heart-eyes practically popping out of his sockets. Your heart beamed, but you quickly tried to swallow the feeling building within your chest. You were special to him, but not that special. Not in the way you truly wanted to feel. There was no point in getting your hopes up for that.

You turned your attention to the piping hot carafe of coffee and decided to make the first move, pouring Sanji a cup of coffee first, followed by yourself. You smirk and raise your cup in half-hearted cheers as he nodded in return. "You should grab a seat and keep me company. I don't want you slinking off and acting all mysterious and distant" he said, eyeing you knowingly, somehow reading that you wanted to take your coffee to go.

" Mysterious , you say?" You played along. You admit that you were sometimes rather closed off, but the crew noted recently that you had been dropping your walls little by little. And you tended to be rather cheeky with the cook, using playful banter to deflect your own feelings towards him while keeping the air light.

"Yeah, you tend to brood," he said. "You kind of look like this. " The tall man somehow managed to make himself look small, squinting his eyes and holding his coffee cup with both hands and staring out at the sea. He let out a wistful, elongated sigh and placed one of his hands under his chin. After a moment, he perked back up and shot you a wide smile, chuckling at himself. "Did I get that right?"

You couldn't help but laugh. It was pretty spot on. "You're an ass, you know that?" You felt the insecurity in your body fade as you gave in to the joy of the here and now. This was your relationship with Sanji, friendly teasing and companionship, admiration and respect. Despite your desire to hide your romantic feelings towards him, there was no denying the fact that you had a certain chemistry together.

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339 notes - Posted October 9, 2022

#2

New CSM chapter full of high quality, swagless behavior from Denji lmaooo

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398 notes - Posted November 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I wish I could say I wrote this review of Chainsaw Man

978 notes - Posted October 13, 2022

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[strawberrypiratenin]

Halcyon

Part I: Wisdom of a Moss

Disclaimer:  One Piece and it’s wonderful characters is owned by Eiichiro Oda.  The following work of fiction is just my way of filling in some spaces in his work with my shameless imagination.

This and my other work is also available in ff.net. 

Rating: K+

Word Count: 4k+

Genre: Friendship, Comfort, Humor, sprinkle of Fluff 

Pairing: Zoro/Nami

Summary:  Set after Ch. 955 in the manga. Nami reflects on their current journey and her worries are let known to a certain swordsman.

A/N: Being the ones to be beside Luffy since the very beginning, I figured if there is someone to reflect on how their journey has been it has to be these two. Seeing also how they have the dynamic of Nami being worrisome and Zoro comforting just telling her how things are (e.g. Davy back fight, Usopp leaving the crew), I thought if someone in the crew is going to feel this way, it would be Nami, with Zoro being there to talk it out. 

This was supposed to be a one- shot but I ended up having a vision of a scene to wrap this up which I’m trying to get to. So looks like there would be more.  Hopefully I somehow mostly stayed in character. Hope you enjoy.

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"What's a dango?" the Strawhat's doctor asked, eyes glinting, as Sanji helped unload the fragrant boxes of dango sent by one of the allies. They were gathered around a table in their small camp. The preparations for the raid in Onigashima nearing its completion.

" Hmm…dango? Ah yes, you see Chopper, it's a type of weapon, disguised as colorful treats that when eaten, causes one to be hypnotized and start walking backwards! An assassin once tried this weapon on me…" Usopp started explaining as the glint in the poor reindeer's eyes started to die out.

"…but you see the great and mighty Uso—"

"Wrong!" The blonde cook shouted, sandaled foot connecting on the sniper's head. "Stop disrespecting food like that!"

Nami cringed at the thought of a hypnotizing, backward walking individual they had once encountered.

"It's a sweet rice dumpling, Chopper. And no, it won't hypnotize you when you eat it." Nami said sweetly, to the relief of the horrified reindeer.

Nami's eyes narrowed to the now laying on the ground Usopp and huffed.

"I should go call the others."

"No Onami- swan! How about you stay here and let's have someone else call the others." Sanji said, glaring at Usopp, who's now nursing a bump on his head.

"It's okay Sanji- kun," she said, forcing a smile on her face. "I needed the walk anyway."

"If you say so mellorine~, shall I accompany you?" said the cook, with hearts on his eyes.

"Just stay here and guard the food Sanji- kun." Giving one last weak smile, the navigator turned to leave, feeling the need to be by herself with her thoughts.

"Alright you shits! Nobody eats until Nami swan gets back here!"

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

It was easy to find the others as the Strawhat navigator was almost trampled on her way by their captain as he shouted "food! Where's the food?" and took off running excitedly to where she pointed without another word.

She found Robin with Franky, who just got back from the port, and Brook who excitedly claimed how great that would be with tea, the thought just warms his insides, although ah! He does not have any insides.

Only one more left to find. She's just hoping he did not get lost somewhere far.

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Bamboo leaves rustled as a breeze passed through the forest, orange tresses swayed along, its owner slowly getting lost in her thoughts as the very person she was looking for started to creep on her mind.

"...Zorojuro, I will be blunt with you, if it were me, I would not accept this blade", suggested Kinemon.

One clean strike. Rumble.

Nami wasn't able to stifle her gasp as she watched a huge chunk of the edge of the cliff splash into the waters below.

"Gyaah! Zorojuro's arm!"

Her eyes widened as she watched Zoro's sword wielding arm appear to emaciate after the swing of this new sword. Her mouth open, about to call out at him…

"You! Give it back to me!"

…and she watched as his arm returned to normal, the swordsman seemingly having tamed the sword.

She stood in shocked silence. 'what a scary weapon' she thought, hand on her mouth dropping to her chest as the heartbeat that has quickened its pace started to calm down.

"If you were just some normal swordsman, you would have had all you energy sucked out and collapsed immediately", Hitetsu commented.

The swordsman's face spread into a devilish grin. "So it means once I get used to this sword I'll be stronger? I'll take it, Enma."

A small frown started to form on the navigator's lips. She can't deny the fear that gripped her insides when she saw what happened to Zoro's arm. Such scary power, and he was very much willing to wield it to get stronger.

She let out a huff as she recalled everything they have been through since they reunited and sailed the New world. So much has happened in such a short amount of time. Compared to how it was when they first set sail on the Grandline as a crew, everything that has been going on now seems to be so… intense. And with it, it seems, out of all of them in the crew, it was the green haired swordsman who has been taking everything with so much intensity. Too intense if that demonstration on the cliff has anything to say.

She always knew the guy was intense, even from the very first time she met him, running around, carrying a cage with a profusely bleeding stab wound to his abdomen. She knows the guy would do everything in his power to get stronger. She also knows that much like everyone else in their crew, he would do everything to use that power to protect them and keep them moving towards their dreams.

The problem however, and what really worries her about all this, is that aside from this intensity, he also is an idiot. A big idiot who ends up disregarding himself and his safety for the sake of the crew and getting stronger. She slapped a hand to her forehead as she recalled that time he tried to fight Arlong despite being severely injured, or that time in Little garden when his initial instinct was to cut off his legs, his own damn legs to get free. Or his weird injuries in Thriller bark. She suspected he had something to do with why they all ended up unharmed and Kuma nowhere in sight when they all came to and he was the only one to end up like that. But he just brushed it off and said "who knows? maybe he got scared so he just left". Or how he got back from their two- year separation without his left eye?!

Now he's willing to risk getting his energy sucked by that sword? She knows he's strong, very much so but she really can't help but worry for him. She's already worried for all of them as it is but she can't seem to especially shrug of her worry for her green haired crewmate this time.

Another rustle of leaves, but this time followed by the creaking of falling bamboos snapped the redhead from her thoughts.

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

The swordsman stood in solitude in the middle of the bamboo forest, three swords all unsheathed, trying to get the feel of them with his newly acquired one. There is still some strain on the arm wielding Enma but not as much. He is getting used to this sword quite well. Hitetsu mentioned earlier that he is confident by his hands, this sword will become a black blade. He grinned at that. Tightening his grip on Enma, he closed his eye, and breathed out.

Ever since they set sail on the New world, no, ever since he asked Mihawk to train him back in Kuraigana, he had renewed his resolve that by his swords he will fulfill his promise to Kuina, fulfill his dream, and see to it that his crewmates dreams be fulfilled as well. Defeat such as that at Thriller Bark and Saboady shall never happen again. No longer will he be powerless to protect his crew and their dreams.

He opened his eye and stared at the new sword on his hand. 'Suck its wielder's energy huh?' He grinned, 'try me', his arm moving to make a clean slash at the trees around him.

Too focused on his new sword, it was only after the slash that he sensed another presence nearby.

His one eye widened as he saw the woman at the direction the trees were falling to.

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

Nami yelped as the top ends of a few falling bamboo trees narrowly missed her, causing her to fall on her behind at the ground.

"Baka! What are you doing there?!" Came the strained shout of the very man she was looking for. In an instant, he had closed the distance between them.

"Are you hurt?" Concern and a tinge of panic laced the voice of the swordsman.

She was shocked at first, just staring at the fallen bamboos in front of her then at the crewmate who was responsible for her distracted thoughts just a moment ago and is now crouching beside her.

She blinked, once, twice.

"…"

"Baka?" The word slipped from her mouth with a confused tone as she recovered from her shock.

"Who are you calling baka?!" She erupted, followed by a fist to the side of the swordsman's head.

"Oh great, you're okay. Dammit woman!" the now irritated swordsman said, nursing his head. Despite his reaction, his eyes still scanned her body, looking for any signs of injury.

"Okay?! You almost crushed me with those bamboos!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know you would be there?"

"I don't know, maybe scan the area first before going off slashing these poor unsuspecting trees?"

"I was training! What the hell are you doing, strolling around here anyway?" Zoro grumpily retorted as he held out his hand to help the navigator get up.

Nami stared at the outstretched hand towards her, remembering it's the very same limb that almost got sucked dry by Enma at the cliff. Her irritation dissipated and she let out a breath as she grasped the hand and stood up. Her hand stayed held in his for a brief moment as her eyes flitted to his face, unable to hide the worry in her features. She let go of his hand as she tried to brush off the dust on her yukata.

Zoro stared at her.

"What is it, witch?"

"What was what?"

"That look on your face."

"What? What's wrong with my face?" She tried to brush off.

"…"

"Hey, so you're training with Enma? How's it going? Your arm okay?" She asked, coolly.

He continued to stare at her, narrowing his single eye.

"Hmp." Came the only response from the swordsman.

Not a good answer.

"Ow! What the hell, Nami?!" Zoro growled, trying to fend off the redhead's fingers as she has resulted to poking him sharply on his side.

"I asked you a question!"

Yep, of course that kind of answer is no good to this woman. Zoro sighed and stood up straight, right hand flitting to his swords. "Of course it's okay, this is nothing."

Nami couldn't help but smile lightly at that. Of course that's going to be his answer, she didn't even know why she bothered to ask in the first place. When did she ever hear this man say something is too hard for him or he can't do it?

"Also, I asked a question first. What are you doing here?"

Nami's smile turned to a grimace. Poor Sanji is probably now having a hard time trying to stave off a hungry Luffy from getting his hands off the food.

"Right. Snack time. Sanji- kun sent me here to get you."

'Dartboard brow? Ordering his precious Nami- swan around? And the witch actually doing the task? That's weird.' Zoro thought with a frown, but decided against voicing this out.

"Yeah, I'm not hungry."

Nami's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, you don't quite have a choice at that. See I already walked all the way here. I'm not going back without you."

He glared back at her.

"Also, as a certain idiot decided it is a good day to crush me with bamboo trees... I also happen to be injured, so you'll have to carry me back." She added.

"Injured?!" Sputtered the swordsman. "Woman where? You're perfectly fine!"

"Ehhh, but my ass hurts Zoro- kun." Retorted the navigator as she placed an index finger on her lips, the other hand caressing the round of her butt, and putting on a pout.

'z-zZoro- kun?' The swordsman's eye twitched. 'Oh no. The scheming witch is at it again.

…and did she say her ASS??'

"Yeah I think it's bruised." For a second, pouty lips almost turned into a smirk, but the well-trained navigator held her innocent pout despite the unmistakable mischievous glint in her eyes. "Do you want to check, Zoro?"

Zoro's glare could bore holes.

Just a few minutes ago Enma was the one threatening to suck his energy. Now it's the woman in front of him. What's worse, holding himself against Enma is proving to be easier than doing it against Nami.

'Do I want to cheCK? Damn this woman,' he thought with a stifled gulp, as he tried to push down graphic thoughts he refuses to acknowledge.

Left palm hitting his forehead, sliding it down his face, a heavy sigh left the swordsman. "Fine, get on." And with that, turned to crouch and offer his back to the navigator, whose manipulative face dropped behind him at how that ended without more of a fight from said man.

Nami hesitated for a second. She really thought he would argue, even for little, even if she knew there's no way he's going to win, like how they always did. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed.

"Hey, I don't have all day."

Without a word, the navigator climbed the swordsman's back.

Zoro stood up and started walking. He tried to ignore how he noticed the subtle difference on how the woman felt pressed to his back, compared to that time in Alabasta when he carried her like this. Or how her yukata had to open-up a bit and shift higher for her to be able to adjust her legs around him. Yeah, there's a different air to his current situation now. But he refuses to pay more attention to these.

A few steps in and he found it weird how the normally noisy woman is now so silent. Trying to test the waters, he hopped over a fallen tree, one that he could have easily sidestepped, making sure to land roughly. This caused the navigator's nose to awkwardly collide on his head and his grip on her to ride higher.

"Hey! Watch it you brute!"

There it is.

"Ow! Nami!" That's the second bump the swordsman received today on his head.

"You're carrying precious cargo you know?! You should be more careful."

"Tsk." Yep. Shouldn't have bothered testing that.

Another stretch of silence.

"Ne Zoro, we're really off to face a Yonko huh?"

The navigator's voice broke the quiet. Which usually did not come as a surprise to Zoro, if not for the thoughtful tone to it and how it came as an almost whisper.

"Yeah, you guys faced one already didn't you?" replied Zoro, deciding to humour the navigator's suddenly serious mood lest he incur another bump on his head.

"Mmm, but this one's different, last time facing one was not the main mission, we tried our best to avoid her. Even so we barely got away with our lives." Nami gulped as she remembered Pedro. "This time we're actually facing one head on."

Zoro's head shifted to the side, his ear picking up the somber tone of the navigator.

"You're not thinking of backing out, are you?"

"Of course not! I mean, if we had a choice, why not? But we don't, don't we?" Nami came with a burst of spirit only to end with defeated frustration.

"Hm. Even if we do, you don't really believe we'd be choosing the alternative right?"

If there's one thing she has learned from all the time she had been in this crew, it's that they will always choose the dangerous option. Even if through some miracle they don't, it still ends up with them being dragged to the dangerous path either way. That's just how it is, even when it was just the three of them in Orange town and she's not official in the crew yet, at least to her belief. She'd hoped gaining more members would mean there'd be more rational voices in the crew. But no.

"No." She chuckled weakly.

"I just. Isn't all this happening too fast? I just thought we'd have some sort of a breather. Like how we were back then. After each island there's nothing to worry about other than to keep us floating until we get to the next where we don't know what awaits us. Now after Punk Hazard I can't really enjoy each island knowing what's waiting in the next would be some crazy strong enemy we'd have to defeat. Everything's just gotten so serious you know?" Nami ranted, feeling like a bratty child complaining but this has really been how things are.

Zoro took a moment to digest what the redhead behind him just released on him. Of course he knows. He knew this the moment he faced Kuma in Thriller bark. He definitely knew this is how the rest of their journey is going to have to be after what happened in Saboady. This is what he understood what Luffy realized too when he decided they shall meet in 2 years instead of right away after they got separated. They have come to a point in their journey where they have to pick a path and stick with it if they intend to get to the one piece. It's just unfortunate… or well, fortunate, depends on who in the crew you ask, that the best path is filled with 'crazy strong' enemies.

"Nami."

The navigator raised her head at that, confused at the sudden stern tone from the swordsman.

"Did you really expect anything less from us?"

"Huh?"

"You should've known this earlier."

Now she feels like a bratty child being scolded. She didn't like that.

"Our captain, he's all for fun mindless adventure, but what did he make sure everyone he meets know about him?"

Nami mulled at that. 'That he's stubborn? That he likes meat? No. Oh.'

"He's going to be the pirate king." She sighed. Of course. What did she expect from being a Strawhat anyway? Their captain is bound to be king of the pirates, of course there's no easy way to that. She knew this, it's just how crazy the way to get to it is something she's still reluctantly coming to terms with.

Zoro felt his message came across. "Our defeat in Saboady was our wake-up call. If we want to continue our journey towards our dreams then we have to be serious about it, because there are serious stuff out there bound to prevent us from doing so. So we'd have to fight for our way, no matter what or who the obstacle is. And we have to do it now, because these obstacles are not going to wait because we still want to have fun."

Nami can't help but stare at Zoro now. When did Zoro become so… wise?

"Besides, isn't this what we prepared for in those 2 years?"

"Well… yes, I prepared but mostly on navigating, maybe I added some tricks to my climatact but you can't really expect me to face the strength of a Yonko."

"Don't worry, I got you. I'll protect you."

Nami can't help but be taken aback by that. She knows this has been his role not just to her but to the entire crew. Despite this, she can't fight the warmth that started to creep on her cheeks. The intensity in the way he said it together with his grip tightening on her just caught her off guard.

Zoro noticed his passenger had suddenly become stiff on his back. Thinking back to what he just said, he realized how that must have sounded. Sappy.

Suddenly flustered, he blurted, "I meant I'll protect us!... The entire crew, I meant the entire crew! Not just you! Specifically!"

"Ow! Damn it Nami!"

The navigator decided the best way to diffuse the impending awkwardness was to do what they do best. Violence from her and the resulting banter that follows. She had just pulled the swordsman's ear.

"Of course I know that you baka." She chuckled, a smile blooming on her lips.

"Tsk." He pretended to be annoyed, but was thankful she didn't tease him for it. He remembered something then, causing a smirk on his lips.

"Hey, what are you worried about anyway? Luffy told me you landed a pretty solid attack on Big Mom. Seems like you got the whole facing the strength of a Yonko thing done."

Nami was once again taken aback, unable to help but smile at the thought of their captain proudly sharing what she did and be flattered at the hint of pride emanating from the swordsman.

"Well… yeah, but that was actually because of Zeus, and that didn't really do any damage to her."

She felt a squeeze from the hands supporting her thighs.

"Still, you did something and that counts. Keep doing what you do and you're fine, leave the rest to us."

Nami can't keep her stare off Zoro now, that warmth continuing to engulf her and she smiled. "Ah."

Zoro really didn't know where his words are coming from but he couldn't help what comes out of his mouth just to appease the woman.

Another stretch of silence. It was comfortable for a moment but after a while, the wringing of the hands that are crossed loosely in front of the swordsman's chest has given away the unresolved worries of the woman on his back.

He sighed. "What is it, Nami?"

"Huh?"

"There's still something on your mind."

The hand wringing stilled and he felt a puff of air on his nape.

"Ne, Zoro."

That was soft. Way too soft for Nami. And he can't describe it but that tone alone made his chest feel a bit tight. He held his breath as he turned his head slightly towards the navigator's voice, an indication that he heard her.

"You have to be careful as well you know."

He slowed down his steps, really not liking this somber tone on her.

"Heh. Is the witch worried about me now? Afraid you'll lose someone to hold debts to?" He tried to josh. He can handle an annoyed Nami, but this suddenly serious, melancholic Nami, he's not quite sure how to approach.

"Baka, of course I am!"

The sudden outburst together with the tightening of the arms around his shoulders stopped him in his tracks.

"I mean, sure I am worried about all of us, but I am most worried about you, you know?! You're so reckless, you're even worse than Luffy! That time in Thriller Bark? I don't know what you did but you sustaining those mysterious injuries and not waking up really scared me. Then we get separated and you come back after two years without your left eye? And now your new sword…" The navigator paused. "Look, I have no doubt you can handle that sword, you're Zoro after all but all I'm saying is just… just don't be too reckless."

The swordsman was silent for minute, taken aback by the tirade that just came from their navigator. There's no way he could try to tease her out of her mood right now, not with how heavy she's breathing now behind his back, like what she just said physically exerted her. He took some time to ruminate her words, he knows the woman worries. He didn't know she worries for him that much and he certainly didn't expect for her to voice them out. Although it's hard to see her this way, he'd be lying if he said knowing her concern for him didn't give a weird feeling on his stomach. Unfortunately, he couldn't bring himself to comfort his crewmate because what she's worried about is just the thing he does.

He released a deep breath. "What happens to me, the injuries I sustained in the past, I regret none of them."

"Of course you don't regret them, because you're still here! What if the next time what you lose is a limb so you can no longer wield a sword? Or worse…"

"Then that's what I deserved. If I'm not strong enough to protect myself, then that would mean that what I get as a result of my lack of strength is what I deserve."

"But-"

"Look, Nami. You are the navigator of our ship, you bring us to where we need to be, and not once have you failed us. Usopp is the sniper, Ero- kappa cooks, Chopper is our doctor, Robin is the one who reads the weird stones, Franky takes care of the ship, Brook brings the entertainment. Me, all I can offer is my strength to protect the crew. If I am unable to survive the injuries that I have sustained and will sustain in our journey, then I have no right taking the role of protecting you and I have no right to stand beside Luffy."

He stared off in the distance, he really has no intention of baring these thoughts to the woman on his back, not when they're sober and in the middle of nowhere, but it just flowed out of him. He has no choice after all, the woman is stubborn, brushing her worries off will not help. Even if her concern warms his insides in a way he can't describe making him want to comfort her in return, he can't really give her any assurance.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the long breath over his right neck and a warm palm tenderly placed over the scar on his left eye.

"Baka of course I know that. I've known you long enough to know that is how you think."

Goosebumps have started to arise on his arms and neck by her proximity and touch.

"Reckless brute who muscles his way out of everything."

Only to be halted by the insult that followed. He was about to retort when she continued.

"All I'm saying is, do you think we would be happy reaching our dreams if we get there at your expense? And no, I'm not saying you're not strong enough that we'd come to that point" He noticed her right hand tighten at this. "What I'm saying is, just maybe think of that too the next time you start thinking about doing something too reckless." He was about to retort again but Nami sensed this and the hand on his left eye left to pinch his cheek.

"Hey!-"

"I was there when you tried to saw off your legs in Little Garden, Zoro. That's what I mean when I say too reckless. Aaargh honestly! I know you're gonna be reckless anyway, but just don't be reckless and dumb at the same time! Also, worry about yourself too! Even us weak ones trained those past two years so we can somehow fend for ourselves and yes, I definitely need protecting still but you guys need to worry about yourselves too sometimes, and I know you guys will keep picking fights on-"

Before Nami can continue rambling, she was interrupted by Zoro taking the hand that just pinched his cheek. He enclosed it on his own, before resting both their hands on his chest, just above heart. The warmth of Zoro's hand on hers brought all her thoughts to a full stop as a she stiffened and a blush dusted her cheeks. Oh how grateful she is that he can't see her face now.

"I get it. I can't promise anything but I get it."

The navigator let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her body relaxing and her head unconsciously leaning unto his. Who knew this conversation would be tiring? But really, she's satisfied with that. This is Zoro after all and that coming from him is enough for her.

Sensing that his red headed companion has been satisfied with his answer, Zoro resumed to walk as they once again fell into comfortable silence. This time without Nami wringing her hands since one is preoccupied inside the swordsman's.

…

"Ano, Zoro…"

"What now, woman?"

"I was serious when I said you should be careful okay? We wouldn't want you losing another eye. You get lost even with both eyes intact, you're terrible now with just one. What would we do if you lose both?" She tried burying her concern with a joke, even if the thought of the possibility of that does frighten her.

"Woman I don't get lost! It's you guys who get lost!"

"Uh huh, sure, that's how it was all those times. Maybe that's also why we passed this fallen tree for the third time? It must be lost."

Zoro flinched. "Damn it!" He let go of Nami's hand to adjust his hold on her and stomped the other way. Nami tried to ignore how she missed the warmth of his hand on hers.

"Really though, you're beyond salvation 'mister I don't get lost', at this rate Luffy would've devoured all the dango by the time we got there." Which is not really a long amount of time, considering it's their captain. It just depends on how well Sanji holds the fort.

"Well it's your fault! You keep distracting me with your questions!"

Nami chuckled at that. "Sure, sure. Just head this way." She ordered, pointing towards a path. "Straight line Zoro, do you even know what that is?"

"Tsk. Damn it woman I'll drop you I swear!"

The navigator laughed harder at that.

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

Part I End.

[headinthestaticsky]

The Dusk Calls for me: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 15 FINALE

AUTHORS NOTES: This is a long one folks... hope you like it.

 ALL THE CHARACTERS IN TWILIGHT DO NOT BELONG TO ME! ALL RIGHTS GO TO STEPHENIE MEYER!

WARNINGS: Violence

“Before you slip into unconsciousness I'd like to have another kiss Another flashing chance at bliss Another kiss, another kiss.” 

Crystal Ship by: The Doors.

POV: BELLA’S

I slowly opened the ballet studio doors, I peaked around each side of the room before entering. It was quiet, and I didn’t see mom anywhere the entire room was void of people. 

“BELLA? BELLA? WHERE ARE YOU!?!”

I knew it, I knew Fleur was wrong... mom was here!

“MOM?”

“BELLA!”

“I’m coming mom!”

I ran to the end of the studio and opened the door, my heart sunk into my stomach... It was a TV, of an old home video mom took of me when I was a kid.

“Oh there you are! What are you doing in here?” My mom said.

“Mommy, I suck.” I said back to her, she gasp.

“You do not suck!”

I heard a laugh, it was deep, my blood had run cold, I knew who that voice was. My breath had started to stutter, but I face him. His body was imprinted on every mirror in the room.

“That’s my favorite part... You were a stubborn child weren’t you? Hmm?” James walked up to me, he petted the side of my head before pushing me against a wall.

“S-she’s not even here.”

“No.” He pushed his face closer to mine, breathing me in.

“I’m sorry... but you really made things too easy for me... so to make it up to you. I’m going to make a little film of our time together. I stole this from your house... I hope you don’t mind. And... action. Oh, this will just break Edward little heart.” 

I glanced up, I thought my mind was deceiving me... I saw Fleur, she was holding a rock in her hands. She brought her finger up to her lips and silently shushed me.

“Ed-Edward has NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS.” I said, I pushed myself up but I was pushed right back against the wall.

“Oh but he does, his rage will make for a much more interesting sport than his feeble attempt to protect you... and let’s continue.

“HEY!” 

James turned around, before he could say anything a rock was thrown right at his head. His skin had a slight crack in it... he looked pissed. When he turned back around to me I sprayed him in the eyes with my pepper spray. I took off Fleur waiting for me halfway in the room. She grabbed my hand and made a rush to the door but James jumped right in front of us. He grabbed me and threw me into a glass podium. He then turned toward Fleur, a deadly look was in his eyes.

“BELLA!” She screamed.

POV CHANGE: Fleur

All the fear had left my body as soon as I saw him... it was as if adrenaline had taken over me. I threw that rock with all my might, hoping to damage him in someway. I saw the slightest crack on him, and I got him to divert his attention toward me for a second. Bella and I then ran for the door but James got in our way. He threw Bella into a glass podium and then turned around to face me. The fear still didn’t enter my being, I was beginning to wonder if I had a death wish at this point. Before I could react James grabbed me by the back of my hair and turned me around to face the mirror. He slammed my head into the floor. He lifted my head back up and made my look at my now bloody appearance in the mirror.

“Jasper... he is just as pathetic as Edward... he left you this, fragile, idiotic human... He didn’t have the strength to turn you. You make this hunt much more...fun.” He licked the side of my head, drinking my blood in the process.

“You think your so amazing? I’ve seen the way you hunt and track people... It’s mediocre at best.” I spat back out, I could hear Bella groaning in pain in the background.

“How have you seen me? If I sensed you were there I would’ve eaten you up too.”

“I’ve had dreams, I was in that slut of your’s body Victoria... I saw how you hunted, it’s pathetic.”

“...You’re lying...”

“Oh yeah... does this sound familiar to you?”

“It’s always the same, inane questions. Who are you?” 

“What do you want?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“James... let’s not play with our food.”

“How in the hell could you be able to do that...You’re human, nothing more, nothing less.” James said, his grip tightened on my hair, he teeth were clinched. He was seething in pure anger.

“That doesn’t matter...” I said my dark brown eyes glaring back up at him through the mirror.

“All I know is Jasper is going to kick your ASS!”

James dragged me away from the mirror, bringing me to Bella.  He then set the camera down and grabbed both of our legs. Breaking them instantly Bella had started to scream but I held it.

“It doesn’t hurt...nothing is cracking... nothing has broken.... I will not give him that satisfaction of him knowing he hurt me.” I thought.

“Tell them how much it hurts.... tell them to avenge you!”

“NO EDWARD DON’T”

“That means you too...tell poor ol’ Jasper how much it hurts.”

I didn’t budge, he then let go of Bella’s leg and grabbed both of mine, He hurled me threw me through one of the mirrors. A large piece of glass was impaled into my side he then dragged my through the glass, my back getting cut along the way. He then dropped me  and turned to go back to Bella but before he could someone had knocked him out of the way. I then heard a bang against one of the mirrors.

“You got here first... because your fast than the others... but not stronger.” James said.

“I’m strong enough to kill you!” He then kicked James back, I couldn’t tell where though. The room was starting to spin, It felt like I was floating. I could tell who it was though it was Edward, he looked between Bella and I not knowing who to go to. He turned his head to me before muttering a “I’m sorry Fleur” to me. 

This was it, I was going to die here...Edward was going to take Bella and leave me here. I saw him jump up in the air toward a window but James had grabbed him and drug him and Bella back down to the ground. I was gasping at this point, the pain and loss of blood was starting to take it’s toll on me. I heard Bella scream in extreme pain, I knew James had bitten her right then and there. I couldn’t even say anything, I had blacked out. Muffled screams and voices had come into my sense of hearing. I woke up after being shaken by someone.

“Hey, hey, darlin, look at me. You’re going to be fine.”

“J-jasper?” I said... I didn’t recognize my own voice, it was weak and frail.

“Yeah, it’s me... you need to stay awake for me okay? C’mon let me see those beautiful eyes huh?” 

My eyes opened slightly I could see the blurry image of a fire with Alice, Dean and Emmett fighting for something to go in it. I felt a gigantic pressure on my side and hissed. I began to fade out again.

“Hey, hey... c’mon keep your eyes open... you have to stay awake! You can’t forget about what you told me in your room that night... 

I weakly grabbed his hand, squeezing as tight as I could.

“Jazz, y-you need t-to go... my blood, you can’t be comfortable right now. He ignored me and continued in on his rant

You told me you’d live... that no matter how much you got hurt... you would live, you would still be human. You can’t break you promise on me now... you need to stay awake. Fleur? FLEUR!”

My world faded to black again, the sound I heard was the beeping of a machine, it smelt like I was in a hospital. My eyes twitched and I heard rustling on the side of the room.

“Petal? Are you waking up?” It was my dad’s voice... relief filled my body, he was okay. I finally opened my eyes, they were burned by the bright fluorescent lights in the room.

“Dad?”

“Hey petal, you feeling okay?”

I tried to sit up but, a stinging sensation on my side made me lay back down.

“I’ve been better.”

“When I got the call from Jasper, my heart dropped... I didn’t think I would ever see you again.” Dad said, he grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

“I’m here... just a little beaten up right now.”

“Jasper has been here ever since you came in, he hasn’t eaten or drunken anything... in 3 days. I’ve tried to get him to eat something but he would budge. You picked a good one Petal, I’ve never seen so much dedication for someone before.”

“So, you aren’t mad at him?”

“Not at all, Edward on the other hand... he needs some work.”

“A lot of work you mean.”

He chuckled 

“Yeah, you got that right.”

“Is Bella okay?”

“Yeah she’s fine... she told me what happened. She said you were chasing her down a flight of stairs in the hotel  when she tripped dragging you down with her... and then you both went through a window! Do you remember any of this?” 

“Nope, none at all.”

“They said you lost a lot of blood due to a piece of glass stabbing you on the side, it was close to hitting the side of your lung. You got stitches over there.”

“Oh, that explains the pain then.”

“Yeah...”

“I can’t wait to go home... I miss it there... and I miss my bed too.”

“The rooms ready for you Petal.”

The hospital room door opened, we both looked up and saw Renee looking in on us.

“She wants to see you.” She then closed the door behind her, not even acknowledging me.

“Well I see she hasn’t changed much.”

“Yeah... not at all.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with her dad.” 

He turned and looked at me, and then he smiled.

“It’s worth it for you.”

“I love you dad.”

“I love you too.” He then left, leaving me alone in the hospital room with Jasper.

“Hey Jazz.”

“Hi Darlin.”

I opened my arms, inviting him in for a hug. He accepted the invitation immediately.

“I’m so happy to hear your voice again love.” We pulled apart, now facing each other.

“I’m happy to be alive, to be able to see you again. Did you guys get James?”

“Yeah, we got him, boy you should’ve seen Emmett and Dean... they were brutal.”

“I couldn’t of imagined how you felt... I’m sure my blood made you uncomfortable too.”

“You’re the one in the hospital bed... and you’re worrying about me? You did the same thing in the studio. You told me to leave, that you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable around all your blood. You are something special my love, purely amazing.”

“Of course I worry about you Jazz...I love you.”

“I love you too Darlin.”

TIMESKIP: Two week later.

Getting back to Forks was amazing, I never thought I would be so happy to see that small town again. The first week back was rough, I could hardly move, the pain was unbearable at times. The second week was a lot better but, Bella and I haven’t talked much since our fight. The tension was back... and I knew I couldn’t trust her anymore. She was too selfish, too self absorbed, she would risk me and everyone around her just to save herself and Edward. Rosalie and Alice visited me whenever they could and today, the were helping me get ready for prom. I didn’t think I would be able to go but, the pain in my side was nothing more than a annoying throb.

“You guys really don’t have to do this you know...” 

“Yes we do, besides I picked out the dress and I want to see you wear it.” Rosalie said.

“I’ve always wanted to do your makeup and hair... and since I’m here, you can’t stop me now!” Alice exclaimed.

“Alright, alright, make me beautiful!”

A few moments had passed and my make up and hair were done, I was impressed. They really knew what they were doing. I quickly changed into my dress, this was the most beautiful I had felt in the past 2 weeks.

“You look beautiful.” Rosalie said, she looked at me through the mirror, a smile was on her face.”

“You better go, Jasper’s waiting downstairs with Charlie...”

“Okay, okay, thank you guys.”

We all three hooked arms with each other and made our way downstairs. Jasper and Dad sat up walking toward the stairs, they both smiled at me.

“You look gorgeous.” Jasper said.

“Thank you, you look great. Just ignore the cast... it’s a lot...”

Jasper wrapped his arm gingerly around my waist and kissed my cheek.

“You two have have fun, stay safe.” Dad said.

“We will dad.” 

Rosalie, Alice, Jasper and I all made our way outside, Emmett and Dean were waiting for us. 

The drive was nice, it gave me a sense f peace after everything that had happened to me. I wish I could keep this feeling this forever, I felt safe, loved. Jasper had helped me out of the car and guided me through the front of the building. We got our pictures taken and made our way inside... it was a bit chaotic. I looked around and saw Angela and Eric, she looked at me and waved happily. I of course, returned the gesture. I then saw Jessica with Mike, she was posing and taking pictures. When she saw me I gave her a thumbs and mouthed,”You look incredible.” She mouthed back, “you do too!” 

“Come with me, love.” I heard Jasper say, he pulled my attention back to him.

I he pulled me towards the outside of the building, it was secluded. The lights from the inside and the gazebo gave it and warming glow. He turned to face me and grabbed my hands. He pulled my on top of his feet and then began to dance.

“This isn’t how I exactly envisioned this moment but, the one part I knew would happen is still here.” I said.

“And what would that be?”

“That I’d be dancing with you.”

“Looking you over, and you don’t know my name yet.

By the time you looked away I already knew I couldn’t fake it.

I got this need for you, forming in my beating heart.

I knew the meaning right away, when only yesterday were worlds apart.”

“I’m glad I got to be apart of it with you.” Jasper said

“I do too, the happiness you’ve made me feel, is always the best I’ve ever felt.”

“You brought me back to life, love.”

“And you brought even more life to me.”

“I think I may love you, 

If you give my sometime,

Maybe you’ll love me too.”

“I got this need for you, if you come closer I can whisper in your ear.

And if you wanna walk away 

I’ll tell you all the things I know you’d wanna hear.”

“You know... I was talking with Edward he told me some things about Bella.” Jasper said.

“What would that be?”

“Bella is in desperate need to become a vampire now.”

“Wow...”

“So I wanted to ask you... are you in desperate need to become one too?”

“ I mean... I would love to spend eternity with you but... it’s way too soon for me to change. I’m not ready to leave dad yet...”

“That’s a relief to here love.”

“If I were to get changed so soon... It would have to be because I’m about to die... I won’t do it any other way.”

“I promise I won’t change you unless I absolutely have too.”

“I’ll come closer,

To you if you

Come over

I know we’ll go farther

Farther with you

With you I’m in warm water swimming down.”

“I love you Jasper Hale.”

“I love you Fleur Swan.”

“With you I’m in warm water swimming down.”

Warm Water by, BANKS.

END OF BOOK 1

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 1-800-𝓘-𝓛𝓞𝓥𝓔-𝓤

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 || waiting for you and your beau’s dinner reservation later on tonight you and he spend valentines day together through the devotion of your dial rotary telephone

𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮 || fluffy smut

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 || steve rogers × [black//woc]!reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 || 4.6K

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 || 18+ nsfw, introduction to phone sex but i don’t go any bit further, body worship, captain kink, one bibical mention, reader gets spoiled to the t!, but still this is not suitable for anyone that isn’t 18+

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 ||  move over darling by doris day ♡ all of me by billie holiday ♡ unforgettable by nat king cole ♡ dream a little dream of me by ella fitzgerald & louis armstrong

𝔀. 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 || this is my gift for the divine @denisemarieangelina! for @chrissquares​ + @drabblewithfrannybarnes + @amythedvdhoarder Hoelentine’s Day Challenge! ♡ i’m very anxious to share this because i did this simpler version of writing then what i’m usually used to but I hope you enjoy this lovely and happy valentines day! muah! ♡ please tell me if you don’t like this because i can always add onto this if you want more! ♡ anyways i hope you cherubs enjoy this to! ♡♡♡

     BABY PINK ENVELOPES FILL THE SPACE IN YOUR HANDS

     humming along to the musing record that spins on the turntable the kitchen is alive with the sentimental lyrics of Nat King Cole and Billie Holiday you sway your leg over your knee as you read the bush colored letters. the quaint apartment complex fills with blissful warmth, for the maiden in the kitchen enjoys her breakfast yearning for her partner to return as quickly as he promised. analyzing the intricate curves and dips of Steven’s handwriting, it pulls you into a hypnotizing trance as your mind fills with nothing but his deep voice as you read along. 

     cordial elements wrapping the visible areas of skin your Valentine’s sweethearts button down doesn’t cover. it is a relaying fact that the crisp expansive piece makes your body seem petite but because of its obscene size the fabric falls past your shoulders in a graceful fashion. clumsily buttoning up the blazer wrongly that early morning, it only adds onto the carefree nature that exhibits and adds onto your soft sways and musical hums. 

     reaching for your steaming pink mug of milk chocolate cappuccino that lays near more open letters and more envelopes free from their wax sealings. you plan on opening all of them throughout the day, holding onto the handle you bring it up to your soft lips. attentive fingertips trace the cursive black ink of Steven’s handwriting in a lovesick gaze. the accidental ink splotches and small charcoal sketches of floral anatomy make the pace of your heart slow in a tender beat. 

     despite your devoted attention being on your beau’s love letters there are other envelopes that aren’t just from your Steven. although to make it easier to recognize the difference between the uninterested letter from past lovers and secret admirers Stevens envelopes are printed in your favorite shade of pink. 

     these darling letters that Steven is now confident to share with you are filled with small poems. being terrified of gifting you in the early phases of your relationship, your holding the multiple pages amongst pages of dazing sketches of your bodies beautiful features. paragraphs that outline his love letters to you which he kept hidden in a journal. reading and daydreaming as you take in each poetic sentence of your beau explain and sharing each love struck moment of his days that he adored spending with you. 

     the timeline of these letters go back from days, to weeks to whole years. it astounds you how you’ve never caught Steven in the act of writing poetry or making a love entrée yet you aren’t at all complaining. however the envelopes were a surprise to come across to when you looked over the mail. they weren’t in your daily sack delivered by the porter but laying in a huge pile on your kitchen island before he left that morning. 

     they went handsomely with his gifted bouquet of your favorite flowers that decorated each room of your apartment. a bud of them you found laying amongst the colorfully cream colored candles is now in your hair tucked behind your ear. Steven’s handwriting displayed on the front- 

     for my darling 

     they were just waiting for you to read and so here you are soaking in each vow hidden in his whimsical sonnets and ballads. 

      smelling both the sweet nectar of the flower and the divine cocoa of your cappuccino you continue reading from his letters. mirthful eyes dashing along each word of the little poem he wrote for you, the gleaming smile that frames your face doesn’t settle down one bit as you read and sing them not louder than a breathy whisper. giggling aloud and kicking your bare feet in the air when you read Steven’s beautifully crafted poetry centered and dedicated to you and only you. 

     the letters seem to distract you from the vast amounts of gifts, arranging from exquisitely wrapped small boxes to large gift bags bearing designer brands. Steven sent each gift along with the blush colored letters but they lie unattentively under your pedicured feet that bounce along with the turntable. singing along Billie Holidays lyrics of April in Paris as you continue to read and sip from your chocolatey cappuccino. the letters themselves are elegantly scattered onto the marble island where you bite into one of the buttery croissants that are bunched in a wooden basket you have prepared since the morning.  

     of course you weren’t supposed to eat alone, by all means this day of domestic and fairytale romance wasn’t suited to be spent alone. it of course isn’t suited for you in the slightest, not like you to bear this inconvenience. 

     in front of you -well behind the sketches your dreamily admiring- rests a large breakfast consisting of baked sweet and savory pastries, sunny yellow omelets and fresh ripe fruit. the early meal was suppose to be a little feast for both you and the public hero but of course your heroic beau had his urgent errands to run. a phone call rudely interrupted the session of your passionate lips and tongues destine to spiral you both on the cloud of desire. 

     the ringtone acting as nothing but an irritating background noise, it cause the blond to pull away to deal with it. walking away from you and out of your private bathroom suite and as obvious as this is going to sound- Steven didn’t decline the call. from your position as you sat on the marble and gold flecked kitchen sink, your hand rests on the golden swan at the faucet. 

     listening as you heard him hum along to whatever the dispatcher had to say before hanging up and heard his footsteps coming closer and there you say your lover. smiling to him as you pulled him towards you, lips gracing his he cut the devastating news to you of his unplanned errands. apologizing to you with a kiss but ending it with a promise for an intimate dinner reservation he did plan beforehand. 

     then with a change of clothes, he was out the door but you willed yourself to not be upset at him. your Steven always kept his promises and you were still swooning over the lovely events that happened last night that still show the results of it all on your skin and a delicious soreness in between your legs. ending passionately in wine soaking your thoughts and actions you both headed to your apartment and tangled in your sheets. you now are wearing his button up he wore to the dinner reservation that night, slightly wrinkled yet smelling of Stevens entrancing cologne.

     it brings you back to that night and you could still feel the searing butterfly traces of his lips along your collarbones, neck and breasts. dainty and vivid as the white sunshine that streams through the high white apertures of your apartment. 

     it’s all beautifully cinematic 

     the music playing on the record as you enjoy your breakfast while reading your lovers letters to you. chocolate spread used to smear over the flaky pastry in your hand smears the corners of your lips and you wish Steven is here to thumb it away. a sorrow filled sigh break through your lips, knowing these letters are all you have of him at the moment as he’s out busy at Stark Tower doing only god knows what and bumping heads with only god knows who. silence only greets those thoughts and you realize that the collection of records playing your favorite romance artists have stopped sounding out their hearty tunes. 

     frowning, you get up and replay the record before returning back to the kitchen and to your seat. hands go back to the letters and your heart warms up in a matter of blissful seconds, cheery contentment dawning your face in delightful charm. although a question still dances along the crowded ballroom of your mind-

     whatever will you do with the time you have alone on Valentine’s Day awaiting for your beau? 

     it is only eight in the morning, Stevens plans are set around nine tonight and you could do so much more than just doll yourself up. finishing your lavish breakfast you begin tidying up once you place another record on the sitting room turntable. the music flowing throughout the large and finely furnished apartment, it creates a heavenly picturesque glow that brightens the golden framed paintings and renaissance clawfoot furniture. 

      you feel like an old Hollywood actress staring in her romantic comedy, it makes you nothing but languorous glee. the beauty of your vivid imagination pulling your typewritten script and setting your scenes to hear the director yell action! manifesting the movie with each pirouetting step, you feel the timeless sensation of Audrey Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor gracing down on from the heavens. 

     singing along with the records, recited movie lines from Breakfast At Tiffany’s and Rear Window. romantically immortal films consisting of elegant tailored outfits of Chanel and Moschino that the leading actress would flirt with her on screen partner, long and lust filled stares between your lover and the epitome of transatlantic accents that would make an European swoon. 

     the craftsmanship of your fantasy aiding you by hiding away any untouched breakfast foods, biting into a jam filled puff pastry you keep the sweet confectionery in between your teeth as you organize Steven’s letters. filing them from the ones you have read, that you carefully fold back into their envelops- to the ones you plan on reading later. clearing them away safely on an ivory tabletom dancing along with the beat of the record. 

     pulling yourself back into the visionary scene of your beloved vintage films, a baby blue Dior headband frames your heads crown and keeps your untamed bed hair away from your temple as you start a kettle of tea. retrieving your personally cherished china set from your glassy cupboards, soaking your desired teabags, home grown herbs and honey dewdrops into the separate porcelain teapot. turning the nob on the stovetop off once the screeching kettle ready with boiling water becomes louder than the music, it quietly dies down and you hum as you place the boiling water into the small porcelain teapot.

     steam erupting, its soothing when the scorching water drenches in the tea ingredients that begin to linger a sweet smelling scent. peachy cheeks soft and dewy as the sweet sunshine bounces off them, you carefully unfold each divinely wrapped box covered with glossy ribbons and confetti gift bag covered in strawberry scented tissue paper. blowing and sipping from your tea cup, you tenderly bundle Stevens button up around you as you examine his gift. 

     each eye grabbing and more expansive with each one passing you look over the heavy offering of baby pink and cream tulle trimmed Agent Provocateur lingerie. the occasion of lacey babydolls and pink fury teddys holding cupid hearts coming once with every three bags you also discover the silver Tiffany charms in powdered pistachio blue boxes. pastel pink heart-shaped pastel boxes of Chardonnet et Walker pink marc de champagne truffles make your mouth tingle.

     mink coats and cashmere sweaters dedicated to wrap you nice and warm in the snowy weather. a starlight smile shines at the fact of Steven remembering you looking through a few catalogues days after New Years. princess cut Dior earrings that shine like dangling stars and heart-shaped Prada handbags that would make any winged cherub strike their golden arrows into. 

     Steven always went above and beyond with your Valentine gifts and you weren’t even halfway done with opening the boxes and bags but seemed fit to prepare yourself for the day ahead of you.

     curves swaying along with Louis Armstrong's flaunting trumpet and Ella Fitzgerald's sweetly divine vocals once you get from your criss-crossed position on the floor. passing the wrapping paper and ribbon bows scattered in a sprawled lovecore mess, you make your way to your bedroom. bare feet adding against the carpet, passing golden framed body length mirrors and vase upon vase of flowers and burning candles. a silver tray bearing the porcelain petunia painted tea kettle, china tea cup and Stevens letters in your hands. 

     entering your open bedroom filled with crisp sunshine, your eyes dash over to your mess of a bed. white sheets that once held two giggling and kissing lovers is now empty with the exception of your pet laying lazily on the wrinkled plush comforter. blowing a kiss to the sleeping fluffy beauty before opening the molded white door to your private suite. 

     dancing along the white marble of the floor you run your bathtub full of hot water. taking your time preparing your dress and the lingerie you’ll wear tonight, it wasn’t exactly easy. Steven took a great joy in gifting you all the luxuries of jewelery, lingerie and clothing you desired, took great joy in fucking you in them as well. but as you enter the bathroom and exit to go through your wardrobe in your closets you go through boxes upon boxes of lingerie. 

     rummaging the organized baby pink boxes that you took hours organizing, you did realize that some bralettes were missing their panties yet you remember your gentlemen liked keeping a pair or two in his office when he’s away. you settle with not wearing anything Steven bought you but what you ordered on a website that caught your attention, more so intrigued of the fabulous singer and actress who ran the brand. 

     the divine deep red Valentines Day pieces of Fenty Lingerie were expansive but so was your credit card as you ordered the whole collection. hiding the box away from Steven and his too curious grasps you now reveal the box and open it. taking out the desired heart bralettes and Gartier belted thigh highs that went along with the lewd sheer panties you let out a delightful squeal at the thought of Steven ripping off your silk slip dress to reveal this sinful number.

     sipping from your tea, you go through your jewelry boxes settled on seashell chests on your vanity. retrieving your dearest diamond accessories to go along with the slip dress you head back to the bathroom. the water rising to your favorable height you fill the marble crest with rose petals, rose oils, rose water and rose bubble bath. of course, with Steven’s relentless showing of gifts there were enough Italian imported red wines for you to bathe in but you settled for your rose bath set that was tucked in the corners of your towel closet. 

     burning Diptyque candles around the tub, you settle your delicate cup down on the tray. departing from your beaus button down, you sink your feet and body into the floral water glowing in pearly bubbles smelling just the tint of sea salt. dissolving your thoughts and worries in the soft pink-hued mist your hands reach for Steven’s letters. carefully undoing the crimson wax seal your fingers grasp the letter and polaroid photographs it holds. 

     giggling when you read that this specific letter is about you and Stevens first time. reading along the lines of his amusing embarrassment of him not knowing what he was doing exactly it still warms your heart when he stated in his own writing that he was grateful and happy to share that moment with you. 

     the letter going into detail of all the moments that break you into laughter- such as when you and Steven rolled off your bed unaware as you and him were to wrapped in the passion- to your face heating up when he went into erratic detail of his hand placements on your ‘Aphrodite like body encouraging the Aries affair to overturn gracefully, to repent in no favor but yours’. 

     not being ashamed to write down every moment of the midnight passion. from the way you tongues and lips were locked and didn’t dare separate for air, to how his hands ripped your clothes into shreds ‘to praise and worship the skin that sparkled and shone like buried treasures for my hands to caress’. a heavenly burn begins fluttering in between your bubble sud thighs when you look over the polaroid's. some you took and some he took but all in all they showed you and him doing, well- 

     your first time 

    ��a slow hand that doesn’t hold the scandalous polaroid's flows down to your bubble covered breast. pinching the nipple, the sensation only sends the pleasure down south to your hidden jewel. biting your bottom lip, you crave for Steven’s hands. crave his lips, crave his touch... 

     generally, his attention but you cannot go past your golden rule no matter how good the thought of your fingers stroking your folds sounds. knowing its best to not break the rule of touching yourself without his permission the thought of it sits pleasantly in your head. trying to distract yourself the growing sensation with his other letters and plucking one of the fifty fluffy macaroons that lie on the pretty Laudree packaging. 

     Steven gifted you all the luxuries that would substitute his absence, but all you ever wanted was him

     heart thumping in this truth you again attempt to distract yourself with his blush colored letter. cooing at Stevens cute sketches of you and reading poems dedicated to his first impression when meeting you- but you cannot think of anything or concentrate on anything but the first letter. giving cheating glances back to the polaroid's, your glance is captivated by Steven’s handsome and muscled physique in the contrasted filter. the faintly colored noir-film like pictures emphasizing on his golden skin rippling against the sheets caging you in with his arms. 

     the night replays with the jazz music in the ballroom of your mind, throwing your head back you feel yourself underneath him just as you were then. hands in his hair and his clenching the sheets besides your head when you kiss passionately as he rubbed his hard member against your forbidden fruit.   

    it didn’t help your case at all that you’re embellishing that night into your thoughts. it’s only making you desire your sweetheart more and more, needing him more and more as the minutes passed. 

     wanting- no, craving to hear the sweet music that is his voice    

     yearning to descry the divine tinge of his tongue clicking to his teeth when you says your name so sweetly. to imagine the movement of his tulip petal lips as he speaks his ‘I love you’s’ like a prayer and he’s on his knees for a goddess.

     oh you needed it just as much as his instructions on how to handle your distressing state. realizing the soft pink dial telephone that stood at the opposite side of the tub you bite your lip in thought. 

     should you call Steven?

     it makes you wonder, shifting against the water careful to not spill any over the edge. chewing on a raspberry macaroon at the thought, you pout not knowing exactly what you’d say. you and Steven have been in a relationship for years now, it should be simple to call your lover and talk to him about this yet a sparking idea light up like a shimmering star above your head. 

     you and Steven were both helpless for dirty talk, your words and underlying message would pull him out of whatever he was in to cater to help you with your problem.

     your thundering impatience and searing lust had shameless minds of their own as you pulled the cushioned ottomon closer to you and dialed Steven’s office number through the rotary disc. heart strumming along with the music continuing to play in the distance you do not exhale a breath as you hear the sound of the phone dialing. the powdered pink handset in your hands. chin resting on the rim of the porcelain tub as your lips brush against the mouthpiece in the shape of a heart. 

     when the dial ends with the sounds of him about to speak a gleaming smile radiates off your lips, pulling the handset closer to you to speak.

     “Steven!” your giggle that follows afterwards makes a dimpled smile pull at the blond’s lips and he lightly chuckles. 

     your presence melting away anything else that captured his attention away from you. fortunately you weren’t the only one craving the love and affection of your partner, Steven was in a busy meeting with Tony and the other avengers at the grey and stern table. argued his way through and pursuing a solution to the worldly crisis that was in their hands but with the progress he’s making he’s sure to help the team come to an agreement.

     “how are you doing, my love? did you enjoy your gifts? i’m counting down the hours till I pick you up for our reservation. treat you how you should be treated today,” Steven’s tender words breaks your dreamy state and your wispy babydoll lashes flutter at the sound of his voice. 

     “well right now i’m taking a bath. drinking some tea, reading your letters and i just so happened to cross on this one specific letter…” your teasing voice flowing through the mouthpiece and into Steven’s ears. 

     striking his brain, trying to comprehend what you're saying and trying to decipher whether your giggles are aimed towards him or onto something else. you made it known how much of a tease you were, from your suggestive dresses you’d torture him with when you’d attend gala’s to your shameless yet elegant class as you’d whisper all the dirty things you want him to do you once you two got home.

    indeed it worked like a charm, sometimes it left little self control as he’d take you in that backseat of the sleek vehicle. it’s definitely working now

     “alright what are going on about you little minx?” Steven states, a tint of his dominance in his voice but you continue to drift in your fit of giggles as you bend your knee to your chest in exuberance. 

     pulling Steven’s letters that rest besides the silver tray of macaroons and tea, you hug them to your chest as you reread his paragraphs upon paragraphs of his thunderous thoughts and detailed emotions ravaging you in sinful detail. 

     “oh, nothing Stevie... just couldn’t stop thinking about a little something, do wanna know about it?” 

     “absolutely darling. anything is better then being in that room with those blockheads,” Steven didn’t know he said that thought aloud but you don’t care. 

     you’re panning on relieving the throbbing pleasure pulsing at your slicked core and maybe undo some stress he’s under if he’s a fair distance away from wandering ears.

     “will do Captain, ‘the second our mouths collided was an ambrosial taken place. a supernova in labor between our bodies thriving to find our peak, creating a cosmos of divination as her walls wrapped around my cock. the indescribable pleasure as unforgettable as the dimple at the corner of your fiery lips and enchanting sparkle in her eyes. the moans that flowed from her mouth soft and encouraging-

     “‘-as I wrapped her thighs over my shoulder and thrusted my cock deeper and deeper into her forbidden fruit. her sweet, forbidden fruit so sweet I wouldn’t dare reject if a serpent offered so.’ I was hoping you’d read that special one, you need to understand how lovesick I was for you then. i’m still lovesick about you now but its gotten impossibly stronger now than before.”

     that statement makes you shift in the water, rubbing your thighs together as your fingers rest in between them. imagining its Steven’s large hand that’s pinned at the plushness, however you’re yearning for the warmth, security and skill they hold that your hands don’t nearly possess.

     “lovesick you say?” you purr, the sinful sound rolling off your tongue it makes roses blush on Stevens cheeks.

    an unknown tightness of his trousers making itself known, he grits his teeth at your tactic but he cannot help it. he gives in so easily for you, it impossible to repent and withold

     “yes doll, i’m lovesick. lovesick for you and only you. now answer your Captain, did you enjoy your gifts?” his voice growing and deepening, lust soaking his thoughts and hardening his member at the thoughts of you, you, you.

    holding the phone in between your ear and should as you pluck another macaroon from the assortment. a smirk plays on your lips knowing that your plan is working, you can here his little grits and groans as he locks his office door. 

     “I did enjoy your gifts Captain, and I love the fact that seventy percent of them all are tiny pretty things that barely cover my body. I love giving you a good show when you get home from work,” your voice smooth as the buttercream roses you decorate with your heart-shaped cakes.

     your free hand tweaks at your nipple, the remands of strawberry vanilla from your previous macaroon stick on your tongue but how how you want to taste the pre cum that leaks from Steven’s tip. the filthy thought has you abandoning your breast to give attention to your cunt, a whimper excluding your lips when it burns so good at just the touch.

     “mhm I knew you’d enjoy them doll. you always pull such good performances for me in them. so sweet and pretty, all for me to rip it off you,” you don’t mean to slip past a moan as your fingers rub your pearl but it’s too late to take it back when he hear Stevens stern exhale.

     “are you touching yourself sweetheart?” his voice isn’t smooth and suave no more but raspy and demanding, making your fingers stop their rubbing motion.

     “n-no,” you fib but all you want to do is sink in the bubbly warm water when you hear Steven darkly chuckle.

     “don’t lie to your Captain sweetheart. are you touching yourself? tell the truth,” you gulp at that, mouth shaking as you bring the sound piece of the handset closer to your lips. internally hoping and praying that Steven will give in to you, even when you’re breaking a golden rule. 

     “yes. yes I am Captain,” your breathy whisper holds all the euphoria and lust you're body is swimming in and it doesn’t help that you hear the metal clank of a belt unbuckling.

     “without my permission?” you can’t decipher his voice, whether or not he’s angry or disappointed your fingers stop tracing the bubbly surface of the pink tinted water.

     “y-yes, Captain- but I just couldn’t help it! you left me and my mess alone this morning. i’m so lonely here without you,” you mellow, your fingers once again tracing your lower lips. 

     not daring to plunge them deeper once you hear the light sound of Stevens heavy breath fanning into your ear. shivers sending up and down your spine deliciously, it’s like he’s here with you now even when he’s on the other side of the city.

     “mhm, you just couldn’t help it, sugar can’t you? you need me right now don’t you sweet girl? you need your Captain to help you?” nodding hysterically along with him.  

     coming to a realization that your lover can’t see you nod your head, your pretty lips you’d let him kiss and use any day pull into a pout. knowing you’re going to have to beg him to allow yourself to touch your pussy.

     well, his pussy

     “yes please! I-I need you Ste- Captain! please I need you!” your breathy voice begs and on the other end Steven has a smirk playing on his handsome face. 

     it’s hours until he’ll be done with his meeting and hours until he picks you up for your dinner reservation but he’s in your debt. you never know this but Steven was sprawled in your hand, whatever you desired and needed he’ll give you within the snap of his fingers. if you needed him when he’s away, he’ll make it seem he’s right near the tub. guiding your fingers in and out of your hole and leaving praises and affirmations into your ear.

     “how can I say no to you doll?”

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[slashingdisneypasta]

Slashers / Horror Villains as: Animated (Children’s) Movie Villain Songs

+ A Nightmare Before Christmas 

First of all, its mostly Disney. Second of all, I hope you know that this was a struggle for me. 

Also, note, Bubba will be the only Leatherface in this post and Billy and Stu will be the only Ghostfaces. There is Norma Bates though, so sort of a consolation. 

There are links to videos on YouTube ^^

~~~

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher / Ghostface: Playing With the Big Boy’s Now (Hotep and Huy, Prince of Egypt) 

Well... they’re part of the ‘big boys’, now! They are part of the Slashers group that, uh, ‘inspired them’. Imagine instead of Egyptian Gods, they’re chanting Slasher names. 

[HUY] Pick up your silly twig, boy [HOTEP & HUY] You're playing with the big boys now! Ha ha ha ha!

[EGYPTIAN PRIESTS] By the power of Ra Mut, Nut, Khnum, Ptah Sobek, Sekhmet, Sokar, Selket Anubis, Anukis Hemsut, Tefnut, Meshkent, Mafdet... 

Chop Top and Nubbins + Bubba Sawyer / Leatherface: Kidnap Mr Sandy Claws (Lock, Shock and Barrel, Nightmare Before Christmas) 

I mean... they aren't Drayton’s minions, but they are like this XD 

I say that we take a cannon, aim it at his door And then knock three times And when he answers Sandy Claws will be no more

Yes you're so stupid, think now If we blow him up to smithereens We may lose some pieces And then Jack will beat us black and green

Kidnap the Sandy Claws Tie him in a bag

Chucky / Charles Lee Ray: In The Dark Of The Night (Rasputin, Anastasia)

Mystical man? Check! ‘Betrayal’ (As far as he sees it)? Check. Made them pay? Check; I think Nica, Sarah and all the other families he destroys throughout the franchise can attest to that. And ‘One little girl got away’? Well Andy isn’t a girl, but yeah. Check. 

I was once the most mystical man in all Russia When the royals betrayed me they mad a mistake My curse made each of them pay But one little girl got away Little Anya, beware Rasputin's awake

Drayton Sawyer: Don’t Fall In Love (Forte, Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas) 

Its such a crochety, unessessarily rude way of describing relationships to someone! I mean, I understand completely and resonate deeply with the desire to be alone and not be responsible for anyone else, but- come on! Beast doesn't share your view! Let it go! 

Its just like Drayton’s reaction to Bubba having a crush. Super cool video too! 

As soon as your heart rules your head Your life is not your own It's hell when someone's always there It's bliss to be alone

And love of any kind is bad A dog, a child, a cat They take up so much precious time Now, where's the sense in that?

Freddy Krueger: No More Mr Nice Guy (Rothbart, Swan Princess) 

A man with an uncomfortable relationship with the main female character pretending to be normal and not homicidal for a while before unlocking more power and letting there inner bad guy loose and taking great pleasure in it? Sounds familiar. They also have a similar vocabulary- except of course Rothbart is rated G. 

I'll become that nasty, naughty, dirty, spiteful Wicked, wayward, way-delightful Bad guy I was born to be

Lyin' loathesome, never-tender Indiscreet repeat offender No more Mr Nice Guy That's not me 

Inkubus: The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind (Professor Rattigan, The Greatest Mouse Detective)

‘Inkubus’ is literally a movie about him listing all his crimes over the centuries and messing with the police force because he has a bone to pick with a detective. Sounds pretty similar to me! Listen to the song! ^^

Now comes the real tour de force Tricky and wicked, of course! My earlier crimes were fine for their times But now that I'm at it again An even grimmer plot has been simmering In my great criminal brain! 

Jason Voorhees: Despicable Me (About Gru, Despicable Me) 

I... this is all I could think of!! But the more I listen to it and read the lyrics... it f i t s Jason so well! XD Please just let this slide; I know Gru isn't really a villain but he is at the start!! Let me have this. 

Why ask why? Better yet "Why not?" Why are you marking x on that spot? Why use a blow torch isn't that hot? Why use a chainsaw? Is that all you got? Why do you like seeing people in shock? But my question to you is "Why not?" Why go to the bank and stand in line Just use a freeze gun it saves me time. I'm havin' a bad, bad day It's about time that I get my way Steam rollin' whatever I see, Huh, despicable me I'm havin' a bad, bad day If you take it personal that's okay Watch, this is so fun to see Huh, despicable me

Jennifer Check: Trust In Me (Kaa, The Jungle Book) 

She’s a succubus demon. Tempting boys into a safe-feeling, docile state so she she can strike is her thing. 

Will cease to resist Just relax Be at rest Like a bird In a nest

Trust in me Just in me Shut your eyes And trust in me

Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone: Savages (Governor Ratcliffe and the Colonizer’s parts, Pocahontas) 

Obviously, because of the (Inaccurate) historical relevance of both movies (Different time’s, same terrible prejudice,) and also because there is definitely a very cult-ish feel about both Governor Ratcliffe’s song and Buckman’s leadership. How easily they’re able to gather support from their people for the most horrible reasons. How horrifying it is to audiences and historians. 

They're only good when dead They're vermin, as I said And worse

They're savages! Savages!

Barely even human

Savages! Savages!

Drive them from our shore! They're not like you and me Which means they must be evil We must sound the drums of war!

Michael Myers: The Gospel Truth II (Muses about Hades, Hercules)

In a Disney movie, Michael would have others sing his song about him as he goes about his silent, determined walking XD 

If there's one God you don't want to get steamed up It's Hades 'Cause he had an evil plan He ran the underworld But thought the dead were dull and uncouth He was as mean as he was ruthless And that's the gospel truth He had a plan to shake things up And that's the gospel truth

Midnight Man: Oogie Boogie’s Song (Oogie Boogie, Nightmare Before Christmas)

A song about a “Gamblin’ Boogie Man” is perfect for the Midnight Man! He and Oogie could be pals. 

Woah! The sound of rollin' dice To me is music in the air 'Cause I'm a gamblin' Boogie Man Although I don't play fair It's much more fun, I must confess When lives are on the line Not mine, of course, but yours, old boy Now that'd be just fine

Norma Bates: Mother Knows Best Reprise (Mother Gothel, Tangled)

Norma is soooooo so so so unbelievably manipulative towards Norman (And Dylan. It just works better on Norman) and this song absolutely presents that. She can go from sweet, loving mother to spiteful, heinous bitch in two seconds if Norman or Dylan don't do what or react the way she wants them to. 

Likes you? Please, Rapunzel, that's demented

This is why you never should have left! Dear, this whole romance that you've invented, Just proves you're too naive to be here Why would he like you? Come on now, really! Look at you, you think that he's impressed? Don't be a dummy Come with mummy

Pamela Voorhees: My Lullaby (Zira, The Lion King 2)

In a opposite approach to a villainous mother to Norma, we have Pam, who was heartbroken by the camp councillors letting her son die and vowed to get revenge. She didn't know she was teaching Jason to be the Crystal Lake killer like Zira did, but she did, and the whole song does have her kind of feel to it also. 

Sleep, my little Kovu Let your dreams take wing One day when you're big and strong You will be a kingI've been exiled, persecuted Left alone with no defense When I think of what that brute did I get a little tense But I dream a dream so pretty That I don't feel so depressed 'Cause it soothes my inner kitty And it helps me get some rest

Patrick Bateman: Cruella De Vil (Arthur, 101 Dalmations) 

Never before was there a song that described audiences reaction to watching Patrick living in his daily life and hearing his thoughts better then this one. 

Cruella De Vil Cruella De Vil If she doesn't scare you No evil thing will To see her is to Take a sudden chill Cruella, Cruella De Vil

The curl of her lips The ice in her stare All innocent children Had better beware She's like a spider waiting For the kill Look out for Cruella De Vil

Pennywise (Both): You’re Only Second Rate (Jafar, Return of Jafar)

Mostly for the video and Jafar’s energy in this scene actually XD So many transformations, so many tasteless puns! I was going to give this to Freddy but its the closest thing to Penny I could think of. 

Go ahead and zap me with the big surprise Snap me in a trap, cut me down to size I'll make a great escape It's just a piece of cake You're only second rate You know your hocus-pocus isn't tough enough And your mumbo-jumbo doesn't measure up Let me pontificate upon your sorry state You're only second rate

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt: Hellfire (Judge Claude Frollo, Hunchback of Notre Dame) 

A nasty filthy man who think’s he’s in the right despite being the biggest creep and monster ever? Mhm. 

*Note: I honestly didn't notice the deformed baby, Quasimodo/Thomas link until the day after I wrote this. Don't know how I feel about it. I mean, Hoyt is actually nice, in his way, to Thomas so the connection isn't totally there but onwards:

Beata Maria You know I am a righteous man Of my virtue I am justly proud

Beata Maria You know I'm so much purer than The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd 

End of Post! 🌼

(Bonus’ under the cut) 

I did think of other connections which I obviously didnt landed on but still have merit! Here! 

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher: ‘Gaston’ was considered, but that would have just been a joke XD I don’t think Stu is quite as obsessed with Billy as LeFou is with Gaston. 

Chucky: Friends on the Other Side. Obviously! That link was actually what inspired me to make this post. In The Dark of Night fits to a T though. 

Freddy Krueger: You’re Only Second Rate! Ah, its perfectttt. But No More Mr Nice Guy fits better. If I ever do a Slashers as Disney Villains post, he’ll be Jafar for sure. Or Hades. Or Scar. Or Oogie. Probably Hades. You know what? Without the gore and blood and explicit sexual references, Freddy could be a Disney Villain himself. Its not like Disney hasn't towed the line before with perverted villains. >_> (Jafar and Frollo) 

Jason and Pamela Voorhees: Mother Knows Best! Of course. 

Jennifer Check: Love is For Peasants (Barbie Island Princess) Because Jennifer thinks like this: 

Men? <<< Literally anything else. 

Patrick Bateman: How Can I Refuse? (From Barbie Princess and the Pauper) XD If Patrick were a kids movie villain, he would totally join the ranks of corrupted usurpers pretending to be trustworthy royal advisory staff. Also ‘Let It Die’, that little interruption part of another song that O’Hare sings in the Lorax and ‘How Bad Can I be?’. 

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Kingdom Come”

This is another one of my early Captain Swan one shots, this one written during the hiatus between 3a and 3b.  The idea entered my head when I first heard "Demons" by Imagine Dragons, which is where the title and the lyrics included come from. There was also some added inspiration from episode 3x06 "Ariel" and episode 3x07 "Dark Hollow". I don't think there is anything in here that goes against show canon; it's mostly imagined thoughts and missing scenes that go along with what has happened, and some guesses at what we may see when "Once" returns again in March.

As always, I have no claim to the show, the characters, or the song used. They belong to their creators and I'm merely celebrating their genius!

Also available on both AO3 and ff.net

“Kingdom Come”

by: @snowbellewells​

He knew that he should have kept his distance. She was shining light in contrast to his dark shadow, and a villainous wretch was the last sort she needed to have dogging her steps. Yet from their first meeting – knife at his throat, fingers fisted in his hair, hard, dangerous eyes hiding tense, nervous fear – he hadn't been able to pull away. He had no choice but to follow her. Call it a compulsion, an addiction, but he was as drunk on her as he had ever been on his chosen rum, and he despaired from the moment she left him chained atop that bloody beanstalk to any time she had left his side since.

The words Cora had hissed at him in warning echoed back to him, "You chose her…and the consequences of that decision…" Whether it was good or bad for either of them didn't seem to matter to his black, barely-beating heart. It was true: he had chosen the Swan girl…

When the days are cold

and the cards all fold

and the saints we see

are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail

and the ones we hail

are the worst of all

and the blood's run stale

It had become even clearer to him after the Echo Caves. When he had bared his soul and the feelings he harbored for her to be met with only silence and Emma's panicked uncertainty, fearless pirate he might be, but Killian Jones knew he should take a step back. The incredible, unparalleled kiss they had shared in the Neverland jungle told him the Savior was as attracted as he, but she was not ready for him. Her sole focus was on her boy – as it should be – but beyond that, she was running scared from anyone else who might try to breach her emotional defenses.

He knew it had been too much, too soon, to unload the truth about feeling that he could love again upon meeting her, and if he had been free to proceed as himself – as Killian Jones wooing a lady properly – he would have never been so clumsily blunt, but instead he was a pirate captain desperate to prove his loyalty and worth, while stuck on Peter Pan's nightmare island. They had needed to get Neal back without further delay and return to seeking Henry, and so he'd had to make clear that he was correct in the way the infernal cave worked. It had not been easy to look into her beautiful, tormented eyes when he had offered his confession, hoping he hadn't driven a wedge which would push her even farther away. It had been even worse to see her run across the bridge formed for her of their painful admissions, right up to Baelfire without giving him a word of comfort, encouragement, or thanks. He felt his shoulders slump in defeat, hurting more than he had imagined, when the cage holding the Crocodile's son vanished at words from Emma which he could not hear, and she fell into the embrace of her first love.

Killian felt her slipping away – if she had ever been within his grasp at all. Bowing his head, he hid the pain in his eyes from Snow White and Prince Charming's curious, searching gazes. Burning fire within him seared away the tentative hope he had foolishly let kindle within. He was nothing but a pirate, as the Prince had reminded him not so long ago. Though he couldn't help wanting to hold her, it was probably for the best…

I wanna hide the truth

I wanna shelter you

But with the beast inside

there's nowhere we can hide

No matter what we breed,

we still are made of greed

This is my kingdom come,

This is my kingdom come

There was no longer any doubt. He was a fool – a sodding, pathetic fool. For him to let a glimmer of belief take root in his chest again was begging for misery, but Killian Jones had felt it growing all the same.

Venturing into the Dark Hollow had been a risky, desperate move at best, but after his face-off with Baelfire and discovering that Emma had not even deemed what had been brewing between them worth mention, self-preservation had not been so high atop his list. He had barely cared what happened to him in their suicide quest to capture Pan's shadow.

Of course, the fiend trying to rip his shadow from his body had jolted things into focus with frightening clarity; especially when he realized that Baelfire was facing the exact same fate, but it was his moniker of 'Hook!' that Emma cried out in horror. That she found the power to magically light their star map shadowcatcher just after her concern for him surfaced was not lost on Killian. No matter how much he cautioned himself not to dwell on it, he couldn't ignore the implications. Emma might not want to admit it, might not be free to show it, but when push came to shove, she cared more for him than she wished to admit.

He had not lied to her when he had promised no deviousness or trickery. If Emma Swan – the Enchanted Forest's lost princess – ever gave him the chance to truly win her heart, he would use no dishonorable means. He understood good form and had once dreamed of being a hero. He might be an orphan and a pirate, not some prince or man of noble blood, and his thirst for revenge had kept him lost in villainy for countless years, but he still had honor, could strive to show it valiantly once again. He knew deep down that she wanted him; what he did not know was if Swan would ever allow herself to acknowledge her desires. He could only vow that he would endeavor to deserve her if she came to him with such a golden opportunity.

Swan needed some joy and lightheartedness in her life. Though she looked fragile, she was hard as steel; she'd had to be for far too long. To him, her beauty was unrivalled, but it was clear that Emma did not see that in herself. He wanted to worship her as she deserved, unfit as he might be to do so. Killian Jones wanted to restore her lad to her, heal the wounds of her past, love her unconditionally, and never leave her side. He trembled to risk pulling her that close; his history proving over and over that anyone he dared to love had suffered a horrible fate. It was better his own heart be crushed than for her to suffer harm by nearness to him. Still, if he fought back the darkness he had sunk into, shouldn't he be allowed to step into the light?

When you feel my heat,

look into my eyes

It's where my demons hide

It's where my demons hide

Don't get too close

It's dark inside

It's where my demons hide

It's where my demons hide

She came to him at the helm of his ship once Henry was truly safe and resting peacefully with Regina watching over him. There had been a scare when Pan had tried to take Henry from them once again, but it appeared Rumplestiltskin's strength had indeed been greater than the ageless boy's, and their antagonist was now trapped safely in Pandora's Box. Sighing as she came to a stop just beyond arm's reach from him and leaned against the Jolly's hull, Emma didn't know if weariness or relief was winning within her at present. She was not sure that seeking out Hook when her emotions were such a mess was a good idea, but it was a need all the same. She was drawn to him like a magnet – impelled to speak to him, to thank him for helping them to get this far…to make sure that he was alright.

Emma knew he had been left hanging, knew he wanted more. What she didn't know was what she had to give. It had nothing to do with still doubting his motives or that he was a pirate; Hook had long since proven himself in her eyes. She simply wasn't sure her heart could let any man in the way he would want and deserve. She found it didn't matter though: she still ached to be near the Captain. He calmed her, despite the turmoil she had been in ever since this voyage started, and his constant support at her back, whatever the situation or whatever her decisions, had given her strength. She wanted to tell him so; if nothing else, he ought to know what it meant to have had him in her corner and that she would not soon forget it.

"Hook…" she began, then shook her head to cut herself off, knowing that wasn't right. Her corrected word came out breathy and more ragged than she had intended, "….Killian…"

He turned to face her when she spoke his name, though he had already known she was there. Just then, she could see everything he was feeling in those ocean blue eyes. Though their decadent depths often smirked, prodded, threatened, or demanded as the situation called for, at that moment they were raw, reflecting mirrors letting her see right into his exposed inner soul.

All the words she had intended to give him flew from her head, and Emma was left standing frozen, swallowing hard and wondering why she wanted to talk at all. With that in mind, she moved to stand before him, just within his reach, when one corner of his mouth tilted up in a tempting smirk as he beckoned her closer. Obviously pleased with himself, he took things a step farther, resting both hand and hook at either side of her waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles that she could feel the warmth of through the waistband of her jeans, as if he were stilling a skittish animal so it didn't flee. "Was there something you wished to discuss with me, Love?"

"I…" her mouth went dry staring into his eyes and she struggled to focus on anything other than the desire for a second kiss from him, but she finally pieced together coherent words. "I just wanted to thank you…for everything. We couldn't have even followed Henry without your ship and your help. David would be dead by now. And I, well, I just…"

"Come, Lass, it's just me. There's no need to be so formal. I offered you my ship and my services, and I meant it." As he said these words, he was slowly, deliberately, pinning her in his gaze so she understood just how much it did mean to him. He placed the cool, smooth curve of his hook under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his.

"But – it's just – it's so much more than that," she floundered, and if she weren't so grateful and attracted and muddled all at once she would have been irritated that he could sound so composed and romantic while she struggled to get a sentence out. Emotional tears almost welled over her eyelids, but she blinked them back and stepped closer yet, almost begging him to hold her, causing their noses to nearly brush. Looking up at him, she hoped that just maybe her eyes could convey her affection, gratitude, and want without the words that seemed lost to her. Biting her lower lip in nervous anticipation, Emma raised her eyes, blinking, to his cerulean gaze and prayed he would simply read her scrambled mind.

Chuckling low in his throat, Killian seemed to do just that, and wrapped his muscled arms around to reel her in. "All you had to do was ask, Love," he teased, lightly ghosting his lips over her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, forestalling the inevitable and making her heart thud erratically even as she grew impatient for his lips to reach hers. Just as she had grabbed him and driven their first kiss – fast, desperate, bruising – he was taking over this second one, creating a slow, languorous, building simmer that Emma wasn't sure she would survive.

Killian's hand came up to cradle her head, hook resting along her neck on the other side, the one bit of cool relief to the fire in which he had engulfed her. His calloused fingers stroked along her jaw as if hoping to coax her nearer still. This kiss carried their feelings in it; there was still heat and passion, but below it thrummed something more, something deeper: it required a decision. Emma's breath caught at the realization that this kiss was something which might last.

Killian was thinking, hoping, the same thing, hardly daring to believe, but unable to stop it either. Greedy thief and pirate that he was, he wanted more of Emma; it would never be enough. Fool he might be, but he did not aim to stop until he had stolen her very heart. Not so long ago, he had been rudderless, with nothing in this world to keep him but his vengeance. Now, he prayed that he could change his course. At last, he had something to fight for, someone to hold dear. Killian Jones – Captain Hook – had despaired of being anything else but hell bound…until she crossed his path. Perhaps he might still find redemption in Emma. Heaven had to know his every effort and act for good has been due to her. It's all for her.

Don't wanna let you down

but I am hell bound

Though this is all for you,

don't wanna hide the truth…

This is my kingdom come

This is my kingdom come

The door slams in his face – her door – and Killian lets himself slump against the wall, dejected. It all happened so quickly and now Emma is gone. She is beyond his grasp, as he had always known she was. He has waited so long to see her lovely face again, traveled so far, and though he tried to prepare himself for the very reaction he received, it didn't hurt any less when she gave him the blank look which told him his Swan no longer knew him.

Upon their forced return to the Enchanted Forest, he had tried to steer clear of everyone. Angry, wounded, and bitter, he had wanted nothing more than to hide himself below deck on the Roger and drink until he couldn't think of how being ripped from her just when she had given him a chance had hurt. He had not wanted to be near anyone and had made horrible, snarling company when someone forced the issue, but that had not stopped Snow and Charming. Emma's parents were a painful reminder of her, but no matter how he strove to avoid them and steer clear, they would not leave him alone.

It was exasperating how they kept trying to draw him into rebuilding the castle and their kingdom, tried to cheer him up, provided work for he and his crew as supplies were needed from other ports, and generally would not allow him to wallow in his misery as he had desired. They kept repeating that they had faith this separation would not last forever. For some unfathomable reason, he seemed to have found his way into their affection, and they would not let him despair either.

When Regina had finally put together a memory restorative potion, he had been willing to concede that these royal types and their unending hope were not so completely off base. The former evil queen had been almost pleasant and much more willing to help ever since meeting Robin Hood – apparently the man she had been destined to meet long ago. Some of the dangerous emptiness and hurt left her eyes when she was around the archer, and especially near his young son. Killian knew that she hoped Emma would find a way back and bring Henry if she could be made to remember. Regina also knew the rules of the second curse well though; she was to give up the thing she loved most. She couldn't be the one to go after them, couldn't force her hand. She would have to trust those whom she had spent so long fighting against.

Killian had been stunned however when David and Snow both championed his undertaking the quest. Something knowing flickered between the Prince and Princess' eyes, but he didn't waste time trying to figure it out. He was too grateful, touched, and ridiculously anxious to get going, whatever the mode of travel, to ask questions.

Now, faced with the harsh truth, he almost forgets the potion tucked into a pocket of his vest. He had to try True Love's Kiss, had to see for himself if it were possible. He shouldn't have even entertained the dream, and yet he couldn't help himself. He truly thought she loved him…but maybe she still does and has simply forgotten. He has come too far to turn back now without seeing his mission through. Any realm he tries to make his life in now will be empty without her regardless. He will wait for his moment, and he will try again…

They say it's what you make

I say it's up to Fate

It's woven in my soul

I need to let you go

Your eyes they shine so bright

I wanna save that light

I can't escape this now,

Unless you show me how…

Killian stands outside the large, several story building where Emma and Henry now reside, oblivious to the crush of people rushing around him on all sides, looking up to the window he knows is theirs, comforted by the fact that, though she may not remember him right now, they are once again in the same place and time. He can get to her, and he will succeed in bringing her back to her family…and to him.

That she wants him to keep his distance right now means little. He is sorry that she is at last safe with her son and free of the heavy weight of her destiny and he seeks to interrupt that. However, he thinks he knows Emma well enough to believe she would not wish for an illusion over truth; even if it pained her, she would rather face reality. He knows that much of his Swan.

Villain that he has been, that the world has always seen, the selfless action would be to let her go, but he cannot allow himself to admit defeat. Emma has never truly been loved – treasured – as she ought to have been, as he had planned to do. He fervently wishes to be the one to show her what it is to be wholly adored. He wants her to know that she is his whole world, and he needs the chance to see if she can love him in return, keep him striving to live again. The demons that still haunt him, that say her kingdom and his black soul are already lost, try to whisper that he will fail. Their voices hiss that he will never bring her back, that her knowledge and memories are lost forever. Killian pushes those insidious echoes from his mind. Soon, he will meet her haunting, storm-tossed eyes again, and he will make her see.

This is my kingdom come…

Tagging a few others who may enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose  @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @stahlop @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @elizabeethan @wefoundloveunderthelight @jonesfandomfanatic @spartanguard @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​

[shireness-says]

A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink (2/5)

Summary: Two people are trained from childhood for a magical competition they don’t fully understand, whose stakes are higher than they imagine, all to be played out in a magical traveling circus. Falling in love complicates things. A CS AU of the book “The Night Circus”.

Rated M. ~16.5k. Also on Ao3. On Tumblr: Chapter One

A/N: I’m back! Thanks for your patience in waiting for the latest chapter of my @cssns​ piece. My apologies for the wait; these chapters are slow in coming due to my own overthinking and perfectionism, what I know where everything is going and this Will Be Finished. 

Special thanks to my betas, @snidgetsafan​ and @ohmightydevviepuu​, and to @eirabach for the absolutely gorgeous art she created for this chapter. Seriously, it’s like she climbs right inside my head to see what I’m picturing. Give her a BUNCH of love for all this. 

Tagging the interested parties (and let me know if you’re one of those!): @welllpthisishappening​, @thisonesatellite​, @let-it-raines​, @kmomof4​, @scientificapricot​, @thejollyroger-writer​, @superchocovian​, @teamhook​, @optomisticgirl​, @winterbaby89​, @searchingwardrobes​, @katie-dub​, @snowbellewells​, @spartanguard​, @phiralovesloki​, @profdanglaisstuff​, @winterbythesea​​

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Henry is six the first time he visits the Circus. 

It’s a special treat for an orphaned boy like him; the nuns who run the Storybrooke Children’s Home, just outside of Portland, Maine, aren’t much given to frivolous entertainments like this. But a generous monetary donation had been made to the home when the Circus had set up just over the next hill, and tickets for all the children along with it. The nuns may not be much for frivolity, but they’re not ones for waste, either, especially where gifts are concerned. The next night, Sister Astrid and Sister Theodora collect all the children who want to go, and bring them to what, to Henry, feels like a whole other world. 

Henry is a boy the adults already say lives in his imagination too much, and the magic of the Circus only enchants him further, calling to him in a way he doesn’t yet have the words to understand, let alone describe. There are trapeze artists who soar through the air, and jugglers, and lions and tigers and wolves so tame that they’ll take treats from his hands. Kindly confectioners slip him pieces of praline and boxes of popcorn to snack on through the night with a wink and a smile. It’s treatment such as he’s never experienced before, and it’s easy to wonder if he’s just wandered into some kind of dream.

(Even at six, Henry knows better than to disrupt such a lovely dream.)

It’s easy to get separated from the rest of the children in the dazzle of it all, and Henry finds himself wandering the curved paths alone as the clock strikes one, when the others in his group are preparing to return to the Home. Not that he knows it; he’s far too occupied by staring wide-eyed at the black and white tents where they soar to meet the stars and peeking beyond their entrance flaps.

That’s how the lady finds him - gawking with a craned neck at everything around him. 

“Have you lost your group, young man?” she asks with a gentle voice. Henry likes being called young man; it makes him feel important. 

“It’s okay,” he tells her earnestly. “They like to go faster than me. I can do it by myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” the lady laughs. She looks really pretty; her hair is yellow and curly and she wears a poofy white dress with black swirly bits and a black, long-sleeved jacket, the lack of color making it obvious she’s part of the Circus somehow. If this was one of the fairy tales Henry likes so much, she’d be the princess in hiding; here, at the Circus, that just might be true. “I was just planning to walk to the front gates. Would you care to escort me, young sir?”

Henry eagerly takes the hand the lady offers. “I’m Henry,” he tells her as they walk. “What’s your name?”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Henry. My name is Emma.”

“That’s a princess name. Are you a princess?”

“No,” she laughs, “but thank you very much, Henry. I appreciate the compliment. Are you enjoying the circus?”

“Yeah!” As they walk, Henry eagerly tells the lady - Emma, his new friend - about all his favorite bits - the animals and the dancers and especially the magician. Emma has a funny little smile when he talks about that, but Henry doesn’t think to ask about it.

When the front gates are finally in sight, Henry tugs on Emma’s hand. “I like it here,” he whispers. “Do I have to go?”

Emma crouches down, her skirts pooling around her and threatening to envelop him too. “Yes, Henry, you have to leave for now.”

“But why? I want to stay here. I could stay with you!”

“Oh, Henry, I’d like that so much,” she tells him, pulling him into a hug. “You need to go for now, until you’re older, but the Circus will always be here for you, okay? You’ll come back.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Henry dreams of the circus that night, and for many nights after, though the visions his mind conjures up never quite match the mysticism of the real thing.

A week later, the Circus is gone.

(But here, in a small room in a cold, gloomy children’s home - a young boy remembers.)

———

Belle, unsurprisingly, proves to be a determined and reliable correspondent. She’s like his little window into the Circus, even when he can’t be there himself, as is so often the case - especially in those first few years. Five years pass of letters and far-too-rare visits, and yet Killian never feels left in the dark. That’s the magic of what Belle can accomplish with her words - let him feel as if he is present even when he can’t be. 

Her missives contain the important things he asked for, of course - reports of new tents and changes in operations and unusual things his opponent, Miss Swan, is doing. They’re useful words, words that help him plan his own next moves. More than that, though, her letters are filled with wonderful little mundane details that make him smile. Belle tells him about the latest book she’s read and how fast the Zimmer twins are growing up and particularly funny anecdotes she’s heard. There are complaints about the weather, and discussions of the interesting or ominous things she reads in the cards. Always, always, there are chronicles of all the many places she has seen as the Circus crisscrosses the world, recountings of wondrous sights and marvelous people. Belle had wanted to see the world, and she’s getting to, five times over. It’s everything she deserves, only wrapped in an unusual and often demanding package. 

“It’s not too much, is it?” Killian asks on one of the rare instances their paths cross - in Paris, this time, where Killian has come on an errand for Jefferson, sitting in a little cafe in the shadow of Notre Dame. “I never want to ask more of you than you can manage.”

“Don’t be silly,” Belle says, waving off his concerns like the steam from their coffee. “They’re merely letters, Killian. It’s no great bother - especially for something I’d be doing anyways. I’d be writing to you regardless, Killian - you’re my best friend in the world, and I’ll be terribly put out if you ever stop writing me back.”

And that’s that.

(Most days, Killian believes that Belle is a much better friend than he could ever possibly deserve. He makes a mental note to say something of the sort in his next letter back to her.)

(Of course, he forgets - but then again, he can’t imagine she doesn’t already know.)

———

As a child, growing up knowing she was destined for some magical contest, Emma had always been told that she’d understand what she needed to do once her competition actually started. As an adult, now smack in the middle of it all, she finds that is decidedly not the case. Emma does her best, but it still feels like she has no idea what in the world she’s supposed to be doing.

The Circus is meant to be a canvas for her abilities, hers and her opponent’s; that much is obvious. What exactly that means is… more up for debate. Emma tries to take on more of the Circus in little pieces, bit by bit, so that more of its operations run on magic than on man power. It’s more enjoyable to try and come up with new attractions, drawing upon her imagination to come up with something new. It’s not a particularly quick process - Emma spends a lot of time planning each idea, to make sure she doesn’t miss anything, and it means that she can only create maybe two new tents each year. It’s worth it, though, to wander through the finished product, and see the way her most fanciful ideas have come to life. 

(“You need to be doing more,” Regina always scolds her on those rare occasions she makes the effort to visit her student. “This isn’t playtime. You can’t just make the effort when you feel like it, silly girl. Don’t you want to win this?”

“Of course, Regina,” Emma always says, making whatever promises she needs to in order to appease the other woman - all the while knowing that she will continue to act in her own way.)

(For Emma, the best thing about the Circus may be the separation from the woman who took her in. Regina does not often make the effort to check in on how her student is doing - and Emma more than likes it that way.)

There are traces of her mysterious opponent’s work, too. Sometimes it’s in the form of dramatic new attractions, things that push the bounds of possibility and perception; sometimes, it’s with more mundane things, like a wine-sampling tent tucked along a path that Emma is certain never existed before. 

His or her greatest feat, however, is on the members of the Circus themselves. As the years pass by, Emma can’t help but notice that time doesn’t affect everyone who brings the Circus to life, with the exception of the Zimmer twins. It’s been more than half a decade, but Granny Lucas is still as hale and hearty as ever. Not a single face has gained extra creases, or a single head extra grey hairs. Something this unknown competitor did has stopped the clock for all of them within the iron fence, even as the grand timepiece above the front gates ticks on.

It’s an impressive piece of magic - one that must take a considerable amount of skill and effort. It’s the first time Emma wonders if maybe this is a contest of endurance, rather than skill.

Regina won’t tell her, however, and Emma puts the matter out of her mind while she turns her attention towards the night’s performances and the germ of an idea blooming in her head. Something fantastical. Something striking - and icy. 

There’s always room for imagination and for creation at the Circus, after all - and despite her opponent’s impressive efforts, that’s exactly what Emma is counting on to one day prevail in this competition. 

——— 

The Zimmer twins are special, Emma discovers, and not just in the way anyone who has loved a child claims them to be exceptional. In Ava and Nicholas’ case, it’s true. 

There had been something in the air the night the circus opened, the night after the twins were born - something crackling and pervasive and magical. Emma has suspected for years - since that very moment - that the energy was something created by her still-unknown opponent. It’d been like a wave, rippling through them all at once and creating unknown effects. She thinks this might be one of those - powers growing in two children who, by all indication, shouldn’t have received them.

It’s especially noticeable to Emma, who not only has the ability to sense the powers running through their veins, but spends a considerable amount of time with the six-year-old twins. Ava and Nicholas grow up like the beloved niece and nephew of everyone involved with the circus, as though everyone communally agreed to test the proverb it takes a village. While the circus is open to visitors, and the children’s parents responsible for their little cart of carved treasures, everyone else watches the little boy and girl in shifts when they’re not performing - and Emma quickly becomes a particular favorite. She’s never been sure why; maybe they sensed the magic in her own veins, even as babies, and latched onto it. Maybe they simply like the way she thoughtfully humors every flight of fancy. Whatever the case - Emma knows her life would be far less interesting without the two in it. 

Ava has magic that likes to shake out and twinkle at the edges of her soft hair, similar in a way to Emma’s own powers. Unusual things happen around her, if you’re paying attention; lost things are more easily found, snacks and sweets turn up in unlikely places, and on one impressive occasion, a pair of fluffy orange and white kittens crawled out from beneath her bunk. 

“I can fix that,” she tells Emma innocently one day as Emma moves to throw a vase of wilted flowers out. She hasn’t prodded Ava about her powers before - it doesn’t seem the time to bring to the forefront all the things she can likely do, not when she’s still a little girl, not when Emma’s own childhood was largely sacrificed because of her own powers - but it’s a hard opportunity to pass up. It’s worth demonstrating to Ava, anyways, that her powers are simply a part of her, and nothing to make a fuss about.

“Can you show me?” Emma asks. It’s impossible not to smile when the little girl nods eagerly and furrows her brow in concentration, staring fixedly at the wilted daisies. Slowly but surely, the browned tips disappear, the petals straightening from their shrivelled state and the flowers once again lifting upright to seek the sun.

“That’s very well done, Ava,” Emma makes sure to tell her. 

“I know,” Ava replies seriously with all the intensity of a child her age. “Can you do that too?”

“I can.” Emma doesn’t tell people about her magic, usually, but Ava seems like a necessary exception - to let the little girl know she’s not entirely alone in her special, unusual skills.

“I thought so,” the little girl nods sagely. “I could feel it.”

It doesn’t surprise Emma in the least. 

Nicholas knows things that he shouldn’t - knows things that no one should know. Somehow, the stars speak to him in a language only he can understand. Nick sees things to come and things that have already happened, and sometimes divulges them readily and at the most unlikely times. 

“Is the scary lady with the dark hair your mama?” he asks one day out of the blue, startling Emma before she collects herself.

“No. She was my teacher,” Emma explains. 

“Oh.” His question asked, Nick happily goes back to playing quietly with his wooden lion. He’s less prone to chatter than his sister, happy to keep to his own thoughts when Ava isn’t pulling him into some other adventure. Emma rather wonders if it’s not because he has all the things he sees in the stars to keep him company. 

“Is there a reason you asked?” she inquires as casually as she can. “Did you… was there something you saw?”

“She hurt you,” is all he’ll say. “Before you were here.”

Something from the past, then - not so immediately alarming, though a sign she’ll need to be vigilant about hiding certain portions of her memories that young, impressionable and trusting minds shouldn’t be seeing.

“It’s alright, Nickie,” she tells him. “She isn’t around to bother me very often.”

He nods decisively. “Good.”

As he turns his attention back to his wooden lion, bringing a tiger in as well, Emma reaches out for the magic constantly humming about her and draws it into herself, directing to play through her mind and cast something almost like her invisibility cloak around her more traumatic memories to keep Nicholas from seeing. 

“Is there anything else?” she prods, mostly to test and see if the charm is effective.

Sure enough, the little boy’s face twists into a frown. “I don’t know,” he grumbles. “I can’t see.”

“Ah, well,” Emma replies in a purposefully light tone. “Maybe some other time.”

(She is not entirely sure she means it.)

Truth be told, Ava and Nicholas and their wondrous gifts are a beautiful mystery. All Emma knows is that it’s her responsibility to protect them from more sinister influences, the way she wishes someone had done for her. They deserve that. She deserved that. And she’ll be damned if they’re turned into pawns the way she was. 

There are many good things to come out of the Circus - friendship and wonder and home - but Emma thinks the Zimmer twins, and the powers they should be able to wield for good without the interference of people like Regina - are one of the best. 

——— 

There are attractions at the Circus unlike anything you’ve seen before, that you think may only exist within these iron gates. The Circus is a place where the otherworldly and impossible come to life.

This tent contains one such wonder, advertised with simple but mysterious words. This marker swirls and glistens in the moonlight, coaxing you inside to discover its secrets.

Stepping through the tent flap, brisk air tickles at your face - the first sign of what’s to come. Twisting through the interior are all manner of transparent structures, arranged in neat beds. The Ice Garden - just as promised. Each creation appears impossibly delicate and fragile, and by all logic, should be impossible on a warm summer’s night. There are lilies and roses and daisies, sculpted topiaries, winding vines, flowers that remind you of an illustration you once saw of tropical flora. A raised bed of cacti and succulents sprawls along one wall. Opposite, an apple tree, laden with fruit, arches gracefully at the edge of a silver-stoned path. There are little crystalline plaques, too, for all the plants whose names you’d never begin to guess: Shooting Star. Gayfeather. Anemones. Candelabra Primrose.

Every inch, every label, every petal, is made of ice.

Even at the Circus, such a thing should be impossible, This tent may be slightly, inexplicably cooler, but it’s by no means chilled enough to maintain this icy wonder. Though you know you shouldn’t touch, you can’t help but graze your fingers along an icy petal, just to make sure it isn’t cleverly blown glass. It’s a joyous mystery when they come away cold and wet, the sculptures revealed as ice in truth.

There’s no explanation for the Ice Garden - how it can exist at this edge of the Circus, seemingly unburdened by the laws of nature.

The longer you spend in the sparkling, colorless chill, the more you come to realize that beauty doesn’t need an explanation anyways.

———

Killian - 

I know it’s not quite the update you were asking for, but I still feel compelled to share - something wonderful and charming and amusing, and so delightfully human. I couldn’t quite resist writing to tell you. 

I could be wrong - but I believe a little fanclub has sprung up to trail the Circus. You’ll think it silly, Killian, but I am starting to recognize faces here - not of Circus members (I am not nearly so unobservant, or so rude not to recognize them by name after all these years!) but of visitors. There are a handful I could swear are coming over and over again. I’ll have to ask, next time I notice.

(Not that I can begrudge them of such - I certainly would be doing the same, in their shoes! It’s just that the fortunes get rather repetitive. I should probably let them know that the stars of fate do not change nearly as quickly as they seem to believe…)

There’s a certain awe, or maybe more like peace, that they wear on their faces as they move about the grounds that’s unique from all the other looks I see - almost like they’re coming home. I certainly know something about that - I think so many of us do. It’s wonderful, really - the way these visitors love the Circus so much that they feel compelled to return time and time again, joyously retracing the same paths over and over. It’s clear they love this place the way we do. Isn’t that just what we wanted, anyways? To make something for others to love, to play a part in bringing it to life? 

(Yes, I obviously remember that you’re also doing this for your mysterious competition - but I don’t believe someone makes something so beautiful without a generous dose of love as well. Don’t try to deny it, Killian - you know I’m always right.)

I hope you are well; no other news from here. As always, I’ll let you know if anything changes. 

Best wishes,

Belle

——— 

In time, the Circus gains followers.

It was probably inevitable, in a way; as the Circus winds its way across the world, through large cities and small towns, it touches countless lives as it goes, some more impactfully than others. There are those who visit once, and remember it fondly; those who take the opportunity to visit whenever the Circus is in their area, and look forward to it; and those who hold the memories close to one day tell their disbelieving grandchildren.

And then - there are the Rêveurs.

The Rêveurs start almost like a book club - groups of people who meet to reminisce about their favorite attractions, all the sights and smells and tastes that make the whole experience unforgettable. In time, the groups morph; they begin to go to the Circus together, and then travel to visit other Rêveurs when the Circus comes to their area. Particularly eloquent members begin to write into their local newspapers and magazines, beautiful editorials that convey love and wonder and coax thousands of others through the twisted iron gates. It becomes an entire movement, based off of a shared love, of people coming together to experience the Circus over and over again.

It is easy to spot the Rêveurs, if you know what you are looking for. In one of the editorials, an adherent mentions his own preferred way to experience the Circus - to blend in as much as he can, in all black and white, while still setting himself apart from those who bring the experience to life by adding a single touch of red. The trend catches on quickly; wandering the grounds, it is easy to spot splashes of red in the crowd, handkerchiefs peeking from pockets and roses or carnations in lapels and gloves and ribbons in hair. 

Some Rêveurs make sure to visit new attractions each time they visit; some prefer to see the same over and over, lingering in the acrobat tent or on the carousel for hours. In a way, they prove that there is no right or wrong way to experience the Circus - there will always be new things to see, and old favorites to return to. 

The members of the Circus are aware of the Rêveurs, too. Indeed, there are benefits to being in the same audience with that little flash of red, as performers bring out their best, most dazzling tricks and attempt new daring feats. Watching carefully, one might see a vendor slip a cup of cocoa or an extra serving of toasted nuts to a man or woman with that bare hint of color. All visitors to the Circus are valued, but the Rêveurs are treasured, in a different way, that makes every person involved in the endeavor want to do just the slightest bit more to bring the experience to life in a new way. 

The performers and vendors and other members of the Circus are its engine, in many ways - but the Rêveurs just might be its heart. 

———

Killian - 

I just realized that it’s been a while since my last letter - two months, I believe! Everything is perfectly fine here, I assure you. In fact, I haven’t written because there’s been nothing particularly notable to report. I’ve been watching for new additions, just as I always do, but nothing has appeared. Ah, well. We must be in a quiet stretch on that front.

Meanwhile, the Circus trundles onward, as it so often does. This week, we’re in Morocco. I’ve never been - and oh Killian, it is wonderful. The air is hot and dry and tinged with all kinds of spices that I can’t quite identify. And the food! A little group of us went and wandered in one of the markets, trying things from the stands. I’ve never tasted anything like it. What boring lives so many people lead, happy to stay on their own little island and pretend they know everything. This is so much preferable. The weather is a wonderful respite, too, from the cold I know must be sweeping through now that December is well and truly here.

I do not know if we’ll be home for Christmas; I rather doubt it. I’ll miss our usual holiday feast, but I trust that you’ll have a lovely time with your brother instead. My regards to Liam, as always.

Yours &c.,

Belle

———

Killian is lucky, in a way. After all, he has Belle and Liam, who both know about this competition. They’re his support system, the people who keep him grounded to life outside of all this - especially Liam. Lord knows Mr. Gold has never sought to do that. He doubts Miss Swan has that. Maybe he’s wrong; for her sake, he hopes he is. How lonely it must be to keep that secret, otherwise. 

Liam’s apartment is like a sanctuary at the end of a long day, where his brother waits with dark spiced rum and a roaring fire. Sometimes they venture out for dinner; some nights they stay in, and have the landlady send up something to eat. Mostly, Killian enjoys the peace of being in company that never expects more of him than he’s sure he can give. All Liam expects is companionship, and maybe for Killian to come with a nice bottle of spirits every so often. Killian can more than handle that. 

(They do not mention that Liam does not seem to age, the same way all those attached to the Circus do not. If his brother has even noticed, he remains blessedly silent on the subject.)

“Do you wonder sometimes,” Liam asks one night, “what would have happened if you hadn’t been selected by Gold? If you had turned him down?”

Killian shrugs. They’re in the middle of their third drinks - just the time for philosophical questions like these. “Not really,” he admits. “What’s the use? It happened like it happened. You wouldn’t have as nice a place as this, that’s for damn sure.”

Liam snorts, and the atmosphere turns more jovial for a few minutes as both men indulge in a drunken laugh before things turn thoughtful again. “If you had to do it all over again… would you?”

“I would,” Killian agrees. “We were a couple of scrappy orphans, no prospects, nothing. I’ve never been given a reason to truly regret it.”

“Then I’m happy for you, brother.” Liam tops off their glasses and raises his drink in a toast. “To good decisions, then!”

“To good decisions,” Killian echoes. “Or at least ones we haven’t yet regretted.”

———

Some attractions are more conventional in name, their promises familiar and comforting in that way that the expected can be. But this is the Circus, and conventional simply doesn’t exist here in the same way. 

You enter another tent to discover a hall of mirrors. It is a common enough attraction, at its core, one you have seen in other carnivals and street fairs. But true to the promise of the Circus, this version of such a fun house classic is more than you’ve ever seen. There are tall, full length mirrors, as you’ve come to expect, but small mirrors too, clustered on tables in every nook between their larger counterparts to reflect the lantern light in every direction. The mirrors don’t just distort your own reflection either; in addition to mirrors that cause your reflection to look taller or shorter or wider, there are mirrors to make you look older or younger, mirrors which change your hair, mirrors which duplicate your visage over and over again until you appear to be surrounded by a crowd of your own self in the mirror. There are even mirrors which somehow make it appear that you are someplace else entirely - by the seaside, the water slowly soaking your shoes, or in a fragrant flower garden, or wandering amidst ancient ruins. It is a clever trick, and one you won’t pretend to understand. In your heart, you never want to, for fear of ruining the illusion.

The world feels bright and new under the moonlight as you exit back outside the tent, like the hall of mirrors has helped you find a new way of seeing.

(And maybe, you realize, that’s the entire point.)

———

Killian takes small comfort in the fact that Mr. Gold seems pleased with his efforts. Truthfully, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows that somehow he’s supposed to demonstrate his abilities and magical knowledge on the canvas that is the Circus, but that only tells him so much. Killian adds attractions when he can, crafting things like the Hall of Mirrors in careful dioramas before sewing the plans into his master book, but it’s so hard to know if he’s on the right track. 

Mr. Gold has never been particularly involved in Killian’s life, and that doesn’t change now that the competition has well and truly begun. As a child, Killian had been largely self-taught, relying on the books that his teacher provided and the man himself only dropping in periodically to test his knowledge and comprehension. This feels like much the same thing; once a year, Mr. Gold will appear in Killian’s office after one of the Circus dinners, or outside his flat door without warning. There may be a polite inquiry about what Killian is currently working on, especially if the visit occurs in his cramped and ruthlessly organized office; more often than not, there isn’t. Killian will make polite inquiries about his mentor’s health and business, all of which are carefully avoided. Mr. Gold will state that he is satisfied with the work of his student - exactly that, and nothing more. 

Killian never expects an expression of pride; after all, he’s never received anything of the sort in all the years he’s been under his teacher’s direction. Theirs has always been a distant relationship, if it can even be called that. 

“How will I know I’ve won?” Killian dares to ask on one of these visits. “What do I have to do?”

“You’ll know, dearie,” is all his teacher will say. “Trust me, it will be very obvious.”

It is not. 

But Killian works onward, carefully building and manipulating things. Who knows? Maybe, one day, he’ll understand. 

———

The relationship between the members of the Circus and the Rêveurs has always been unusual. If it weren’t for the fact that the two groups are inextricably linked, and indeed obviously treasure one another, the interaction almost might be called respectfully distant. There exists an unspoken, but obviously adhered to, separation between the two - that there are Circus folks and there are Rêveurs, and they do not socially interact. Though a vendor or performer might, surreptitiously and casually, mention an anticipated next stop to an awed visitor with that single splash of red, they will not be found together in the light of day, strolling in the public parks or sharing a coffee in one of the cafés. The Rêveurs, largely, prefer it that way; the mystical quality is somehow kept alive when the people of the Circus only seem to dwell within its gates.

Of course, Emma has never been one for formality, or fitting in with the rest of the crowd. 

If pressed, she’ll claim that Marco is an anomaly - a man who fits between both worlds, and therefore special. It’s her own kind of loophole in the intricate rituals of the Circus and the Rêveurs. 

(No one ever presses, though - to do that, they’d need to know that Emma writes to Marco in the first place.)

Marco, in truth, has been involved in the Circus since the very beginning - though he did not always know it. An Italian by birth, living in Germany and creating exquisitely crafted cuckoo clocks, Mr. Marco Gepetto had been the very man contracted by Mr. Booth, the architect, to build the massive timepiece at the front gates, back when this whole endeavor was still coming together. Marco hadn’t been aware of that, at the time; all he’d known was that an Englishman had offered him a frankly absurd amount of money and next to no direction, only to create something unusual and extraordinary for a circus venue he was helping produce. With his rambling imagination and careful craftsman’s hands, Marco had more than delivered, creating the masterpiece Emma has found comfort in watching many times. 

That clock had always haunted him, he’s tried to explain to her many times during their correspondence, his mind running wild wondering exactly where it had been installed. Mr. Booth had sent a note declaring the producers delighted by the result, and Marco had never heard a peep again. Emma cannot blame him for wondering, truly, after all the months he had invested in the clock and all the personal touches he had poured in. The truth, he confides, is that he believed - nay, believes it to be his greatest work, all the while unaware that so many others were similarly touched. It was only years later that Marco had realized the grand project he had unknowingly helped bring to life, when an acquaintance had insisted they visit the traveling circus setting up just outside of Munich. 

“It was wonderful,” he gushes to Emma as they walk down the streets of Naples several years later, the older man happily pointing out the location of all the haunts of his younger days. “It was more than I ever could have imagined - and so well situated! So perfectly blended with the rest of the design! I must tip my cap to Signore Booth for his work, and all his compatriots.”

Marco had fallen in love with the circus on that first night, as a venue for his masterpiece and as a creation all its own. It was impossible not to, he had claimed later in the first of many editorials and subsequent letters - it was like the Circus called to him, begging him to uncover all its secrets. It may be the work of several lifetimes; perhaps, that’s just the appeal. 

He didn’t particularly mean to spearhead the Rêveurs movement, he’d explained to Emma in one letter. It was simply that he’d fallen in love, with a place and an experience, and wanted to share that with everyone else. It was just that he was the first, the first to not just talk about the Circus but publish his thoughts, that had made him the unexpected figurehead of the group. He’d been the one to come up with the idea of that touch of red, too, though he never admits it unless pressed. 

Letters flood in, from across Europe and the globe, wanting to compare experiences and share in the joy of the Circus. Marco gladly responds; many, indeed, become friends. But none is quite like Emma, who he only first knows as a woman with unusual insight into the Circus when she first begins writing, just another person who reaches out after one of his editorials. He assumes she’s just another of his Rêveur correspondents at first, but her thoughts, so carefully measured but fond, strike a chord somewhere in Marco. A friendship blossoms over dozens of letters exchanged, comparing experiences and details noticed and treasured - until, finally, this summit, as Marco had visited an elderly aunt while the Circus docked along the Italian coast. 

He takes the revelation that Emma isn’t merely some visitor, but a core member of the Circus, with an unexpected lack of surprise. “I wondered if you were rather closer to the matter than you let on,” Marco explains, patting her hand before tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “I shall consider myself uniquely lucky to have earned your friendship.”

And he has. Marco possesses a sharp mind and an affection for the little details that Emma loves, and an easy-going manner it proves near-impossible not to be charmed by. He fills something like a fatherly role, for Emma - always encouraging and delighted to hear about the latest improvements to her show. She doesn’t tell him that all the magic she does is real - but somehow feels that he understands, anyways. Marco is special like that, and perceptive. Somehow, Emma doubts that he’d be much surprised if she revealed the whole mess of the competition.

Marco may be physically distant from the ever-changing Circus grounds, and may not fully know what’s going on - but he’s a pillar of support, all the same, like Emma has never known.

(She only hopes he isn’t one more thing that’s just too good to last.)

——— 

Killian - 

At long last - an update! I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve had anything to report to you. Not that I don’t enjoy our correspondence, of course - it’s always so wonderful to share with you a little slice of my life here and hear from you in return. I simply feel so much better when I have something concrete to report to you, as we agreed.

I’m stalling, though. The truth is… I’m not entirely sure how to put into words exactly what this latest tent contains. It defies description, I find. The little sign along the path reads ‘Wishing Tree’, but that doesn’t describe much, does it? That could be anything. The Wishing Tree, in truth, is… oh, where do I start? It is somehow both earthly and otherworldly. It is both wondrously fantastical and firmly rooted in the soil. It exists both on this plane and in the world of dreams and aspirations. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that it is a contradiction, in the most spectacular way. Most simply put, if I stop beating around the bush, it is like a living, growing wishing well - but so much better than that, in its symbolism. There are no words to do it justice.

If you couldn’t tell already, Killian, I am insisting that you come and visit the Circus grounds next time it is convenient. There is no other way to fully grasp the delight of this latest addition. If I were not so terribly fond of you, I’d offer a hearty ‘Bravo!’ to your competitor - so count yourself lucky!

Yours,

-Belle

———

The Circus’ tents are filled with wonders - large and small, loud and quiet, and everything in between. What unites all the disparate attractions is a mystical quality - one that’s hard to put into words, but that makes every move and every moment greater and more magical than any similar display you may have seen before.

The particular tent in front of you is tall, but narrow, with a delicate wooden sign carefully placed to the side of the silvery-paved path leading beneath the entrance flap. Wishing Tree, it reads in a painted cursive script. An attraction you’ve never heard of.

Lifting the tent flap reveals just what was promised on the placard - a tall, elegant tree, all in the colors of the circus, with white bark and black leaves. The tree’s branches twist and curve around the tent, creating a structure almost reminiscent of a basket. Where it could be grotesque, the way branches stretch and dip around your body, but the effect is somehow comforting - like the tree protects all that it surrounds. It is otherworldly, in the truest sense of the word, an effect only heightened by the clusters of pearly white candles on each branch. By the entrance sits a small table, with a basket of candles and a crisp white card, embossed with a simple instruction:

Make a wish.

A wish is a sacred thing, and this is a place that respects that. After making your own wish, lighting your candle with one of the many already waiting on the tree’s branches, you place it in the highest nook you can reach where two branches join. There’s a profound symbolism to it all - one wish ignited by another, left to become part of a beautiful mass of light, illuminating this little corner of the world in soft and beautiful light. 

(That light will stay with you long after you slip back through the flap of the tent.)

———

At Belle’s urging, Killian makes the trip to see the Circus, and especially this new attraction, when they pass through Edinburgh. It is not precisely convenient - there are multiple trains involved from London, after all - but there’s no real telling when it will next be in the city, and he trusts Belle’s judgement that he must see this Wishing Tree for himself.

She’s right, of course. The Wishing Tree defies all conventional description. There’s a sense of possibility, and hope that just can’t be captured in a simple letter. Killian is sorely tempted to take a candle and light a wish of his own, but ultimately resists. The Wishing Tree isn’t just for some passing fancy - it is for the deepest dreams of one’s heart. As long as Killian is still unsure as to what his own dearest dream might be, it feels more appropriate to refrain from adding his own candle to the glowing branches. There will be time, later. 

His immediate business for the evening concluded, Killian takes the time just to wander the grounds. It’s something he hasn’t had the opportunity to do in far too long - there’s always been something to worry about, something to take care of when he comes to the Circus. This is a bit of a chance to try and experience things the way all their unknowing visitors do - to see the beauty, and the wonder, without analyzing anything further. Once he clears his mind, it’s easy to see the things the way that normal visitors do, the way something special sparkles in the very air.

There are still stops to make, of course; Belle would never forgive him if he didn’t pop into her tent. The fortune teller’s tent is made up to be an eye-catching oddity, but there’s still something welcoming about it that always soothes Killian - though maybe that’s just the knowledge of his dearest friend waiting just inside. Just inside the tent flap, dark curtains speckled with silver flecks like stars drape, giving way to a beaded fringe that softly clicks when touched. He’s been known to fiddle with those beads as he sits and talks with Belle, like a soothing sort of fidget. Beyond the beaded curtains sit three comfortable armchairs with a draped table at their center; Belle always does like the romance of reading for couples. There are no crystal balls, or posters about lines on palms; just Belle, the table and chairs, and her deck of tarot cards. Killian knows one of the curtains stretched behind her hides the entrance into her private quarters, where she’s been known to duck for a quick cup of tea, but no one else who didn’t know would see that. The whole effect is decidedly unusual, even mystical, but in a way that feels cozy. It’s like sitting in someone’s living room, sharing a bit of conversation - but the conversation concerns all manner of possible futures, and how they’ll come to pass.

Belle looks like herself, mostly, elegant in shades of white and grey and black and silver. She hasn’t leaned into any of the stereotypes or cliches - no scarf around her head or massive gold earrings or patchwork skirts. She looks like she could be any shop girl, or personal secretary, or even a beloved female relation in her neat dresses in playful patterns, accentuated with pretty bits of lace. There are more formal options in her closet too, he knows, provided by the Circus organizers for her use, but she likes this better; it makes her feel more like herself, and not entirely subsumed by the role she plays. 

“You came!” she crows with delight when he ducks his head past the beaded drapery. He hadn’t let her know he was coming, this time, happy to let it remain a pleasant surprise. Not that it matters much - Belle’s face would light up in delight in the same way, even if he had warned her to expect his visit.

“Of course I did, love,” he assures her with a grin. “You insisted, didn’t you? I seem to remember a very commanding letter, telling me I must come see this wishing tree for myself.”

“Yes, but there was always the chance you would get stubborn on me, or get called away on business for Jefferson, and I’d have to send another three to five letters until I finally guilted you here.”

“Alright, I suppose that’s true,” he admits. He does tend to get rather sidetracked much of the time, especially when there is work to be done and new, exciting ideas to explore.

“Instead, here you are! Only weeks after I wrote. A rare instance of agreeability - there’s hope for you yet,” she continues, only to plow forward before he even has a chance to defend himself. “But tell me - have you seen the Wishing Tree yet? Or did you come straight here first? I’m touched, of course, but really, you must —”

“I’m not nearly so foolish as to come here first, knowing you’d demand my own opinions on the tent just as soon as I arrived,” he teases fondly.

“Wise man. Tell me then - what did you think?”

“It’s everything you promised,” he tells her. “Utterly indescribable. I’m glad you insisted I come.”

The beam that graces Belle’s face at that simple agreement is a sight to behold.

“You’ll stay for a few days, won’t you?” she asks - cajoles, really, though Killian won’t take  any convincing. “It’s been so long.”

“Of course. We’ll have dinner tomorrow, and you can tell me everything you’ve seen since I last saw you.” It’s an easy promise to make, and one he’ll be even happier to keep.

Though Belle is an expected friendly face, one Killian had already built into his loose plans for tonight, the person he runs into as he wanders down the path away from her little tent is rather more unexpected.

“Mr. Jones,” Miss Elsa Frost smiles warmly - a member of the creative team of the circus, whose eye for details had been invaluable in creating this world so many have fallen in love with. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Nor did I,” Killian admits, executing a short and polite bow of greeting. “Especially not here, so far from London. May I escort you around the grounds, if I may be so bold?”

“You may,” Miss Frost says, slipping her delicate hand into the crook of his proffered arm. “I was just about to go see the magician - Miss Swan, was it? I’m told she should have a performance starting soon.”

“Then it will be my honor to accompany you.”

Though Killian has visited the Circus on several occasions in the past years, on business and to see Belle and to examine the creations of his competitor, he’s avoided this tent. It somehow feels like cheating, to watch Miss Swan like this with full awareness that she’s his competitor when she hasn’t been privy to the same knowledge. That’s not to say he hasn’t been tempted; across all the spiraling stone paths, her magic calls to his own like a siren’s song, drawing him in. Tonight, with a companion on his arm, he finally has the excuse to cave. As they approach her tent as others trickle in ahead of them, Killian makes sure to draw a spell around him to mask his own magic like a cloak, the same one he’d used that first day he’d seen her. Even if he feels guilt at the advantage, Killian isn’t quite sure he’s willing to tip his hand yet, no matter how often he’s been tempted. It’s not the time for such a revelation. 

(He doesn’t notice, beside him, the way Miss Frost’s forehead briefly creases as the spell settles around his body; it would not matter if he had, anyways, and the lady is more than happy to hold her tongue on the matter.)

The magician’s tent is small, intimate - a small clearing surrounded by a double ring of chairs. It’s a subtly ingenious way of heightening the drama and the enchantment of the performance: there is, quite literally, nowhere to hide, every angle visible to spectators as they space themselves around the center ring. A lesser magician would never be able to pull it off; it’s lucky, then that Miss Swan doesn’t have to rely on tricks.

Killian is the only one that notices that the tent flap has disappeared, two minutes past the hour. Everyone else is too busy whispering to each other, speculating about where the illusionist is and when the show will start. Unlike the rest of them, Killian waits patiently, knowing that the show has already begun.

No one misses the next trick, as a stream of flame chases around the tent above their heads. Gasps echo from the crowd, in excitement and wonder and no small dose of fear. A handful turn towards where the exit once was, only to discover that the way has been sealed and blocked by chairs during their inattention. Gasps turn to screams, panic quickly catching, until - 

A single figure stands from the audience, a woman with dramatic black skirts and what appears to be a men’s top hat. As she moves towards the center of the ring, she casually tosses the hat onto the seat she had occupied - and as if on cue, the streams of fire chase around the tent once more before plunging downwards, downwards into the hat, which somehow serves to contain the flames instead of catching on fire. As the rest of the audience comes back to their senses, turning their attention towards the slight blonde woman now at the center of the tent, she flicks a finger, sending the hat tumbling through the air to land in her hand, where she jauntily tips the black felt back onto her head and takes a dramatic bow.

And like that, the magician begins her show.

The displays that follow exceed Killian’s feeble memory of her audition, those several years ago. There are little miraculous bits she’s still using - the chairs still levitate, and the hat replaces the jacket as it turns into a beautiful black raven to fly about their heads - but there are new bits, too, as items disappear and reappear and visitors discover all manner of unexpected items in purses and pockets. Somehow, it all flows together seamlessly, one display of ability and control into another. At the very end, the fire returns again, chasing around and around and around her body until she can’t be seen anymore —

And when the flames disperse, all on their own, there is no one to be seen at all. The tent flap appears once again, and they all file out, awed in a way they hadn’t expected. 

It’s beautiful, mysterious, magnificent - just like the woman herself. And Killian can’t remember why he ever stayed away. 

———

Wandering the grounds of the Circus, it is impossible not to notice the statues scattered along the path. Some are monochromatic, fully pristine white or glistening black; some are so vividly realistic, in black and white and flesh tones, as to seem almost lifelike. There are single figures and couples, male portrayals and female, all beautifully detailed and caught mid-action. There is something mystical about them, something you can’t quite put your finger on but know separates them from anything else you’ve ever seen - a feeling that saturates the very air within the iron fencing. 

Examining the statues reveals that the life-like state of the statues is no trick, no clever construction of hard stone and a steady chisel - no, these are merely people mimicking statues by standing so still and moving so slowly as to trick the eye. This isn’t some mere street performer, either, like you might see near the buildings tourists frequent en masse. No, this is something more special, more deliberate, more enchanting. It is almost like a dance, performed on a timeframe only the dancer can perceive. Watching closely, it is possible to see the movement - though it will take much patience. It is easier, in some ways, to pay careful attention to the stance of the living statue at the beginning of a set period, and then see how it has changed some minutes later.

It is said that if you wait long enough, the statues will bend enough to pluck an offering from your very hand. However, it takes a certain kind of person, with a certain kind of fascination, to even try. After all, why spend so long examining statues, when there are so many other wonders to see? 

(Just before you walk away, you could swear the living statue of a young man winks an eye, all in impeccable slow motion - just one more memory of the Circus to treasure in your mind for years to come.)

——— 

The Circus returns when Henry is ten.

Ten is a sensitive age; it’s an age where one is still young enough to be excited about simple, playful things, but believe oneself to be too old to show it. Perceived maturity is beginning to be tantamount at this age, as is the idea of being cool.

Henry, for all his efforts (and a good bit of maturity, in truth), is perceived as neither. 

“The circus is for babies,” Jack Hastings declares in the schoolyard when Henry makes the mistake of mentioning that he’d seen the tents. A keen observer might find humor in the fact that Jack’s proclamation was made as he and the boys played with a collection of small wooden soldiers; the boys, however, are not yet adult enough to see the irony. “I’m not going.”

“I don’t know,” Henry ventures cautiously. “I think I might like to go. It isn’t very often something like the circus comes to town.”

“That’s because you’re a baby,” Jack taunts. “Henry’s a baby! Henry’s a baby!”

“Am not!” Henry bites back hotly before anyone else takes up the chant. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Then prove it.”

That’s how Henry finds himself examining the black iron bars that encircle the circus tents, searching for a way to slip in. It’s a dare - to sneak in, in daylight hours, and come back with something to prove it. Henry had agreed in the heat of the moment. Now, with school over, Henry’s got to do the deed, while all the other boys wait back in the schoolyard.

While Henry remembers the Circus practically crackling with its own special energy, things are quiet in the light of day. He supposes that makes sense; the Circus operates from sunset to sunrise, and it’s still an hour until dusk. Its performers need to rest and prepare and the like, like anyone else, and this is the time they get to do that.

After spending far more time than necessary carefully examining the outer fence, Henry finally finds a little out of the way stretch, framed by the back of two tents with no one in sight. The bars will be a tight squeeze, but he sucks in his stomach and holds his breath, and after a little bit of wiggling, manages to twist his way through. Quickly brushing himself off, Henry searches around for something he can bring back as proof for the other boys. The easiest thing to do would be to tear off a bit of fabric from one of the tents, but he struggles to bring himself to do it. The tents feel special, nearly sacred, somehow; it would be the worst kind of crime to ruin them in any way. Maybe, if he ventures a little further in, he can find something else —

“What are you doing?” a girl’s voice sounds, interrupting Henry’s thoughts. 

Whirling around, Henry is met by a blonde girl he could have sworn wasn’t there before, about his age, dressed in a black and silver striped dress. He didn’t know people his age were allowed to join the circus; it catches his attention nearly as much as the look on her face. Though her words are accusing, her face only shows curiosity. 

That does nothing to temper Henry’s shame, for better or worse. He didn’t exactly count on getting caught, after all. “There was a dare,” he blurts out. “To sneak into the circus.”

“Well, you managed that,” she observes. 

“Yes.” The silence sits heavy between them. Henry knows he ought to leave, but also feels like he can’t. “I’m sorry,” he finally cuts in - practically begs - once the quiet gets too much and he can’t take that curious stare anymore. “I can slip back out again, or pay the admission, or —”

That finally makes her smile - a bright, lovely thing that makes something stir within Henry that he’s never felt before. “It’s quite alright, Henry. You don’t need to leave. Nick saw you coming.”

He has many questions about that - how she knew his name, what in the world saw you coming means - but he reaches for the easiest first. “Who’s Nick?”

“My brother,” the girl beams. “Twin brother, really. I’m Ava.”

“It’s very nice to meet you.” It’s obvious that there’s no real point in offering his name; Henry is curiously less concerned about her unnatural knowledge than he figures he really ought to be. 

“Likewise,” Ava replies with that same smile, offering her hand for Henry to awkwardly shake. 

(For the first time in his life, he’s left wondering if he should have kissed the back of her offered hand instead. Then again - that sounds gross.)

“Come with me,” she commands with a little nod of her head. Even knowing he ought to slip back through the fence, Henry can’t help but follow, pulled along in a way that he doesn’t quite understand. “You picked a good day to come - Nick says the Circus will be closed tonight for inclement weather,” she adds with a hand waved towards the quickly gathering clouds.

“Yes, they just called it,” adds a different voice - another boy, this one also their age and with a remarkable resemblance to Ava. The biggest difference, really, is the boy’s light brown hair, a contrast to her cheery blonde. It’s obvious this is the twin brother she mentioned - Nick, who somehow knows things.

“He was there, just like you said, Nickie,” she laughs. “I don’t know why anyone bothers to doubt you.”

“They don’t know better,” Nick shrugs.

“Nick has a gift,” Ava explains. “He sees things that others don’t - and they always come true.”

“Oh.” Henry isn’t really sure what to say to that, honestly. He doesn’t disbelieve it, really - Ava did know things she shouldn’t have, without what they claim being true - but he’s a little too flabbergasted at it all to say anything more comprehensible. Besides, if such a thing were to be true - well, it makes sense that it’d happen at the Circus. Where else is magical enough to shelter people with such talents?

Ava breezes right past it though. That must be characteristic of her, if the way her brother stifles a smile is any indication. “There’s always a party in the acrobats’ tent whenever the weather is too bad to open. It’s the biggest, you know.”

“You can come too, if you want,” Nick adds.

Despite the tempting offer, Henry frowns. “I’m not part of the Circus, though. Won’t anyone mind?”

“Circus people are welcoming,” Nick shrugs. “They won’t mind.”

“Besides, everyone thinks we need friends our own age,” Ava chimes in. 

As the sun starts to creep below the horizon, Henry lets the twins lead him across the circus grounds. He wants to go, really - besides, there’s no reason not to. There’s no one waiting who will care if he doesn’t show up for dinner, or even for bedtime. 

(Nick probably already knows that as well; perhaps that’s why neither of them ask whether he needs to be home.)

The inclement weather party is a different kind of marvel than the otherworldly splendor of the open circus that Henry remembers. It seems like everyone is crowded into the tent as raindrops start to patter down upon the canvas, yet somehow the space never seems claustrophobic. Half the collected mass is in their black and white and silver circus clothes, while the other half wears street clothes in all manner of colors and styles. Laughter colors the air, as small groups congregate only to disperse and remingle again. It feels like a family, like a great big reunion, even though Henry is sure they’re not all related. 

(Then again, maybe family doesn’t have to be linked by blood and genealogical trees; maybe family is something that can be crafted with those you choose and care for.)

Ava tugs on his arm before he can get too lost in his thoughts and marvelling at the spectacle of the tent. “You should meet Emma,” she says. At her side, Nick nods in genial agreement. “You’ll like her. She’s the magician.”

She doesn’t quite bodily haul him across the tent space, but it’s close. Henry would complain, but it isn’t hurting; he can tell she’s just eager to share her and Nick’s world in a way she hasn’t with outsiders before. At least, Henry hopes she hasn’t shared all this with outsiders before; Henry’s never really had the chance to be special. It’d be a nice change. 

Eventually, she halts in front of a cluster of women - three brunettes and a blonde. All smile fondly as Ava approaches with Henry in tow. “Emma, I want you to meet someone!” Ava bursts out as they pull to a stop.

“I can see that,” the blonde chuckles as her companions move away. Henry’s distracted for a moment by the movement of the other three ladies, but forces his attention back to meet the magician’s eyes.

And it’s her - the nice lady from the last time he was here. Henry’s face flushes red as he remembers his youthful question - Are you a princess?. She still looks like a princess, four years later, only in a burgundy dress with her hair in a simple bun instead of her sumptuous black and white dress from the last time they met. He can see the moment recognition sweeps across Emma’s face, and knows she remembers too. 

“Henry, was it?” Emma smiles down at him. Somehow, he manages a nod of confirmation. “It’s lovely to see you again, Henry.”

Ava’s face drops a little in disappointment, and a hint of confusion. Seems this is one thing her brother’s visions didn’t reveal - or at least one thing he didn’t share with her. “You know each other already?”

“Only a little,” Henry hastens to explain. It somehow feels very important that Ava know he didn’t deceive her in this way. 

“Henry and I briefly crossed paths the last time the Circus was here - what, four years ago?” Henry nods again. Emma and Ava and Nick and the rest of the Circus may have been to so many places since them that they don’t remember exactly how long it’s been, but Henry could probably tell them down to the day if he just had a couple of minutes to think. “He was kind enough to let me escort him back to the front gates. I must say, I didn’t expect to see him here tonight, though… is there anything I ought to know?”

“No!” Ava assures quickly. It’s not remotely convincing; Henry barely manages to smother a smile as she continues her blatant evasion. “We should go get a little something to eat. Come on, Henry, let’s go!”

To be fair, the spread that Ava leads him to - Nick pulling up the rear, laughing - is very impressive. There are all manner of little finger foods to carry with him, savory and sweet, and an older lady the twins call Granny who presides over the whole thing and makes Henry take another sandwich. All of the circus members - and it feels like Henry’s introduced to every single one - seem to treat the twins like a niece and nephew, or maybe even children. There’s an affection in the air amongst everyone that’s almost palpable, and like nothing he’s ever encountered before. It’s hard not to feel a little jealous of his new friends; it’s everything he’s ever wished for himself. 

Eventually, he’s dragged across the grounds to what they’ll only call the cloud room after a stop by Emma again for a set of umbrellas that seem to actively repel water. 

“It’s my favorite spot,” Nick explains as they shake off their umbrellas just inside the tent flap in a dim antechamber. Henry had barely caught a glimpse of the signage before he’d been bustled inside; Atmospheric Wonders had been less than illuminating a descriptor. “Ava’s is the carousel.”

“I like the animals,” she shrugs. “They’re interesting.”

“Yeah, well, so is this,” her brother quips back. “Henry, look.”

And when Henry does - it’s more than his imagination ever expected.

Somehow, there are dozens of fluffy clouds floating within the confines of the tent, the top of the peaked canvas not even visible for all the clouds in the way. They come in all sizes, all winding around a central, silvery structure with a platform at the top and a slide spiraling back down to the ground. Somehow along the stretch from the ground to the indiscernible peak, the stripes shift into a night sky gently dappled with stars. It’s mystical, and marvelous, and unlike anything he’s ever imagined. 

Henry has barely processed what he’s seeing before Nick takes a flying leap onto a cloud hovering at chest height. Miraculously, it somehow holds his weight, bobbing gently in the air under the change of balance but showing no signs of capsizing.

“It’s really very sturdy,” he calls from his perch, grinning with glee. “There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”

Carefully, Henry steps onto a different cloud hovering about his knees; that’s less distance to fall if there’s any problem. Under his feet, the cloud isn’t exactly firm, or stable - it’s more like if you try to step onto a mattress - but he can also feel that he’s not at risk of crashing down. Somehow, it’s just as safe as Nick promised. 

(How did he miss this before? Now that Henry’s here, he’s not sure he ever wants to leave.)

Ava clambers up onto a cloud somewhere between him and Nick, abandoning grace to pull herself to standing. “It’s a newer tent,” she explains, brushing her skirt free of imaginary cloud dust and casually reading Henry’s mind. Maybe her brother isn’t the only one with special powers of sight. “It only went up a couple months ago, right, Nick?”

“January,” he confirms. “Just after the new year’s party.”

“Not a lot of people know about it yet - but it’s one of our favorites now. Nick and I like to come on the nights we’re not busy with other things.”

Across from them both, Nick obviously grows impatient with all the chatter, leaping to another, higher cloud. “Race you to the top!” he yells back, quickly becoming obscured from sight as he scrambles higher and higher.

Ava stretches her hand across the divide to help him forward. “You’re going to love it,” she beams.

Henry takes her hand, gladly, and lets a smile crease his face even as hers stretches impossibly wider. 

He does love it, just as she promised. The view from the top is spectacular, like something out of a fairy tale, an impression only magnified by small tufts of cloud still hovering around, inviting them to lounge. It would be a good place just to sit and think, Henry thinks, if you lived with the Circus and had that chance. 

Time passes both quickly and slowly at the top of the tower as the three of them sit and talk for what must be hours. Henry feels as if he’s known the twins forever, not just a night - like he fits with them, somehow, in a way he never has with his schoolmates or the other children at the Home, and can’t explain.

(It’s the same feeling he remembers from the first time he visited the Circus, four years before. Of belonging. Of home.)

All too soon, things much end, however. As the conversation encounters a rare lull, Henry sighs heavily, knowing he must draw this to a close. 

“I have to go,” he tells his companions - now friends, he thinks - with the kind of regret that’s practically palpable. 

Ava nods sadly; Henry scrambles to his feet to help her do the same. It’s what a gentleman would do. “We know. But this was lovely.”

“And you’ll be back,” Nick says decisively. “I know it.”

It’s not worth arguing with the boy with a gift. 

Getting down from their perch takes a little more boldness. Technically, there is a slide they could all take advantage of, but Nick won’t let that stand. 

“You’ve got to jump, Henry,” he cajoles. “It’s so much more fun. You feel like you’re flying!”

“More like falling,” Henry mutters. Even if he knows that Nick wouldn’t try to hurt him, like some of the boys at school might, looking down from this height makes his stomach turn. 

Suddenly, a soft hand slips into his own. Ava, who slipped up beside him while he was distracted by the height. “We’ll do it together,” she promises, and somehow - Henry finds himself nodding.

Nick lets out a wild whoop and throws himself off the platform, gleefully tumbling down and down. Ava squeezes his hand tight, just the once, and then she’s running too, bringing Henry with her as they leap. It feels like he’s left his stomach up at the top, but it’s a little freeing too. At the bottom, a particularly soft cloud cushions their fall, surrounding them like a hug. Henry even finds himself laughing along with Ava and Nick as they pick themselves back up. 

Ava walks him back to the main gates under the marvelous umbrella, Nick letting them go on their own after offering Henry a jolly wave goodbye. The door in the iron bars opens without even a squeak, letting the both of them slip through. 

“I don’t want to leave,” Henry confides, the words spilling out of him almost without permission. “I don’t want to go back to the real world out there.”

“You’ll be back,” Ava promises. “We’ll see each other again - I promise.”

He wants to believe her - he does. But it’s a mean world out there, and he’s long since learned that nothing is guaranteed, and —

Ava presses up on her toes to drop a quick kiss on Henry’s lips - his first. It’s just a little peck, really, but it makes them both blush and sends something hopeful in his soul soaring above all the other negativity. 

“To seal it. The promise,” she explains.

No explanation was needed, really - not to the perfect ending to this dream of a night.

(He does not return to the Circus this time, the Sisters punishing him with extra chores when he sneaks back into the Home long after bed checks. Though he would like nothing more than to return back to the Circus and his new friends, he somehow can’t regret it. Every moment was worth it.

Later, he finds a single glove, white with shiny black buttons, tucked into his pocket - proof for his dare. He never shows it off to the other boys; the little scrap of fabric is too personal, and too precious. Instead, he tucks it into the old cigar box he keeps all his treasures in, amongst the perfectly round stones and colored bits of glass and a brightly colored birds’ feather. Let them think he never managed it. They’ll forget soon enough anyways. 

We’ll see each other again, Ava had promised - and Henry intends to wait.)

——— 

There’s a new attraction at the Circus again, Killian - the most wonderful carousel. There’s the usual carved horses, of course, all wonderfully detailed, but there’s all manner of other creatures too - giraffes and elephants and a particularly clever ostrich. There’s even some mythical creatures too. I’m particularly fond of the gryphon, though I suspect you might prefer the dragon. There’s even a bench seat with a kraken twining around it! It’s truly charming; the kids love it, obviously, but it’s wonderful to see the delight of grown men and women too. I believe I saw a young couple squabbling over the cow yesterday; the lady won, of course. Wise man. 

If you hadn’t guessed already, the carousel is very obviously a creation of your winsome competitor. The ride travels through an enclosed portion at the back, ostensibly to parade the figures and their riders past a scrolling display of landscapes; however, having ridden the thing myself (I couldn’t resist, Killian! And obviously chose the gryphon, though I was tempted by a polar bear), it’s obvious that this tunnel somehow bends reality, stretches the track much further than it should ever go. Magic is obviously at play, here, though I believe the visitors are too enthralled (and, as usual, too oblivious) to realize. 

There’s something else a little unusual about the carousel: Mr. Booth’s part in bringing it to life. He was here in Brussels to oversee installation, or I might not have believed it. You know as well as I that usually, new installments just… pop up, without explanation. His craftsmanship is evident in the construction, too, if you know to look - the smooth curves and the intricate carvings and the way the peak of the striped roof stretches up towards the sky. It’s lovely, really, and undeniably a joint effort between Mr. Booth and Miss Swan. 

Does that mean he’s aware of her abilities? I can’t say for certain, but I have trouble imagining otherwise. It could be interesting to see if you could enlist him in a similar effort - though of course, that’s entirely up to you. I’m merely reporting your opponent’s most recent move on the chessboard, so to speak.

(Do come see the carousel, though; I promise you won’t regret it.)

Affectionately yours,

Belle

———

Killian folds Belle’s latest letter carefully, considering her words as he meticulously files the pages away, just as he always does. The new carousel sounds beautiful, of course; Miss Swan’s creations always are. The fact that she enlisted August Booth to create it captures his attention the same way it had Belle’s. That’s something he never considered - drawing upon others’ skills to create something that is not entirely mechanical, but not fully dependent on magic either. He should have thought of it sooner - after all, the Circus as a whole operates in a similar way, weaving enchantments in amongst all the physical manpower needed to bring the whole thing to life. It sets Killian’s mind running in other directions, other ideas that could be brought to life in the same way. And if Booth is aware of the things Miss Swan can do… perhaps he can serve as an intermediary, of sorts, in a way that could bring this competition to a new level.

But Killian is a patient man, a planner through and through. It’s his greatest advantage in his employment and in this game. So before he lets his imagination run away with him, drafting things that can never come to fruition, he calls upon Booth at his office to test the waters of what is possible. 

“I didn’t expect to see you, Jones,” the other man says, smiling genially as he comes out from around the back of his heavy wooden desk to offer a handshake of greeting. 

“It was a bit of an unplanned visit,” Killian admits as he seats himself in the offered chair. 

“Well that’s quite alright. What can I do for you? Is this about the Circus, or are you finally looking to build something more comfortable than that little flat of yours?”

“It’s about the Circus.” Killian lets his gaze glance around the room before he speaks further, considering his next words. Though the furniture in the office at Booth’s architecture firm is heavy, with dark wood and intricate carvings and tall bookshelves lining two walls, the whole thing manages to avoid a feeling of claustrophobia due to a stretch of tall windows along one wall. A panel of stained glass is installed in the middle, with beautiful swirling patterns in all kinds of colors. The whole effect is a little whimsical, while somehow still ordered and elegant. In that moment, Killian can see exactly why August Booth was chosen as a partner to produce the Circus. 

Drawing his attention back to Booth, Killian finds the man patiently waiting for him to start speaking, prompting him to gather his thoughts. “I understand you had a hand in creating a new attraction - a carousel.”

“Ah yes,” August smiles. His tone is fond, almost like a parent speaking of a favorite child. “Marvelous, isn’t it? Though, of course, I can’t take full credit - or even most of the credit, really.”

“So you’re aware of others’... unusual contributions, shall we say.”

Booth makes an amused, guttural noise from the back of his throat. “I may be a skilled designer, but not nearly enough to create space that’s not there. And I’m not nearly oblivious or egotistical enough to believe I can. Besides, Miss Swan was involved from the beginning. The carousel was her idea.”

That’s one question answered. “So how much did Miss Swan tell you about her… abilities, I suppose? And her influence on the Circus?”

“A rudimentary explanation, I believe - just as much as I needed to agree to assist her. All her illusions are real, true magic, and she’s engaged in a competition to be played out at the Circus.” Realization suddenly lights his eyes. “I suppose that makes you the competitor, then? She didn’t seem to know who they were.”

“Aye, I am. And I would appreciate it if you would keep that fact between us. This particular game doesn’t precisely encourage familiarity between contestants.”

August waves him off. “Of course. Now, are you here just to talk about the carousel - or do you have something else in mind?”

“You read my mind,” Killian says, letting a smile spread across his face. “I have an unusual idea, one that I think you can be of assistance with.”

———

Emma should have known that her opponent would hear of the carousel, and of her partnership with Mr. Booth. What she hadn’t expected was for Mr. Booth to send her a letter, detailing an idea her competitor had brought to him.

One they want her involvement in as well.

It’s a simple idea, on the surface - a maze of rooms. Its brilliance is in how it allows the two of them to interact and compete directly as they build off of each others’ ideas. Once the maze is brought to life, once visitors enter the tent, they reach a hallway lined with doors, each leading into other rooms with other doors, and so on. Some will be hidden; some will be obvious. It is entirely up to Emma and whoever she is competing against to build out each room, testing the limits of imagination and reality and magic. 

It’s like a puzzle on a massive scale - each piece fitting into others which in turn fit into others. It’s fascinating to see the things her opponent comes up with over time - creations that play with structure, with scale, like golden bird cages and a room where everything appears so large as to dwarf the viewer. She treasures exploring each one, finding all the hidden doors and discerning the way everything fits together. 

Emma has a niggling feeling that this is not exactly how their competition is supposed to play out - but as she opens another door, she can’t bring herself to care. 

——— 

Maybe it’s ridiculous - but Killian feels like he comes to know the lovely Miss Swan a little better through the room maze and each addition she crafts from her imagination.

She focuses on creating an atmosphere, he finds - the little things that make each space feel like an environment, rather than a room. There are lush green jungles and arid desertscapes and the illusion of a lovely rose garden. He wonders if she feels trapped; all the illusions of open spaces make him think she might. 

He can tell she truly loves the circus in all the little details she weaves in, too. It must take her incredible effort, but it’s worth it to see how leaves glisten with dew and the barest scent of earth or flowers tickles his nose and heat or chill dances along his skin. There’s pride to be found in the work she creates - all the things that take each room of the maze from the illusion of a space into something tangible and believable as its own natural world.

She’s smart, too: the hatches and doors out of her rooms are cleverly hidden, and often require searching for a key first. Killian thinks she might be trying to stump him, for all the time he spends searching for the way out in some rooms. Would she laugh if she could see him? Is he reacting in exactly the way she anticipated, or even intended?

(Would he even mind?)

He’s not such a fool as to fall a little in love with his opponent in the rooms that she builds, but he does delight in receiving these little insights to her personality. It reminds him that Miss Swan is more than his opponent - she’s a person, and one he’d love to know under other circumstances.

Only time will tell whether that makes things easier or harder.

———

To no one’s particular surprise, Regina does not approve of the maze.

“This is a waste of your time,” she proclaims to Emma on one of her rare (and never welcomed) visits. “You’re supposed to be competing, not… collaborating.” She spits out the word like it’s a profanity; who knows, it likely is in her mind. Emma wouldn’t be entirely surprised. 

“Isn’t this just a different way of competing?” Emma asks. Truthfully, she doesn’t see the fuss. “I’d think it would be easier to compare, when we have to share the same structure. Well, even more than we usually do.”

“This is not how things are supposed to work,” Regina snaps. “I didn’t train you to be so stupid about this, Emma. You know better - this is… frivolous!”

“I like it,” Emma says, letting her voice display a quiet defiance. “I think it’s wonderful.”

That’s why she’d led Regina to the maze in the first place, instead of simply taking tea in her compartment as usual - a little childish thought that maybe her mentor would see all the careful crafting she had put into each chamber. That maybe she would appreciate this unusual way in which Emma was stretching her abilities beyond what she thought was possible, challenged by the necessity of working around someone else’s ideas in the most literal, compressed way. That maybe she would be proud.

Pride, at least for others, is not something that’s in Regina’s vocabulary, however - something that Emma has never been more aware of than in this moment, standing amongst the hedges of a shifting maze within a maze. It’s an ever-changing creation, one that Emma had been particularly proud of.

It’s easier simply to wind their way to the closest exit than to attempt to convince Regina any further; Emma has long since learned her mentor is an immovable force. If Regina hasn’t been swayed by the creativity and brilliance of seeing the maze in person, no words will do it. So they’ll exit the maze and slip back into the backstage rooms, where Regina can berate her about her work ethic and how it seems like Emma doesn’t even want this while still failing to offer any concrete details or advice, until Emma can make her escape to perform another show, displaying her abilities to a kinder audience. That’s how these things always seem to go, and now that her foolishly hopeful little bubble has been broken, there’s no reason they won’t go that way again. 

Then again, there’s alway room for surprises and changes from the norm; Emma should know that, after so many years here at the Circus. As they exit into the chilled night air, Emma - and more importantly, Regina - clearly didn’t expect to run into Mulan as the sword swallower wandered back towards her own lodgings.

Most days, Emma almost forgets this other source of magic buzzing around the circus. It’s like white noise, almost; something Emma is subconsciously aware of, and can focus on when she chooses, but fades into the background most of the time. They’re friendly, but not quite friends - happy to spend time with one another, but rarely seeking each other out. Mulan is closer with Ruby, or with Belle. It’s easy, in that way, for Emma to forget the higher force that binds the two of them together - Regina herself, who has been a teacher to both of them. 

It is visibly obvious the moment they catch sight of one another: both straighten to their most rigid posture, Regina’s face shifting into something even more haughty than her usual mien, and Mulan shifting to something cool and dangerous. The air between them practically crackles with restrained magical energy, sending the hair on Emma’s arms to stand on end. Emma sends a silent thanks to whomever may be listening that this meeting occurred firmly in public; while the confrontation is primed to be bad as it is, she wouldn’t relish being forced between them in a private setting. Or a dark alley.

For all of the danger sparking the air, it is almost anticlimactic when each party finally finds their words. “Regina,” Mulan says, coolly polite and with the barest incline of her head. Regina only jerks her chin in a broken nod in response. 

And then they’re moving their separate ways, the whole thing over. Maybe it’s better that way; it would be a pity if the Circus was razed to the ground, after they’ve all put so much effort into the venue. There’s a story there, though, one Emma doesn’t know but can’t help but wonder about. She’ll have to ask Mulan, later; she knows very well that asking Regina will bear no fruit. 

(She never does, of course, just another intention lost to time and her mentor’s berating. Not that it would have done any good, anyways. Mulan keeps her secrets locked as tight as the most impressive safe.)

———

Emma knows Belle, of course - they’ve both been with the Circus for more than a decade, and Emma isn’t entirely self absorbed. They’re even friendly, in that way two people who work together but aren’t particularly close can be. But never once in all that time can Emma remember actively seeking the other woman out - for her skills or anything else. 

Belle’s particular skill unsettles Emma, she supposes. It feels a little hypocritical - Emma has magic, after all, she shouldn’t feel so uncomfortable about fortune-telling. There’s something about the talent to see glimpses of the future, however, that has never sat quite right in her mind - that has always made her ever so slightly uncomfortable. It’s not Belle’s fault; Emma knows as well as anyone that sometimes, these kinds of gifts choose their recipient instead of the other way around. 

There’s something in the air, though, something Emma can’t quite identify. There’s a niggling feeling of anticipation, like a reverse deja vu, where Emma knows something is coming, but doesn’t know what or how or when. She’s never been particularly good with that kind of uncertainty, searching for control wherever possible. It’s that search for control that brings her to Belle, seeking answers anywhere she can find them. Unusual times call for unusual measures, or some other such cliché. 

Emma goes at night, while the Circus is open, in between her own performances - just like any other querrant. It’s a simple thing to blend into the crowd - after all, no one is expecting  the illusionist to wander among them, especially in a dark coat and skirts turned crimson red with the touch of a finger. It takes no magic at all to slip down the silvery paths and duck into a tent labeled Fortune Teller: Feats of Fate and Prophecy. 

Belle snaps into character as soon as Emma brushes past the beaded curtain welcoming visitors into her space, only to relax again as she recognizes Emma’s face. “What a lovely surprise,” she comments with a pleased smile. “Sit down, sit down. What can I do for you, Emma?”

“I was hoping for a reading,” Emma explains as casually as possible - as if this is no great favor. Still, it shoots the brunette’s eyebrows up towards her hairline in surprise. 

“I must say, I didn’t expect that,” she comments. “I don’t believe you’ve asked such a thing of me before.”

“I haven’t felt the desire before.”

“Ah. You must face some kind of crossroads, then.” 

“Truthfully, I am not even sure enough to say that much,” Emma admits. Summoning a few coins into her hand, she pushes them across the table - payment for services rendered, as is typically custom in Belle’s little nook. “I hoped you might be able to shed more light on the matter than I can currently discern.”

Belle pushes the coins back. “Keep your money. Consider this a gift for a friend. Now, shall we?” As soon as Emma nods, Belle begins shuffling the cards - a quick, hypnotic motion, as each card flies past again and again. Once she’s satisfied with the shuffle, she carefully fans the cards across her table, face down. “Pick a card to represent yourself, if you please.”

Emma contemplates her options; truthfully, the tarot has never called to her, and this moment is no different. After some short examination, she selects one barely visible towards the left-hand side.

Belle chuckles a little as she turns the card over - and Emma can see exactly why, as soon as she sees the card. The Magician. 

“Now, this card often represents a plethora of abilities or options you may not be fully aware of, especially in the face of impending change or disaster,” Belle explains. “And that may still be the case. However, under the circumstances, I suspect this card is supposed to be taken rather more literally in this particular reading, Madame Magician.”

Belle shuffles again, before cutting the deck into three portions and directing Emma to select one. Replacing the selected stack back at the top at the pile, she quickly doles the cards back out, in practiced patterns and an unexpected elegance. There are flashes of cups and swords on the cards between them, interspersed with picture cards of women and wheels and a couple reaching for one another.

(Emma does not think she has the time for whatever a card like The Lovers may symbolize.)

“I see what you mean,” Belle says after a long moment. “There are significant changes here - in circumstance, in thinking, and in feelings. Whatever knot you have been working at in your mind will begin to unravel - one change that will spur many more. Now these changes - they seem imminent.”

“How imminent?”

Belle cocks her head, examining again. “There’s rarely an evident timeline that I can see,” she admits, “but I would wager in the coming weeks or months.”

Emma nods. It’s not really an answer - but it feels like validation, somehow. Like someone else can sense that something is on the horizon. 

“Now, I asked about a crossroads, before we started,” Belle continues. “The changes that are coming - they will not be your crossroads. This will not be the moment you have to make that decision. But each change will compound upon each other until it leads you to that crossroads - a choice you’ll make that will change everything, again. It will not be for some time yet, but those seeds are being sown now.”

Emma nods slowly, taking it all in. There is an odd comfort in Belle’s words, even as Emma tells herself not to put too much stock in it. “Thank you,” she finally says. “Is there anything else you can see?”

Belle shakes her head ruefully. “Not that I can see now, no. But I’ll keep looking. Sometimes, these things make themselves clearer given a few hours to think on them.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Emma ponders the words as she emerges back into the night. A momentous change to come seems inevitable - both from her instincts and Belle’s own readings. All that’s left to do is brace herself and face that change with an open mind and courage.

The weeks and months to come may change everything - and Emma intends to be ready for it. 

———

We’ll be back in England next month - just in time for the rains, I’m sure. As if they ever stop. I anticipate many inclement weather parties in my future, and I don’t even need the cards to tell me that. 

Speaking of which - be on the lookout for something, Killian. Change is in the cards and in the air. Something is on the horizon, and I think it’s best you be ready for whatever that might be.

We’ll have tea one afternoon next time I’m in town, and you can buy me an absurd amount of books. I have several recommendations to give you from the last batch. I expect you’ll feign interest and the time to read, just as always, but I don’t particularly care. You’ll do it because I’m your friend, and you love me.

Yours &c., 

Belle

———

That same feeling of anticipation, of something in the air, only intensifies when the Circus returns to London for a short stretch. It’s been growing ever since Emma spoke with Belle, becoming more urgent as time goes by. A breaking point must come soon - though what that will herald, Emma doesn’t pretend to know. There’s no use continuing to worry over something that will only reveal itself at the right time.

Emma throws herself into rediscovery instead, wandering all those places she used to know. It’s hard to call London home, even though she grew up here - that designation has only ever belonged to her cramped and cozy little train compartment - but the city is familiar in a way that’s comforting. She spent the first 24 years of her life here, after all; even trapped under Regina’s thumb, she was able to discover little corners of the city all her own, park benches and cafe tables and backstage theater rooms. 

(She doesn’t intend to visit her benefactor during this stop, if she can at all help it; bringing Regina into things always invites trouble that Emma would rather avoid.)

It’s raining on their first day in town, of course, like her own meteorological welcome. Emma smiles a bit at the thought of the clouds and raindrops and wind whispering a hello - though truthfully, she’s seen odder things. She’s orchestrated odder things. The soft patter of raindrops on her umbrella is almost soothing as she walks down the cobbled streets to a favorite remembered cafe. Emma loves the Circus with every fiber of her being, both as her creation and as her home; still, sometimes it’s nice to escape for an afternoon and enjoy the anonymity of people watching or reading a nice book. Some days, she wants that distance; to be just another face in the crowd.

The afternoon passes quietly and uneventfully with her tea and scone and a silly novel. It’s easy to blend into this little corner of London, tucked into the corner of a quiet street off the main road. Emma has always liked this place, and tries to visit whenever she’s in the city; it’s something about the way that light dapples through the wide windows at the front, always perpetually just the slightest bit grimy, like dirt had accumulated just as soon as some poor soul had taken the efforts to clean them off. The used bookstore just across the street is a wonderful bonus too, where Emma sometimes finds unexpected treasures. Here, she can be just anyone else - no expectations, no grand fate. Just a woman at a weathered table. 

All too soon, the clock on the wall chimes 4pm, prompting Emma to gather her things to leave. This time of year, even though spring approaches, the sun still sets early, heralding the opening of the circus’ wide gates. Emma is lucky enough to set her own performance hours during the night, generally aiming to do three or four shows in an evening; however, it’s still important that she’s fully ready for the evening by the time the first visitors trickle into the grounds, regardless of the fact that she won’t make her own dramatic entrance for at least another half hour. 

As she bustles out the door, she mentally runs through her checklist for the night of tricks she might like to perform. That’s the freeing thing about performing with real magic; not having to depend on mechanics means that she can improvise, that every single show can be different as she feeds off the audience and her current whims. 

She’s so busy running through her possibilities for the night that she doesn’t notice she’s grabbed the wrong umbrella - not at first, at least. It’s just one amongst a cluster of black fabric in the umbrella stand, each nearly identical to each other. Emma’s put a special charm on hers that repels the rain; that slight buzz of magic is the only thing that differentiates hers from all the others. She picks it out by the feel alone, absentmindedly, before exiting into the deluge.

Something is off, though - something she realizes the further she walks from the cafe and comes back to full awareness. The charm on the umbrella is wonderfully effective, as always, but there’s something… wrong about the magic. Emma’s own magic has a particular warm feel to it, one that largely fades into the background of her mind until she barely notices it. This, though… the buzz continues, like a pricking or a tickle under her skin. Foreign.

Not hers.

Realization draws her up short. This umbrella - clearly imbued with powerful magic - magic like her opponent would possess - in the cafe at the same time - 

A polite clearing of the throat causes Emma to whip around, revealing an unexpectedly familiar face: Jefferson’s assistant, the handsome one, who she remembers lurking at the edges of ballrooms and the back of theatres and in the densest of crowds. Jones - something with a K. Or a C? Kelvin? Carson? No —

“Excuse me, Miss Swan,” Killian Jones smiles warmly, “but I believe you have my umbrella.”

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 22: An Offer

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Lacey has a meeting with Mayor Mills

Read on AO3

Content warning for verbal abuse and sexual fear

The clacking of Lacey’s heels against the sidewalk was music to her ears. She felt right, dressed like a whore and parading herself down Main Street. After her conversation with Mayor Mills, the stupid voice in the back of her head was quiet. Finally, things were back to normal. 

Now it didn’t matter that Mr. Gold had been acting like a stranger since October. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want her, that he was fucking somebody else. She didn’t need him. She didn’t have to be “Mrs. Gold” in order to get what she wanted out of life. All that bastard did was pay her. He didn’t own her. He’d given up that privilege months ago. She didn’t have to belong to him. There were lots of other people out there. Mayor Mills wanted to help her. Mayor Mills wanted her.

At least, she was pretty sure she did. It was hard to tell. Lacey had never had a woman look at her the way Mayor Mills did sometimes. It was a sharp, laser-focused look. A look that cut her to the bone and then began to saw into her marrow. Like everything Lacey was, everything she had ever been or had ever dreamed of being, was laid bare for Mayor Mills’ approval. 

Mr. Gold used to look at her like that.

Lacey dug her nails into her palms. Or maybe she was an idiot. Maybe she had been imagining the little signs. Maybe the mayor of Storybrooke would try to help anybody she came across in town, offer them rides in her sporty black Mercedes-Benz. Maybe she would arrange an after-hours meeting with any married woman who called her up. Maybe it was a public service.

Or maybe not.  

She remembered this feeling, this knowing-but-not-knowing. The anticipation. The unanswered questions. The tension gave her a thrill. A thrill she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Maybe that was why it was so easy to lie when she walked into the pawn shop.

Mr. Gold looked up from his inventory book when he heard her. His eyes were cautious. Afraid? Was this sad little coward really afraid of her? Maybe that was why it was so easy to grin at him, to reassure him with bright eyes and a lilting voice. 

“I wasn’t sure what you were doing for lunch,” she chirped. “Want me to pick up something from Granny’s?”

The corners of his mouth lifted up. It was almost a smile. “No thank you, Mrs. Gold. I brought leftovers from home today.”

She nodded, and tapped her fingers against the counter in front of him. How many times had he fucked her against these display cases? How many times had she dropped to her knees behind the cash register while the shop was still open? He would challenge her to hurry, to suck him off before a customer walked in on them. He told her he would beat her black and blue if she failed.

What kind of things would Mayor Mills want her to do?

“Hey, I’m sorry about this morning,” Lacey lied. “I’ve just been really stupid and emotional lately.”

“You’re not stupid,” Mr. Gold said softly. “I know I haven’t made things easy for you. I’m sorry about that.”

A plastic smile was a wonderful talent. She was used to using it on other people, but now Mr. Gold was as easy to fool as everyone else. 

“It’s not your fault,” she said sweetly, even though she was ready to spit acid in his face. “I just needed some time to myself this morning. But I feel better now. Later today I’m gonna get my hair done. I scheduled an appointment for around five.”

Easy as it was to lie, there was a specific delight in letting him get the wrong idea from entirely factual information. He had taught her how to do that. She would go to Janine’s and get her hair styled. And then she would have her appointment with Mayor Mills at five o’clock on the dot.

And he just nodded, just went along with it. Idiot. “The shop will be closed by the time you’re done. I can pick you up at the salon.”

She wrinkled her nose. Playful, casual. Not a care in the world. “No, I don’t know how long I’ll be, and the weather looks like nothing but blue skies. Besides, you’ll want to start supper. What are we having tonight?”

He began to ramble on about spring onions and fricasseeing, while Lacey counted the hours until her appointment at City Hall.   

****

Officially, the city offices closed at 4 PM, but everybody knew that Mayor Mills stayed as late as she needed to keep the town running.  Everyone admired her devotion, but pitied how often she had to leave her sweet little boy unsupervised. Rumor had it that was why Henry was so troubled, why he kept hanging around shady characters like Sheriff Swan, his birth mother. But his real mother was doing the best anyone could under such circumstances. Henry had appointments with Dr. Hopper several nights a week to keep his moods under control.

Why do you know so much about Regina’s life? Why is that woman the center of the universe in this town? Think about it!

Of course the voice was back. Lacey wasn’t sure if she wanted a stiff drink or a total lobotomy. Whatever would get it to shut up.

City Hall was quiet, that was part of the trouble. The empty hallway echoed so much she could hear her heart beating along with the sound of her footsteps. The voice always started jabbering at her during moments of stillness, moments when she should have been at peace. 

She couldn’t tell if City Hall was serene or creepy. Like most buildings in the rich part of New Town, the design was sleek and modern. The interiors were stark white trimmed in black--plaster walls and gleaming tile floors. Right now, it had the terrible oddness of a place that was supposed to be filled with people, but wasn’t. 

At this late hour, the fluorescent lights were dimmed. During the day the brightness was intimidating, but long evening shadows didn’t inspire confidence either. The doors lining the hall were a fake wood laminate, so dark they were almost black. The only other color came from the occasional piece of corporate art hanging up on the walls. Black and white photos of Storybrooke, all in frames as red as blood.

This is a bad place. You need to leave! 

“Shut up,” she hissed. She would try not to tell Mayor Mills about the voice right away. No need to let the mayor think she was crazy. Besides, if all this went right, Lacey would feel a lot better very soon. 

The door to the mayor’s office was ajar, but Lacey still knocked on the ebony frame.

“Come in,” Mayor Mills’ voice was brusque. For a split-second, fear clenched at Lacey’s stomach. She should listen to the voice in her head and run! Run away from this place that felt like a haunted house, run back home to Mr. Gold or to her father or to Sheriff Swan or anyone but Regina!  

But she didn’t. 

All Lacey did was adjust her purple bustier and walk in.

“Close the door behind you.” Mayor Mills didn’t look up from her paperwork.

Lacey did as she was asked--did as she was told. Her pulse quickened to be obeying orders again. 

Like the rest of City Hall, the mayor’s office was nothing but black and white. The only difference was the clutter of prints and patterns. The wallpaper, the curtains, the upholstery on the conference table chairs--they were all a different print, but they were all monochrome. There was no illusion of serenity here. The room looked designed to disorient.

Even the stone floor was inlaid with black and white. An outline of a circle took up most of the space between the door and the desk. The circle was black, with tapered black flags coming out from the center. It looked like a pinwheel, or a clock, or something a bad guy would use to hypnotize someone in a cartoon. 

Without any other instructions, Lacey decided to stand in the middle of the circle. She waited, at the point where black and white met and disappeared into each other.

Mayor Mills stayed at her desk. After a few more signatures, she set her pen down in a drawer and began to stack the papers neatly into a shiny black file folder. So she was meticulous. Lacey could appreciate that. 

She kept waiting. The mayor didn’t look at her until the desk--a white slab of polished stone set on top of two carved stone pillars--was empty. 

“You were seven minutes early,” she said at last. 

Lacey swallowed and kept her hands at her sides. “Mr. Gold says that punctuality is the virtue of princes, Madame Mayor.”

One perfectly outlined, jet-black eyebrow raised on Mayor Mills’ forehead. “Mrs. Gold, if you’re looking for a prince, I don’t think I can be of any help to you.”

Would it be okay to laugh? Or would Mayor Mills think that was impertinent? Lacey just pressed her lips together and said nothing.

“Do you want to tell me what you are looking for, Mrs. Gold?” 

Now she opened her mouth, but she didn’t have the words to answer.

Rumple. Rumple, help me! Rumple!

“R--r--really, I… I don’t know if I can put it into words, Madame Mayor.”

Mayor Mills gave her a considering look. She stayed at her desk, but leaned back in her black leather office chair. “Sit down.”

Two black and silver chairs sat in front of the desk. Lacey put her purse down in one and perched on the edge of the other. 

“Would you like something to eat?” Standing up, Mayor Mills went to the conference table that took up most of the space on the right-hand side of the room. A large white bowl--ceramic, and shaped so that it looked like a collection of bleached, dead coral--was full of apples. All of them were as red as blood. The mayor took two and held one out to Lacey. “I often find that when I need to think, one of my prize-winning Honeycrisp apples always helps me focus on what’s most important.”

Lacey took the apple and held it in her hands. If she had seen this in a grocery store, she would have sworn that it was a Red Delicious. But of course the mayor would know her own apples. She had grown apples since she was a little girl. The tree that grew these ones was right outside the window behind the desk. 

“Are you going to thank me?” The mayor was quiet, but it was the quiet of a viper about to strike.

“Yes,” Lacey said automatically. “Yes, I’m so sorry, Madame Mayor. Thank you for the apple. And for your time. I--I know you’re busy.”

“I am,” Mayor Mills agreed. Behind her desk, she pulled open a drawer and took out a silver knife. There was a design carved into the handle, Lacey couldn’t tell if it was an apple or a heart. After walking back to the front of the desk and leaning against the edge, the mayor began to cut into her apple. “There’s a lot of trouble brewing right now in Storybrooke. But I’ll make time for you, Mrs. Gold.”

“Why?” Lacey muttered. “I’m just a cheap, trashy slut.”

Grinning, the mayor took a slice of her apple. She chewed, swallowed, licked the juice off her red lips. “Is that what Mr. Gold told you to think of yourself?”

“Yes,” she whispered, looking down at the apple in her lap. She had said the words before to people, said them with a smile, like they were an honor. She had puffed up her own performance like a balloon. Only now she had popped, and there was nothing left of her but tattered shreds of rubber. 

Lacey felt something cold on the bottom of her chin. Mayor Mills held the flat edge of the knife against her skin and lifted her gaze until they were eye to eye. Sitting down, she was looking up at the mayor.  “Is Mr. Gold in charge of you, dear?”

She blinked. “I--He was. But I don’t want him to be anymore.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yes.” Lacey wanted to look down again, but the mayor hadn’t released her yet. “He--he cheated on me. And he’s been keeping secrets from me. And--and he’s just different, I don’t know how to explain it, but I hate it. I hate it, Madame Mayor!”

Mayor Mills took the knife away, and cut herself another slice of apple. She smiled. “He’s not the man you married.” She seemed almost smug to say it. “So now you’re looking for someone who can take his place. Someone who can remind you of why you were put in this world.” 

“Yes!” Absurdly, Lacey felt her eyes begin to well with tears. Those were the words she had been looking for! She had been so right to come here. Mayor Mills knew exactly how to make everything right again! “I--I hope you’re not offended or anything. That I thought of you first when I wanted to find someone who would--would treat me the way I like to be treated.”

“The way you deserve to be treated, you mean.” Her voice was so low, so dark and so dangerous. “You cheap, trashy slut.”

It was like her heart had been ripped out of her chest and she was just perverted enough to love it. Repeating the same words that had just caused her shame, rubbing them in her face. This was exactly the kind of pain she had been looking for. Mayor Mills was brilliant.

She wanted to kiss her boots.

Lacey looked up at the mayor, at the way her crimson dress clung to her curves. Her silhouette was an absolute hourglass, tapering down into legs wrapped in tasteful nylons. So much classier than Lacey’s whorish fishnet stockings. 

Mayor Mills’ eyes were dark and intense. Black, where Mr. Gold’s were brown. Her makeup was dramatic but flawless. Her lips were as red as the apple she was eating, her teeth as white as its flesh.

Lacey had never felt so small before, not in front of another woman. Not in front of anyone but Mr. Gold. She looked down. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper, a breath. “What can I do? In order to deserve you?”

The mayor’s laugh was rich and throaty. It sounded like red wine at a midnight feast. She set down her apple and her silver knife and held Lacey firmly by the jaw with her own silky-smooth hands.

“Let’s make sure we understand one another, Mrs. Gold: You don’t deserve me. You can’t deserve me. Nothing you could ever do would be enough to get you even close to my level. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Lacey whispered. She couldn’t move. Fear and arousal were too overpowering. “Yes, Madame Mayor.”

“Good.” She took her hand away and went behind her desk. “You know, you’re actually a very lucky girl. Until quite recently, I was content with the submissive I had. But then he… disappointed me, and we had to part ways.”

You killed that poor man, you vile--

“So!” Lacey said, too loudly. “Are we agreed then? Will you take me on as a ‘submissive’?”

Mayor Mills looked at her from her office chair. Her gaze was steady and unblinking. “Do you think you can submit to me? Even though I’m not your husband?”

“Yes,” she said. “At least, I’d like to try.”

“Have you ever served a woman before, dear?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “No, of course you haven’t, not properly. Well, I’ll warn you, we’re not like men. We’re not easy. There’s no one-and-done climax while you lie back and think of England.”

Lacey opened her mouth. Her instinct was to defend Mr. Gold, to say that sex with him had never been like that. But that wasn’t anything Mayor Mills wanted to hear. 

“I’m going to demand a lot more of you than a man would,” the mayor went on. “I’m not satisfied by anything but perfection. And the cocks I use never go soft.”

She shifted in her seat. Were these threats or promises? “I would like to satisfy you, Madame Mayor,” she said softly. “I would like to please you.”

The mayor smiled again. “Of course you would,” she purred. “I think everyone in this town understands the benefits of having a happy mayor.” Her eyes flickered over Lacey’s body. “Are you wearing anything underneath that ugly skirt?”

 A flash of heat went through her body. Partially it was the shock and pleasure at the sudden shift in the conversation. But there was also a bit of embarrassment. Lacey liked this skirt--black vinyl with blue tulle ruffles underneath. Was it really ugly?

“Well?” Mayor Mills said patiently.

“Oh! I--yes. A thong. It’s purple, like my bustier.”

“Mmm.” The mayor smiled like a cat with a bluebird in its paw. “Well, that I simply must see.”

Lacey sprang to her feet. She moved to unzip the tight skirt, but then she got an idea. “May I take off my blouse as well?”

“Oh, if you insist.” Leaning back in her chair, the mayor picked up her knife and cut off another slice of apple. She ate it, while Lacey stripped down to her lingerie and folded her clothes neatly on the conference table. 

Then she stood in the center of the circle again, in front of the mayor’s desk, wearing nothing but purple silk, black lace, high heels, and jewelry. 

Looking at her, Mayor Mills crunched into the last bite of her apple, then threw the core into the trash. 

“Turn around,” she ordered. “Slowly.”

Lacey obeyed. God, this was amazing. Under the mayor’s scrutiny, every inch of her felt alive. This was what she was made for. This was the reason she existed in this world.

“You're groomed, at least. And it looks like you have some marks,” the mayor said coolly. “Am I safe in assuming they’re not recent?”

“No--I mean yes. They are not recent. Mr. Gold hasn’t touched me since October.”

“I imagine that would be frustrating,” she smirked. “For both of you. Come closer.”

Lacey stood directly in front of the desk. It was like she was here on official business, like she was going to ask for funding to re-open the library or something.

“Bend over, with your elbows on the desk. Lean forward until that pert little ass of yours sticks up in the air like a bitch in heat. I’m sure you’re familiar with the position. Keep your head up, but your eyes lowered. Don’t look at me.”

She did the best she could, remembering that the mayor was only satisfied by perfection. Once she was settled into place, she kept her eyes downcast. Her head was spinning. For some reason, it was hard to breathe. 

Then Lacey felt the mayor’s hands on her throat. 

She gulped,  but didn’t move. Do the brave thing. And it wasn’t that she was afraid of Mayor Mills. But the movement had been so sudden, so unexpected that it caught her off guard. And the mayor did have a very tight grip.

Her hands weren’t cold, but Lacey would have been hard-pressed to call the touch warm. A better word would have been to call the touch… proprietary. Appraising. She was inspecting the goods before she made a claim on them. 

Obediently, Lacey kept her eyes down while the mayor touched her. She couldn’t see her face. She heard her chuckle as her fingers explored the skin of her neck. 

“All these little scars here look like you lost a fight with a rose bush. How did you get them?”

You gave them to me, you bitch! You and your dragon! She made thorns grow into my skin while you made me fuck you!

“I don’t remember,” Lacey said. Honestly, she didn’t remember having scars on her throat. “I don’t think Mr. Gold gave them to me.”

“Hmm.” Despite Lacey’s ignorance, Mayor Mills sounded pleased. Her hand moved from Lacey’s neck down to the upper edge of her bustier. There was enough space between the cloth and Lacey’s skin that the mayor could have slid inside and copped a feel. But all she did was trace her fingers over the mounds of cleavage and pinch.

“Ow!” Lacey yelped, but stayed braced against the desk. It was a little shameful how quickly she reacted. But a sharp pinch could hurt more than a spanking and she was out of practice. Besides, Mr. Gold always liked her to be vocal. He liked to know exactly how much pain he was causing.  

The mayor rubbed at the sore patch of skin and gradually expanded her touch so that she cupped the whole of Lacey’s breast. 

“Oh poor thing,” she cooed. “I’m just surprised to see that they’re real. Of course, it would be a waste of Mr. Gold’s money if you paid for tits and these were the best you got.” 

The mayor emphasized her words with a sharp twist, digging her long nails into the soft flesh.

Lacey gasped in pain. The heat of it started at the mayor’s hand, coursed through all the nerves in her body, and eventually settled between her legs. The gasp turned into a whine, and then a moan.

“Good girl,” Mayor Mills said quietly. “But remember, slut, this is a public building. I can’t have you defiling these hallowed halls with your grunts and groans. You disgusting animal.”

Pressing her lips together, Lacey tried to swallow her hungry noises. 

“Ugh.” She could imagine the mayor rolling her eyes. She could imagine the disdain, the contempt on her face. Lacey was so worthless. And now she had finally found someone who understood that she was worthless, who would treat her like she was worthless.

God, she was so wet.

“Here.” The mayor took Lacey’s apple from where she had set it down earlier. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you refusing to eat this. That was exceptionally rude. Ungrateful, even. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s ingratitude.” 

“I’m sor--” She began to apologize, but as soon as her mouth opened, Mayor Mills had shoved in the apple. Lacey’s teeth broke through the red skin and she tasted the sour-sweet juice on her tongue. After only a moment of having the apple in her mouth, she felt the juice dripping down onto her chin. It mingled with her saliva and made her a slobbery mess. 

“Better.” Now Mayor Mills’ voice was gentle, sweet. She was happy. It was good to make her happy. 

Lacey heard her footsteps move around the desk. She couldn’t see the mayor, and she couldn’t make any noise. Apple flooded her senses of taste and smell. All she could do was hear. And feel.

The mayor was behind her. Manicured nails scraped at the exposed flesh of Lacey’s ass. She would have made a noise, to show how much her body liked the attention, but the apple was an excellent gag.

“You know, I can smell how wet you are, you tramp.” Her hands rested on either one of Lacey’s hips. “You stink. You’re filthy. You’re a disgrace.”

Unable to moan, Lacey shivered. Her hips rocked against the desk for a minute, until Mayor Mills dug her nails in and she stopped. 

“Why do you even wear panties?” She plucked at the straps of her thong. “You always soak right through them. Every time I walk by you, you reek of pussy. You needy, greedy little cunt.”

She couldn’t stop herself. She jerked up, pushed against the desk in a desperate search for any kind of friction. 

“Wriggling like a worm,” the mayor sneered. “You’re not even really a person, are you? You’re just a sex machine, like a junkie looking for a fix. You’re nothing but your need. Just a trio of fuckholes, desperate to be filled.” 

When had Lacey started crying? She was bent face down on the empty desk. The apple in her mouth was the only thing that kept her face from pressing against the cold stone. Her hands were balled into fists on either side of her. She didn’t dare move her arms.

Everything the mayor had said echoed in her mind until she felt the vibrations of the words in her body. Her flesh trembled and shook. Her cunt clenched and it didn’t matter that it had nothing to clench against. She just wanted. Her body wanted...  

“Don’t you dare!” Mayor Mills roared. “I forbid you to come. Don’t you--”

But then there was silence.

Desperate to obey, Lacey tried to stop her orgasm. She had done that often for Mr. Gold. There was a trick to it--pretty much the same thing as stopping yourself from having hiccups. As her body calmed, she became aware that Mayor Mills hadn’t spoken. 

Then she became aware of a breeze swishing back and forth over her nearly-bare ass. It was like when Mr. Gold would pretend to spank her, just to see her jump. He would laugh at that. But Mayor Mills didn’t seem to find it amusing at all. 

“What the hell?” 

Even without seeing her, Lacey could tell that Mayor Mills was clenching her jaw. Again and again, she felt the breeze of phantom spankings. Did the mayor not want to spank her? What was going on? 

“Hands flat on the desk!” the mayor barked. “Let me see your fucking wrists!” 

Her wrists? Why? But Lacey did as she was told. Gracelessly, the mayor pulled on her hands. She turned them around and examined them. While she was distracted, Lacey dared to look up at Mayor Mills. 

She was livid. Her breath came out in huffs and her red lips snarled around bared teeth. Suddenly, she slapped her right hand beside Lacey’s left. 

“This ring,” she hissed. “That’s your wedding ring, isn’t it?”

Lacey lifted her mouth off the apple and nodded. 

Mayor Mills looked angry enough to burst into flames. “Take. It. Off!”  

Hands shaking, Lacey tried to obey. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken off her wedding ring. Mr. Gold had wanted her to wear it day and night. But what the fuck did Mr. Gold matter now?

When the ring was off, she set it on the desk next to the gnawed apple. She stood at attention, with her eyes downcast. 

The mayor took the ring and held it between her thumb and forefinger. She looked at it, and shook her head. 

“Unbelievable.” 

Yes, it was unbelievable that Lacey would go to a seduction still wearing her wedding ring. What a stupid whore she was. Thoughtless. Sloppy. Ungrateful. 

Mayor Mills tossed the ring back down on the desk, like touching it made her sick. Then she stood up again.

“Let’s try something else.”

For a moment, her anger had abated. Her hips swayed softly as she walked over to Lacey. Gently, she put one hand on Lacey’s neck, and cupped her cheek with the other. She tilted her head back. 

Lacey closed her eyes and parted her lips--but nothing happened. The mayor’s hands moved away. After another moment, Lacey opened her eyes. 

Mayor Mills had one hand extended toward Lacey’s face. It was flat and open, like she was about to slap her. But she wasn’t. She hadn’t. Aside from some pinching, Regina hadn’t been able to do anything to her.

Rumple, you genius!   

When Lacey caught the mayor’s eye, she started and looked away. Without a word, Mayor Mills walked over to the other side of the room. There was a cabinet by the fireplace, from which she pulled out a bottle and a glass.

Her back to Lacey the whole time, the mayor poured out a measure of clear alcohol and drank it in one gulp. Then she took a deep breath. 

Then she turned around. 

“Mrs. Gold, I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to continue this relationship.” She gave a bittersweet smile. “You see, unlike some people in this town, I value marriage. I couldn’t possibly engage in an affair with a married woman.”

“What?” Lacey’s voice cracked. “No, you can’t mean that! I-- Mr. Gold isn’t taking care of me anymore. Our marriage is dead! I--I need you, Madame Mayor!”  

“And you can never know how happy I am to hear you say those things, dear. But the facts are facts--as long as you’re married to your husband, I can’t touch you. Not in any way that matters, at least.”

“Fuck.” Lacey put her hand over her mouth. “Oh fuck, Madame Mayor. I--I really need this, you know?”

“I know,” she nodded. She went over to the conference table and picked up the stack of Lacey’s clothes. She held them out to her. “And I am truly sorry that I won’t get to punish you the way you deserve. But this is how it has to be.” She turned back to her desk.

“Wait!” Lacey clutched her clothes to her chest. “You--you’re just doing this because I’m married, right?”

The mayor nodded again. She had pulled out a paper towel from a desk drawer and was wiping up Lacey’s spit and apple juice. 

“Well, what if--what if I left him? What if we got a divorce?”

Mayor Mills stopped cleaning mid-wipe. For the first time in a while, she looked Lacey in the eye. “Divorces can be messy. They can take a long time. I thought your issue was more pressing than that.”

“I--I don’t know what else to do, Madame Mayor.” Dumping her clothes on a chair, she got on her knees in front of the desk. “You’re right, I do need what you can give me. I need it now, and I’ll do anything to get it!”

She smiled. A light shone in her black eyes. “Anything?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Hmm.” The mayor stood. She began to walk around Lacey in a slow circle. “Well, my point still stands. I simply can’t do anything worthwhile to you while you’re married to Mr. Gold.”

Lacey opened her mouth to beg again, but Mayor Mills lifted a finger and she fell silent.

“And, as we’ve established, a divorce might take a while to finalize. Especially with your husband’s thorough approach to contracts. So I suppose I’m forced to meet you halfway. I’ll just need some proof that your marriage is dead.”

Lacey licked her lips. “Proof?”

“Yes.” When her circle was complete, Mayor Mills was in front of her desk again. The golden ring was still on the surface. She picked it up and handed it out to Lacey. 

It was a bizarre reverse-proposal. Lacey was the one on her knees. The mayor was giving her her own ring back to her, in exchange for a promise to end a marriage.    

“This is part of a matched set, isn’t it?” she asked. “It’s useless on its own. Your husband wears the other one?”

Lacey nodded. 

“Alright,” Mayor Mills said. “So in order for me to have you, I’ll need both of them.”

“What?” Lacey felt her eyes going wide. “You want me to take Mr. Gold’s wedding ring?”

The mayor shrugged. “If your marriage is as dead as you say, he won’t miss it. If it isn’t, then, well, I have no power over you.”

“No.” Scrambling to her feet, Lacey took the ring from the mayor’s hand. “No, I want you to have power over me. I really do!”

A knowing, full-lipped smile. “There’s not much that would make me happier than having absolute power over you, dear. And it will happen, just as soon as I have both of your wedding rings.”

“It will,” Lacey nodded. “I’ll make it happen. I won’t disappoint you, Madame Mayor!”  

[atinyrabbit]

love/hate songs

Since 8tracks is messed up and playmoss is gonna disappear and Spotify doesn't have many songs, I’m posting some of my playlists here. This is a list of songs about love/hate relationships for pairings. Enemies to lovers, tsundere personalities, hero/villain couplings, opposites attract, loving someone you know you shouldn't. This list is several years old so the songs are older and kinda ‘scene.’

Major trigger warnings for the lyrics of these songs. Some songs have violent lyrics. This playlist romanticizes conflict.

Song list under read more:

Love to Hate You - Erasure Nicotine - Panic! at the Disco Don't Let It Go To Your Head - Fefe Dobson Your Love Will Kill Me - Daniel Lavoie Bruises and Bitemarks (Remix) - Good With Grenades October & April - The Rasmus feat. Anette Olzon Violator - Son of Rust Sick Amore - El Creepo Disgusting - Ke$ha Dangerous - Depeche Mode Oleander - Mother Mother Fear & Delight - The Correspondents Love is a Suicide - Natalia Kills Sex as a Weapon - Pat Benatar I'd Love To Kill You - Katie Melua Before I Ever Met You - Banks Rent - Pet Shop Boys Helpless When She Smiles - Backstreet Boys Holy - Zolita Strangelove - Depeche Mode I Won't Say (I'm In Love) - Susan Egan Can't Feel My Face - The Weeknd Only You - Ellie Goulding Devil Devil - Milck Livin' In A World Without You - The Rasmus  

Hate Love - Adelitas Way Suddenly - Peter Heppner Sick and Twisted Affair - My Darkest Days Radioactive Mirrors - Amazinglyjon Dangerous - Cascada Violence (Club Mix) - Grimes & i_o This Is Love - Air Traffic Controller Make Hate To Me - Citizen Soldier Gently Break It - Beck Pete Portrait of a Female - Cruel Youth This Could Be Love - Alkaline Trio Lie, Lie, Lie - Myra You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi I Only Wanna Be With You - Volbeat Maybe You're Not the Worst Thing Ever - Cast of Galavant I've Got You Under My Skin - Seether Human - Oh Land Le Bien Qui Fait Mal - Mozart, L'Opera Rock Can't Help Falling In Love [Light x Dark Remix] - feat. Brooke Tommee Profitt Fell For You - Green Day Stupid Grin - Dragonette Broken - Lauren Hoffman Take Me to Church - Hozier Super Psycho Love - Simon Curtis Whip - Mr.Kitty   Get You Off - Fefe Dobson Crazy Girl - Ke$ha Vice - POP ETC Cannibal - Silversun Pickups Rest in Peace - Original Cast of Buffy The Vampire Slayer Hem of Your Garment - Cake Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge Truth Or Dare - Marianas Trench We Sink - CHVRCHES Gingerbread Man - Melanie Martinez You Stupid Girl - Framing Hanley   Die For You - Red F*cking Boyfriend - The Bird & The Bee Mean - Nicole Dollanganger Must Be Crazy for Me - Melissa Etheridge That Girl - Alexz Johnson FMLYHM - Seether Bad Romance - Halestorm Aquarius - Within Temptation Flirt (With Me) - Zeromancer I'm With Stupid - Pet Shop Boys Stop This Song (Love Sick Melody) - Paramore Trying Not To Love You - Nickelback Kill for You - Zolita A Love Like War - All Time Low You Need Me - SWANS Hatef--k - The Bravery Bottled Affection - Cold War Kids True Love - ThouShaltNot Terrible Thing - Ag I Can't Decide - Scissor Sisters Exit Wounds - The Romanovs Gun - Chvrches Every Breath You Take - Chase Holfelder Whole Lotta Love - Smash Mouth Bloodsport - Sneaker Pimps XXX - Imran-C Bitter Rivals - Sleigh Bells Destruction Of Us - Mr.Kitty Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer Love Me Dead - Ludo Paralyzed - The Used River - Bishop Briggs Neon - VERSA Sucker For Pain - Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa & Imagine Dragons I'm Your Villain - Franz Ferdinand Beautiful Monster - Ne-Yo I Own You - Birgit Let Me Be Your Armor - ASSEMBLAGE 23 Perfect Enemy - t.A.T.u. Straight for the Knife - Sia One More Night - Maroon 5 I Hate You (Don't Leave Me) - Ke$ha The Moth - Aimee Mann Mad Love - The Veronicas Toxic (Acoustic Britney Spears Cover) - Johnny Goth Bad Intentions - Digital Daggers Shut Up - Nick Lachey Soldier - Bitter Ruin First Bad Habit - Vanessa Hudgens In The Darkness - Dead By Sunrise Tearin' Up My Heart - *NSYNC You'll Be Back - Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton & Jonathan Groff Crazy In A Good Way - VERIDIA Combat Baby - Metric In Bluebeard's Castle - Unwoman When Doves Cry - Prince State of Seduction - Digital Daggers Whataya Want From Me - Adam Lambert Broken Inside - Broken Iris Murder (feat. Minx, Chilled) - Boyinaband Why Do You Love Me - Charlotte Lawrence Follow You Home - Nickelback Love To See You Cry - Enrique Iglesias Impressed - Natalie Imbruglia Die For You - Megan McCauley Your Kind (Speak to Me) - Danger Radio Tyrant - The Bravery Violent Games - Polica Toxicated Love - NEO Nemeses (feat. John Roderick) - Jonathan Coulton Miserable - Lit Running From My Shadow - The Velvet Teaparty Barricade - Stars Trouble (Stripped) - Halsey Brutal Hearts - Bedouin Soundclash Desire - Meg Myers Sticks And Stones - The Pierces Just the Girl - The Click Five Himerus and Eros - The Spill Canvas Blood - In This Moment I'm Insane - Myah Marie Fiction (Dreams In Digital) - Orgy Whore - In This Moment Monster - Ryan Adames Foundations - Kate Nash Only When I Lose Myself - Depeche Mode Hatchet - Archive The Beginning of the Twist - The Futureheads Change - Deftones Trust Me - Marc Senter Love Me Hate Kiss Me Kill Me (Scndl Remix) - Fukkk Offf Big Bad Handsome Man - Imelda May The Mighty Fall - Fall Out Boy My Obsession - Cinema Bizarre Stitches - Orgy Miss Kiss Kiss Bang - Alex Swings Oscar Sings! Sweet Dreams - Beyonce Fuel To The Fire - The Maine Closer (Nine Inch Nails Cover) - Niki Barr Band Clueless - Orla Gartland Devil Woman - Cliff Richard Hatefuck - Motionless In White I Love You But I Don’t Like You - Molly Moore Overpower Thee - AUF dER MAUR Get Down On Your Knees And Tell Me You Love Me - All Time Low Post Blue - Placebo Genghis Khan - Miike Snow Poison - Alice Cooper I Know I'm A Wolf - Young Heretics Little Toy Gun - honeyhoney I Miss the Misery - Halestorm Dirty Sticky Floors (radio mix) - Dave Gahan Clarity - Zedd I Get A Kick Out Of You - Frank Sinatra I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett and the Blackhearts Die for You - Otherwise Labyrinth - Oomph! Black Black Heart - David Usher I Want to Destroy Something Beautiful - Josh Woodward I'm a Priest - Daniel Lavoie You Need Me - SWANS Afraid of the Dark - Phildel Virus - Ryan Adames I Wanna Be Your Dog (remix) - Emilie Simon Hello Goodbye - The Beatles Sarcasm (Album Version) - Get Scared Use Me - Hinder Poison & Wine - The Civil Wars Pretty When You Cry - VAST Tainted Love - Soft Cell Scream - Avenged Sevenfold Think About It - Danger Radio Gallery Piece - Of Montreal Bang Bang Bang Bang - Sohodolls Little Girls - Say Anything I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace Love Runs Out - OneRepublic Disarm - Smashing Pumpkins Hit Me Like a Man - The Pretty Reckless Bang Bang (feat. Adam Levine) - K'naan Hurts So Good - John Mellencamp Addicted - Kelly Clarkson Whiplash - FEMM Paralyzer - Finger Eleven Crime - Temposhark Misery Loves Company - Emilie Autumn It Was Good for You Too - Marian Call Price Of Company - The White Tie Affair Burn! - Kobra And The Lotus I Love My Lawyer - Ofelia K I Want Blood - empires (I Always Kill) The Things I Love (ft. The Real Tuesday Weld) - Claudia Brucken Misery (Cutmore Radio) - Maroon 5 Fire and Ice - Pat Benatar I Lust You - Neon Neon Pistol Whipped - Marilyn Manson Bitches Brew - Crosses A Formidable Marinade - Mikelangelo And The Black Sea Gentlemen Control - Puddle of Mudd Scary Love - Skye Sweetnam Loveyouhateyou - Sad Robot Untangle Me - Snow Ghosts A Little Taste - Skyler Stonestreet E.V.O.L - Marina and the Diamonds   (You're the) Devil in Disguise - Elvis Presley Shut Up & Kiss - Me Orianthi Cool for Chaos - Nostalghia Oyeme - Enrique Iglesias I Hate You - Sick Puppies GirlShapedLoveDrug - Gomez You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk - Pet Shop Boys Need You Like A Drug - Zeromancer Werewolf - Cat Power Bathwater - No Doubt Bad Dog - Neon Hitch Guns And Horses - Ellie Goulding Rev 22-20 - Puscifer Won't You Please Be Nice - Nellie McKay The Perfect Drug - Nine Inch Nails Until The Day I Die - Story of the Year Womanizer - Britney Spears Build Me Up Buttercup - The Foundations I Think I Love You David Cassidy Stalkers - Mindless Self Indulgence   Kill Me Every Time - Blue Stahli Preface - FKA twigs Every You Every Me - Placebo Want - Disturbed Spit It Out - IAMX Destroy Me - Mr Kitty My Sweet Prince - Placebo Psycho - Imelda May Monster - Meg Myers Figured You Out - Nickelback Suffocated Love - Tricky Satisfy Me One More Time - Frank Sinatra This Love - Maroon 5 Miss Jackson (feat. Lolo) - Panic! At The Disco Fire and Ice - Pat Benatar Every Other Time Lyte - Funky Ones How Do You Love Someone - Ashley Tisdale Poison - Gin Wigmore Bitter and Sick - One Two The Outsider - Marina & the Diamonds True Love (feat Lily Rose Cooper) - Pink Bad Boy - Cascada Irresistible - Temposhark Painkiller - The Queenstons Born to Die / Russian Roulette - Amazinglyjon Like Sugar - Matchbox Twenty Mad About You - Hooverphonic Stupify - Disturbed Problems - Mother Mother What Is Love - Haddaway Animal - The Cab Marionette - Antonia I Hate You But I Love You - Russian Red Carve A Name - Mother Mother Criminal - Britney Spears Danger - Hilary Duff Fell in Love w/an Android - Simon Curtis Demon Lover - Róisín Murphy Always - Saliva Too Close - Alex Clare Little of Your Time - Maroon 5 Sex and Violence - Scissor Sisters Electric Storm - Delta Goodrem Black widow - Susanne Sundfør Dangerous Kind - Rasmus You've Really Got a Hold on Me - The Miracles Over and Over - Three Days Grace Devour - Marilyn Manson Nature of Inviting - IAMX The Odd Couple - Weezer Hurt Me Harder - Zolita Terrible Love - The National Mad Love - Jojo Boomerang - Reliant K Bad News - Sleeper Agent I Was An Island (EP Version) - Allison Weiss Rock Bottom - Hailee Steinfeld You’re the One That I Want - Lo Fang Poison - Rita Ora Kill For You - Skylar Grey ft Eminem Wouldn't Be Love - Ritual Hate Me - Nico Collins Irresistible - Fall Out Boy I Love You... I'll Kill You - Enigma

[taehyung-rambles]

My Top 3 BTS Outfits in Each Era (Up to Permission to Dance)

Disclaimer: These pictures are hella grainy because I used the wrong edit and only realized after I’d done like 10 eras. Plus it’s hella hard to catch a shot of the boys during the MV when they’re not moving.

Okay, so I don’t know why I wanted to do this. That’s a lie; there’s a very specific outfit that made me want to do this, so look out for that one if you want to know why I’ve decided to dedicate myself to this terribly long and arduous post.

This post is what it sounds like. One thing I’m gonna say before we get going is that I skipped the Make It Right era because the boys didn’t actually film anything for it (it was just a stage mix); ergo, I’d be ranking the outfits they had for the Love Yourself Tour, not the outfits that were selected for them for that particular song. So, I figured it’d be pointless to be like, “Oh, you see this outfit that Jimin wears for these four songs on tour that he happens to wear in the Make It Right stage mix? I like it.”

Also:

This isn’t based on my bias or the members themselves at all; it’s literally which outfits I liked the best.

That means that there are eras where there’s two of one member plus one other member in my top three since the boys usually have at least two outfits. Actually, there’s one era that only has three outfits from one member in it because that member was styled really well for that era.

I will be, like, talking about the outfits through the members’ names, though, because... how else am I supposed to do it? “Yes, so IDOL outfit #9 was really cool”? Not gonna work.

Some of the representations of the members’ outfits aren’t actually that good because I literally could not take a full-body screenshot of them since they were always moving.

As such, I’d advise you to actually go to the MV for outfits you wanted to see in full.

I didn’t use any promotional shots, behind the scenes MV shootings, or outfits from secondary versions of the MVs (with one exception I’ll talk about later)--such as the Manifesto Film for ON or the Japanese version MVs--because I wanted to pull them all from the main MVs. Plus, there was always the chance that the outfit I liked wasn’t shown in the behind the scenes shooting or didn’t have a promotional shot taken of it, and I wanted all the pictures to be taken from the same place.

So, you should prepare for some funny faces from the boys because some of these screenshots are questionable for the sake of capturing the outfit.

I’ll probably talk about their hair if I feel like I need to because it’s so good that’s it’s almost like a part of the outfit; that’s gonna be rare, though.

Disclaimer #2: I do not have any real knowledge about fashion, so I’m just here to say, “Wow. Don’t they look so good?”

Disclaimer #3: I sincerely apologize to the boys for all the ridiculous faces that are to follow.

No More Dream

Boy oh boy, was this era hard to decide on. BTS’s early MVs had a certain mood to them, you know? And that meant there outfits weren’t always amazing. However, I did my best to understand the concept of putting the boys in over-the-top outfits to sell the genre of music and image brand they were going for; that being said, I did end up picking the most basic outfits from the No More Dream era.

Taehyung: I mean, it’s a basic outfit, you know? I’m a sucker for all-black outfits--though the all-black wardrobe in the No More Dream MV was not exactly my flavor of fashion--and Taehyung in a leather jacket is always gonna be awesome.

Jin: Jin’s arms said wassup, you know? That’s not really why I picked this outfit for my top three, though; it was mostly because I liked the shirt they put Jin in, and the accent with the bandana on his pants was nice.

Jungkook: So, the print on Jungkook’s pants was used for all members in one way or another--like, for instance, Taehyung had a T-shirt with it--but I like the print being on the pants Jungkook has on. Also, the style of his pants is a style I love; I have no idea what style they’re in, but the loose fabric at the top is nice. Also, his high-tops (or boots?) are a nice contrast to the rest of black in his outfit.

We Are Bulletproof Pt.2

Talk about another era of questionable fashion. It’s not really the style of clothes they were wearing or which pieces they’re wearing because I know BigHit did the best it could with the money it had at the time; I mostly don’t like the early eras’ stylings because there was a lot going on. Like, you got the leggings under the shorts, knee socks, shirts tied around waists, etc. They’re doing the most, and I don’t really vibe with it. Not that layering is bad because BTS has outfits that are layered later, obviously, and some of those are really nice. I think it’s just awkward to look at when it’s a bunch of sportswear. Anyway, that’s not what this is about.

Jimin: I know Jimin’s got eels or fish on his shorts. I didn’t realize until I look at Taehyung’s T-shirt and realized that he was also wearing the same print. However, Jimin’s shorts being gold looks nice between his black socks and shirt. I can’t explain why. Because pants are usually the darker color in outfits, so the fact that it’s inverted is interesting? Maybe I like the eels after all? Who can say?

Jungkook #2: I’ve no idea what’s going on with Jungkook’s outfit in the middle photo, but the print on his shorts in nice. I mean, I like that he’s got red accents throughout the entire outfit because it’s less gaudy than the gold accents on the boys’ other set of outfits for this MV. Other than that, I just like it better than the rest of the outfits (besides my number one, obviously).

Jungkook #1: No, there is not a full-body shot of this outfit in the MV, and yes, I’m still listing it as my number one. Is this partially because I didn’t like any of the other outfits? Maybe. But, I also really like the print on Jungkook’s--what I’m going to tentatively call--shoulder-pad-jacket. Like, the sports uniforms were a little dumb, but I like that Jungkook’s was a bit more fancy, if you will, than just a jersey. Even if I can only see the top half of it.

N.O

Now we’re getting into some fashion, kids. I mean, the N.O concepts weren’t the best, but it’s better than fish-shorts, you know? Throughout doing this project, I realized that the boys have done the all-white thing a few times--like in Black Swan, Boy With Luv, and Film out, to name a few--and I really like it. Just like in N.O, it’s always a really nice contrast with, either the music, or the members’ images or both. The white clothes make everything seem softer, but then you put a song like N.O on top of it or an image like attractiveness-can-kill Kim Taehyung, and it offsets everything in a really interesting way.

Taehyung: I mean, honestly, I didn’t know what outfit to put in this spot, but I like Taehyung’s shirt, so here we are. The texture on it is nice, actually, because the boys were mostly wearing stuff on top of plain white hoodies or shirts, so Taehyung having a shirt with a bit of visual to it was good.

Jungkook: I don’t know; I like casual clothes, okay? It’s a baggie hoodie, sweatpants, and some chains, but I like the look a lot. Don’t @ me--not that this is a controversial opinion. Maybe I’m influenced by the choreography or something, but I liked this particular Jungkook outfit in N.O.

Yoongi: Can I say Yoongi looks a bit like a ‘90s rapper or is that inaccurate? Yoongi’s got the curly, red hair with a bandana in it, y’all. That shit’s wild. And he’s got a fluffy, white vest. Legit, his outfit says, “I’m cute,” but his expression and rap verse say, “Sit the fuck down,” you know what I mean? That’s the type of shit I’m here for.

Boy In Luv

This era was difficult to decide on, as you can imagine, because they were all in school uniforms with very tiny differences in between them. I think, because of that, this era was a little bit about how each member looked in their outfit for the MV because I didn’t have much to go on.

Jimin: You can’t see it in the picture I was able to get, but he’s got little metal pieces on the collar of his shirt, which is also a black collar, and both of those little details are cool. That’s literally it all I have to say.

J-Hope: Hobi was in all-black, y’all, so I wanted to include him. Would you like to know why his picture is so terrible? There were zero full-body shots of him during his rap verse. Why? So difficult it was to get a shot of Hobi looking fine as hell in this uniform.

Namjoon: I think one other member had a plaid shirt under their button down--Jin, I think--but the pattern of Namjoon’s plaid shirt was the one I liked the best. It’s a really nice pop to the black-and-white the other guys had.

Just one day

This MV was so difficult to find good shots for, let me tell you. Take a shot every time I say that from now on if you want to, you know, poison yourself. Anyway, the outfits for this era were pretty simple. The boys also had school uniform-esque outfits, but they were all the same, so I didn’t include them. At least, they were close enough to the same that I didn’t like any of them individually.

Jimin: When I tell you Jimin only has close-up shots in this MV--I digress. You can’t really tell with the picture I was able to get, but the patches on his pants looked really cool, to me. He also had a long, baggy shirt on on top of the tight pants, so the entire outfit ended up looking really nice.

Jungkook: I don’t really know how to explain this one. I just like the look of it. Jungkook looks like a ballet dancer, you know? I like the asymmetrical sections of his shirt, I like the leather pants, I like the neckline; it’s a good outfit, simple though it is.

Yoongi: This is a boyfriend look if I’ve ever seen one. I’m also a sucker for denim jackets, so that’s part of the reason I liked this outfit on Yoongi. Also, the layering of the jacket, hoodie, and shirt is a combo that can rarely ever go wrong. This is another neutral-toned MV in terms of the outfits, so I like the bit of blue from Yoongi’s jacket, as well.

Danger

This is the first BTS era in which everyone’s outfits killed, and I had a difficult time picking out which ones I liked the best. These outfits definitely fit the Dark & Wild concept well, and I think each member was styled amazingly for this MV.

Taehyung: There is a strong part of me that loves Taehyung in this ballcap. I also love the leather accents on his blazer and the fact that he’s got a white shirt on for that bit of contrast. I don’t know; the entire visual for Taehyung in this outfit was working. 

Jimin: Isn’t Jimin’s shirt so cool? It’s, like, kind of a stiff material, so when he dances, it looks really cool. Plus, the button down and chain he has underneath it are such cool little accents. It almost looks like he’s wearing a turtleneck from a distance because the button down is buttoned all the way up, and I like that vibe.

Jungkook: I don’t know how to explain the emotional attachment I have to Jungkook’s outfit in the Danger MV. The plaid shirt around his waist, the denim jacket, the dark and ripped jeans; I mean, please. This is an iconic MV look, and you can quote me on that. Legit, this would be in the catalog of “Jungkook’s most iconic looks,” for me.

War of Hormone

Can I talk about how cool the concept was for the War of Hormone era? Like, the punk look was such a good choice. It made them look like British teenagers from the 80s, but I’m not mad at that. Also, the mussed hair? What a look these guys had during this era. I don’t think there’s a whole lot of BTS eras that kind of come with their own predetermined fashion themes like War of Hormone came with the punk one. You got Dynamite with the 70s theme and Dope with the costumes theme, but that’s kind of it. The rest of the time, the boys kind of just match while the outfits compliment the song, rather than the outfits embodying the song. So, War of Hormone is a special era because of that.

Jungkook: These stripped sweaters and skinny scarves were such a fad for me when I was in elementary school, but somehow Jungkook makes it seem actually cool. Plus, he’s got all those holes in his sweater that make it look all grungy, and it’s so fun that that’s how they decided to add a focal piece to his outfit.

Taehyung: I wasn’t initially thinking Taehyung would be on this list since the other members have louder outfits than just a leather jacket, but Taehyung’s outfit is so cool. It’s got the print on the back of the jacket plus the buttons on the front that really sell the punk vibe, but he’s also got pinstriped pants, y’all. What a combo.

Namjoon: I don’t like to say “daddy,” but this outfit on Namjoon is, you know? I mean, it’s just a really nice suit in the first place. You got your little pocket square, really nice lines, gorgeous pinstripes; plus, Namjoon’s got that white shirt under it instead of a button down. It all works really nicely, and the overall outfit stuck out to me right away when I was looking at this MV.

I Need U

It was so difficult trying to grab the outfits for I Need U and RUN because they’re basically short films, which meant there was no choreo I could pause during to get a full body shot or cuts of the boys singing their solos. However, I managed to grab these three, so let’s get it.

Yoongi: It’s simple, I know, but I like simple sometimes. I think it’s mostly the jeans that made me choose this Yoongi outfit in I Need U because the shirt was plain white, and the jeans being ripped an rolled was just enough diversity to make me love the outfit. Plus, Yoongi’s shirt is tucked in, so it’s a nice vibe.

Taehyung #2: The outfit in the middle photo is kind of a weird outfit, to me. I think it’s because the jack and the pants are the same material, but in any case, I like it a lot because it looks strange but simple at the same time. The outfits in I Need U were a little geeky, if I can say that, which is totally fine, but I just ended up liking Taehyung’s the best because of the fit of the outfit and the material.

Taehyung #1: It’s that jacket-hoodie-shirt combo again. It’s also all black; it’s also got a leather jacket. It’s the stuff I love, and it’s all on Taehyung, who I love. I mean, there’s also the factor of him wearing the hood up to mimic the dark tone of the MV and song, so all of that contributed to me liking this outfit a lot.

For You

I didn’t expect to like the outfits in the For You MV all that much since it’s a bit of a basic song, but I thought a lot of the pieces were really beautiful. Jungkook had a nice outfit during the choreo, Jin had a nice outfit for the scene when he was washing cars; I mean, all the members had several really nice looks for this MV.

Namjoon: I was trying to decide between this and Jin’s denim jacket outfit, but I really like the dark wash on Namjoon’s jacket and jeans. Also, the jeans being rolled to expose the boots is something I also really liked. This is an aside, but doesn’t Namjoon fucking wear this shit? He looks hella good.

Yoongi: I really like the stark white of Yoongi’s jacket and pants against the black of his shirt. Plus, the shirt has a really gorgeous pattern on it, which is a big reason why I ended up choosing this outfit for my top three.

Taehyung: That jacket is so pretty, isn’t it? It’s not just the floral pattern of it, but the stripes underneath the floral pattern are so lovely against the white in the rest of Taehyung’s outfit. It makes Taehyung look older, too, which has nothing to do with the outfit, but I figured I’d mention it.

Dope

Does anyone know why the concept for this MV was basically Halloween costumes? Was it because the song is about dudes who work hard for their dreams and they wanted the boys to be dressed like various kinds of employees? Anyway, it was a fun MV to look at.

J-Hope: I thought Hobi’s outfit was fitted very well, so I ended up choosing it mostly because of the cut and shape it had. However, the actual leather itself looked really cool, too, with the white and red accents.

Jimin: Like, all the boys wore the white-shirt-black-tie ensemble, but it was Jimin’s only look for the MV, and he wore it the best, so I had to put it down. This one is another case of it being kind of about the member, but sue me, okay? I stan this Jimin.

Jungkook: We all knew, didn’t we? I mean, the police officer’s uniform is iconic. The pants being tucked into the boots gives Jungkook such a nice silhouette, and the fit of the uniform did the same thing. Jungkook looked incredible in this era.

RUN

This era gave me so many issues; you don’t understand. You see how shitty these pictures are, right? None of the members were still during this entire MV except for that one shot of Jungkook sitting on the floor; I mean, I guess that’s indicative of the song being called “RUN,” but ya know. Honestly, I really liked a lot of the outfits during the RUN era because all of them had so much character. It was really difficult to choose only three, so let me know in the replies which outfits you liked from this era.

Jin: A lot of my decisions are based on jackets, but you’re gonna have to bear with me on that one because it’s gonna continue. The picture sucks, but go to the MV and look at Jin’s jacket because it’s got such a nice pattern. It stood out a lot to me because it was different from the other members, and Jin doesn’t usually wear jackets like this.

Taehyung: You’re also gonna have to go check this one out for yourself, but I though the brown jacket and red flannel together looked really nice, especially on top of the dark jeans Taehyung was wearing. I mean, the sunglasses are a vibe, too, but that wasn’t really on my mind when making this decision.

Yoongi: I love this Yoongi outfit in the RUN MV. It had just enough going on to make it look interesting but not busy. The red-and-black striped shirt under the ripped, acid wash jacket provides such a nice contrast. Plus, Yoongi’s got moe sleeves here, which is adorable.

EPILOGUE: Young Forever

This was sort of an awkward MV to do because it’s such a short song, but I got there in the end. The outfits weren’t terribly complex, so we won’t be here all that long, especially since all the members were wearing just about the same types of outfits in terms of color profile.

Yoongi: I like the pattern on Yoongi’s shirt a lot, and I like the little ribbons or whatever they are hanging from his sleeves. This isn’t a style I see on Yoongi that often, but regardless of who was wearing it, the outfit did it’s job because it looks awesome.

Taehyung: I really like the cut of Taehyung’s shirt. Like, the way it buttons looks really interesting, the lack of a collar looks cool, and he’s got a little ascot/scarf thing that has a nice pattern on it. Plus, the scarf was sitting underneath the neckline of the shirt, which was a cool detail.

Jungkook: So, Jungkook was the only member with color in his outfit? I know he’s the center of BTS, but it’s a bit weird? I’m not complaining, though, because the color of his shirt is gorgeous. The rosy-brown was such a nice pop of contrast against the grey background of the MV. It also tied in nicely with the warm tones at the end as the sun is setting.

FIRE

This was an era for outfits, y’all. They kind of a SoCal vibe going on in this MV, and all the members looked super cool. It was interesting to see their outfits shifting as the scenes changed, too. Like, when they were outside, they had outfits with more pops of interests, but when they were inside or when it was dark, they had slightly grungier outfits with more subdued patterns. Or, when they were just messing around and singing or shooting skits, they had goofier outfits on. Anyway, this MV is rad, and so are the outfits.

Taehyung #2: I just really love Taehyung’s jacket that he has on for the majority of this MV. On top of the black shirt and jeans, it became a nice focal piece. Taehyung’s jeans are ripped, too, and it provides some shape to Taehyung’s legs that’s super nice. I mean, all the members have knee rips, but in an all-black outfit, it looked awesome. Also, though you can’t see it in the picture, he has brown boots on, and it’s such a weird addition to a black-and-denim outfit, but somehow, it works really well.

Jungkook: It’s the cardigan for me, fam. It’s such a pretty piece; actually, that’s not all I love about Jungkook’s outfit in the middle picture because he has this band around his leg that stands out so much for some reason. I don’t even know what the band is or if it’s a part of the jeans or what, but it actually really does elevate the look.

Taehyung #1: This fit is it, y’all. First of all, the jacket is bomb; the color is stunning, and the fringe is so fun. The belt Taehyung’s wearing pops--at least to me--and the black jeans work really well with the jacket. And Taehyung’s boots plus the jeans? Please.

Save ME

This was the most difficult MV to get screenshots for by far. This, War of Hormone, and Film out are the only MVs where the boys only have one outfit, right? Boy In Luv might, as well; I can’t remember. There’s probably more, but anyway. I’ll keep it a buck: I’m not gonna have a lot to say about Yoongi and Namjoon, but we’re gonna try our best.

Yoongi: The ripped jeans are nice, as always, and I love Yoongi’s boots, but other than that, this is just about me liking the type of outfit this is. I mean, having a long-sleeve tee under a T-shirt can be kind of lame, but when it’s a nearly all-black outfit with pops of light coming from the undershirt, it can look good.

Namjoon: I picked Namjoon’s outfit because the jacket he was wearing was fitting pretty tightly, and I thought it made his silhouette look really sharp. The ballcap did the same thing since Namjoon’s hair wasn’t out in the wind. Also, he’s got converse high-tops on--I think--and that’s always a vibe.

Taehyung: Taehyung’s outfit is the only outfit I freakin’ love from Save ME. He’s got the moe sleeves, guys, and it makes Taehyung look so soft. Plus, the sweater that’s on top of his long-sleeve tee is cut really nicely so the sleeves are really big and make Taehyung’s silhouette look really cool when he’s dancing. Also, red-haired Taehyung is an icon.

Blood Sweat & Tears

So, I kind of both loved every single outfit in this MV and didn’t find any of them particularly stand out-ish. That’s probably because they were all awesome so none of them could be more awesome than another. Still, I came up with a list. Let me tell you, I was so mad that the suits the boys were wearing in the beginning were not shown that much in the MV because they were all gorgeous.

Jungkook #2: Which is why Jungkook’s face is covered because I could only get this shot of his suit since it’s basically invisible the rest of the time. How pretty is the print on it, though? The flowers are gorgeous on top of the black.

Yoongi: I really like light nude-colored fabric because anything you put on top of it looks a little bit lacy, and that’s what Yoongi’s blazer looked like in this MV. Plus, he’s got a choker, which looks really interesting since he’s wearing a suit.

Jungkook #1: It’s basically just the shirt that I really loved, but it’s got such a beautiful print on it, and it’s pale nude, and he has--I think--a velvet choker on. Plus, his shirt’s all flowy and nice. It doesn’t get better than this, kids.

Spring Day

Is it just me, or were their outfits a little bit strange in Spring Day? Not a whole lot, but the winterwear they had on was really unique. Especially the heavily patterned sweaters a few of the members were wearing. Quirky is the word I want to use, but it’s not really quirky as much as it’s just a bit off center.

Yoongi: I honestly didn’t know what the third outfit should be, so Yoongi is kind of here because I liked the simplicity, and the pink of his sweater is a good pink and not that gross hot pink that never looks good. He’s also got rips in his jeans in a really weird spot, which is probably not that good for the winter, but it looks nice.

Namjoon: I can’t tell if Namjoon is wearing a white hoodie with an orange hood or if he’s wearing a long-sleeve sweater on top of an orange hoodie, but either way, he looks great. Also, the blazer on top is, like, kind of weird but also a vibe. It’s an outfit that doesn’t really match, but it doesn’t clash, so I guess you’d call that complimentary?

Jungkook: It’s a simple black-and-white outfit, but the specific pieces Jungkook was wearing were all really pretty. The stripes being concentrated in the middle of the sweater and the jacket having flecks of white that look like paint go together so well.

Not Today

Everybody was poppin’ in this era, outfits and otherwise. I really like the red theme that colored everybody’s concepts, and it kind of makes me think of Not Today as a red song. Is that weird? Who knows? Anyway, this era was hard to choose from.

Namjoon: Namjoon looked like a king in this MV. He’s got purple hair that actually really pops against the rest of his outfit, and his pants being red is so fun. Also, the bleached out area of his button down shirt looks really awesome. Jungkook has a shirt like that in this MV, as well, but the stripes on Namjoon’s make the bleached spot stand out more.

Yoongi: The leather pants were a good choice because Yoongi looks awesome in them. The red detailing on them is also awesome, but the money piece is his jacket. What a nice color that jacket is, I tell you what. It stands out so much because of how vibrant it is, especially against Yoongi’s pitch-black hair.

Taehyung: This is one of those outfits that I’ve always loved, and now I get to talk about it. I cannot tell what is hanging from his hips, but the tie-dye look of it is fun; the shirt Taehyung is wearing is super weird, but I love it a lot. Also, Taehyung in a bandana always slaps. The jacket, though, is so cool. The pure white of it is already eye-catching, but the actual fit and shape of it is really unique, too.

DNA

This era doesn’t have the outfit that made me want to make this post, but it did have the MV that made me want to make this post. I mean, we all know the DNA MV is vibey as hell, and the bright and bold colors and patterns in everybody’s outfits sold that theme really easily. This was another era that was difficult to choose from because I liked a lot of the individual pieces the members were wearing, but I didn’t like many outfits as whole packages.

Taehyung #2: Taehyung looks so elegant in this outfit, and I know it’s also because of his hair, but damn. I wanna say it makes him look rich, but that’d be stupid since, you know, he is rich. Again, it’s simple, but the silk, red shirt Taehyung’s wearing is stunning.

Yoongi: I don’t really know why I chose this outfit, but I still love it. Like, it’s just a jersey and a blue jacket, but the colors are coordinated really nicely, and the blue is a pretty blue. I don’t know; I just thought it was well put together.

Taehyung #1: I did not think Taehyung in sweats and a dress shirt was gonna end up being my favorite outfit in DNA, but here we are. The red-white-and-blue theme is all over the place in the DNA MV, but it doesn’t look too gaudy of a color combo in Taehyung’s outfit in the leftmost picture. He looks comfy and cute, and I like it a lot.

MIC Drop (Steve Aoki Remix)

Is it okay to say that this MV has some of the best stylings for the boys in any MV? I mean, they all looked dope, no? It was so hard to get these screenshots, and I couldn’t even get the best ones in the world, but I really liked everyone’s outfits in this era since it was like sportswear but more swaggy.

Yoongi #2: This is a shitty screencap, but I couldn’t get a better one without Yoongi being three pixels. Anyway, the all white tracksuit is a vibe and half. Yoongi looks so damn cool. You can’t see it in the picture, but his sweatpants have black stripes on them that look awesome, and he’s got red shoes. Epic.

Yoongi #1: I hate camo, but this look is it, fam. The top half with the hoodie and the bandanas is enough, but I think Yoongi was also wearing a really long, black shirt underneath that hung the middle of his thighs, and it’s awesome against the black pants.

Taehyung: Taegi really was blessing us with the headbands in this era. This look is badass, periodt. The loose pants, the combat boots, the leather jacket with the orange lining, the Mastermind World hoodie--I mean, it’s a legendary look for Taehyung, no doubt.

FAKE LOVE

This era was a good era. Jimin’s hair looked like a tiger, Taehyung had a mullet, Jungkook had a jacket that made him look like a ruby; I mean, everyone looked amazing in the Fake LOVE era. I don’t have it in my list, but I do wanna talk about the ruby jacket Jungkook was wearing because, wow, was it pretty. That is all.

Taehyung #2: I don’t know why I like this outfit so much, but I think it’s because it’s weird? Like, it’s all neutral colors, which is why it’s not too much, but the leather straps are so strange. I love it, though, because it’s like Taehyung’s in a straitjacket, which was the point, I guess. Also, his shirt is a bit asymmetrical, so that’s fun.

Jungkook: I mean, this whole ensemble is iconic, to me. The jacket is so sporadically colored because it’s, like, tie-dyed but also sectioned off by color, so that’s awesome; then you got his ratty tee and the plaid shirt tied around his waist. And if that wasn’t enough to butter your bread (pun intended), JK’s got ripped jeans and blocky shoes, baby. What a combo.

Taehyung #1: How pretty is Taehyung’s shirt? It’s flowy and flowery and the colors are absolutely gorgeous. Taehyung’s jeans are also really interesting because they’ve got different shades of denim, little frays and rips, and striped details that make them look interesting. I guess it’s just a shirt and jeans, but the pieces are so beautiful.

IDOL

I take it back; this era was the worst era for getting screenshots. The pain I went through to get Taehyung in that suit and Jungkook in that hanbok was ridiculous. Anyway, as IDOL is a chaotic as fuck song, the outfits were equally chaotic, and all of them were kind of awesome in their own quirky ways. Like, even though Taehyung’s red-and-white outfit with the suspenders is ridiculous under normal circumstances, with Kim Taehyung and the IDOL MV together, it was somehow an awesome outfit. That’s basically how I felt about 90% of the outfits in the MV.

Yoongi: It’s just a really nice outfit. Is that enough? The color of his scarf is stunning, and he’s got a pretty turquoise shirt that you can see beneath the hemline of his white shirt, and both of those add nice pops of color to an otherwise neutral set of outfits the boys had during these shots.

Jungkook: Jungkook’s hanbok is a revelation, for real. It was so hard to get a screen shot of it, and the one I have doesn’t do it justice at all. The faint red details in the jacket are so pretty, especially when they pop up here and there as Jungkook is dancing. Also, the dandelion print on the pants is beautiful. It’s all-black, so it can kind of look basic depending on the shot, but the accents of the hanbok are stunning when you see them.

Taehyung: Taehyung is the only member who’s suit pants did not match the jacket, and I do not know why, but it kind of looks better than the rest of the suits because of it? Like, Taehyung’s blazer pops more to me because his jacket is the only piece of print he has, and the print is gorgeous. There’s these orange sections on his dress shirt collar, too, that are fun. Also, can you see his shoes in the picture? They’re super cool looking, aren’t they? I’ve no idea what they’re called, but I like them a lot.

Airplane pt.2 - Japanese ver.

The boys’ outfits were so fun in this era. I don’t know what style I should call it, but it’s like summer in Mexico, you know? Anyway, I thought all the members looked really unique in this MV because all the pieces were put together really well. Plus, everything was really sandy in tone, which felt like a solid representation of the song for whatever reason.

Jungkook: Is it the dark red jacket? Is it the weird red-and-brown striped shirt? Is it the white pants? It’s a lot about the white pants, actually. Regardless, I can’t explain why Jungkook’s outfit in the beginning of the MV is so nice to look at, but it is. Is it the--I think they are called--spectator shoes?

Taehyung #2: This looks like a plain outfit, I guess, because it’s almost all white, but the individual pieces are awesome. I can’t tell if Taehyung’s got a white cardigan over a white button down or if it’s the same shirt, but two of them; either way, the layered look came out really well. Also, the hat and the glasses straps are a mood. I think what made me love this outfit as a whole, though, are the pants because, I think they’re silk, and they’ve got blue dots all over them, which I apparently really like.

Taehyung #1: I don’t know why I think of Taehyung’s outfit in the leftmost picture as the outfit that represents this era, but I guess that’s why I like it so much. It’s hard to tell in the photo I have, but the lacy cardigan is so pretty. It almost has a glimmer to it because of the material, so that’s nice, but then there’s the scarf and the tan pants and the moccasin-like shoes, and--listen, this is a good fit, okay?

Boy With Luv

If you’ve made it this far, congrats! You’ve found the only era in which I’ve chosen one member for all three outfits. We’ll talk about that in a minute, but Taehyung was styled so damn well for the Boy With Luv MV. I don’t know why they decided on two seperate styles for the boys that was all-pink and then all-white, but they looked so damn good. Like, their other two sets of outfits were just kind-of-retro-and-goofy randomness, but then they had such strong color themes as well. Whatever; it turned out amazingly.

Taehyung #3: I really couldn’t find a third outfit that I really like for the last slot, but I chose Taehyung’s outfit in the rightmost picture because the light denim, white dress shirt, and white detail on the jacket was simple yet interesting. I don’t know if that’s weird, but the little details like the cuffs of the jacket or the cropped jeans with the detail at the bottom made me love the outfit.

Taehyung #2: I thought I knew this was gonna be my number one, but I digress. I don’t know why the other members were basically just in sweats that looked like pajamas--besides Namjoon, who, for some reason, was in a suit and sweater--for the pink theme, but they put Taehyung in a gorgeous jacket that made him look like the dude that invented sex. Does that make sense? Anyway, the tone of pink for outfit, the tie-dye shirt, and the silk jacket are all iconic.

Taehyung #1: No, but Taehyung’s white suit is so stunning? I don’t think the material is silk, but whatever the name of it is that escapes me right now is gorgeous. It’s got, like, a sheen to it that’s really beautiful. And the fluffy sleeves? Please. They’re such a cool texture, and it makes Taehyung look so elegant. As an aside, they definitely darkened the blue of his hair for the shoot with the white suit, right? Because it looks like they did, and the blue his hair is in the leftmost picture is amazing.

Lights

I mean, this era was basically just clothes the boys already wear rather than costumes for the MV, but I’m talking about it anyway. I guess the idea was for the outfits to be casual but colorful to mimic the message of Lights and the tone of the song.

Jungkook #2: This is yet another case in which I didn’t know what outfit to put in the third slot, so I said, “Hey, Jungkook’s pick jacket is nice,” and I arrived here. I mean, it is a nice jacket. Normally, I don’t like hot pink, but I think since Jungkook’s jeans are light and he’s wearing a light shirt, the jacket almost acts as a dark color and offsets the light pieces.

Jungkook #1: I mean, how do I talk about a simple outfit, you know? It just looks nice. He’s got a blue shirt underneath, so that’s a nice pop of color. I think I mostly like the shirt he has on over his tee because it’s pinstriped, and I like pinstripes. That’s all I got, but I really do like the outfit.

Jimin: Can you say, “This is my favorite outfit because of the jacket?” Good. Genuinely, though, this is the nicest outfit, by far, in the Lights era. The way the color is printed on the black is super interesting because it’s like one long stripe, but the stripe is a bit of a gradient with the black from the rest of the jacket creeping in. I don’t know; I like it more than I probably need to.

ON

We’re going with the main MV, kids, but let the record show that Taehyung’s outfit in the Manifesto Film was bomb as fuck. Actually, they were all bomb as fuck. Anyway, I guess this MV was going for a peasant vibe? I don’t mean that in a rude way, but it’s supposed to be about people fighting their fears, right? So, it makes sense that the concept would be about scruffy characters that stand up and fight. So, yeah; a chic peasant vibe.

Jimin: You can’t at all see it in the picture I have, but the reason I chose Jimin’s outfit is because it has some synching in down the front that looks really cool. I don’t want to say that made my decision, but that one detail turned it from a basic outfit to something that looked a bit more elevated. I mean, it’s the same thing with the boots and the fact that the jacket on top is cropped. Little details matter to me.

J-Hope: It’s a basic outfit, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t cool. I think part of the reason I love it so much is because it’s dirty. Is that weird? It’s an outfit that reminds me of scuffed boots because it’s black but a little mussed. Anyway, the overall affect was awesome.

Taehyung: I think this goes down as an iconic Taehyung look, for me. It’s such a good costume. There were a lot of browns in this MV, so--much like with Hobi’s outfit--the charcoal of Taehyung’s pants stood out a lot to me. He’s also got this grey-white combat boots that stick out so much when they’re on camera. Mostly, though, it’s the vest and shirt that got me wild. The vest is such a nice color, but it’s got that ragged feel, the shirt is ratty and antique looking, and the entire ensemble is a win from head to toe. Including the thorns on Taehyung’s neck because, holy shit, are those the coolest additions to any concept in any BTS era.

Black Swan

I tried so hard to capture these outfits, but you really do need to go look at them yourself to understand how pretty they are. Black Swan has kind of a simple MV if you think about it, but honestly, the wardrobe brings so much life and character to it. In the same way I Need U has the shorts stories in it and IDOL has all the CGI in it, I really think the magic from the Black Swan era has a lot to do with the outfits. Especially considering how well the wardrobe looked in conjunction with the choreography.

Yoongi: This was almost another entirely Taehyung era with Taehyung second all-black outfit, but Yoongi really had a stunning concept for his black swan ensemble. I really love that they put him in boots, and his slacks are really pretty, but the shirt they styled him in is such a good piece. It’s entirely black, but it’s still striped, and the contrast in it is so beautiful to look at.

Taehyung #2: So, Taehyung had the most black showing in his white swan outfit, and I don’t know if that’s because Taehyung was supposed to seem like the member that would transform the fastest or what, but I loved his suit a lot. The jacket is super asymmetrical, as you can see in the photo, and it looks gorgeous during the choreo. Also, underneath his black vest, he’s got this sheer turtleneck that looks absolutely beautiful when you see it up close. Plus, the feather detail on Taehyung’s necklace is really pretty, too.

Taehyung #1: Please go look at the suit in the leftmost picture in the MV because it is stunning. I don’t know anything about who designed it or who put Taehyung in it, but it’s crazy beautiful. Like, his shirt is velvet, I think, which is already an interesting textural piece, but then the suit itself has detail work everywhere. The base material has a sheen to it, but then there’s patches that are glittery and gorgeous, as well, and when the light hits them, they’re so, so pretty. I love, love, love this suit.

Stay Gold

This is another era that’s kind of full of typical outfits, but they’ve got some interesting pieces going on that make the wardrobe for Stay Gold stand out more than in Lights or RUN, for example. Because the MV moves from inside to outside, their main outfits look different in each area since you see them in cool-toned scenes and then warm-toned scenes, which is pretty fun.

J-Hope: I’m sorry these photos show, like, nothing, but let me tell about Hobi’s outfit. So, initially, there’s a blue cardigan on top of Hobi’s other two shirts, and that’s not a piece we need to concern ourselves with. The button down Hobi is wearing is blue primarily but the fabric is plaid at the bottom of one of the sleeves and the shirt, which looks awesome. Plus, his pants are kind of mossy looking, and I think they’re red, as well. I don’t know why that looks so cool to me, but there it is.

Yoongi: Yoongi’s just got a lot of nice layering going on. First of all, the boots are awesome. Secondly, the cut of his pants is really nice, especially since he’s got boots on. The baggy sweater he has on is nice, as well, because of the holes in it--I understand that’s weird--but the part that makes his outfit look awesome to me isn’t even in the photo I was able to get. Yoongi’s got a plaid shirt around his waist that’s, like, sand colored, and it compliments his boots so well. Basically, the outfit was built around the boots, and I vibe with it.

Taehyung: I mean, all Taehyung is wearing is a white shirt, and denim jacket, combat boots, and what I believe are black jeans, but it looks so nice because of the specific pieces they are. For instance, the denim jacket is a really stunning shade that I don’t feel like I see enough, and it worked really well with the black jeans. It’s a simple outfit, but I love it because of the solid elements.

Dynamite

This was, without a doubt, the most interesting era of BTS’s wardrobe. Maybe you’d give that title to IDOL, DNA, or War of Hormone because those outfits were so song-specific, just like Dynamite, but the disco theme on these boys is a cultural reset. I think I can confidently say that, for me, the Dynamite era had the absolute best set of outfits as a whole. Every single era has had an outfit I don’t like, but every outfit in the Dynamite MV was fire.

Yoongi: I mean, look how cute he looks, you know? My man’s got a Space Jam jersey on for fuck’s sake; how can I not include this outfit? Real shit, though, the black and white sweatpants and shirt or whatever it is that Yoongi is wearing is so pretty. Like, the print on it is so pleasing to look at, and the cut and stitching of the top piece is super nice.

Jimin: I struggled between choosing this Jimin outfit and the denim outfit with the rainbow details, but I love Jimin’s bomber jacket so damn much. It looks like candy. Whether you think that’s weird or not is your business, but it’s colorful like candy, and it’s shiny like candy, so that’s what the outfit it. Also, he’s got those jeans on that you can tell are hella expensive because they look really nice, and I like those, too. Just as an aside.

Taehyung: This is the reason I’m making this post. This fucking green suit has lived in my mind rent free since I saw it. Whoever it was that put Taehyung in this suit deserves to rule the world because it’s such a focal piece. Legit, like, you put everyone else in loose shirts and denim, but you put Kim Taehyung in a green suit that makes him look like the richest man alive? How could it not be a focal piece? I could talk about Taehyung’s shoes, I could talk about the tan silk of the vest, I could talk about the striped tie, I could talk about Taehyung stunning blonde hair for this era that makes the outfit and the song even better for days. Just know this look is iconic, and it’s probably my favorite look on this list.

Life Goes On

So, I cheated for this one, but I also kind of didn’t. None of these photos are from the main MV because I couldn’t get good photos of these outfits from the main MV; however, these outfits are actually shown in the main MV, so it’s not really cheating. I just went to the other MV versions to get better pictures of them. Anyway, what a comfy vibe they went for with Life Goes On; I love it a lot since the song is what it is. It’s nice to have MV outfits that represent the song so well and play into how you take in the music.

Yoongi: It’s the pastel cardigan, for me, fam. I mean, obviously, the entire outfit is nice, what with the light wash jeans and the white tee. It’s just that the cardigan adds an interesting piece to it to make it less basic.

Jimin: It’s kind of the same thing with Jimin. Well, Jimin’s also got a bear on his shirt, so that’s adorable. Honestly, the violent green of his sweater is both appealing and not appealing, in a way, but I think that’s why I like it so much. It’s fuzzy and has nice texture to it, as well. Jimin definitely looked the most comfy of all the members in this outfit.

Taehyung: Why I love Taehyung in tan-and-white pajamas, I couldn’t say. I think it’s because the pajamas are already nice and have a nice pattern on them, but then you put a cozy looking cardigan on top of them, and it makes it look even better. Or do I like it so much because the cardigan is a solid color where the pajamas have a pattern? Whatever; Taehyung looks cute. That is all.

Film out

I’ll be honest: this era was hard to choose outfits from because everyone kind of looked the same since everything was almost entirely white sweaters and button downs. The outfits were all nice, it’s just that none of them stuck out that much. I mostly went for the outfits that looked the best as a whole rather than considering the individual pieces.

Jin: Jin looked the most unique out all the members; that’s for sure. I like that he’s wearing black pants, but I also really like the short-sleeve shirt he has on top of his white tee. Rather than it being a plain white outfit, the pants and the stripes made it look a bit more interesting.

Yoongi: Yoongi in a white suit always slaps. I don’t know; I like the suit because it’s not really a real suit. It’s a thinner fabric, so I guess it looks a bit more casual than a usual suit, and I like that a lot. Plus, Yoongi’s got some really pretty white shoes that he wears with it.

Taehyung: Of the sweaters and button downs in this MV, I liked Taehyung’s sweater the best. His is similar to Jungkook’s but Jungkook’s sweater was a bit darker, I think, and I like the shade of Taehyung’s. Plus, Taehyung’s got white shoes and white pants, which make the whole outfit look really beautiful. The textural difference between the pieces makes the difference, I think.

Butter

So, the queen came out and broke records. She also gave me a Taejin goldmine. Y’all, it’s not like the other members aren’t flirty as hell in Butter, but Taejin were absolute other beings. Anyway, I think the boys had something like five outfits for this MV? Mostly suits, but there were two sets of outfits that were odd but also fun. Those ones, I didn’t love, but suits are hard to choose from. These three are the ones that really stuck out.

Taehyung #2: I think it’s the shirt. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what in the world is on it, but I like the texture. I liked JK’s suit in the beginning, too, but I think I liked the Taehyung’s lighter shirt a lot better. Otherwise, the two are close to the same. Oh, the sunglasses are a vibe, too.

Jin: Why has no one put Jin in yellow before now? Why did take a song about a yellow spread to put Jin in yellow? Honestly, of the yellow-detailed outfits at the end of the MV, I liked Jin’s the best because the yellow was used in a few, small places that popped rather than being too understated or overblown (no offense to Taehyung and Hobi’s yellow jackets). Like, Jin doesn’t have a tie, so it’s not blocking the shirt, the yellow stripes on his pants look so cool when he dances, and the pocket square is a nice detail. So, Jin looks good as fuck in this MV.

Taehyung #1: I was done for the second I saw Kim  Taehyung in a bright orange suit. Taehyung is always the one that gets the suits like this, isn’t he? I mean, he can work it, though. The nude tie was a really gorgeous detail, I thought, because it didn’t retract from the suit at all. I guess the same can be said about the shirt, too. I don’t know, I just really love the entire package of Taehyung’s outfit in the leftmost picture.

Permission to Dance

This was such a cute little music video, and I thought the cowboy/Western theme was super fun since the boys have never done this concept before. I knew what my number one was gonna be from the teaser, but the last two were difficult to pick. I liked Yoongi’s outfit at the end of the MV, and I liked Jungkook’s outfit in the last frame (but there were no close-ups of it, unfortunately). Ultimately, I settled on what I did because I liked the details.

Jin: Sometimes I like simplicity, and Jin’s outfit was simple, but the gold paisley design on his pants--which are leather by the way; I know, absolutely criminal--is gorgeous. I also liked his boots a lot and the fact that his fringe was on his shirtfront pockets.

Taehyung #2: Initially, I had Namjoon’s first outfit in this list, but after watching the Permission to Dance MV way too many times, I ended really loving Taehyung’s all-red outfit. I liked the fringe on the legs, I like the fit of the slacks, I love the cut of the shirt, I love the way they styled this outfit, I like the boots, the accessories are awesome, and this outfit flatters Taehyung so damn much. Basically, even though it’s just red on red, it’s a damn good way to do red on red.

Taehyung #1: This fit is it, fam. It’s it on Taehyung specifically, and it’s it in general. Especially on Taehyung, though. That’s not what this is about. Anyway, the pieces of this outfit are really nice. The hat, surprisingly, fits this particular outfit really well. The denim wash on the shirt and the jeans look really nice together, and all the details--from the rips in the jeans to the bandana at the hips to the belt to the chain--were all things that made me think this outfit was awesome the moment I saw it. Not to mention the boots and accessories.

Alright, that’s it. I don’t know if you actually read this post or just looked at the photos (which, if you did the latter, I’m so sorry for the shitty screenshots.) If you have a favorite outfit, era, or set of outfits, let me know in the replies. And if you know the types of clothes these boys were wearing in any of these photos, I’d be interested in actually knowing what I’m talking about next time I talk about their clothes, so drop me some info. Anyway, thanks for reading!   

[sharinluna]

Translation - Kiro’s Light Pursuit Date

Translation based on KR version.

Translated only about 80 % of the game.

Highly subjective and took liberties in paraphrasing.

The timeline of this date is after chapter 17.

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

Kiki: Boss~

I looked up from a pile of paperwork and saw Kiki hastily running towards my way.

Kiki: Boss! You are invited to Loveland TV’s evening party!

She handed me a wine-colored envelope. Inside was an invitation to the party this weekend.

Yōurán: But why would they invite me?

This was one of the most prestigious parties in the field. Only the top celebrities and political figures could attend. Most people would not even get invitations.

Kiki: Maybe this proves how powerful our company became.

Anna: Anyway, this is a great opportunity. This is a chance to dress up and form some connections with the important people. And it will be a nice change for you. Leave the work to me!

Yōurán: I didn’t say anything about going…

Kiki: Boss, you’ve been feeling down lately. And there’s a rumor that Kiro will come as a surprise guest!

Yōurán: Kiro?

Kiki: Yes, you are very close to him, right? Did he say anything about that?

I looked at Kiki’s expectant eyes and couldn’t say anything.

Yōurán: I don’t really know.

Kiki opened her mouth to ask more questions but Anna dragged her away, looking at me with worry in her eyes.

I looked down at the invitation. I would be satisfied with just a glance at Kiro, if only he would come to the party. I wanted to know where he was, and if he was safe. Mostly, I desperately wanted to see him again.

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

In darkness I could hear faint sounds of cheerful music.

Kiro: Hey, Miss Chips! I’m here!

A pleasant voice reached my ears. It held the familiar tenderness, and a little bit of sullenness for being ignored.

I opened my eyes and the darkness melted away into radiance.

Yōurán: Where am I? Kiro?

I blinked to get a clearer vision. Suddenly the shouts erupted as if to pierce the sky. Golden spotlights danced around dizzily. I followed the light and could see the shining figure on the stage, receiving the looks of awe of everyone around.

It was Kiro. His blond hair was reflecting the lights, making everything look brighter. His smile was pleasing and contagious. He was giving off a very attractive splendor.

Kiro: Sing with me, everyone!

As he waved his hand, I couldn’t avert my eyes from him. It felt like he was the only light in this world. I started to sing with the crowds. Our voices united in harmony put fire into my veins. My heart was thumping. I haven’t felt this excited for a long time, it felt so good.

Yōurán: Kiro!

Suddenly, his eyes flashed to reveal a sharp glance that looked somehow dangerous.

Kiro: Can you accept me like this?

His voice seemed to ignore the avid shouting of his fans and reach only me. I didn’t even care that he won’t be able to hear me in the din. I raised my voice to shout at him.

Yōurán: No matter how you look, no matter who you are…

Yōurán: I will always love all of you, Kiro!

It seemed impossible, but Kiro’s smile became even more brilliant.

Kiro: I heard you. I heard your voice.

I heard his soft whisper. I wanted to run to him immediately. Suddenly, everyone stepped aside as if they heard my wish.

I ran forward. I gave up trying to figure out if this was real or not a long time ago. I just wanted to get close to him as soon as possible. I wanted to be in his arms again. I wanted to feel his familiar temperature again.

Yōurán: Kiro!

Kiro put his hand out to me like a prince waiting for his princess.

Kiro: I’m so glad you came here, Yōurán.

Yōurán: Yes, I’m glad too! I’m…

As I was about to put my hand in his, Kiro suddenly started to fade before my eyes.

Kiro: Will you forget me?

Kiro was becoming faint like a water mist. Panicking, I reached out to grab him but he slipped away from my fingers. An invisible wall had come between us and I couldn’t get close to him. The distance between us was only one step away, but it was like a line that we could never cross.

Will I forget Kiro? That sudden question in my head made me tremble in fear.

Yōurán: I won’t! I will never forget you! I…

It seemed like he was taking my memories as well as he faded and disappeared from my eyes.

Yōurán: NO!!!

I opened my eyes. The dark room was deadly silent.

Yōurán: It was a dream…

I closed my eyes. My heart was still thumping. Kiro’s smiling face. Kiro holding a bag of chips, Kiro and the teddy bear… I could still recall those memories clearly.

Yōurán: Thank god. It was just a dream…

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

Hoping that Kiro would come, I arrived early at the party. The orchestra was playing a piece that was romantic and sophisticated. I awkwardly held a glass of champagne and stood in a corner, my eyes roaming for any signs of Kiro. But Kiro was nowhere to be found, instead I saw a flash of someone I’ve met before.

The man with silver hair was leaning against a window, looking serene and lazy. He looked like a high-class prince proud and aloof, hiding his dangerous and violent side. He had the name of a sun god, but I couldn’t feel even an ounce of warmth.

Yōurán: What is Helios doing here?

I hid myself so he wouldn’t see me. I didn’t know how Helios could come to a public place this.

Helios must have sensed my gaze, since he raised his head and looked directly at me. Did a flicker of warmth flow in his eyes as our glances met? No, it must have been my imagination.

The corner of his mouth went up slightly. I was sure that wasn’t a good sign for me. What is he going to do to me? I looked for a way to escape, but he was already walking towards me. My head yelled at me to run away, but my body refused to move and I could only stare as he came closer to me.

Helios: We meet again, Yōurán.

This was the first time that Helios called my name. He was brusque as ever, but there seemed to be a small amount of longing in his voice. He did not act like the Helios that I used to know. His attitude and manners were surprisingly refined. Like he was acting a whole different persona.

 Yōurán: Why did you…

Helios: Do you have to ask such boring questions all the time?

He glanced behind me then snatched the wine glass from my hands and placed it on the waiter’s tray.

Yōurán: What are you doing?

Helios: You’ll soon find your answer.

Then he suddenly grabbed my right hand. Before I could protest he started to drag me toward the dance floor.

Yōurán: W-wait!

Helios: Why?

Helios looked at me coldly. Although his outer manners were gentlemanly, he couldn’t hide his true colors in his eyes. Lights from the chandelier above reflected in his hair, eyes, around all of him like numerous starlights. I was suddenly at a loss for words.

Helios: Do I have to resort to formally asking you to dance?

As he was saying that, he grabbed my left hand and placed it on his shoulder, then his other hand was on the small of my back, preventing me from escaping.

The music changed into a piece that I knew well. It was <Por Una Cabeza>.

Yōurán: But I can’t dance tango. Let me go!

I whispered fiercely at him, but Helios just pulled me closer to him. I was wearing a dress that revealed my back, so I could feel his hand on the bare flesh. It felt like electricity was flowing into my veins.

Helios: Relax. It’s very easy.

He whispered into my ear, then he started to lead me into dance. His hands, his steps were guiding me on.

My shock didn’t make my moves any less clumsy. Helios only seemed to enjoy my predicament.

Helios: I thought you had no fear to approach me so boldly.

Yōurán: What…?!

I wanted to retort, but he interrupted me.

Helios: Concentrate on the dance.

The music changed into a faster tune and Helios’s moves picked up speed as well. He guided me to glide smoothly across the marble dance floor. My torso was stuck to his chest and my feet were busy following his quickened steps.

I looked up to see Helios’s face. But he was the one who wasn’t concentrating on the dance. He was staring at some place far away. A pair of sharp knives were hidden in his eyes, like a predator glaring at his prey.

This man, although he had saved me once, was still a dangerous member of the Black Swan.

Yōurán: Did you come here on Black Swan’s business?

When I dared to ask him Helios looked down at me.

Helios: First, you should tell me why you came here.

Yōurán: I happened to be invited here.

My voice started out firm but grew smaller as I reached the end of the sentence.

Helios: Invited?

He lowered his head and I could feel his breath on my ear. He voiced his suspicion softly.

Helios: Let me guess. I think you came here because you’re looking for someone. Am I right?

Yōurán: How did you… oh!

His hand wrapped firmly around my waist, Helios suddenly bent me lower and I hung on to him tighter for balance. Next moment, he pulled me up and I was trapped in his embrace again.

 Helios: Who are you looking for?

 He kept whispering in my ear, egging me for an answer.

The music became more passionate. The air was getting hotter and hotter. The sensual melody and the busy steps. We were so close to each other, but the distance between us was only one step away, but a step we could never cross.

I felt drunk although I hadn’t consumed any alcohol. Why else would my body react as if a lover was close?

Yōurán: Why don’t you guess that as well?

I didn’t wait for him to answer. The music was coming to an end. As the last note sounded, Helios let go of my hand.

Helios: You’re good at dancing.

He was back to his distant self. I looked silently at his retreating back.

In the end, I didn’t manage to figure out why he came here. Maybe he was like me, looking for someone. Unexplainable sadness washed over me as I stared at the place where Helios used to be.

Yōurán: What was he looking for?

Deep in thought, I went upstairs where guests were sitting on sofas talking among themselves quietly. Before I could even get a good look around, there was a sound of an electric spark and the lights went out.

Then, in the darkness I heard something shatter. The guests started to panic at the sudden turn of events. I knocked into someone and stumbled.

??: Don’t move.

A pair of strong arms grabbed my waist and pulled me into a hug. The familiar scent wafted over me again.

Yōurán: Helios?

He vanished without answering. And when the lights turned back on he was nowhere to be seen. I started to search for him but someone grabbed my attention.

Waiter: I’m sorry, Miss. There seems to be a disturbance in maintenance and we have to close the second floor for the guests’ safety. Please allow me to escort you back to first floor.

All the other guests were being escorted downstairs. Although I wasn’t happy with it, I chose to follow suit.

The guests in the main hall were still enjoying the party. The sounds of the orchestra covered any signs of mishap happening upstairs. To most of the guests, it was just a minor encumbrance.

But I noticed that they had silently placed more security guards. What was Helios up to? Was he here for Black Swan’s mission?

The atmosphere was suffocating, and I decided that I had to go for fresh air.

It was there when I finally found him.

Behind the pillar, below the spiral staircase, stood him with his silver hair. He looked distraught.

And here I was. Concerned that this man might be hurt or ill, wondering whether I should go help him, when he might be the one who caused the damage upstairs.

Yōurán: Well, I owe him for saving my life, so…

With that reason, I made my resolve to approach him.

Yōurán: Are you okay?

Helios looked up when he heard my voice. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. He looked at me. His blue eyes wavered like a lake sprinkling with sunlight. Surprisingly, there was sorrow, and naivety in those usually unfeeling eyes.

At that moment, his eyes were exactly like Kiro’s.

Yōurán: Kiro…

I went closer to him as if I was bewitched. My heart was pounding uncontrollably.

Helios suddenly grabbed me and pulled me into his arms.

Yōurán: Hey, wait….!

Helios: Stay still.

I stopped struggling when he whispered into my ear.

Helios: Just for a while. Until I get better.

He lowered his head and his chin rested on my shoulder. I have never seen Helios so vulnerable like this. His hands were wrapped around my waist, leaving no space between us.

Yōurán: Could you perhaps let me go just a little bit?

I couldn’t think straight due to his excessively intimate actions. The heat from his body caused raging waves in my heart.

Helios didn’t answer and continued to keep me pressed to his body. There was a deep aura of loneliness and bitterness about him that was barely discernible from his cold exterior.

Maybe the distance between us had to be this close for me to notice the side that he always kept hidden. Feeling lost, I leaned forward, our foreheads touching.

Yōurán: You belong with Black Swan, right? Why do you always reach out for me?

I blurted out the question that had been inside my mind for a long time.

Helios winced weakly for a moment, then answered haughtily.

Helios: Why on earth would you think that I might be interested in you?

Yōurán: Because…

Because to me, you look very similar to someone I deeply care about.

Because my soul resonates with you every time I am close to you.

Because…. I’ve come to a certain conclusion, no matter how ridiculous it may be.

Did I reach the outskirts of truth? Or was I just deceiving myself? I couldn’t know. A deep fog was obscuring me from seeing the truth clearly.

I didn’t voice my thoughts to him. Maybe this was the closest I could get to him. Only one step away but so far away. Impossible to truly reach him.

Helios: Don’t look behind.

Helios suddenly tightened his hold on me and his whole body became strained. Footsteps could be heard behind me, then it was gone.

After a few minutes of heightened sensual tension, he finally let me go.

Yōurán: What was that all about?

Helios: No need for you to know.

A suspicious thought came to my mind.

Yōurán: Did you do that on purpose? Was that just-

Helios: Shh…

He put his finger to my lips to stop me from talking.

Helios: Stay quiet. Unless you want to be seen as an enemy.

So I was right. He was only using me to evade suspicion from others. I glowered at him but he only laughed quietly. He grabbed a strand of my hair and rubbed it between his fingers.

Helios: Thanks for your help.

He leaned closer and I shivered when I felt his breath on my collarbone.

Helios: I’m the one who sent the invitation. Have fun at the party, Yōurán.

There was amusement in his voice as he articulated each word. Not waiting to hear my response he turned around and walked away quickly.

I could still recall how his touch felt when he put his arms around my waist. His lingering scent seemed to submerge to the deepest pool of memory obscured by oblivion.

Yōurán: One day, I’ll…

I clenched my fists. I didn’t know when I could meet him again, or what circumstance I would be in when I did. Secretly, I was hoping to see him again.

I raised my head up and reached out my hand towards the golden sunlight reflecting on the glass ceiling.

I felt like a pilgrim who lost her light and fell into an endless abyss. And was pursuing it after finding it again.

One day, I’ll get my light back and into my arms.

Date Diary

I received an invitation to the party hosted by Loveland TV. I didn’t want to go, but Kiki saying that Kiro might be there changed my mind.

In my dream, I saw Kiro singing on a stage. But when I tried to go close to him he faded and then disappeared. Thank god it was only a dream.

To my shock, I met Helios at the party. He forced me to dance with him. Why did this mysterious man appear? What was his intention for approaching me?

Helios is like an enigma that’s difficult to solve. When I take one step towards him, he takes one step back. Even though the distance between us is very close, it is always like the one step away that can never touch each other.

Discussion

The timeline of this date is after chapter 17, when Helios wiped MC’s memory when she finally realized that he was Kiro.

Suddenly, his eyes flashed to reveal a sharp glance that looked somehow dangerous.

Kiro: Can you accept me like this?

Yōurán: No matter how you look, no matter who you are… I will always love all of you, Kiro!

Oh, Kiro. How much more does MC have to make it clear for you to come out and admit your hidden side?

As I was about to put my hand in his, Kiro suddenly started to fade before my eyes.

Kiro: Will you forget me?

Kiro was becoming faint like a water mist. Panicking, I reached out to grab him but he slipped away from my fingers. An invisible wall had come between us and I couldn’t get close to him. The distance between us was only one step away, but it was like a line that we could never cross.

Will I forget Kiro? That sudden question in my head made me tremble in fear.

Yōurán: I won’t! I will never forget you! I…

It seemed like he was taking my memories as well as he faded and disappeared from my eyes.

Yōurán: NO!!!

This dream is about Yōurán suffering subconscious trauma after the memory wipe. Erasing memories is not enough to make the tears and hurt go away. You still feel the pain but you don’t know why. You are left with a void in the memory that’s driving you crazy.

Then he suddenly grabbed my right hand. Before I could protest he started to drag me toward the dance floor.

The music changed into a piece that I knew well. It was <Por Una Cabeza>.

<Por Una Cabeza> is from the movie <Scent of a Woman> starring Al Pacino. This scene where MC protests that she can’t dance and Helios ignores and dances with her anyway, reminds me of this particular tango scene in the movie.

“That’s what make a tango so great. If you get all tangled up, just tango on.”

Although Frank is blind and Donna has no knowledge of dancing, the two manage to put up a very beautiful performance. What could this mean to Helios and Yōurán in this date?

The music became more passionate. The air was getting hotter and hotter. The sensual melody and the busy steps. We were so close to each other, but the distance between us was only one step away, but a step we could never cross.

I felt drunk although I hadn’t consumed any alcohol. Why else would my body react as if a lover was close?

Even though she convinced herself that Helios is a different person, her body is certainly reacting to being approximant to Kiro. I wish I could have done a better job to express the subtle but thick innuendo of sensual tension.

Yōurán: Are you okay?

Helios looked up when he heard my voice. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. He looked at me. His blue eyes wavered like a lake sprinkling with sunlight. Surprisingly, there was sorrow, and naivety in those usually unfeeling eyes.

At that moment, his eyes were exactly like Kiro’s.

Yōurán: Kiro…

In chapter 17, when Yōurán meets Helios she thinks he is Kiro because they look exactly alike, but cannot be 100 % sure because Helios’s eyes are so different to Kiro’s. She determines people by their eyes.

As she approaches him, she notices that for a moment, Helios had Kiro’s eyes.

Yōurán: You belong with Black Swan, right? Why do you always reach out for me?

Helios: Why on earth would you think that I might be interested in you?

Yōurán: Because…

Because to me, you look very similar to someone I deeply care about.

Because my soul resonates with you every time I am close to you.

Because…. I’ve come to a certain conclusion, no matter how ridiculous it may be.

In this date, Yōurán never outright says or thinks “Helios might be Kiro.” I really applaud the writing here. By being vague and using diverse figures of speech, the text is eluding that Yōurán reached the truth that Helios is Kiro, but is afraid to voice that thought, even in her head.

Did I reach the outskirts of truth? Or was I just deceiving myself? I couldn’t know. A deep fog was obscuring me from seeing the truth clearly.

I’m sure that “deep fog” here is a metaphor for Helios wiping her memory.

I didn’t voice my thoughts to him. Maybe this was the closest I could get to him. Only one step away but so far away. Impossible to truly reach him.

This subconscious state of just on the verge of knowing is the closest that she can get to the truth.

Yōurán: One day, I’ll…

I clenched my fists. I didn’t know when I could meet him again, or what circumstance I would be in when I did. Secretly, I was hoping to see him again.

I raised my head up and reached out my hand towards the golden sunlight reflecting on the glass ceiling.

I felt like a pilgrim who lost her light and fell into an endless abyss. And was pursuing it after finding it again.

One day, I’ll get my light back and into my arms.

She can’t allow herself to think or say even in the privacy of her mind that Helios might be Kiro. Her trauma of what happened at chapter 17 led to a reluctance of any amount of conscious awareness. However, she still vows that one day she will get her sun back, although pursuing the light is like reaching out for a vast vague fog. So please stop avoiding her, Helios.

[let-it-raines]

for catch me if you can, I want to see the proposal! I really thought that was going to happen in the epilogue (which I looooooved), but since it didn't, I need to see it now please!!!!

This was literally the first Catch Me If You Can prompt I got after I posted the story (with several other requests for this coming after because you guys apparently really wanted to see this), and last night I finally got the story that was in my mind out into words! So, I hope you all enjoy this one! Thank you for being so kind to me and letting me explore my favorite little universe some more ⚾️ 

Found over on ao3 with all of the other words | here |

-/-

November 2020

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Oh my God.”

“What? Emma, what?”

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“What the bloody hell is wrong?”

Emma tosses her phone at Killian and then sits up in bed, kicking away the comforter and getting her foot caught before she not-so-gracefully rolls out of bed, nearly landing face first on the rug. Or the hardwood. Yeah, she definitely would have hit the hardwood.

Probably knocked out her front teeth, too.

That would be attractive.

Oh my God.

This is happening. It is. It’s really, really happening, and Emma doesn’t know what to do. Does she actually want it to happen? Of course she wants it to happen. She’s wanted this to happen for what feels like forever. She’s waited and bided her time and written report after report and dealt with sexist men, including her boyfriend.

Okay, well, he’s a special case, but it still happened. There were still repercussions from that, and most men don’t see the error in their ways like Killian does.

There are still repercussions from all of it, from being a woman.

The hoops she’s had to jump through have been insane and unfair, but she did them anyway. She watched tapes and kept stat sheets and analyzed them and has freaking notebooks on every player on the Yankees as well as every other team in the American League.

Oh shit.

But does she actually want this?

It’s a change. She likes where she is now. She likes what she does. She likes traveling with the team and being out on the field and…

No.

No, no, no.

Fuck all of that.

She’s always wanted to be more than the pretty girl on the sidelines. She loves her job and admires every woman who has it, but she wants to be in the big leagues. She wants to break that damn glass ceiling with a baseball bat.

“Holy fuck, Swan. Is this what I think it is?”

Emma stops and turns on her heels to look at Killian as his eyes shift between her and her phone. His mouth is hanging open, and she can’t really imagine what she looks like.

Ridiculous.

Definitely ridiculous.

“It’s my offer for a final interview.”

“To be a full-time booth commentator for the Yankees?”

She bites her lip and nods her head. “Mhm.”

Killian chuckles and drops the phone to the mattress. “You’re a badass, love.”“I am a badass.”

“You’re an amazing, talented, intelligent, witty, beautiful badass.”

“Please, keep flattering me. I’ll take all of the compliments. You can make me blush.” 

“And I can see that blush all the way down.”

Emma laughs before looking down and oh shit.

She’s naked.

Like, completely naked.

She got offered a final interview for her dream job while not wearing any clothes, and how is she going to tell people that?

Well, she probably doesn’t have to tell them that. She can omit that part.

“Twenty-nine, I think I’m losing my mind,” she mumbles before walking across the room and picking up Killian’s shirt from the night before, slipping it over her shoulders before she walks back over to the bed and straddles Killian’s lap. “Is this real?”

His hands run over her shoulders, little sparks of electricity shocking her, before he’s tucking her hair behind her ears. “It is indeed.”

“I’m so excited.”

“I’m so proud.” He leans forward and softly presses his lips into hers, and she instantly melts into him. She’s vibrating with nerves and excitement and the slight desire to vomit, but Killian takes all of that away in the movements of his mouth and the curl of his tongue with hers. She has so much to do, so much to prepare for, but that can wait for at least this moment. “I am proud no matter what happens going forward.”“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re far too supportive.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles before wrapping his arms around her until he’s shifting her onto her back. “Now, you really shouldn’t have put this shirt on.”“And why’s that?”

Killian looks up at her and winks. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

-/-

Emma doesn’t sleep for two weeks.

Killian probably doesn’t sleep because she tosses and turns throughout the night.

It might be the least amount of sleep she’s gotten in her entire life, and that’s certainly saying something considering her childhood and the amount that she doesn’t sleep when she’s traveling for work.

There might be less of that soon.

Or not.

She doesn’t know.

She has to be a shoe-in for the job, but there’s this part of her that still doubts that the networks are going to make the right decision. So many men still think women don’t belong in sports, especially male-dominated sports, and she has been told one too many times that her job is to be a pretty piece of ass in a tight skirt.

What if they don’t want her doing anything other than that?

What if they don’t even let her go back to that?

“Go back to bed.”

“What?”

Killian rolls over and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her back to him and pressing his nose into the back of her neck. He’s so damn warm. Maybe that’s just the way her heart is pounding with her thoughts.

“Go back to sleep,” Killian murmurs. His lips flicker across her skin, and she shivers. “You’ve got an early morning, and you need to go to sleep.”

“You’re a pot calling a kettle black.”

“That’s an old-fashioned saying.”

“I’m an old-fashioned girl.”

Killian snorts into her neck and spreads his hand out over her stomach. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Shut up.”

“I would if you would go back to bed. I know you’re nervous, but you can’t be tossing like that. You’ll be dead in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“You can,” he whispers. “I promise. In eight hours, it’ll be over, and then we can celebrate.”

“I’m not going to know if I get it right after the interview.”

“We’ll celebrate the possibility. I think a pie is calling your name.”

“Oh, so you’re going to be stress baking while I interview?”

“Absolutely.”

“At least pie will come out of it.”“And your dream job, Swan. That too.”

-/-

She nails the interview.

Or, at least, she thinks she does.

She’s honestly got no idea, and if she replays it in her head enough, she’s going to convince herself that she completely and totally screwed it up.

She didn’t she couldn’t have.

Hell, at least Killian made pie.

And at least it’s the off-season after the shittiest season in the world, and they can sit on the couch and catch up on all the TV they missed and mope together. That’s all that really matters anyway.

“This is really good,” Emma murmurs as she scoops some of the pie out of the pan. “I don’t think I’ve eaten in weeks.”

“Well, now you’re free to eat and sit on the couch as much as you want.”

Emma leans over and presses her lips to his cheek.

“Good.”

-/-

She gets the job.

She gets the freaking job.

And words and emotions and everything else in the world can’t really describe how excited or emotional she is. This is her dream. This is what she’s always wanted. Well, not always. Bit for the past decade? This is what she’s wanted.

And she got it.

She got it, she got it, she got it.

-/-

“Oh, come on, come on,” David laughs as he stands from his chair and whistles. “Everybody take a moment and listen to me.”“What if we don’t want to?” Will shouts out.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma sees Belle playfully shove Will and Liam do the same thing.

“I guess you’re out of luck then,” David continues. Killian wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulder, and she rests her head there. David really shouldn’t be giving some ridiculous speech when everyone has been here for approximately two seconds. He also really shouldn’t be giving one because she specifically said no to that. “Emma is probably dying inside because she told me I wasn’t allowed to do this, but I am her brother and love to embarrass her. But I will keep it short, though. Emma has worked hard for this, has had crazy situations thrown at her from every direction, and I could not possibly be more proud of her and the life she’s created for herself. So, here’s to Emma.”

That was a hell of a lot shorter than she thought it was going to be. Thank goodness.

“To Emma,” everyone echoes.

“To you,” Killian whispers into her hairline.

“Alright,” Elsa claps, “who wants to eat?”

“I do,” Addy screeches as she climbs up onto the counters. “I want pizza.”

“You act like you haven’t eaten in weeks, Addy.”

“You made me wait for Emma to get here, and now she’s here. I want pizza.”

“Come on, Els,” Emma laughs. “Give the girl some pizza. More importantly, give me some pizza.”

“It’s your night. You can have all of the pizza you want.”

“Really?” Addy squeals.

“No. You get two pieces, kid. Emma gets all the pizza she wants because she’s a grown-up and we’re celebrating her getting a new job.”

“Is she still going to be on TV?”

“I am, kid,” Emma sighs. “You get to hear my voice even more when you watch the games on TV now, and I’ll be home more even when Killian is away.”

“Good,” Addy says as she gets her plate of pizza. “You do better braids than him.”

“Oi, that’s harsh right there, mate,” Will mutters.

“It’s the truth,” Liam agrees as Emma snickers. “Emma does do better braids than Killian, but I obviously do the best.”

“I’m feeling attacked,” Killian mutters as he slides around Emma and starts filling his plate. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t taught how to braid here. I will have to endeavor to learn so I’m no longer bad-mouthed at celebrations that are obviously about braiding skills.”

Everyone starts getting into the pizza and chips, the vegetable platter staying unsurprisingly full, before spreading out across the main floor of Liam and Elsa’s house. If Anna were here, she’d be appalled by the fact that they’re having pizza instead of a homecooked meal to celebrate, but she doesn’t know how damn good this pizza is.

Or how good the conversation is.

Or how good it feels just to know that this year, with all of its ups and downs, has turned out to be a lot better than she ever could have expected three weeks ago. And she gets to still think that with the horrible season they just finished and all of the other shitty stuff that happened this year. She gets to think that because she deserves this for all of the shit the baseball world has put her through.

She’s never thought that the world owes her anything, but maybe for just this once she deserves this.

She deserves it because she’s damn good at her job, and she earned this.

“Watch out on how much pizza you’re eating, little brother,” Liam starts, “wouldn’t want you to have to work off a bunch of weight when your off-season is over.”“Liam, be nice,” Elsa sighs.

“I think Killian’s good on the being fit situation,” Emma promises as she pats his stomach. “I could give you more details, but I feel like that would freak you out.”

Liam groans as Killian chokes on his food. “Swan.”“What?” Emma laughs. “I’m just saying. I think you can have all of the pizza and beer you want.”

“I’m driving tonight, so I’ll hold back on the beer. The pizza, though, I’m taking home with us.”

“So much pizza talk tonight,” Ruby groans. “I thought we were more interesting than that.”

“Oh, see,” Elsa starts, “I can quote all of Play Paws, so I’ve been boring for a long while. Liam, too. Actually, Liam more than me.”

“Hey.”

“What? It’s true.”

“You all need hobbies,” Ruby says. “Oh, oh, oh. We should go out. Like, to an actual bar. We can get babysitters for all of you guys who have procreated, and it’ll be great. Just imagine Mary Margaret dancing.”

“Rubes, stop. She’ll hear you, and you do not want her trying to prove otherwise.”

“Oh, no, I do. It’s my favorite thing in the world.”“You know,” Graham starts, “you’re not necessarily the best dancer either.”

Ruby holds her finger up. “If I get a few beers in you, you’d never know that.”

“This is going to be a thing, I can feel it.” Killian leans over and presses his lips to her temple. “They obviously don’t know about how you dance.”

“Oh my God, stop. I’m a horrible dancer.” Emma takes another bite of her pizza. This is probably her fourth slice, and she’s definitely going to regret it in the morning. Not right now though. “But I do think we can agree that the person we most need to see dance is Will because he talks a big game, but I have seen videos from spring training.”

“Oi,” Will shouts from across the room, “don’t judge me by your boyfriend’s Instagram stories. I am better than every person in this room.”

“Better at what?” Mary Margaret asks as she walks in the room with Ariel trailing behind her.

Emma groans and hides her face in Killian’s shoulder as Ruby starts laughing.

“Dancing, love,” Killian explains because he’s apparently a glutton for punishment.

“Oh, we should totally get babysitters and go out,” Ariel squeals. “I’d love a night away from Morgan.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Mary Margaret agrees.

Emma lifts her head from Killian’s shoulder and stares Ruby down. “See, I told you.”

“Oh, come on,” Killian laughs, “we should let them have their fun. Besides, we might have a little fun, too.”

“Let’s go next week,” Mary Margaret suggests.

“That sounds perfect, love.”

“Wait,” Emma laughs as she turns to face Killian, “we’re going to Spain next week.”

“Exactly,” Killian winks. “We’ll be safe and far away from the horrible dancing.”

-/-

“Oh my God,” Emma sighs as she falls back against the front door, “I’m exhausted. I shouldn’t have worn heels tonight. That was dumb just to hang out at your brother’s place.”

“I thought it was a great decision. Your ass looked fantastic.”

“You’re such a man.”

Killian chuckles and leans into her until his nose is pressing into her neck. “What can I say? I like the things I like.”

“Are you attempting to seduce me, Jones?”

“I was going to give it a shot.”

Emma hums as he rubs his scruff across her skin. She used to hate that, but now she enjoys the pleasant burn. It often feels weird when he’s shaved it all off. He did that last week, and she was not a fan.

It felt weird running her hands over his cheek or kissing him.

“I’m too tired, but if you play your cards right, maybe in the morning.”

“Promises, promises.”

She pushes back on his chest, and she can see the smile on his face, tired but genuine just like hers. They both definitely ate too much pizza tonight, but not enough that she doesn’t want dessert.

“I do promise. Now, let me go change, and then I want to eat some leftover pie in bed.”

“Let me guess. I’m in charge of heating up the pie.”

“You’re so smart. I knew you were learning something in college.”

Killian chuckles before playfully slapping her ass and nudging her toward the bedroom. “Go change, Swan. It’s your night. You can have whatever you damn well please.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that. Can I have nights celebrating me more often?”

“As long as you don’t let it all go to your head.”

“I would never.”

“That’s a lie, but I’ll take it. Which pie do you want?”

“The peanut butter chocolate one you don’t like. On the bright side, though, you don’t have to heat that one up.”

Killian mockingly bows, and Emma has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The idiot.

As he makes his way to the kitchen, she heads back to the bedroom and to the closet, kicking her heels off before tugging down her jeans and pulling off her sweater and her bra. She really wants to leave all of her stuff on the floor, but Killian has done so much for her today. The least she can do is not make a mess, especially when she’s going to steal one of his t-shirts to sleep in.

God, why is hanging clothes up the absolute worst? Her side of the closet is a disaster while Killian’s is perfectly organized, and she’ll never understand how those parts of their personalities are compatible.

Seriously, he organizes his t-shirts by age, which is a lot when the man owns over one hundred Yankee-related shirts from an eight-year-career.

She wants one of the bigger ones, so she goes to the bottom drawer when he used to wear things that weren’t so form fitting to find an old, worn in shirt. She finds one, pulling it out, and then beneath it is a small black box.

Oh boy.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

Emma knows what’s in that box. It could be earrings or another charm for her necklace or anything else, but somewhere deep in her gut, she knows that it’s none of those things.

Holy shit.

They’ve talked about this. They’ve had a million vague, slightly terrifying conversations, and then one or two serious, definitely terrifying conversations over whether or not they wanted to get married or if they were okay simply being together.

They both said they were fine with either.

They also both knew which one they preferred.

She just didn’t know that it was happening now.

But it makes sense. They’ve been together for a year and a half, which isn’t really that long, but it feels like it’s always been this way. It feels like it’s always been the two of them and a team of idiots traveling across the country to play baseball and talk about baseball and eat pizza at two in the morning in hotel rooms.

It feels like this is the way it’s always supposed to be, and at no point in her life did she ever think she would feel that way.

Emma was never the girl who got to have this many good things, and this part of her does still think that if she blinks, it’ll all go away.

Slowly, she closes her eyes.

One, two, three.

When she opens them, the ring box is still there, and because she knows there’s no way in hell she’ll be able to keep her mouth shut over finding it, Emma takes the box out of the drawer and carries it with her into the bedroom where Killian is already in bed and has a piece of pie waiting for her on her bedside table. She immediately walks over to him, crawls onto the mattress, and straddles his thighs.

“So, don’t be mad at me.”

His brow arches. “Oh, it’s always a good thing when you say that.”

Emma wrinkles her nose and leans forward to kiss his forehead. “I mean it. You can’t get mad at me for what I’m about to do.”

“I feel like that is a promise I can’t keep, but for you, my love, I’ll try my best.”

Emma sighs before taking a deep breath. This is the right thing. This has to be the right thing.

She can’t not tell him she knows.

“So, I was getting a t-shirt to sleep in, and I found this.” She holds the box in front of her, and Killian’s shoulders immediately tense. That’s probably not the best sign. “And that’s why I don’t want you to get mad at me. I haven’t looked at it. I promise. I didn’t want to do that without you, but I knew that there’s no way I could see this and then not act like a total freak. So, just, if you were waiting because you were hesitant of my answer, you should know it would be yes.”

Killian’s hand moves from her thighs to her hand, and he takes the box from her. She can’t seem to look away from his eyes, though.

“I was going to wait, Swan,” he softly explains. “You were never supposed to find this, and you certainly weren’t supposed to find this when we’re in the middle of celebrating your career. This wasn’t supposed to be happening today.”

“Wait. How long have you had this?”

“A few weeks.”“And when were you going to use it?”

“The day you got the email for your interview. I had this whole big plan.”“Yeah?”“Mhm.” He reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she turns her hand to kiss his palm. “I was going to cook dinner, but I wasn’t going to make it obvious that something special was going to happen. It was simply going to be us in the living room, the lights turned down and a movie on, and I had a speech.”

“Did you?” Her heart is beating a ridiculous rhythm. “Can you say it now?”

Killian clicks his tongue. “See, if I say it now, I’m afraid it will sound forced, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Emma softly laughs and leans forward to rest her forehead against his and cup his cheeks.

“I think I would.”

“I already took so much of your spotlight away in big moments of your career. I don’t want to keep doing that.”

“Killian Jones, you have never taken anything away from me. You’ve only added to those moments.”

“Careful now. You’re starting to sound like me.”

“Count it as a good thing.”

His eyes flutter closed, but then his nose is burrowing into her cheek and she can feel his lips move as he speaks. “I remember the first day you walked into the locker room as a reporter. You were strong and confident and took no shit from any of the players. I think right then and there I knew you were a force to be reckoned with, even if I had never spoken to you.”

She had no idea he remembered that day. Absolutely none. There’s no reason he should, but he does somehow. It’s easy to forget how their lives have been so intertwined for years when neither of them put too much thought into it.

Ships passing in the night.

At least back then.

“Emma, every thought I had on that day has been proven time and time again. You are bloody brilliant in every way, and I’m a better man because I have you by my side. I don’t ever want that to change.”

“I don’t either,” she whispers. “I can’t believe you remember my first day. I didn’t even interview you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been known to have a good memory.”

“Much to my dismay sometimes,” Emma laughs. Her heart is still beating far too quickly to be healthy. “You make me better, too. I didn’t ever think – I – ”

“I know, love. I know.” Killian’s lips press into hers, slowly, softly, reverently. “Will you marry me, darling? Will you marry me so that nothing in our life will change except for the fact that I can walk around obnoxiously calling you my wife all the time?”

Emma barks out a laugh, and her heart finally settles because this right here is everything it was every supposed to be and she feels calm about it.

“Yeah, I think I’ll marry you, twenty-nine.”

“You think?”

“Just shut up and kiss me again. You knew my answer was always going to be yes.”

“It’s nice to hear it, though.”

“Then yes, Killian,” she whispers before kissing him. “Yes.”

-/-

-/-

cmiyc peeps: @mrtinski​ @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @dorisquinn​ @onepunintendid​ @authorarsinoe​ @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @carpedzem​ @tornadoamy​ ​

[eirabach]

Just Like Heaven [The Glow Rewrite] 1/8

Well, here it is kids. Kindly betaed by the beautiful @katie-dub. All remaining errors are absolutely 1000% my fault, and any and all incoherence remains despite her best efforts to kick sense into me. All the love in the world to the CaptainSwanRewriteathon team who helped me get this thing finished, even if I dropped out at the very very last second. I love you all. Very dearly.

Emma Swan always gets her man, why would she let a little thing like death get in the way?

A Captain Swan ‘Just Like Heaven’ Movie AU that takes the AU part and eats it for breakfast. Now with weekly updates! Godspeed, dear reader. Godspeed.

Rated M. Ao3. 2500 / 22000. 

She dreams of the ocean.

The skies are bright blue, and cartoon-fluffy clouds scud overhead as the ship skips over the waves with her at the bow. The wind catches at her hair and she laughs - a wild, bell-like sound she barely recognises - and spreads her arms wide.

Somewhere behind her, someone is calling her name.

Emma!

Emma?

“Emma? Emma!”

She sits bolt upright, the cheap plastic chair creaking alarmingly beneath her weight as she sways backwards. Her half eaten breakfast doughnut rolls sadly across the table and drops to the floor, and she scrubs at the smear of cinnamon frosting it’s left on her cheek.

“Sorry, what,” she mumbles, blinking grit from her eyes. “I was just - ”

“Snoring,” says her boss, lips twitching into a sneer. “So glad you could rejoin us.”

“Sorry,” Emma mutters again, “it won’t - it won’t happen again.”

Zelena lifts one perfectly manicured eyebrow over the file she’s holding out, Emma cringing inwardly as she realises that every person around the rickety old boardroom table is watching her with expressions that range from amused, to pitying, to - in Jefferson’s case - alarmingly hungry.

“Rough night?” he asks, with a lecherous sort of grin. “We could make it… rougher, if you like?”

Emma squeezes her hands into fists and forces her expression into a tight smile.

“Not in any way you’d enjoy, Jefferson. I might, though.”

Ruby scoffs into her hand, covering it up with a cough, and the two of them exchange a swift look. Ruby’s still in last night’s make-up too, but hers is still practically pristine, her lips still devil red as she quirks them briefly at Emma.

Emma’s carefully applied mascara, on the other hand, is smeared under her eyes and down her cheeks from hours spent waiting in the rain, her lipstick long since bled away.

It really had been a rough night.

Her mark had been a particularly nasty piece of work, skipping bail and leaving not only one well-meaning and heavily pregnant girlfriend to foot the bill, but two, and Emma had been warned in advance that he had form for getting nasty when things weren’t going his way.

He also, it seemed, had form for standing up dates. In the rain.

And possibly Varsity Level Track and Field skills.

She could imagine better starts to the day than dealing with Zelena and Jefferson after six hours of extensive wet-weather cross-country running and twenty minutes sleep. She squirms in her seat, her shoulder aching still from where he’d attempted to wrench it from its socket before she’d finally managed to get the drop on him, and meets Zelena’s gaze with a glare of her own.

“I got the mark,didn’t I?” she says. “I just didn’t get much sleep.”

“I hope you enjoyed your little cat nap, then,” says Zelena, sliding the file over to Emma. “Because here’s the next one.”

Emma’s brow furrows as she looks at the golden embossed motif on the front of the file, the heavy cardstock, the six figure reward for bringing this guy in.

Somebody must have been a really, really naughty boy.

“The cops increased their budget lately?”

“Not for the police,” Zelena says smugly, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. “This is on behalf of a private client.”

“Hey.” Emma drops the file on the table and shakes her head sharply. “We do bailsbonds, not PI work.”

Zelena hums, her eyes going wide. “Is that what it says on my door? Well I never.”

“You don’t have a door,” Emma mutters, but Zelena is leaning over the table now, her eyes sharp, and Emma is forcibly reminded that although she’s good at her job - great, even - Zelena is still very much the boss.

“And you don’t have a choice,” she hisses. “Unless you think I should give the mark to someone else?”

Out of the corner of her eye she sees both Ruby and Jefferson sit up a little straighter, and her eyes drift back down to the file.

She doesn’t know who Mr Gold is, and she has no idea what he wants with the dark-haired man in the grainy CCTV photo - this Killian Jones - but she knows how much money is left for the month. She knows Henry went to school this morning in jeans a half inch too short.

And it’s six figures. Six.

“No,” she says, closing the file and resting her hands on top of it. “I’ve got this.”

--

The office - such as it is - isn’t the sort of place Emma likes to spend much of her time, even at the best of times which, frankly, this sort of isn’t. Ruby’s nice, outgoing enough to spring the honey traps Emma wouldn’t dare and a personable sort of person to have around if you didn’t mind the constant sound of gum smacking, but even she isn’t a generous enough soul to congratulate Emma on being handed a case that might make her rich. And Jefferson had looked ready to murder her before she’d slipped past the splintered remains of what had once been Zelena’s door and settled herself into the only comfy chair in the place - an elderly padded desk chair reserved for clients that always smells faintly of despair.

Zelena could afford to replace it, of course. Emma thinks she just rather likes the scent.

“All right,” she says, crossing her legs and trying not to wince as her knees protest. “Spill.”

Zelena taps her nails on her desk and tosses her hair over her shoulder.

“Afraid I don’t know what you mean,” she says with suspiciously wide eyes. “Is there a problem?”

“You tell me,” Emma snaps back, the file tight in her fingers. “Since when do we take on private clients - since when do private clients want to hire us?” She gestures to the door, it’s smashed glass panel and missing edges a testament to the sort of review Oz Bail Bonds has received in the past. “Something’s up.”

For a moment Zelena’s sneer drops, her fingers still, the confidence she wears like her knock-off suit flickering briefly out of existence.

“That’s none of your business,” she says, eyes narrowing. “Just do your job, Swan.”

“I will,” Emma snaps, “but not if - I have Henry to worry about you know.”

Zelena rolls her eyes in the particularly dismissive manner she reserves for those rare occasions her staff dare to remind her that they have lives outside of the office walls.

“Best make sure you don’t fail, then.” She gestures to the door, her contribution clearly finished. “Although,” she says, “since you’re here…” She reaches into her desk drawer and removes one of the thin, buff coloured files preferred by Portland PD. Clipped to the front is a picture of a red-faced, piggy-eyed man, with slicked back black hair and a smile even a mother would cringe at. “Jefferson didn’t quite bring home the bacon on this one, so to speak. Would you mind?”

Zelena smiles her reptilian smile and Emma thinks of her bed, the three day old take out festering in the fridge. She thinks of Henry’s face as he waits for her to collect him from school only to see Mary Margaret turn up again.

“Would it matter if I did?”

Zelena’s smile almost reaches her eyes.

“Not in the least.”

—

If you were to ask Killian Jones where he’d gone wrong in his life he’d struggle to put his finger on any one event. Too many coincidences. Too little respect for authority. Too much death. Too little faith. Not enough rum.

Well, maybe not that last one, though it is what brings him out tonight.

He stumbles through the night, his collar drawn up against the cold and his hat pulled low against prying eyes. The streets are unfamiliar still, the accents around him notably unlike his own, and it’s a stupid idea, this. Foolish. Idiotic. Risky. Irresponsible. All the things that he’d been, before. All the things that he’d sworn to leave behind, after.

(It seems he’s yet to make a vow he can’t break.)

He’s too sober to be this maudlin. Too sober by far.

Luckily, that’s one of the few things he can do anything about.  

His legal team know nothing of the little dockside hole in the wall joint he’s taken to frequenting when they clock off for the night. He’s spent weeks under their watchful gaze, sitting sweet between the four magnolia walls of the safehouse, and maybe they’re as bored as he is or maybe they secretly agree that he deserves what’s coming to him, but gradually they’ve given him a few tiny tastes of freedom. The disposition is pending, after all. His evidence presented in black and white. So perhaps it doesn’t matter that they’ve left a newspaper here. An open bathroom window there.

And he might be nothing else, but he’s resourceful.

He’s resourceful, and soon, he plans to be drunk.

Liam hated him being drunk.

He hated the dive bars he’d frequent, the women he’d bring home, the friends he’d spend his nights with.

Sometimes - most of the time - he wonders if Liam had just hated him.

He’d have been well within his rights.

He’d been left with a feckless little sod of a younger brother to care for when his career was barely beginning, all those early paychecks dropped on a boy who barely understood the sacrifice and wouldn’t have appreciated it if he had. God only knows, even now, how he’d managed to convince his superiors to allow his delinquent younger brother access to the shipyards.

It’s why he sticks to the docks. The scent of brine and engine oil takes him back to those hazy distant days when Liam had tried to save him from himself, and the ships that almost had.

But then, Liam was gone. And along with him any hope for Killian Jones in the world at large.

The Underworld had taken him, and he’d let it.

The black market, after all, did have better rum.

Better than this place certainly, but he drinks the proffered dross anyway. Needs must. And besides, it stops burning after the fourth shot.

Perhaps if he’d stopped there he’d have stood a chance of noticing the man in the corner of the bar. Most unfortunates who patronise a place like this tend to keep their heads down and their drinks coming, but this one - this one has his eye on Killian.

And he’s been cradling the same pint for an hour.

Killian doesn’t notice him, or the anxious way he shifts his weight. He doesn’t notice the glint of silver in his pocket, nor the sweat that blooms across his brow. He would have, once. Would have cared, once. But now all he cares about are the dribbles of rum that slip down shaking fingers and the goddamn waste of it all.

So he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t care. Not until he’s eight shots deep and the world is spinning, stinking of garbage and vomit, footsteps behind him and it’s too damn late to run.

Too damn late by far.

---

It hadn’t always been like this of course.

It’s sort of surreal this half-life of hers, lived in the shadows of other people’s mistakes. She works mainly when the streets are dark and empty, sleeping the daylight away as best she can in an old recliner swiped from a skip, her son’s third-hand xbox blaring brightly away just beyond the edge of her consciousness. She’s tired, always, and never quite as well off as she ought to be for the hours she puts in - the stain of Zelena’s fingerprints over every pay cheque - but on balance, it’s alright.

It used to be far, far worse.

At least she was sleeping in her car voluntarily nowadays. Not like those early days before, cold and desperate, she’d thrown herself on the mercy of the only friend she could remember having, her worst best mistake wailing in her arms and her prison issue clothes hanging off too thin shoulders.

And Mary Margaret had let her in.

And let her in. And let her in.

Until their brief High School friendship had developed into something almost like family, almost just right.

She’s getting morbid, it’s getting late. The two things might be connected.

It’s been a depressingly long time since she’d backed the bug into the alleyway outside of the mark’s preferred drinking den, and she’d done nothing ever since but squint into the dark - nothing except fire off a quick text to Mary Margaret begging off school pick up and hoping she’d take mercy.

Again.

It’s a theme, of sorts.

(And if she hadn’t answered Mary Margaret’s follow up call, well. She can’t afford to get distracted on a job.

She can’t afford for Mary Margaret to finally say no.)

From somewhere under the pile of cheeseburger wrappers in her passenger footwell she hears the buzz of her phone and winces.

She sort of should have, maybe, called Mary Margaret back.

No time for that now though. At the end of the alleyway she sees the shadow of a man leaving the bar, the tell-tale lurching gait of the heavy drinker giving her time to slip out of the bug, gun in hand, before he’s able to disappear into the shadows.

This is always the riskiest part - the choice. Does she shout, ensuring the guy currently emptying his guts against a dumpster is the one she’s after but possibly setting herself up for another late night cross country session? Or does she lurk in the dark like some sort of comic book vigilante, creeping along with her back to the damp alleyway walls and hope that she’s able to get the drop on him?

(Her knees hurt. Decision made.)

She inches towards the dark figure, wrinkling her nose up as he retches into the gutter, the street lights casting a yellow halo around his unruly hair. He’s mumbling to himself as he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, some sort of half conversation with the demons in his own head, and Emma slides her gun back into her belt. She’s not going to need it.

Somehow, she gets the impression that if she breathes too hard at this one he’ll drop like a leaf.

“Hey,” she says softly, stepping into the glow of the light, her hands open at her sides. “I think you ought to come with me”

He pauses his mumbling, his shoulders heaving slightly from the effort of being sick, and she sees the way his right hand tightens on the edge of the dumpster.

There’s a crack - thunder that isn’t  - a sharp, wet, blooming pain in her stomach. Screeching rubber and her own pulse harsh in her ears as she stumbles forward, grabbing for the edge of the drunk’s jacket as she falls.

She gasps. Henry’s name garbled in blood. Her phone’s in her car. She needs to tell this guy… he needs to tell Henry… she needs…

Help.

He turns, a flash of blue against white, and everything goes dark.

[thetypedwriter]

Loveboat, Taipei Book Review

Loveboat, Taipei Book Review by Abigail Hing Wen 

This book is solid. The few people I’ve foisted conversation onto about this book have heard me lavishly declare it to be the YA teenie-bop version of Crazy Rich Asians. 

And while I maintain that my statement above is still true, the book also contained some other elements that either came across as a breath of fresh air or a polluted cloud of toxicity that made me cough and wheeze. 

As for the general synopsis, it’s pretty simple all things considered. You have Ever Wong, a senior who is stressed about college applications, her own future potential, disappointing her parents, and ignoring the unrequited love she has for her best friend’s boyfriend. She also happens to be Chinese-American. 

Ever’s identity as growing up Asian in the predominantly white-as-bread state of Ohio is kicked off quite strongly from the get-go. Ever talks about how the said pining of her best friend’s boyfriend could have not been pining and instead could have been her, but that he was unwilling to put up with her crazy Asian parents and their strict limitations. 

She talks about how her dad, a revered surgeon in Taipei, has been relegated to pushing medical carts in hospitals in the States for the last twenty years as they wouldn’t recognize his medical degree. 

She discusses how she and the only other Aisan kid in her class have an unspoken rule of not looking at each other or calling attention to one another as to not emphasize their Asianness. 

As you can probably tell without having me list off a litany of other examples, this book heavily concentrates on race, identity, family, and self-control. 

At the beginning of the novel, Ever is a shy, timid girl whose willing to give up her dreams of dancing because it’s what's expected of her after all her parents have sacrificed to raise her in America. 

But then her mother sells her black pearl necklace to send Ever to Chien Tan, an immersion program in Taipei where thousands of Asian-American kids are sent for the summer, for the purpose of learning the culture, language, and other specialized skills like Chinese medicine, calligraphy, ribbon dancing and stick fighting. 

Ever is reluctant at first, desperate to stay back and find a way to keep dancing, but as her mother literally throws her leotard in the dumpster, Ever knows it’s a losing battle. 

So she goes. And she is amazingly transformed. 

The rest of the book details Ever’s excursions with finding friends and love, immersing herself in the culture that Taipei has to offer, coming to terms with her own identity and race, growing up, making mistakes, hitting a low point, and then getting back up again to achieve her dreams and fight for what she believes in. 

Now, the highlight of this book is definitely the representation, the talk of race and culture, and the actual experiences of Chien Tan, more commonly referred to by the kids who attend as Loveboat, drawn from the author Abigail Hing Wen herself. 

Loveboat, as they call it, is an actual program that the author Wen and others attended and still attend. It’s obvious just from reading how much of Ever’s experience is drawn from the author’s herself and that IS ALWAYS AN AMAZING THING. 

One of the first pieces of writing advice I Ever (hahahha sorry, not sorry) received was to write what you know. Wen does this and knocks it out of the park. Loveboat comes alive with her writing, flowing from page to page seamlessly. 

She crafts it with such care and consideration that you feel like you’re there yourself, down to what the dorms look like with sticking doors, what they serve for breakfast, and the electives offered for academic selections. All of these little details brought such life and realism to the story and it made it an incredibly engaging read. 

Add on Wen’s real talk of race, racism, identity, and the struggle for identity, and you indeed have a delectable concoction of raw representation from a person of color who has experienced these things first-hand. 

Authors of color and representation in YA of characters of color have improved drastically in the last few years, but it’s still something to be expanded upon, drawn from, and encouraged and explored. 

Wen’s story is almost entirely made of Asian teenagers of differing backgrounds and experiences, and it was honestly so nice to not read about another white girl from a white girl. The story was real and filled with culture and struggle, but also beauty, friendship, and acceptance. 

All of these things hark back to why I call this book solid. 

Now onto why I don’t call this book great. 

I legitimately would have preferred if this book focused more on Ever’s identity as Ai-Mei, her struggle between wanting to be a dancer and not crushing her parents’ soul by rejecting the medical career they so want her to be in, and immersing herself in all the wonderful sights, smells, and experiences Taipei had to offer.

 Of course, love and friendship and drama should play a role, this is YA after all, but personally I felt like the romance dominated the book almost entirely, shoving the questions of race and identity and struggle to the backdrop of a pretty redundant love triangle. 

Which. We’re over the love triangle people, stop writing them. 

But really, I understand that the two don’t need to be mutually exclusive, and oftentimes, Ever’s struggle with her race and identity went hand-in-hand with her struggles for romance, but there was JUST. SO. MUCH. OF. IT.  

It was like an episode of the Bachelor if the Bachelor would stop casting white people as their main lead. Every other chapter was a pretty cliched rendition of some kind of romance trope: the bad boy that draws, the arrogant boy that predictably has a heart, but also a girlfriend, the so-called girlfriend flying out to Taipei, the evil stuck-up girl, literal running into chests moments, shirtless of course, and so many more to offer. 

For an author doing incredible things on the front of representation and real talk about stereotypes, racism, and prejudice, I found her book pretty stereotypical of a YA romance itself. 

There were several plot points that were also just incredibly predictable (the nude photos, my god, saw that from a mile away) that made reading this book just a little bit lackluster when I otherwise was really enjoying it. 

Unfortunately, the biggest turn-off this book had for me other than the recycled plot and the ridiculous, predictable, rampant love triangle were the characters themselves. They all kind of...sucked. 

They aren’t awful, by any stretch of the imagination, but they’re also not special either. Other than the fact that they’re Chinese, Chinese-American, or identify as another minority, and the implicit struggles and nuances that come with it, they were like any other archetypal character that I tend to dislike. 

By that I mean that many of the characters I found extremely one-dimensional. 

Each character had about two things about them that defined their whole characters. 

Now, not to blind you with my nerdiness, but other than books, I also am quite the connoisseur of anime. This book, in a lot of ways, comes across as a printed form of anime to me. 

There is a term in anime called Isekai which roughly translates to “accidental travel” and is saturated with shows all about people falling into magical worlds unpredictably. 

Additionally (stay with me here), anime is also quite infamous for having very archetypal characters where one or two traits dominate their whole being so completely as that is the only thing about them that comes across. 

Loveboat, Taipei in my eyes, is literally a print form of an Isekai. Which is not a compliment.

I really wanted to like Ever, Sophie, Rick, and Xavier, the predominant characters along with a whole cast of others. But I kind of...didn’t. Frankly, there wasn’t much to like or know about them. 

Ever’s character was dominated by her love for dancing and her determination to break from her parent’s protective shell, Sophie was a bossy bitch, Rick was Wonder Boy incarnate, Xavier was brooding and artistic-see where I’m going here?

Even the side characters were all identified by one thing-Marc with politics, Matteo with anger, Benji with being baby-faced. I understand that this is one novel and that it’s extremely hard to flesh out characters and unfold nuances and depth, but I personally found Loveboat, Taipei to be lacking in this quality, exceptionally so. 

Ever especially I found irritating. On some levels, I understand that Wen was trying to depict her as a flawed character who makes mistakes and learns from them, trying to represent the growth of her character and blooming into herself, but more often than not, I found her selfish, immature, and aggravating. 

When you add on that Rick is head-over-heels in love with her (as is Xavier) for reasons that don’t really make sense or are legitimately earned in the story, then the romance feels forced and falls apart, hence me wishing Wen focused more on other elements rather than romance. 

This plot contrivance, everyone, is what I lovingly call Bella Swan Syndrome-when a hot guy or vice versa falls in love with someone who legitimately doesn’t deserve it or the love is inorganic or just flat out doesn’t make sense. 

Wen attempted the whole hate-to-love thing, which I love, but also which I genuinely think failed here due to the romance being subpar and undeserved. 

Combine my lack of any real attachment to any character with the trite that was the romance, but mix it in with the praises above of realism and representation and you end at solid. 

Recommendation: If you are sick of the white people, I hear you. If you’ve been looking for books heavily centered on POC characters or written by authors of color, then I’m with you there as well. This book is a great novel for discussions of race and identity and for those Crazy Rich Asians fans out there. However, do not expect this to be the pinnacle of romance, story, or characterization, which unfortunately, falls below average on this one. 

Score: 6/10