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mc-lukanette · 3 years

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[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

—————

Luka took a breath as he hit the last emotion-filled note on his guitar. His body vibrated just as his strings did, though he realized soon enough that there weren't enough high notes to lift him from feeling so low.

Marinette was Ladybug. He was still absorbing it, even though a part of him insisted that it should've been obvious; not just because there could only be one girl in Paris who was so brave, kindhearted, and suited for the job, but... well—

There was also only one girl in Paris who could be so unlucky. Luka was upset - angry, really - at all the things he couldn't have known that just proved to put more pressure on her. People idolized and adored Ladybug, but he never once thought that he wanted to be her. She didn't get anything from being a superhero outside of wasted time and the guilt of having to lie to everyone. He'd felt bad enough keeping Viperion a secret from his family, and he was only a temporary hero.

He sighed, setting his guitar down and raking his fingers through his hair. Marinette being Ladybug would've been enough of a shock on its own, but Adrien being Chat Noir made everything both worse and more complicated. In the midst of all the realizations he'd been having at the time, he felt lucky that he was able to get Ladybug - Marinette - to believe that his mind had just drifted for a moment. She'd still looked worried, but there was nothing he could've told her at the time, his mind too scrambled to be certain what the right steps were.

He'd always imagined that past snakes had learned of other's identities before as well, and thus had wondered before what he'd do if such a thing ever happened. Chat wasn't the one "in charge," so Luka wasn't worried about him (at least not in terms of talking about identities), but Ladybug was a different story.

Previously, he would've said that he'd tell her without hesitation, but the problem was that she was Marinette and the way he found out made things messy. If he told her that he knew, she'd blame herself and demand to know what happened for him to know so she could try to "fix" it, except there was nothing to fix and a conversation about his abilities would inevitably lead to talking about Adrien being Chat Noir.

In essence, he was at a roadblock. There was probably no "right" solution either, as he figured Sass might tell him; that even seemed to be the message Sass wordlessly sent him as Ladybug took his miraculous back. He’d probably known, and maybe had intentionally given him the power to see red strings on heroes in the first place. He didn’t know for sure because he couldn’t ask, aware that it would make Ladybug even more suspicious after he’d already tried to assure her.

What he did know was that Chat was something else to think about now. Chat was tied to her, and he knew - everyone knew, really - that there was drama going on in their relationship. He'd done only a little digging and Face to Face was all the evidence he'd needed, as if seeing the two interact in person wasn't already enough.

There was a pressure there, for Ladybug and Chat Noir to be a couple. Chat Noir was a habitual flirt, and most people ate up any drama or “juicy details” about their relationship. Everyone went wild for the hand kisses that Chat gave Ladybug, whether or not she pulled away from it. Add on the red string of fate, and it just made everything worse, making him wonder what the ties meant; did Adrien's string being tied around his ring mean that he became the cat through fate, specifically so—

It made Luka feel gross just thinking about it, and knowing what he knew made it even worse; people were shipping his friend with someone she wasn't interested in, even if it was "one side" specifically that she wasn't interested in.

He shook his head, feeling vaguely possessive. It wasn't about Marinette being his friend; it was about her deserving better than something deciding her fate for her.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a familiar jingle, pulling out his phone to see a message from Marinette.

Are we still on for tonight?

FOR THE FIRE I MEAN.

I just don't want you to get in trouble! You're sure???

He chuckled, his shoulders easing at Marinette's usual enthusiasm. It was adorable that she was worried about him and not what they were planning to do.

He typed back immediately, I'm sure, Marinette. Don't worry.

He glanced at the drawer under his bed, where all the Adrien pictures were. He imagined Adrien's face plastered all over Paris, flashing back and forth between Adrien himself and Chat Noir.

He felt like he shouldn’t be shocked by the revelation, though he wouldn't be able to quite explain why.

—————

Luka looked over his work once more, checking to make sure the fire would start properly. It'd been a while, but he at least hadn't gotten rusty and even got a congratulatory pat on the back from his mother when she'd seen him carrying the supplies. Had she known that it was Marinette's decision to do this, she would've married them on the spot herself.

As he eyed the box of Adrien pictures set out, he had to bury another slew of thoughts. He knew it was right to try and get rid of Marinette's string, but and he felt guilty knowing that he’d be satisfied at seeing the pictures burn for reasons outside of Marinette.

Speaking of whom, he looked up as he heard a familiar set of footsteps to see Marinette herself heading towards the Liberty, having just made her way down the stairs. She was dressed fairly lightly for nighttime, but wore a fluffy pink shawl around her shoulders to make up for it. Considering what they were doing, it made sense that she wasn't concerned about the cold.

The gangplank had already been put up for her, so she walked across with a smile that warmed him more than the eventual fire would. "Hey."

He smiled back, plopping down comfortably on the seat behind him. "Hey."

She gripped her shawl closer to herself as she glanced at the setup for the fire, the moonlight briefly shining off of her earrings. Luka attempted to avert his gaze from them, but only ended up staring at the red string around her neck. He gave up looking at her entirely at that point, checking the setup again as if it was extremely important to do so.

"You can sit anywhere," he offered, gesturing vaguely to all of the mismatched seats he'd placed around the future fire. He'd wanted to make sure she'd have options, though he hoped the designer side of her didn't mind the chaos of it all. He'd just grabbed whatever spare seating they'd had.

Marinette's eyes scanned over the various choices. Giggling, she replied, "Thank you."

He nodded in acknowledgment. He wasn't in any hurry to get the pictures burned, even if burning them was their goal that day. He'd intentionally had her go slowly so as to test the red string as little as possible, and he planned on doing the same here.

"I brought one for you too," she suddenly said off to his side.

He looked over in curiosity and noticed her open purse, a large piece of blue fabric nearly bursting out of it. It took a bit of effort from her - he imagined that she'd wanted it to be a surprise - but she managed to pull it out, presenting him with a shawl that matched hers exactly outside of its color. He smiled in appreciation of her thoughtfulness, then reached for it before realizing with a start, "Wait. Marinette, did you make these?"

Before she could answer, he took the shawl in his hands, turning it every possible way. Without a doubt, it was her handiwork, and along the back was where the design broke with a Marinette.

"Yeah," she confirmed, and he could practically hear her shy blush. "It's just—you're doing this for me, but even if you weren't, I don't want you to get cold, so..."

"It's great," he cut in firmly, leaving no room for doubt on her end. "Soft. Comfortable. I wish I was better with fashion to say more."

"No, you said more than enough," she assured, taking a seat next to him. That fact looked both silly and intimate given the multiple other seats she could've chosen instead, but he tried not to think about it.

Instead, he gave a curious glance at her pink shawl, silently comparing it to the one she'd given him. "...You didn't have to make it blue," he commented, and clarified before she could think anything bad, "I would've happily worn your colors."

She gave him a look, though didn't seem weirded out by the idea. "But... it's pink."

"What's wrong with pink?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's your color."

She blushed, her shoulders hunching forward shyly. He didn't even bother taking back what he said, because he meant it; he might've favored blue when he picked out an outfit, but pink made him think of her.

It was much better than red at the very least.

Marinette pursed her lips in response, idly tugging at her shawl and seeming to be in an internal debate with herself. Apparently making a decision, she closed her eyes and breathed up, letting out a soft, "Okay."

He blinked and gave a tilt of his head to show his confusion. "Okay?"

She turned to him, resolutely pulling the fabric off of her shoulders. "T-then you can wear mine?"

He couldn't get another word out, too distracted by Marinette leaning towards him and carefully settling the shawl around his shoulders. Despite the bold move, she couldn't keep eye contact with him, awkwardly hanging onto the front of the shawl as she stared at his lap. She wasn't exactly warm or exuded any particular body heat - in fact, he was sure that her hands would be cold if he held them - but there was a comfort there that couldn't be matched by anyone else.

It took him a moment to make a move, at which point he remembered the fabric underneath his fingers. In a motion equally as careful as hers, he raised the blue shawl and settled it around her shoulders. She finally met his gaze, surprised, but smiled gratefully and released her grip on the pink shawl.

"You can keep it," she said quietly, with less shyness than before.

"Really?" he asked, placing a hand on the fabric to make sure it was what she meant.

She nodded, gripping her own as she replied, "A-as long as I can keep this one in exchange?"

He snorted, even covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle. "You made them, Marinette. Of course you can." He gave an obvious glance at the shawl to admire it. "I'd be happy to match with you."

She beamed at him. "Me too."

That topic officially concluded, his mind went blank for anything more and both of their gazes drifted to the unlit fire. He didn't have to look to know that she was shifting in anxiety in her seat, either wanting to back out or just get it over with.

"Are you ready?" he asked experimentally.

"Yes," she responded, perhaps a little stiffly but the resolve was there. She wanted this.

Luka stood briefly, and within the next few moments, the fire had been lit. The flames started out faint at first, then grew until it was something respectable, easily illuminating the small area around them. The slight chill from the wind dissipated as the fire warmed their skin, Luka hearing Marinette sigh in content harmony with him.

Neither of them took their shawls off despite the increased warmth.

The additional light from the fire made the box of pictures more obvious, with it sitting on a table not too far away. Luka took a step towards it, but Marinette was faster, grabbing up the box and turning to him with a determined expression.

"I have to do it," she insisted.

He didn't exactly disagree - this wasn't his battle - but it didn't stop him from looking nervously at the red string, the dangling part of it laying across her hand and dipping itself in the box, taunting him.

"How many do you want to do at a time?" He was careful in his wording, not wanting his tone to imply anything.

She furrowed her brows, staring down at the box in deep thought. Her fingers flexed against the cardboard, a small gust of wind blowing by and causing the fire behind her to whip around in protest.

"...All of them," she muttered, then met his gaze cautiously. "Will that be okay?"

Luka glanced at the fire, but it wasn't that he was worried about. The string would try to fight her, he was sure of it, and the only thing he wasn't sure of was if it would be better or not to let her go with her wishes. He half expected the string to physically drag her off the Liberty, and the mere thought caused his neck to sting.

But, he also believed in her. She was fighting fate herself without having used the snake even once, and he wasn't going to deny her if she thought this was best.

"Yeah," he assured. "Just don't get too close. I don't want you to get hurt."

She nodded, obviously not catching onto what he really meant.

Luka sat down on his chair, toying with the rips in his pants to keep his hands occupied as he watched her. Her posture was straight and confident as she faced the flames, despite the shake in her hands, and he was sure the fire in her eyes wasn't just a reflection.

He didn't see Ladybug in her place. There was only Marinette and everything that he already knew about her. Knowing what he did now wasn't surprising, but heartbreaking, and he couldn't be prouder of her for doing what she was trying to do.

To go against what everyone - even fate itself - expected of her. He couldn't relate on her level, but looking as he did and having the mother he did, he understood.

Finally, Marinette stepped forward, and the string was already tightening around her neck. She froze, shutting her eyes and clutching the box tighter as she mentally fought the sensation.

He barely managed to keep himself still.

She swallowed, taking another step and managing to open her eyes again. She squinted at the fire, either from the light or from her own resolve.

Then, all at once, she thrust the box forward, the pictures flying out and mingling with the flames. The fire flared up in response, practically roaring, and the string tightened further in protest. Marinette even let out a cry as she tossed the box aside.

Luka barely had time to react when she suddenly rushed towards him. He outstretched his arms and she filled up his lap, her heart seeking him out as she clutched his jacket. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping his comfort came through without words.

Her breathing was ragged, and he couldn't tell whether it was from the string or her emotions running high. He brought one of his hands higher up on her back, knowing that he could do nothing more for her but wishing he could.

He took solace in the fact that the worst of it was over.

Staring over her head, he watched as the pictures burned, blond turning black as the flames singed the pictures and reduced them to ashes. Marinette, meanwhile, remained against him, desperately clutching his fabric for wordless support. He honestly would've been okay being the only spectator to what she'd done, but she then shifted in his lap to glance behind her.

They watched the sight together, the fire whipping about with the wind like it was making sure the job was done as they'd wanted. In no time at all, there was no evidence of the pictures left outside of what was allowing the fire to burn brighter.

Marinette let out sigh of relief, collapsing against him again and nuzzling his chest. "What's wrong with me...?"

"Nothing," he replied, clutching her tighter. "You were amazing."

She looked up at him, possibly searching his expression to ensure he meant it, then offered a tired smile. She shifted again, but this time without any urgency or need. Luka sucked in a breath as she nestled her head against his shoulder, making herself comfortable on his lap while still being in a position where they could watch the fire together. Slowly, he relaxed, and they ended up not needing those other chairs after all, neither moving from their comfortable positions.

And, maybe it was just him, but the string seemed looser around her neck than it ever had before.

#au: Dread String of Fate #Dread String of Fate: writing #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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gabriel4sam · 2 years

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Those are not the Jedi you're looking for 3/?

Socorro, Kibilini sector, the Outer Rim Territories , four years, two month and twenty days after Naboo

Obi-Wan had seen so many worlds as a Jedi. He had seen poor ones and abundant ones, he had seen beauty and horror, meet heroes and tyrants. Since he had taken this new path, he had added some interesting characters to his collection, but no one, really no one was like Hondo.

He had a suspicion Qui-Gon would have liked the pirate, perhaps to the exasperation of Padawan Kenobi.

“Ben, old friend!” the pirate cheered when Obi-Wan entered the cantina, dressed in tight green pants and a shirt so open it would more qualify as a shawl.

Obi-Wan perched himself on a high chair and designated Hondo’s drink to the bartender.

“The same. And another for my friend.”

“That’s why I like you, Ben,” and Ben endured another hug, and the awful taste of cheap alcohol in the middle of the morning, because if Obi-Wan wasn’t the style to imbibe at that hour, and not with that stuff that would be better to clean cocking pots, it was Ben’s style.

“What are you doing in this quadrant?” Hondo asked, ogling the freckles revealed by Obi-Wan’s open shirt.

“Searching for work, I must say. My last gig wasn’t as interesting as I thought. People can be so untrusting, once they learned about one or two minor condemnations.”

Hondo nodded.

“You know I offer good benefices for new members?”

Obi-Wan put a hand on Hondo’s knee.

“Not sure I would resist you if I saw you every day, you scoundrel,” and the other laughed, totally not convinced by the supposed Ben’s reasons, but ready to let it go.

“Where’s the old man?”

“Uncle Tholme? Ranged himself with some new flavour of the week, can you believe that? I give it three months. So, I’m all alone. Tell me, I heard Kray’s recruiting, that’s true?”

“The slaver? Ben, that’s no good work.” Hondo grimaced and Obi-Wan felt a spark of surprise. As much as he liked Hondo, he had no illusion about him, and he would have thought even slavery wouldn’t made him hesitate. He signalled the bartender for two other drinks.

“Not sure I will apply to work for him. What sort of sentient he is, you know him?”

“He’s bad news, that’s what he is, like all T'surr.”

“You only say that because of your ex.”

“I escaped with only my life and my pride by a narrow margin, I thought she would cut…you know.”

Obi-Wan, who had read the rapport of the Judicials about the intergalactic incident spanned by Hondo’s spat with his T’surr lover, almost thought Hondo would have it coming for his actions in this mess but Ben, who only knew Hondo’s side of the story, had a shiver and a grimace.

“Come on, old friend, give me more. That will be a last resort action, but I don’t like going blind into a new gig.”

Hondo grumbled, but told everything he knew about Kray’s organisation. And Hondo always knew a lot of things.

When, a few hours later, they left the cantina, Hondo more or less supported by the human, he gave him a last advice.

“Come work with me. I’m assembling a crew.”

Obi-Wan, who had used the Force against the level of alcohol in his blood but still had a giant headache, looked at him with surprise.

“A crew? You? Didn’t you swear piracy off when your mother threw you out of her own crew?”

“- Still thinking she overreacted-“

“- And that you would never, ever, go back to that sort of work?”

“Well, the voice of the blood. Long line of pirates, etc. Also, my latest operations didn’t work as well as I had hoped.”

Obi-Wan nudged him on a bench in a small square and sat down next to him.

“You only risked prison on your latest operations. Piracy is sentenced by death in all the Outer Rim. Piracy get people killed, not like your more or less organized scam operations.”

Hondo had a drunken laugh, and, with surprising gentleness, touched Obi-Wan’s hair. On Master Gallia’s advice, Obi-Wan was wearing them longer. He was thinking about a beard, too.

“And you think you could make a slaver? No, Ben you’re too nice for that. And too pretty, too. If you find Kray, he will sell you, not give you a job. Come with me. With my brain and your luck…”

He leaned down and with a startling realization, Obi-Wan realized Hondo wanted to kiss him. He pushed with the Force, without any finesse, and Hondo fell into his arms, fast asleep.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Obi-Wan, exasperated, whispered.

He took him back to the cantina, left him on a bench there, after giving a generous tip to the bartender, to be sure people would left the Weequay alone. He still stole Hondo’s purse, because Ben needed to maintain his reputation, but he left him the second purse, better hidden and probably better filled. Hondo would think Ben hadn’t found it.

He put the stolen purse in the poor box of one the numerous organizations struggling every day to raise people out of the slums and went back to the two rooms Quinlan and him had rented, a frown on his face.

He didn’t like what Hondo had told him about Kray. Slavers. It was like fighting a hydra from the Tirahnn moors. Cut one head and too will grow back. Since he had started to work with Master Tholme and Quinlan, the Judicials and the Jedi working discreetly for them had broken down twenty slavers or slavers adjacent rings. Twenty that he knew, because he understood better the vital compartmentalisation they put in place now.

Twenty, and it seemed there were even more slavers rings existing than when he became an active members of their branch.

He climbed the stairs, opened the door, and his heart seized in his chest. Quinlan. Quinlan wasn’t here, the room was ravaged and there was blood on the floor.

A long breath, as he searched for calm, pushing his fear for his friend in the Force, then, in that order, he send a coded message to Tholme, searched the room for a message or a clue left by Quinlan, then went back to the cantina and kidnapped Hondo, still drunk.

Nobody told him anything when he left the cantina with the Weequay thrown over his shoulder.

Hondo yelled when Obi-Wan threw him in the water of the water tank. Soccoro was an arid world and Obi-Wan just had to break a lock to find the perfect place to interrogate Hondo discreetly, sober him up and menace him at the same time.

Weequay were terrified of drowning.

Another day, Obi-Wan would perhaps feel bad of using that against Hondo, who had been as good as he could with Ben, he would probably even felt bad about it when he had Quinlan safe, but for now, bath time it was for the Weequay.

“Ben!” Hondo yelled, and Obi-Wan pushed him under again, then hauled him above the water, fisting the neck of his jacket. He pushed Force-healing into the other’s brain, sobering him up further. Hondo would pass that for the action of the terror and the water.

“Where is he, Hondo?” He asked through clenched teeth.

“Who?”

“Wrong answer!”

He let him go and Hondo yelled and sank like a stone.

“Ah kriff.”

Obi-Wan jumped into the water, cursing his own idiocy. It was logical a Weequay wouldn’t know how to swim. He took him out, spluttering, and asked him again.

“I have stayed with my partner for the two weeks of our presence on this damn world, not a whisper of violence, and the morning you and I have some meeting schedule, he disappeared? Don’t take me for an idiot or the next time, I’m letting you drown!”

“Sugi!! It was Sugi!! I was drunk, I told her I was meeting you. She was asking questions about the two of you! She gave me money for the time of our meeting, and only ask I made sure you would stay with me long enough.”

“Who the kriff is Sugi and what does she want with my friend?”

“I don’t know!! She’s, she’s a Zabrak mercenary, I don’t know why she wants him.”

“And where, Hondo, where did she take my friend when you were distracting me and trying to kiss me? I never thought you’ll go as far as prostitute yourself for the few credits she would gave you.”

“Well, that wouldn’t have been a hardship. What do you need that Kiffar for, I –“

“Think very hard, before your speak”.

“-…She was supposed to take him to the Smugglers' Moon, but you can probably find them before their depart, if you go quickly. They’re at the very end of the spatioport.”

“Good boy.”

He invaded his brain with the Force, his hand crisped on the Weequay’s throat. Hondo spluttered and trashed, but a stronger Weequay would have been needed to break the grip of someone taught to fight dirty by Master Tholme. Soon, he was slipping into unconsciousness. Obi-Wan purged the last moments of his memories, with less finesse that he would have used with more time. The Weequay would have the mother of all headaches. He left him in recovery position, far away from the water to be sure he wouldn’t slip into it in waking up, and then he started running.

Apparently, Sugi’s crew was manning a ship named the Guillotine. It was prepping for flight when Obi-Wan arrived. He didn’t draw his lightsaber. Ben’s persona had taken almost two years to be so useful, and he would only burn it out on a last resort.

But Ben already had a reputation to be bloody dangerous and the crew had a handicap. People always hesitated to draw blasters in their own ships, thinking of the possible damage on expensive equipment. The Kyuzo male lasted only a minute, before Obi-Wan knocked him off, using his ridicule large-rimmed had as a weapon. He checked with the Force he hadn’t caved his skull, then fell like a tornado on the small being hiding himself inside an armour.

Another person would have hesitated, because of the size. In the Force, Obi-Wan knew the truth. A sidestep, a jump, and a small electronic device attached to the armour shoulder, and the small being was too busy trying to come out of the armour to still be worried about a supposed scoundrel too good in close combat busy invading their ship.

Obi-Wan found the Zabrak woman in the cargo hold. Every occasion possible, Tholme had made him train against Zabrak, from the Judicials, from the Jedi who knew the truth about Obi-Wan, from other Force organisation, and it was a good thing. Because for a second, every time, for the first twenty times, fifty times, Obi-Wan had had a moment of hesitation.

Not that day.

He attacked first.

She was a worthiest opponent than her crew. Soon, he was cursing, hidden behind crates and returning fire, his blaster on stun. He could see Quinlan from there, unconscious and bound, but certainly alive. Someone had put a blanket on him, and for kidnappers, that was strangely compassionate.

“Ben, I presume?” Sugi yelled from the other side of the cargo hold.

“Do we know each other?” Obi-Wan yelled in return. He was feeling calmer now that he could see and feel Quinlan. Also, the Zabrak felt dangerous in the Force, but with an undercurrent that spoke of strong morals. A few years ago, he would have been surprised by that, but now he understood better how complicated people could be.

“Did you kill my crew?”

“No, but some strong pain killers will probably be necessary later.”

A few other shoots.

“I appreciate it!”

“Enough to let my friend go?”

“Enough to let you go. I have nothing against you, I tried to keep you out of it.”

“And it was most gallant, my lady,” he said, then, warned by the Force, rolled, letting the shoot that should have touched him blacken the floor right where he had been a second before,” He started to laugh, adrenaline chanting in his blood.

“Oh Kriff, that one was close, congratulation on your shooting.”

He heard her laugh, but she still tried to shoot him again. He was sure her blaster wasn’t on stun. Not on the highest setting, no, she didn’t want to kill him, but definitely not on stun, that would require bacta if he was touched.

She yelled again, and she had moved, where the kriff was she:

“Rawk has a good price on his head on Nar Shaddaa!”

Still returning fire, Obi-Wan searched his mind. For a moment, he had forgotten Rawk was the pendant to his Ben, the current false identity of Quinlan. And Nar Shaddaa ? They had only gone to Nar Shaddaa once, since he was working with Quinlan and Tholme, and it had been a very simple extraction job for an undercover judicial. From what he knew, their false identities that day were still good, and had never been suspected of collusion with Judicials.

“Quick question, he’s wanted for what, exactly?”

“It was under another name. Your friend is lying to you! He’s not even called Rawk!”

“Oh really,” Obi-Wan grumbled, as he was passing under a crate, slowly trying to turn around Sugi to attack her from the other side.

“He’s named Konshi! He’s wanted for murder.”

Obi-Wan groaned.

Of course. Of kriffin course. He knew that name. Konshi had been Quinlan’s name during his Trial mission, when he had been send to Nar Shaddaa to deal with a Dark Sider trying to establish himself as a crime lord by brainwashing people and exploiting them as sex slaves, under the pretence of a fair brothel, where employee were supposed to be there on choice and treated well and payed fairly.

The Dark Sider hadn’t left Quinlan with a choice and it had been a grim faced new Knight that his friend had become, whose joy of seeing his braid cut had been smothered by that death, even unavoidable as it had been.

He was still searching for a way to turn that, to explain it to her without revealing the truth, when the Force song a warning. Obi-Wan looked up, just in time to see the crate fall.

It was more reflex than anything else, a reflex honed since the crèche. He threw his hand and caught it just before it flattened the bounty hunter.

And he had used the Force.

She turned to him, shock in her eyes and he cursed. Well, now that it was done… He pushed the crate away, settling it on the floor, and in the same movement, stole her blaster that jumped right into his hand. He latched the safety of the damn thing, did the same on his own blasters, and slipped them in his belt.

“Jedi,” she whispered and in the deafening silence, after the noises of blaster, it ringed higher that it have should. He nodded and left his defensive wall of crates to join her in the middle of the cargo hold. She observed him and he let her, silent. She turned a little, observed Quinlan.

“Yes, him too,” Obi-Wan said, understanding the unasked question.

“His name isn’t more Konshi that it is Rawk, isn’t it? And you aren’t named Ben.”

She had an accent he couldn’t place, something a little harsh, unpleasant and dangerously attractive at the same time. She had renounced to attack him, too smart to think it would do some good, but the tension in her presence had ramped up a notch.

“No, those are not our true names,” Obi-Wan admitted.

She eyed him a little more.

“Will I wake up with missing hours? I heard it isn’t exactly pleasant.”

“Should I do it? Or can I trust your discretion?”

She went to Quinlan, opened his bindings. Obi-Wan leaned down and checked his pulse, his respiration, then he put his hand on his head and purged the drugs from his system.

“You used some Tolothians sleeping drugs. They are particularly costly, an interesting choice.”

“Less chance of a medicinal allergy.”

“And you did your best to be sure there wouldn’t be collateral damage in acting when I was busy elsewhere.”

He turned to her again.

“What do you think of being a contact for the Judicials? They are always searching for reliable contacts in the bounty hunters and mercenary communities.”

She smirked and answered, her gaze undressing the red head.

“A contact to the Judicials? Or to you? What’s your name, strange Jedi distracting people with his belly button?”

“Oh Force, can’t you go flirt a little far away, some people are dying right there,” a new voice grumbled and Obi-Wan immediately went to help Quinlan sit down.

“You’re the one who made some interesting friends when I wasn’t there,” he remarked, and Quinlan murmured something not very friendly. But as he pushed his head against Obi-Wan’s shoulder until the other man cupped it to help push the headache from the chemical away, he probably wasn’t really angry.

“The murder?” The Zabrak bounty hunter asked, and she went higher in Obi-Wan’s opinion.

“What murder?” Quinlan grumbled.

“She’s speaking of your trials,” Obi-Wan explained.

“Oh that. Murderous son of a bitch. Brainwashing people. Really bad. Tried to haul him to trial, didn’t give me a choice. Never heard of him again until I woke up to hear my partner flirting with my kidnapper.”

“It wasn’t flirting, my friend.”

“Oh, it was,” Sugi remarked, “I was almost ready to ask for your comm number.” Obi-Wan could feel his cheeks getting redder and against him Quinlan had a small laugh.

Later, once she had checked her crew and send them to the nearest cantina, with force grumbling, she sat down with the two Jedi and caf. She gave them everything she had about the Hutt of Nar Shaddaa who had put a bounty on Quinlan’s false identity head.

Obi-Wan gave her two of the pearls they used to reward contacts, because it was less traceable than credits, and then escorted Quinlan to their own ship.

“Our lodging?” His friend asked, once they were preparing for flight.

“I hoped you didn’t like too much the clothes you left here. Someone probably had signalled the trashed rooms now, that wouldn’t be very discreet to go back.”

“Kriff, I loved those boots.”

Obi-Wan leaned down across the console and patted his leg.

“Why don’t you go sleep a few hours? I can feel your headache from there.”

Quinlan seemed like he wanted to answer something, then he nodded and left the cockpit. Obi-Wan programmed the jump to one of the multiple spacers relays on the hyperspace lane, on a forest moon. That would need three hours, just the time needed for preparing his written report and for his friend to sleep off the last effects of the medication and his subsequent headache. Perhaps time for a little extra meditation.

They touched down as expected and Obi-Wan immediately connected the terminal to the secure canal of the holonet they used that month. He send a first data packet to Adi, about Sugi and her possible usefulness, then to Tholme: the Master would like to know about the price on his former Padawan’s head. He organized another data packet then he contacted Siri, who had just spent two weeks in retreat on Jedha, after a supposed falling out with the Jedi Order.

“And that’s everything Hondo knew about Kray,” Obi-Wan finished his oral report, “Data packets is transmitting right now.”

“Thank you. It will be useful to not go totally blind,” Siri answered. Even with the bad image of the holocall, Obi-Wan could see how tired she looked and it wasn’t the bad dye job of her hair or the fake tattoos.

“I still think it’s dangerous. I don’t even understand why they needed to pretend you had left the Order, when you’re going with a false identity… And infiltration as Trials…”

“We can’t all become a Sith Killer as Knighting event.”

“Oh Force, stop calling me that, it’s as ridiculous as when Quinlan uses it.”

A bark of a laugh and she nodded and cut the transmission.

Quinlan was still sleeping in his bunk, so Obi-Wan locked the ship and went to buy rations to replenish their stock and then two big portions of that Ithorian stew Quinlan loved, and which couldn’t be found outside the Outer Rim. The relay was quite calm, it was the middle of the night cycle in this portion of the moon. After two weeks on an arid planet, the atmosphere and the odour of the forest seemed like a gift.

Quinlan was working on their ship as he came back. Their supposed old-ship was a nice trick, dissimulating its real power and shields, but since a run-down with some pirates, a month ago, the landing trusters were capricious.

“Dinner!” He yelled to the only part of his friend he could see, the backside hanging down from an electrical compartment.

They ate seated on the hull, watching the coming and goings of people, trickling down as the most nocturnal species went to bed, and the other were still not up. Outside the hangar, the rain started to fall.

“I could have waited in our ship, you know?” Quinlan suddenly said, out of the blue.

The surprise stopped Obi-Wan in his chewing. He arched an eyebrow to convey his question.

“The bounty hunter liked you. I could understood if you had wanted a moment with her. The last months have been hard.”

“Are you suggesting I should have had sex with the Zabrak who just kidnapped you?”

“If that’s your taste…”

“You know me better than that.”

“Not in this particular field, I don’t know you,” He raised a hand to stop Obi-Wan from interrupting, “It’s not a blame. I’m not exactly beyond reproach in this domain, the less said about the mess with that Togorian, the better.”

He took a long gulp of his drink, probably to give himself time to order his thoughts, then he started again:

“Aayla will be of age of becoming a Padawan in one month. I want to ask her the honour of being her Master. I don’t know why I would make her wait, asking herself if she will age out… The second she’s of age, I ask.”

“Quinlan, that’s good news!” Obi-Wan immediately congratulated him, patting the Kiffar on the shoulder. Despite his joy for his friend, he felt a spark of regret. His status as a Jedi was still need-to-know only. No Padawan for him. He would have loved it. To take care of a child, to teach them everything he knew. He would have made sure that child knew how important they were to Obi-Wan.

Not like…

“That’s good news,” he repeated, and he took great care to only pat the leather of his friend’s tunic, escaping skin contact and Quinlan’s powers. He didn’t want that important moment of a Jedi life to be, even slightly, ruined for Quinlan because Obi-Wan was an idiot who had never learnt to be happy with what he had.

He was a Jedi Knight! That was the thing he had desired so much for years! He was doing some good in the galaxy, helping people, and that was enough.

“She would come with us, sometimes,” Quinlan continued, “but there will be time when I would stay on Coruscant with her.”

“Logical.”

“So, you would need to work alone those time, or with another Knight partner.”

“And I will. The education of Aayla must be your priorities,” Obi-Wan said and his smile wasn’t forced. He had never met the young girl, yet, but Quinlan had spoken so much of that bright child every time he came back from the Temple that Obi-Wan had sometimes the impression he knew her already.

“And, of course, you need to be sure about the way I introduce you to her. I don’t want to let her paddle around without clues about what exactly we are for each other.”

“Our- ” Obi-Wan stopped himself. That was the great question they never talked about. They slept in the same bunk five days of ten, they shared everything, from nightmares to bad memories, but never had they crossed that line. Quinlan had had liaisons, Obi-Wan too, if fewer, even an ill-advised one with Siri which had almost ended his friendship with the young blond. Nevertheless, at the end of the days, they always came back to each other when they needed to unburden their secrets, their fears, when they needed a partner for a mission or a fellow Jedi for meditation.

Quinlan had a sigh when he saw Obi-Wan refusing to meet his gaze.

“Think about it, ok? I don’t want her to think I’m lying to her. I want to say, “This is Obi-Wan, he’s a Jedi and it’s a secret and he’s my friend”, or “This is Obi-Wan, he’s a Jedi and my significant other” but…Children need to know those stuff, I think. I want her to know her place in my life, to know how important she is and that she has my trust and that I’m honest with her.”

He finished his drink and left Obi-Wan to his thought, jumping from the ship hull. Soon, Obi-Wan could hear the noises of his work on the landing trusters. Obi-Wan wanted to kneel and ask the Force for answers, but it seemed like cheating.

“I’m an idiot,” Obi-Wan finally grumbled after a few minutes where he was trying to make pro and cons list in his head. He hopped down from the wing, his feet soundless on the metallic floor. Outside the wind and the rain were building steadily and they seemed the only ones awakes in the hangar.

Quinlan set the hydrospanner down and looked at Obi-Wan, his face more serious that the other had seen it a long time. His heart was beating wildly in his chest.

That was it. They had danced around it for years and he discovered he still wasn’t ready. Quinlan was his friend, his partner in mission, his confidant and the risk had always seemed too big. About Quinlan, he knew everything that it was possible to know about a man without knowing the taste of his lips. He knew his laugh, the true one, the booming one, and the cultivated one, less noisy, that he used in public. He knew of his few memories with his parents. He knew the shape of his hands when he had needed help, he knew the smell of his hair when they had shared a bedroll on cold worlds, he knew even the lines of his palms for cradling them in his own hands, when Quinlan Saw too much with his power and needed the respite, his soul hiding in Obi-Wan’s.

And now, adrenaline was flooding him and he didn’t know if he craved a resolution to the tension or feared it.

Quinlan was rubbing his chin, his gaze suddenly shy somewhere around Obi-Wan’s middle, and he was so close that the redhead heard the scratching sound of the stubble. Since a long time, it had been a question of when, not if. Obi-Wan had imagined it as a we-are-alive hooray, as something rushed and almost violent, with adrenaline in their blood.

He had been wrong.

He touched his friend’s shoulder and his answer was written on his face, because Quinlan smiled, a little shy, a little unsure. The Kiffar leaned down, slowly, and gave him a tentative kiss. He took his time, like he wanted to learn the shape of Obi-Wan’s mouth. It was almost teasing but in the Force, Quinlan was nothing but serious. When he finally asked for more, Obi-Wan opened up for him, sealing their mouths together and let the world fade.

#star wars #quinlan vos #obi wan kenobi #hondo ohnaka #sugi #my fics

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kork-inkorkerated · 2 years

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Part two (ig) of the Dr:S inspired fantasy AU !

For Nagito, I decided to play pretty heavily into the little mermaid aesthetic since his canon story has decent parallels ( hopeless romantic, tragic back story undertones, unlucky, self destructive levels of devotion) and also because whenever I draw him please imagine his Japanese VA instead of his English VA.

(When it comes to memes , Bryce is pretty good and I don’t hate his voice, but I think Megumi does a much better job of encapsulating ALL of Nagito’s character better( her softer tone definitely helps imo) not just the more comedic bits.)

As for his outfit’s individual details, I leaned into servant’s pretty liberally as well lol. My initial thought for this was some sort of twist on a holy prophet. Like he could be an envoy of the god of the sea or something, or even a water nymph himself.

Like with the Kokichi piece, part of the fun is not knowing entirely what his deal is lol. My Nagito in Danganronpa S had “Ice freeze all” so I gave him hand wraps since like Rantaro he’d probably get cold a bit too easily (and also because in canon he’s pretty sickly) .

The pseudo shawl around his shoulders and his waists have stripes on them, a nod to both old style striped sailor uniforms and Servant’s striped shirt. He also has the skill “debuff” so I decided to lean into the more “gentle death “ type Nagito ( the one seen more clearly in his character songs lol) who is kind of not even trying to be an antagonist but he’s long accepted that it’s just how things are. He also has “sleep”in my game and I like to imagine that translates into songs like lullabies or ballads lulling people into sleep. His shawls and over skirt are white and airy but tattered, to complete the whole eerily beautiful look, like the transience of life that is again referenced in one of his character songs.

For Izuru, I wanted his body and outfit to clash in a sort of way. I wanted to make it look like his head didn’t fit his body or uniform because he was technically “possessing” it. Obviously he and Hajime share one for this specific concept I had, although that was only this design and since it’s a fantasy au, I’ve grown more fond of the idea of them having seperate bodies so I might redo his design!

Though it’s not colored, I imagined him with the typical red eyes and black hair Izuru has. I also really like the “Izuru has emotions he just doesn’t know how to express them” headcanon ( and this is an au so I do what I want uwu) and the Izuru I like to draw is typically the silent affection type. He’s still got the look of someone who is born of apathy but he’ll do things like lean in for a hug or skin ship or be an absolute cuddle monster, all while not changing his expression. Out of all of his design choices , his hair was the hardest. I tried to make it as similar to his canon hair that I could but looking at the references, his hair is kinda a little dumb so I reworked it just a little bit, giving it a more proper whorl and making it a bit thinner to fit the wispy shadow motif he has going on .

The two of them are obviously close in the AU, and much like canon I like to imagine that Izuru is a godlike figure for Nagito, with Izuru being not really all that excited about that lol. I also like the common headcanon that Izuru isn’t entirely ‘bored’ of Nagito and might even be one of the less boring people in his life due to his luck cycle, so that’s in play here. This Izuru is kinda uncomfortable with how much Nagito puts himself down but lacking the full range of expressions he can’t convey it as clearly or bluntly as Nagito would need to see to get it. Part of their character arc is dealing with that and working towards common ground, kind of like a fusion of an old married couple and newly weds lol.

That’s pretty much it for now for this au in terms of characters I’ve drawn ^^

Thank you for reading if you got this far and have a good day!

#nagito komaeda #komaeda nagito #nagito #kamakura izuru #izuru kamakura #sdr2 nagito #sdr2 izuru #udg Izuru #udg Nagito #danganronpa fantasy au

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scxrlettwxtches · 3 years

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a life with you | hwang hyunjin

genre: assassin au, epilogue(?), inspired by @chaninfused “row, row, row your boat” universe

description: when you have doubts about your future with hyunjin, the assassin is more than happy to reassure you that all he wanted was to be with you.

word count: 2.8k+

a/n: i am officially a month late and terribly sorry, furat dear. TT happy (very belated) birthday to you! thank you so much for screaming with me about hyunjin, rrryb, and everything else in between. most of all, thank you for being such a dear friend. <3 i really hope you enjoy!

For the first time since Hyunjin became your friend, your confidante, and then your darling, doubts about your relationship began to fester into gnarly thorns, sitting in the deep recesses of your heart.

It didn't have anything to do with your love for Hyunjin. On the contrary, your love for the man was stronger than ever, built upon a bond of trust and deep care for one another. Hyunjin had stood by your side through the highs and the lows, just as you had watched him discover what it means to love someone, watched him discover that he himself was capable of being loved.

No, your doubt stemmed from an instinctual fear that the two of you were simply not compatible because you would never be able to assimilate into the lifestyle he grew up in.

You thought you could do it, at first. After all, what's so hard about being well off? What's so hard about being able to splurge a little extra money on your clothes, your food, your overall lifestyle?

You quickly learned that noble life wasn't quite as simple as that.

For one thing, it was overwhelming to the highest degree. Ever since you agreed to attend the banquet with Hyunjin as his significant other, you'd been thrust into an endless cycle of dress fittings, shoe fittings, and practically any other type of fitting that exists. The party itself was also an overstimulation of all your senses; there was so much to see, so much to comprehend and hear and say that it all just got a bit too much for poor you.

So that was why you were here alone, standing on an empty balcony to find some fresh air, some quiet, and some peace. The wind felt nice against your skin in comparison to the stuffy rooms and banquet halls, and you couldn't help but wonder guiltily if you could head home by yourself. You didn't want to bother Hyunjin, of course, who was born noble and was probably enjoying himself.

“Oh, thank goodness, I've finally found you!”

As if the stars had heard you, Hyunjin stepped out into the balcony, his expression wrought with relief as he made his way towards you, taking your hands in his.

As you gazed upon him, those long lashes, those soft lips, and above all, those gentle eyes that held nothing but love, affection, and concern as he studied your face, you found yourself once again falling deeper in love with him, as if that was even possible.

“Why did you abandon me in there?” The assassin almost whined, and you fought back a smile as you rubbed your thumbs against the back of his hands.

“I just needed some air, and you seemed preoccupied,” you explained, ducking your head slightly as Hyunjin shrugged off his long coat and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“But you didn't need to escape so quickly without telling me,” he argued like a petulant child when his eyes suddenly flashed with a sharpness that you hadn't seen in a while, “Unless...did something happen?”

Damn Hwang Hyunjin and his ridiculously fine-tuned awareness.

You shook your head, running your hand up and down his arm, “Nothing happened,” you smiled soothingly.

“But you look unhappy,” he insisted, cupping your cheek with his gentle hands, worry filling his dark brown irises, “My darling, please tell me what is wrong.”

Inside, Hyunjin was panicking. He knew you better than he knew himself, and he knew the look of uncertainty on your face when he saw it. Were you beginning to have second thoughts about him? Was being with him becoming more of a burden than a blessing to you? Was the constant little weight in his coat pocket something that he’ll have to throw away soon?

Logically, Hyunjin was almost sure that any of those possibilities weren't true. You loved him, and you loved him dearly. The two of you have been through thick and thin together, and he knew your love for him was as deep as the darkest oceans and as pure as the sunrise sky. But yet, the coil of doubt could not totally recede from his mind. After all, you were always so much more than he could ever dare ask for.

“Hyunjin,” you spoke softly, your smile so knowing that the assassin felt more at ease just at the sound of your voice, “Relax.”

“So something is wrong, my love?”

You sighed, cursing at Hyunjin’s endearingly insistent nature. Hyunjin was a fixer at heart. Whatever was bothering him, whatever was bothering the people he loved, he was proactive about finding a solution. He’d go to the ends of the earth to find one if need be, which was what he did for your precious daughter all that time ago.

But this, this wasn’t a problem that you were sure he could fix.

“I don’t know if this is going to work, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin had never experienced such physical heartache until this very moment. His eyes widened with alarm, a terror that he could hardly keep clamped down, but ever the gentleman, he waited for you to finish before interjecting.

“I know you were so eager to introduce me into this world, to give me luxury that I didn’t experience before, but truthfully, I don’t enjoy this lifestyle,” you confessed, gesturing to the ballroom where the party was still ongoing, where the lords and ladies chatted and drank the night away, “It’s stifling for me, Hyunjin. But this is your life, and I don’t want to take that away from you--”

You found your answer in the searing kiss that closed the gap between his lips and yours. Hyunjin’s kisses were passionate, palettes of red and orange that swept you off your feet time and time again, but they weren’t all consuming. His fire was warm, homely, loving, and you quickly found yourself wondering why you had any doubts in the first place.

“Is that what was worrying you?” He murmured, pulling away with bright eyes as he brushed the hair away from your face, “That I wouldn't want to leave this life for you?”

“Oh, I didn't doubt that you'd leave if that was what I truly wanted,” you assured him, your hands resting against his chest as he listened intently to every word you said, “And that worried me. I don't want to make you choose between me and your life here.”

Hyunjin shook his head, brushing your cheek with his gentle, yet calloused fingers, “You've got it all wrong, my darling,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours for a short moment before pulling away, “Come with me?”

Confused, excited and only slightly worried, you followed him wordlessly, placing your safety in his hands without question, as you've always done. Hyunjin led you back inside the estate, but not back towards the party that you were so obviously trying to avoid. Instead, he took you somewhere the music seemed to blend into the peaceful silence and where the mindless chatter faded into nothingness.

"Am I even allowed to be here?" You were pretty sure you had no need to whisper, but you still found yourself doing it.

“I'm allowed, so you're allowed by association,” Hyunjin said with a smile, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face as he laced your fingers together, tugging you down the hallway until he stopped at a particular room.

“Miss?” He bowed dramatically, making you giggle as he opened the door, pulling you in.

You looked around the space, a quaint little thing with a small office desk and a simple bed, but everything was clearly expensive and high quality. Even though most of the design and decor was quite minimal, there were little touches like the choice of wooden, the scent of the candle, the distinct stuffed animal that you remembered was once Nari’s. It all just screamed Hyunjin.

“Is this your room?” You asked with a soft laugh, brushing your fingers against the wooden surface of his drawer before picking up the small stuffed bear.

“Yes. I didn't need much space, and I'm not here often, so I just took one of the smaller guest rooms,” Hyunjin chuckled before turning and seeing you with the familiar stuffed animal in your hands. His expression morphed into one of nostalgic happiness at the memory of someone that meant the world to him and pain at the reminder of his own failure, “Oh, that was one of Nari's stuffies.”

“I remember,” you found yourself smiling sadly, lost in the memories as you squeezed the stuffed animal gently.

Hyunjin walked over, eyes distant as he gently placed his hand on it's head, “Wherever I used to watch over Nari while you ran errands, she always wanted me to play with this stuffed animal in particular,” he chuckled softly, “I always want to have a part of her in my life, so I held onto it. I hope that's alright with you.”

Your eyes watered as you gazed up at the man who you loved unconditionally. Such a gentle soul, a person who'd treasure all that were close to him, a man who had such a natural instinct to nurture and care for others.

“Of course, it's alright,” you smiled, placing the stuffed animal down, “I-it's more than alright. She always loved it when you came around to see her.”

Hyunjin chuckled, wiping the corner of your eye with a delicate swipe of his finger before gently guiding you to his desk, “Close your eyes, my darling.”

“Why?” You raised a suspicious eyebrow as your hip leaned against the desk and Hyunjin stood before you.

“Because!” His lips curled into a pout, “I have a surprise for you.”

“You better not have bought me another shawl, darling. I don't mind that the last one got a small tear in it,” you berated him preemptively, worried that Hyunjin had fallen back into his habit of overly indulging you for the sake of making you happy.

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkled, and you wondered briefly if he was the only person who seemed to enjoy being nagged at, “Just close your eyes, darling. Please?”

Oh, he wasn’t playing fair anymore, not as he flashed those irresistible puppy eyes, and you could do little more than let your eyes flutter shut. You felt his hands take yours, guiding you to open your hands with your palm facing upward. Giddy with anxiety, your confusion was palpable as you felt a featherlight weight fall into your hands.

“Alright, open.”

When you opened your eyes, you could barely hide your puzzled expression as you inspected the piece of paper that Hyunjin placed in your hands. Unfolding it, you scanned through the contents to get to the chase and then--

The paper fell to the ground as you let out an audible gasp, whipping your head up to glance at your lover. It was his sheepish, excited and slightly anxious expression that truly made it real to you.

“Was that a good gasp or a bad gasp?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s…” you swallowed, still trying to sort through the plethora of emotions that were clouding your mind, “it’s real.”

Hyunjin couldn’t fight his smile, realizing that he’d made you speechless for one of the first times in his life, “It is, darling.”

“B-but, it’s right in that secluded area outside of town, the place that I always--” you spun around to face Hyunjin, utterly dumbfounded, “How did you know?”

The assassin laughed, picking up the deed which you had rather unceremoniously dropped on the floor, “We were taking the carriage back to your bakery once, and I noticed the way you looked at the cottages in that area. Plus, you mentioned once that you’d want to live a simple and secluded life, and this location fit your description quite perfectly. It’s nothing really--”

Your lips pressed against his as you shut him up with a sweet kiss, cupping his cheeks and holding him close, “I love you,” you murmured without an ounce of hesitation as you pulled away from Hyunjin, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

Hyunjin looked dazed, utterly lovestruck as he gazed into your eyes, pulling you towards him as he sat on the edge of his desk, “Do you like it?” He asked softly, playing with your fingers and making you smile. Oh, Hyunjin, always so eager to please, so eager to do things right for you, to make your life easier. You wondered how you ever deserved such a lover.

“I do,” you smiled softly, looking down at your hands.

“It’s a small cottage, but it has enough space for us and...more...if that situation ever arises,” Hyunjin’s ears seemed to redden, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he was so gently insinuating.

“I love it,” you whispered, watching as your fingers laced together.

Hyunjin’s eyes brightened, “You do?”

“I do,” you smiled at his eagerness, “Do you? Do you want this life? I won’t fault you at all if you do not--”

“Oh, my darling,” Hyunjin murmured, gazing into your eyes as you drowned in his loving gaze, his bottomless affections for you that gave you the butterflies even after so long, “When will you realize that I want nothing more than to live a quiet, simple life with you? When will you realize that some of my most treasured moments were with you and Nari in your cramped little bakery? All I've ever wanted was to find a nice, quaint little location that wasn't too far from the town, and for us to grow old there together…”

Your eyes welled with unshed tears as you brought his hand to your lips, kissing it gingerly, “That’s all I want, too,” you confessed, “I want to live quietly and happily with you, put our suffering behind us…”

Hyunjin was silent for a moment before he tugged you towards him, “If that’s what we both want,” he trailed off, red dusting his cheeks as he looked down, “would you like to get married?”

It wasn’t a sudden proposal. Hyunjin and you had vaguely mulled over the idea for months now, especially since it was becoming increasingly clearer that the two of you loved no one but each other. But to hear those direct words falling from his lips, with no lighthearted quips or jabs to deflect the sincerity of it, it utterly floored you.

The assassin took your silence for doubt, and he looked back up at you with shining eyes, “I know you had bad experiences with your past marriage. My line of work isn’t exactly stable either. But, Y/N, I’ll spend my life showing you that a future with me will be worth your while. Would you,” he swallowed nervously, “would you let me do just that, my darling?”

“Oh, darling,” you murmured, reaching forward and cupping his cheek with your hand. He leaned into it almost desperately, “You have nothing to prove, nothing to show. We’re equals in this relationship,” you smiled, standing on your tiptoes and gently pecking him on the nose, “And yes, I’d love to marry you, Hyunjin.”

The childlike sparkle in his eyes made you giggle as you watched him physically process your words. Slight confusion, then disbelief, then awe.

“Really?! Oh, my love, I’m so happy!” Hyunjin lifted you in his arms, spinning you around as you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. When he placed you down, he fumbled around in his back pocket, eyes wide, “I-I can’t believe I forgot this! We were having such a soft moment and the question just slipped out of my mouth--”

Giggles burst from your lips as Hyunjin finally managed to pull out a black velvet box, revealing a small, simple, yet priceless diamond ring. It was so undeniably Hyunjin to get so caught up in proposing that he’d forget to present the engagement ring to you, and you found the two of you chuckling about it up until he gingerly slipping the silver band onto your third finger.

“Oh, I do have a request from Jisung, who wants to be present at the wedding,” Hyunjin said when the two of you were finally curled up in his bed, embracing each other’s warmth.

“I’d be happy to invite him,” you chuckled, looking down at your finger and at the glimmering stone that now rested on it, “It’s beautiful, by the way. The ring.”

Hyunjin smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair, “I passed a jewelry shop when I was running some errands for your bakery, and it just reminded me so much of you,” he said, brushing his fingers across is, “Elegant and beautiful.”

“Such a flatterer,” you complained to hide the heat in your cheeks.

“Oh, no no. There will be much more of that now that we’re engaged,” Hyunjin teased, tickling your waist, “I hope you’re prepared.”

And you were prepared, alright. All of the trials, tribulations, and the joys of marriage, you were ready for all of it as long as Hyunjin was by your side.

fin.

#i hope you liked it furat! :>#happy belated birthday!#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin oneshot #my fics

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cityoftheangelllls · 3 years

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Entry 6 in my historical Disney Princess series: a beauty but a funny girl, that Belle!

I’ve really been looking forward to doing this one because Belle is my favorite Disney lady (tied with Cinderella) and I’ve also got a thing for fashion from the second half of the 18th century. I knew firsthand that Disney’s Beauty and the Beast would have to take place during the 1700s, since the original fairy tale, “La Belle et le Bete” was first published in the 1740s and a good handful of the concept art shows that the artists and animators were definitely going for an 18th century flair. Of course, like any Disney movie, it has its inaccuracies - one of them being the silverware forming the Eiffel Tower, which wasn’t completed until 1889, during “Be Our Guest”. They could have gone with Notre-Dame, but I guess audiences would have recognized the Eiffel Tower more. I don’t know. Anyway, B&TB has always had an 18th century flair to me, and this is retained in the (needless to say, atrocious) live-action remake, so that’s what I went with for Belle. For a time frame for research, I chose the 1760s - 70s, since fashions from this era seemed to suit Belle much better than the outrageous court gowns from during the French Revolution.

Working-class clothing for women seems to have changed little during the second half of the 18th century, so designing my historically-inspired version was easy enough. It consists of an underskirt/petticoat, a jacket/short gown (an upper layer worn by lower class people that saved fabric and also allowed for mixing and matching garments), an apron (as per the original design), and a fichu, a sort of lightweight shawl. Along with this extant example of a middle-class ensemble (wasn’t sure if it was too rich for a working class outfit? Anyway I thought it was pretty and suited Belle), I studied several paintings and drawings of working-class women from between the 1750s and 1770s, such as this and this. This and this were also a great help. I also gave her a mob cap and a bergere hat, like this one, as a working-class woman like Belle most likely would have covered her head while going out and about although I added a few haphazard strands of hair poking out, as in the movie, as I always thought those wayward strands of hair described Belle's carefree, easygoing personality so wonderfully. I also thought it would be a fun, period-accurate way to incorporate the hair ribbon she wears in the original design. The pink striped pattern I added to her short gown was just a pop of color other than blue, to avoid monotony.

The green library gown and pink "Something There" gown are essentially combos of a bunch of different "robes a la Anglaise" from between the 1750s and 1770s. The green gown, for instance, contains the general shape, underskirt, and ruffled trims down the overskirt of this gown, the ruffle around the neckline, button-front, and sleeves of this gown, and the floral pattern of this gown. The pink one is modeled after this dress and features similar trims to this gown (the pink one) and a fichu with a rose in the center like the one on this dress. And, with both outfits, I designed Belle's hairstyles after this portrait from the 1770s, of a woman whose hairstyle already looks a lot like Belle's ballgown hair! So I guess that style was pretty much accurate after all! My goal for both of these outfits was to design dresses that were lush and elegant, dresses that would have been in the Beast's castle, but not as extravagant as Belle's ballgown, as I wanted to depict Belle adjusting to life in the castle. Oh, and I also included another view of Belle in the pink dress, this time with a cloak, inspired in part by this one, over it.

And, last but certainly not least, we have her ball gown. I swear, I designed and scrapped at least two ideas for this one. It was the one I was looking forward to doing most, but in the end the hardest to design. I ended up looking at so! many! gowns!!! for inspiration. I found two mustard yellow robes a la francaise from the 1760s that absolutely screamed Belle so of course I had to throw a bit of them in there. I was also hugely inspired by the portraits of Madame de Pompadour by Francois Boucher, specifically this one and this one. They are from the 1750s, but I felt it would make sense for Belle's gown - hell, any of the dresses kept within the castle - to be from a decade or two ago, since the Beast kept himself in isolation from the world for a decade. And they give off huge Belle vibes too - the frills, the trims, the roses - ESPECIALLY the roses! After all, I wanted there to be a few touches of color in this sea of golden yellow - more specifically, ornamentation in the form of red roses. The trim at the bottom of the underskirt is a shout-out to the sashes adorning the skirt of Belle's gown in the original design. I was initially against adding bows to the stomacher, but I had no idea what to do otherwise, so I went with the bows, and now I think they look exquisite and don't take too much away from the other details! What do you think?

Commissions info

#disney #disney fanart #belle #beauty and the beast #historical disney #historical belle #my art #beauty and the beast 1991 #18th century #georgian #rococo

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

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Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 04

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, future smut

; Word Count: 5.2k

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: I swear, it’s so hard getting back into writing because I’m permanently convinced that everything I write is bad lol. If you enjoy reading this, please let me know by leaving me an ask or writing a comment on a reblog! I appreciate all the comments I get and it helps to inspire me on <3

Last Chapter ; Next Chapter

The Winter Solstice Ball was a newer tradition at Hogwarts. Before the Battle of Hogwarts, there hadn’t been anything resembling the ball that would happen. The closest you knew of was the Yule Ball, but that only occurred whenever there was a Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Something that hadn’t occurred since the unfortunate events of 1994, when poor Cedric Diggory had been murdered by the dark wizard Voldemort. As expected, it had been mutually agreed that the tournament should no longer continue to ensure there could never be another event like Diggory’s death.

Admittedly, that had been a rather unique set of circumstances. The inclusion of the wizard, Harry Potter, in the Tournament had been arranged by dark wizards on the behest of Voldemort, meaning that Diggory’s death had been even more tragic as he wasn’t meant to be there.

In an attempt to bring more cheer to what should be a happy holiday, Hogwarts had started the Winter Solstice Ball tradition. Unlike the Yule Ball, all years were invited to attend and it also wasn’t on Christmas Day. Instead, it was held on the last day of term and was just a fun event for everyone to enjoy and let off some steam after their first semester back.

You’d always enjoyed it as a student; feeling like a grownup during the first few years and using it as a great way to flirt with boys when you were older. There hadn’t been a year that you hadn’t loved going to it.

It felt a little odd this time though as you were attending as a professor, which meant you had the job of chaperoning all the excited students for the evening. As such, you were excited for an entirely different reason as you would get to watch the First Year’s experience of the ball.

The House Elves had gone all out when decorating the Great Hall today, bringing the feeling of winter inside and taking your breath away. Standing by the open doors, you look around cavernous space with wide eyes and a bright smile. Chaeyoung was next to you, a dress of starlight gracing her body and highlighting just how beautiful she is.

You’d already complimented her as soon as you’d spotted her, admiring the elegant design of her dress and how the tiny crystals are sewn into the fabric reminded you so much of sunlight hitting frost on a winter’s day. Her long black hair was curled into soft waves with her fringe pinned away from her face with a delicate snowflake.

Where she was all light and ice, you were the sumptuous darkness of winter. Your dress was a sumptuous royal blue around your chest which slowly blended into deep midnight by your feet, a shawl of the lightest chiffon in a dark blue around your shoulders. Silver glinted occasionally, threads of it woven through the fabric of your dress and adding a little sparkle alongside the dainty silver necklace around your neck.

The two of you made a striking pair and the combination of a full face of beautiful makeup combined with the jaw-dropping dress made you feel like the prettiest girl in the room. Whether that was true or not, you didn’t care.

The hall itself matched the colour scheme of you both with long swathes of gauzy fabric in rich lavender, crisp white and shimmering silver decorating the tall windows and streaming from the ceiling. Tonight, the ceiling had been enchanted to show clouds backlit by a full moon and tiny flakes of snow fell. They didn’t reach the ground though, melting away a few metres away from the tallest person in the room.

Candles lit the room in all corners, hovering in the air and situated around the room and the tables. A large open space in the centre of the hall was reserved for dancing while a raised section before it hosted the musical entertainment for the night. Small tables surrounded the floor, each only big enough for six people and with white cloths embroidered with tiny snowflakes in silver.

Platters piled high with finger foods dotted the tables alongside empty goblets and jugs of pumpkin juice and butterbeer. A few of the ghosts that haunted Hogwarts floated through the tables, greeting the formally dressed students with cheer and getting into a few conversations with some of them.

Already the hall was filling nicely, students greeting you happily as they rushed inside to meet up with friends and a few of them had already begun to dance. Some of them danced together, trying to figure out how to ballroom dance with the typical awkwardness of teenagers discovering their hormones, and others danced in friend groups. The latter seemed to just be having fun, shaking their bodies wildly to the beat of the music.

“I remember doing that.” Gesturing towards a group of mixed house Fourth Years, you grin at Chaeyoung before chuckling at the memory of dancing like that with Jisoo, Robert and Candace. That had been your ‘group’ of loyal friends throughout your years at Hogwarts, though only Jisoo had remained a close friend once you’d all left.

“Merlin...me too. I had no rhythm back then. Still don’t. Dancing is not for me.” Chuckling, you lean into her and push until she staggers away from you a little before returning the gesture. Glancing around the hall, you note the more introverted people sitting at the tables and sipping at drinks. They don’t seem to be uncomfortable but you resolve to check up on them throughout the night to make sure they’re okay.

“One thing I do love about working with such handsome men here? They make the ball so much better to enjoy.” Chaeyoung hums over the top of her goblet of butterbeer, her refined brows rising in amusement as she looks across the hall. Following her gaze, you have to hide a smile as you take in the sight of some of Hogwarts most eligible bachelor professors and how well they smarten up.

Park Jimin is standing next to Kim Taehyung, his silver hair styled even more elegantly than normal while his dress robes look to have been perfectly tailored to his slim body. A white bow tie adorns his neck and he’s smiling at whatever Taehyung had told him. The Gryffindor Head has his usual boxy smile and you note that he scrubs up just as nicely. Together, they make a lethal pair in terms of looks.

“Now, now,” You muse lightly, looking over to Chaeyoung with mischief on your face. “We’re here to chaperone, not to swoon over good looking men like the teenagers we teach.”

A derisive snort is the only response she gives you, but you see that she’s not taken her eyes off the two younger men. Idly, you wonder which would make the perfect partner for her. You’d consider Taehyung to be a good candidate as their fun-loving natures would get on well, but there’s something about Jimin that makes you think he’d be an even better pick.

She wouldn’t even have to change her last name.

Any more thoughts you have on the subject vanish when the newest professor walks through the door. Black hair made darker from some kind of styling gel is swept up from his forehead, a strand or two falling stubbornly and giving him an almost charming appearance. Deep black robes sweep from his shoulders, covering up a suit that highlights his body in all the right ways.

Unlike Jimin and Taehyung, his outfit was completely black and you swallowed instinctively as you let your eyes run down his frame. Hoseok pauses at the doorway, pink lips moving as he talks to Nayeon, the divination professor. She looks pretty in a floaty dress of bubblegum pink and fizzing lilac, her smile genuine and eyes sparkling as she looks up at him.

Lips twisting, you turn away from the sight and don’t even notice the way Chaeyoung is watching you closely, her lips turning up in a smile she tries to hide. Looking away from you, she catches Seokjin’s questioning expression across the hall and nods at him subtly, enjoying the way the astronomy professor gets a determined look on his face.

“Speaking of men who are too beautiful to be real, Jung Hoseok always looks so good at these events. How is a man like that allowed to even exist?” There’s a breathy note to Chaeyoung’s voice, causing you to frown at her a little before looking back over in his direction.

Nayeon is still standing there, a forlorn expression gracing her face as she watches Hoseok move away from her. It’s only then that you realise he’s walking towards you, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. Confusingly, you’re a little unsure of what to do or how to act.

Not when he’s looking like that. This is not the shy and awkward Hoseok with his dress robes too big for him, the only memory you have of him at the Winter Solstice Ball. He couldn’t be any further from that teenager and you don’t know how to handle that.

Especially when he gives you that breathtaking smile, his cheeks rising and dimpling while his dark eyes shine in delight. You should’ve known the Jung genes would result in him growing into an attractive man; his sister was one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen.

“Y/N, Chaeyoung,” He bows his head to you both, that smile just as prominent and you nod back to him a little awkwardly. “You both look beautiful tonight. Winter is personified with your colours, it’s nice.”

For a moment, you’re a little lost for words on how to respond to him. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been so casually complimented, especially from a man. A man as attractive as him. It causes you to swallow wrong and you cough loudly, pressing a hand to your throat.

“Thanks, you’re looking pretty fine yourself tonight,” Chaeyoung teases him, causing that smile to become a little more bashful. “Anyway, I’m going to leave you two alone for a moment, okay? I need to go talk to Seokjin about something.”

You watch her go with wide eyes, noting with suspicion that she’s moving a little faster than you’d expect and you wonder if she’s up to something. But then you realise that you’re being left alone with Hoseok, who’s casually looking you up and down while you’re attention is elsewhere.

It’s only when he catches your eye when you look back, a brow raised, that he realises you’ve caught him. Hoseok turns his head quickly, probably giving himself whiplash and you have to hide the snort at the soft blush on his cheeks.

He may be all grown up now, but he still reminded you of that shy boy who never quite knew how to talk to you.

Reaching out, you poke at his chest and grin at him.

“She’s right, you are looking good tonight. Cleaned up very well.” Hoseok gives you a droll stare and you laugh, feeling any awkwardness rushing away as you both fall into the easy-going nature of your friendship.

The rest of the evening goes by in much the same manner with the two of you separating on occasion to handle issues with students or just to do a walk around. Apart from that though, you both end up spending more time with each other than with anyone else. Conversation flows easily like a fast-moving river and you find yourself laughing more than you have in a while.

You only have to break up one fight between two young boys; the culmination of weeks of tension between the two finally bubbling over. It starts with raised voices before escalating to blows, resulting in you escorting the two to Madame Pomfrey to check for any injuries. After that, you leave them in the hands of Park Jimin to discipline them given their house.

When you get back, you look around for Hoseok or Chaeyoung. You can’t see either of them, causing you to take up a place at the back against the wall to observe for any fallout from the fight. Thankfully, the mood seems to have picked up and you wonder if that’s got anything to do with the more upbeat music that’s being played.

It was never nice watching your students get into fights with each other or lose friendships, but you knew that was part of growing up. The thing about teenagers, and kids, was that they were incredibly resilient. You did not doubt that they would both be back to being friends within a week or so.

“All sorted?” Comes a deep voice to the right, the sound closer than you expected and causing you to jump slightly. Turning to look, you note that Hoseok has turned up out of nowhere and you relax at the sight of his familiar face.

“Yeah, no injuries to each other apart from wounded pride and friendships.” That causes Hoseok to snort and roll his eyes, leaning back against the wall alongside you. Suddenly, you recall how many times Jisoo complained of having to comfort her brother when he’d had yet another fight during his tenure at Hogwarts.

“I’m sure you know all about that, Mr Jung. I remember Jisoo having to deal with you. You were shy but a firecracker.” He sighs deeply and you lean into him, giggling as you regale him with some of the tales she’d told you. Thankfully, he takes it all with his usual good nature and you end up segueing into other memories of your time at Hogwarts.

The exams and the studying, the professors back then and your favourite subjects. It’s something he already knows as you’ve both discussed it previously, but he indulges you and listens amiably while keeping an eye out.

You’re stopped though when he suddenly interrupts you, straightening slightly.

“Would you like to dance? There’s not as many people out there now and you haven’t danced once tonight.” His question is abrupt, causing you to falter in your conversation. Narrowing your eyes, you look him over closely and wonder if he’s being serious. And you conclude that he is.

Looking over at the dance floor, you contemplate for a moment and chew your lip before nodding. Now it’s your turn to feel shy, avoiding his gaze and trying not to catch the eye of anyone else in the hall as he leads you carefully to the floor.

There’s probably a few statues in the British Museum that are less stiff than you as you turn to him, feeling his hand as he settles it on your lower back. You’re hyper-aware of that hand; how hot it feels against you even with the fabric of the dress between you. But that pales in comparison to the feel of his hand against your own, the way he holds it almost tenderly.

Logically, you know that he’s doing that because that’s how you’re supposed to dance like this. A light touch, but it makes you feel a little strange. You’re not sure why it makes you feel like that and you find yourself staring at his long fingers, wondering if he kept up the piano he’d been taught when younger.

The music leads you both in the dance, each beat dictating where you move and you’re vaguely aware of the students dancing around you. None of them are staring or looking confused as there had been many professors who had danced together tonight. But you couldn’t help but feel like this dance was a little different.

This was the closest you’d ever been to Hoseok and his body is so close to your own that you can physically feel the heat coming from him. Every breath you take brings the smell of him into your nose, the familiar mix of rich wood and lemongrass that is so, undeniably Hoseok. And underlying all that is the smell that’s unique to him.

“Is this okay?” He asks quietly and you stare at the black button-up covering his chest, avoiding his gaze given how close the two of you are. It’s probably not the best thing to do when you realise that shirt is straining a little and you can see the outline of his torso from the light of the nearby candles.

Swallowing hard, you look over his shoulder and try to ignore the sudden knowledge that Hoseok is buff beneath his clothes. Which doesn’t help, because you find your eye trailing down his chest as you consider. It’s only when you reach his belt buckle that you suddenly look away, taking a deep breath and wondering what was wrong with you.

You’d had one too many butterbeers tonight or something, which was a terrible excuse as it had such little alcohol content that it didn’t even matter. This was Jisoo’s brother, her little brother. Not someone you should be thinking about half-naked.

Right?

Finally, though, you register his question and nod quickly in response. You’re not sure that you can talk to him without saying something inappropriate as your brain isn’t working very well right now. Not when you’re so confused about...well everything.

“Are you sure? You’ve gone a little weird. Quiet.” Hoseok murmurs, his voice low to avoid any of the students overhearing it. Sighing, you stand a little straighter before looking at him directly and giving him a firm smile. It takes a little more effort than you’d like to push away those errant thoughts but you do so.

“Fine, just worried about those students. I hate seeing their friendship ruined and them angry at each other, you know?” It’s not a lie as you are still concerned about them, but he doesn’t need to know everything going on in your head. Which is why you’re thankful when he nods slowly before spinning you around.

“They’ll be okay. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that they’ll be back to being friends sooner rather than later. They’ve already got some of that testosterone out by punching each other, which I’d rather they didn’t do but Jimin will talk it out with them. Don’t worry too much, they’ll be fine.” It’s sweet how considerate he’s being and you can hear how genuine he is in his voice.

You don’t get to say anything else though as the tempo increases when the song switches over, causing Hoseok to twirl you away from him with a laugh. All around you the dances start to get a little more energetic and you can’t help but shriek with joy as he matches the student’s enthusiasm, listening to them as they cheer at two of their professors getting involved in the frivolities.

Neither of you notices the way Seokjin and Chaeyoung watch you both closely before smirking at each other.

Glancing around the room, you note how most of the students had already left and gone to bed for the night. The clock had struck midnight a while ago and you had to press a hand to your mouth as you yawned, turning your head away to be polite. A few remaining students were still dancing on the floor but even as you watched, some of them started to walk towards the exit.

Looking over at Chaeyoung, you caught her eye with a wave and smiled with relief when she nodded and made a shooing gesture. Turning to Hoseok, you tried to hide another yawn and almost giggled when you saw that he’d caught one from you, his mouth wide as he didn’t even try to hide it.

“I think we can go now. Chaeyoung gestured that we can leave so I think they’re going to hustle the last students to bed. Something which I’m also very excited to do because I feel like I’ve been awake for two days right now.” Blinking and almost trying to stretch your eyelids by widening them as far as you could, you almost missed the way Hoseok laughed at your antics.

“Tired? It’s not even two in the morning, I expected better of you.” He teases, gently pushing his elbow into your arm before avoiding your hand as you try to swat him. You’d admit that he looked a lot more awake than you did, which you’d say wasn’t fair but you don’t think you’ve ever truly seen him look tired.

“Well, you’re still young and spry. You’ll learn when you get to my age.” Moving off towards the doors of the Great Hall, you grab a tiny triangular sandwich from one of the remaining platters on a table as you pass by.

Light pressure on the small of your back causes you to arch slightly, your chest moving forward and you tilt your head to look at your companion. There’s no expression on Hoseok’s face, nothing to indicate he’s affected by touching you and you frown slightly as you wonder why it’s affecting you.

“You’re not old, I don’t know why you keep thinking that.” He murmurs, voice deep and quiet.

Neither of you says anything more for a few minutes, instead just walking quietly through the hallways. It’s a comfortable silence and you muse for a moment on how much you’ve come to enjoy spending time with him. You would happily say that he was your closest friend here at Hogwarts; something you would’ve never thought would happen when you were studying here and he was just your best friend’s little brother.

That makes you think of how defensive he always gets whenever you, or anyone else, seems to imply that you’re old. Huffing out a laugh, you bite your lip as you contemplate that for a second. Maybe he doesn’t like the implication that you, and by extension, his sister, are considered ‘older’ by the students. Or that he’s also approaching thirty.

The student’s opinions have never bothered you as they think anyone over the age of twenty is old. Nor have you been concerned overall, given the extended lifespan that witches had compared to muggles. You were finally feeling content with your career and your life, something you attested partly to growing older and becoming more at ease with yourself.

But he always got so defensive of it, so maybe he was concerned about himself.

“You don’t have to keep defending my age, you know,” Apparently you were going to query this with him and you blamed the butterbeer for loosening up your tongue. “I’m okay with it, honestly. Which means I’m okay with joking about it.”

Hoseok stiffened slightly and you spotted his expression looking a little uneasy. Frowning, you placed a hand on his arm and pulled him to a stop. Your quarters were only a few corridors away now and the two of you were given a warm glow from the candles lit nearby.

“I’m not defending...I mean, okay maybe I am. I just...I don’t want you to feel like it’s an issue.” Now you’re giving him an amused look, lip quirked up on one side as you try to hold in a small giggle.

“It’s not an issue. Have I made it seem like it was?” Tilting your head, you watch as his eyes dart across your face in an almost shy manner.

“No...well, not in the way you might think,” He looks uncomfortable and you’re about to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to continue but he does so before you get the chance to speak. “I’m just made every aware of our age difference. You know, the whole ‘you’re her best friend’s little brother’ thing.”

“Hey, I don’t do that, do I?” Now you’re a little concerned.

“No, not really. Not for a while anyway. You did when you first got here but I understood that. We hadn’t met in a while and everyone was curious about how we knew each other. But now...I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Honestly, it’s not important. You’re right.” Hoseok’s babbling a bit but you decide to let him change the conversation. You’re not entirely sure why it truly bothers him, but you’re not going to press it anyway. He deserves to have his feelings and they don’t need to be analysed.

“Okay-” Before you can say anything else, you hear the quiet chiming of bells and frown in confusion. The sound echoes a little in the empty corridor, simultaneously creepy and also ethereal.

Hoseok looks around as well, his brow knitted in confusion before he suddenly spots something about you both. Following him, you note the odd plant that’s grown from the ceiling out of nowhere. The green branches are still growing and you note with interest the small white berries that seem to be forming and familiar leaf shapes appear at the end of each branch.

A red ribbon is delicately wrapped around the stems and you see the little golden bells that let out tiny chimes as they rock from side to side in a non-existent breeze. Now you’re the one frowning as you look around you both, trying to spot who’d set a mistletoe charm to grow when someone walked beneath it.

“Mistletoe?” Hosek whispers, reaching up with one hand in an attempt to touch it. He can’t reach it and you sigh, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Someone has thought it’d be funny to put mistletoe charms around the castle for the ball. Certainly adds to the Christmas spirit. I’ve seen these popping up all night above couples on the dance floor. I think it’s a seasonal Weasley thing, seems like something they’d sell to annoy people.”

The mistletoe is suddenly snowing, letting tiny snowflakes drift to the ground around you both and leaving fluffy snow to settle on Hoseok’s hair and dress robes. How very romantic, you muse to yourself.

“Does it just disappear on its own after a while?” He asks, running his fingers through his hair to try and get rid of some of the snow. Smiling at him, you gently brush at his shoulders only to decide it’s a losing battle as more snow lands.

“Nope. You gotta kiss, that’s the whole point of mistletoe, right? Otherwise, it follows you around.” Hoseok sighs deeply and rolls his eyes.

“Of course it does. Definitely a Weasley thing.”

Looking back up at the mistletoe, and having to blink to avoid getting snowflakes in your eyes, you purse your lips before looking back at Hoseok. You’d long since come to terms with the fact that you find him attractive; anyone with eyes can see that. But you hadn’t planned on doing anything about it, not given who he was and who his sister was to you.

His words from earlier play through your mind though, and you wonder if he hates having to constantly know he’s given the best friend’s little brother status. Even now, months after you’d arrived and you considered him a friend, you knew that there were still people who thought of that as the most defining characteristic of your friendship.

Letting out a little sigh, you straighten your shoulders before reaching out and taking hold of his dress robes. Fuck it, you’re not one to waste a perfect chance.

Pulling him closer, you watch as his eyes dart to yours and widen when he realises that you’re moving towards him as well. And then those same eyes flick to your lips, the movement so fast that you’d almost miss it if it wasn’t for the fact that he did again only seconds later.

Combined with the zero resistance he was giving, you came to the solid conclusion that he wasn’t going to reject you. Not when you were giving him plenty of time and reason to back out if he wanted to.

Tilting your head to him, you felt his warm breath as it caressed your face, the smell of butterbeer strong. And then your lips are pressed together, neither of you sure who made the final move and neither of you gives a damn at that exact moment.

The pressure of your lips against each other is gentle at first, almost hesitant as both of you try to figure out where to go from here. All that was required was a kiss, which was what you were both doing right now. But you didn’t quite want to let him go just yet, not when you knew he probably had so much more to offer.

Shifting, you manoeuvred your way into a position that made the kiss a little more personal and no longer like two teenagers who’d never kissed in their life. Letting go of his robes, your arms move to wrap around his neck and you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying how soft the black strands feel against your fingers.

A quiet noise leaves Hoseok, his arms sliding around your waist to pull you a little closer to him while he kisses you more forcefully than before. It feels...you can’t even find the words to describe how it feels, only knowing that you’re not entirely sure you want him to stop.

Any hesitation has disappeared between you both and you simply lose yourself to the delightful feeling of Jung Hoseok against your lips, against your body and how he feels under your fingertips. It’s only when he moves a little further, his tongue asking for entrance to fire up the kiss even more, that you suddenly come to your senses.

Pushing back from him, you stare with wide eyes and only just realise that the bells have stopped. A glance up shows the mistletoe is gone and you breathe a little heavily, not realising that you’d kissed him that forcefully until now. Hoseok looks just as out of breath with an odd look in his eyes that you can’t quite figure out.

Licking at your lips, and trying to ignore the knowledge that you could probably taste him right now, you run your hands down the front of your dress robes before giving him a slightly awkward smile. Coughing, you turn your eyes away from the strangely intense gaze he’s giving you.

“Erm, well it’s gone now. So...we’re not gonna be followed by mistletoe anymore,” Playing with your fingers, you wonder if you made a very bad decision tonight. “I, erm, I’m gonna go to bed now. It’s late and...well...yeah. Thank you, for walking me here and spending time with me, you know, dancing and all that. It was nice, I had a good time and thank you. Yeah, I already thanked you. Err...get to bed safely, okay? I mean, I…”

Hoseok reaches out and takes hold of your nervous hands. It makes you jump nervously, but he just gives a reassuring smile while rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs.

“Y/N...it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go to sleep and have good dreams.” There’s no annoyance in his voice, no anger or outrage that you’ve gone from initiating that kiss to acting very strange in only seconds.

“Yeah...I...you too. You too.” Frowning as you walked away from him, you wondered what in Merlin’s beard you’d just done.

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mikauzoran · 3 years

Text

Adrienette: Minnow (One-Shot)

Summary: When Marinette starts to freak out before a runway show, Adrien is there to help her calm down.

Read it on AO3: Adrienette: Minnow

Peeking out from between the curtains and gazing at the packed venue, Marinette felt like a tiny speck of lint on the shawl of haute couture.

The audience buzzed like a hive of angry bees waiting to sting her to death, and Marinette’s lungs struggled to draw in air.

She didn’t know why she ever thought she could do this. Her designs didn’t belong in a runway show competition judged by a committee of those at the top of industry.

Marinette didn’t belong. Everyone around her was more experienced, more talented.

Where did she, a self-taught seventeen-year-old with an online store, get off thinking she could compete with actual fashion students learning from the best of the best?

“You’re not breathing, are you?” Adrien sighed as he came up behind her.

Marinette jumped and spun around at the touch of his hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes searched his face wildly.

“Shhh, My Lady,” Adrien whispered, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. “Breathe.”

She sucked in a gasping gulp of air like it was the last taste of oxygen she’d ever get before being permanently submerged.

With a frown, Adrien leaned back in and pressed his lips to hers more firmly.

Muscle memory took over, and Marinette automatically fell into their familiar pattern.

As he slowed the pace, turning the kiss more languid, Marinette’s breathing relaxed and evened out until she was smiling and breathing normally when he pulled away.

“Okay?” he inquired giving her a concerned look.

“I just feel so out of place here. What am I doing, Chaton?” She laughed incredulously, as if she couldn’t believe her own audacity.

“You feel out of place because you’re light years ahead of the rest of these guys,” he snorted. “And you’re about to kick everyone else’s butt at this thing. That’s what you’re doing.”

She shook her head as she laughed. “Thanks, but—”

“—But nothing,” he interrupted, gently cupping her cheek and giving her an adoring smile. “You’re phenomenal, Marinette, and your designs are just as amazing. …I wish you could believe in yourself like I believe in you.”

She reached up and tucked a stray lock of his hair back into place. “If I believed in myself like you do, I’d get in trouble for attempting the impossible, thinking I could actually accomplish it.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “And yet, I’ve seen you achieve the impossible on several different occasions. You’ve yet to let me down, Buguinette.”

She pursed her lips, searching for the words with which to refute him. “…Maybe you’re not wrong.”

A triumphant smirk unfurled on his lips.

“I mean…” She took a quick look around to make sure no one would overhear before muttering, “I am freaking Ladybug, for crying out loud. Maybe I’m letting my anxiety get the better of me. Maybe…”

She took a deep breath. “Maybe I’ve got this.”

“That’s my girl,” he praised, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “I have to get back to my place in the model lineup, but don’t forget who you are and what you’re capable of, okay? I believe in you.”

Marinette swallowed and nodded. “Thank you.”

Words couldn’t express how much him having her back and never losing faith in her meant.

He backed away with a wink. “Always.”

#Adrinette #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #MLB #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Fluff #Supportive Adrien #Encouragement #Aged-Up (17)#Writing Prompts #Kissing #Mikau's Writings #Quick Kisses

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prince-of-calydon · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER TWO: SONS OF ILIUM

the second chapter! this is the “intro” to the Sons of Ilium, basically the Trojan side. the brothers all get on each other’s nerves while the Achaeans try to slip in unnoticed.

tw: implied dubcon relationship (Helen and Paris, thanks Aphrodite)

Chapter 2

“Paris, pay attention.” The sudden rebuke snapped the young man out of his thoughts, and he looked up from where his head rested in the crook of Helen’s neck, one of her snow-white swan wings slightly draped around him. She shifted uncomfortably where she sat in his lap, sensing Hector’s irritation.

“Hm?” Hector, his older brother, stared at him disapprovingly, as did the rest of the team. Paris’ most notable feature was his good looks, which he played up in an attempt to strengthen his powers (though really, it had no effect). His wavy hair fell loose just above his shoulders, framing his pretty face almost perfectly. He had the ability to command others with only his voice, which proved instrumental in previous missions. His affair with the wife of one of the Soldiers of Achaea, in which he was lent the aid of the goddess Aphrodite, had been going on for almost nine years. Helen, wife of the Achaean hero known as Wrack (whose name, Paris thought, without the addition of his brother Ruin’s, sounded rather mediocre), remained his lover, forbidden by the goddess from spending time with her husband. The design for Paris’ costume was his idea and featured a cream-white mask that covered only the left half of his face. The deep pink heart on the mask covering the eye served as a callback to his alias, which he chose himself: Heartbreaker.

Hector, on the other hand, looked similar to his younger brother, but sported dark, scruffy stubble, long sideburns, and shorter hair. He, unlike Paris, cared less about the meticulous upkeep of his appearance, and busied himself more with family affairs. He married Andromache, a beautiful young woman, and had a son, who he named Scamandrius. When he wasn't fighting off the Soldiers of Achaea, he was at home, caring for his infant son. His power to create portals with a flick of his hand allowed him to fight both up close and from afar, giving him a special kind of versatility that was valued in combat. It also made him a welcome replacement to public transportation.

“Sorry,” Helen murmured, looking at Hector with her large eyes. His discontent faded as he continued to tell himself Paris was the one at fault, and as he held back less kind remarks towards Paris, a frustrated flush crept across his cheeks.

“He wants you to pay attention,” came a softer, lower voice from the other end of the meeting table, and Paris turned to see Helenus, his dark bangs covering his right eye as he stared at Paris with the same amount of dissatisfaction Hector had shown.

“I can multitask,” Paris claimed as he leaned back complacently in his chair. Hector raised an eyebrow.

“Then I assume you can repeat the plan.” Paris pretended to remember.

“I…” He stopped to think. “We…” He continued to stumble over his words for a few more seconds before shrugging and giving up.

“Would it kill you to have a shred of respect?” Aeneas asked, staring at Paris like a disappointed parent.

He kept his long hair parted to the left, tucked behind his ear and tied back in order to keep most of it out of his face. Unlike the sons of Priam, however, he boasted a divine bloodline born from the union between Aphrodite and a mortal, and his divinely-attractive appearance belied that fact. The dark grey gaiter he wore covered his nose, mouth, and chin, leaving his eyes exposed. With special threads from the Fates woven into the fabric, his hero outfit allowed him to better utilize his power to freeze time for a few minutes.

Helenus’ white shawl greatly contrasted the blue of Hector’s cape, and the white laurel wreath that crowned his temples stood out against his hair. The black mask that surrounded his eyes, however, matched the colour of the chiton he wore beneath the shawl, tied at the waist with a purple belt. Like his twin sister Cassandra, he was gifted powers that extended his sense of perception beyond mortal limits. Where Cassandra received vague and involuntary visions of the future, Helenus was clairvoyant--able to see events happening in places he was absent from. He also possessed the power to leave his own body and take control of another’s, leaving his own catatonic mortal body vulnerable in the process--which had been the inspiration for his alias Phasma. Both twins received messages directly from the heavens, which, although it provided a powerful link between the mortal team and the deathless gods, always left the prophets disoriented, their heads aching and their bodies exhausted.

“I was explaining that the Achaeans have a new recruit who might prove a threat to us,” Hector clarified, irritated. “His name, as far as we know, is Lionheart.” A small portal opened before Paris, and Hector’s hand came through, delivering him a folder with the hero’s picture attached to it, along with other notes made about his appearance, combat, and other things gleaned from the team’s previous encounters with him.

“Super strength and flight?” Paris scanned the file, smirking as he began to formulate a plan. “He sounds like a useful asset. Perhaps Helenus or I could--”

“Perhaps you could stop relying so much on those powers of yours. At this rate, we’re all bound to outlive you,” quipped Troilus, the youngest of Hector’s brothers. He brushed a lock of hair out of his face, the same shade as his older brother’s (he and Paris had done their hair together in the same style as a bonding activity, though there were a couple of days when Paris, annoyed, insisted Troilus was nothing more than a “little copycat”), as he looked for amusement in the eyes of his teammates. Finding nothing, he extended a red-gloved hand to Helenus, the palm of which was cut away to reveal bare skin, looking for a high-five but receiving none. Though he had the power to assume the powers of others, nullifying and stealing in one fell swoop, he was inexperienced in both fighting and strategy, and so often had to rely on Hector’s directions, often addressed to Larcen, his alias. Troilus received nothing but an exasperated glare from his brother.

“Shut up, Troilus.” He immediately fell silent, staring back at Paris. Aeneas glanced from Paris to Troilus.

“Is he…?” Crossing his arms, Troilus leaned back in his chair, silently glaring daggers back at his brother. Helenus snickered. Hector sighed, burying his head in his hands as he tried in vain to regain control of the situation.

“That’s enough!” he shouted, startling the others into silence. “We need to focus on the matter at hand before we have other problems. The Achaeans could very well be on their way here right now, and none of you would be ready!”

-----

Agamemnon, along with Achilles, Menelaus, and Odysseus, slipped into the building through a hidden, dilapidated vent near the back. Odysseus was the last to come through the vent, replacing the cover as he hopped down onto the floor of the storage closet.

“Be quiet and alert,” Agamemnon ordered. “The Trojans could be anywhere.” Achilles nodded; he understood the gravity of the situation. Either the Achaeans would be able to destroy the data and escape, or they would be caught, interrogated, exposed, or even--though he hated to think of it, and hoped the Sons of Ilium would never be so harsh--killed. Agamemnon turned to Odysseus.

“How’s your impression of Larcen?” he asked as Odysseus took off his foxlike mask, handing it to Menelaus.

“Hold this.” Achilles watched as Odysseus’ features quickly adjusted themselves to mirror one of the Sons of Ilium. His hair reshaped itself in an instant, moulding itself into wavy locks topped by a thin headband not unlike the one Achilles wore. His vest, pants, and boots faded, giving way to the illusion of a red-and-white hero suit. He grew a few inches to match his target’s height, and as his beard faded away, he boasted a perfect resemblance to one of the enemy heroes.

“How good do you think it is?” he asked, perfectly mimicking Larcen’s voice.

“Perfect. Now you've got the schematics and the disguise. Lead the way.” Odysseus nodded and moved to the front of the group, heading out of the storage room.

The lower levels of the enemy team’s headquarters were somewhat convoluted, as temporary rooms were constantly set up and torn down as heroes arrived and left. However, thanks to a hidden device Agamemnon and Menelaus snuck in a few years prior, the Soldiers of Achaea had a reliable map (created via sonar as well as the experience of previous infiltrations, many of which went unnoticed) of the entirety of the building’s first and second floors. The Sons of Ilium lived and operated on levels above that, but such knowledge wasn’t as necessary.

They crept through the hallways with ease, Odysseus leading the way. He made quick, tight turns around corners and tried to blend in as much as possible, feigning familiarity and indifference. Achilles, Menelaus, and Agamemnon followed at a distance, pressing themselves up against the wall. Agamemnon bumped shoulders with Menelaus, who had stopped.

“Reynard,” came Menelaus’ hushed, panicked voice from behind Odysseus, calling out to the other hero. “Reynard!” What caught his attention was a shadow growing at the far end of the hallway, but Odysseus was too far ahead to hear him, fiddling with the gloves on his hands in an attempt to act natural.

“Gods…” Achilles rolled his eyes and glanced back at Agamemnon.

“On the floor. Now.” The three trailing behind Odysseus managed to drop to the floor, feigning injury just as one of the Sons of Ilium rounded the corner. Odysseus turned back to look at his “fallen” comrades as Chrome, a much taller--and far broader--hero, approached him, stopping in his tracks as soon as he saw the Achaeans upon the floor.

“What happened?” he asked, staring who he thought was Larcen directly in the eyes.

“I caught them--” Odysseus lied. “--sneaking around.” Chrome walked over to look at Achilles, who lay on the floor pretending to be unconscious.

“Isn’t that the new recruit?” he asked, wheeling around to look back at Odysseus.

“I don’t--”

“Oh, the boss is gonna want to hear about this!” Odysseus gave him a panicked smile, still searching for a way to scheme his way out of the situation. “Damn, how do they keep getting in?” As Chrome began to ask more questions, Odysseus saw Agamemnon slowly and quietly rising to his feet as he approached the enemy, hands ready to strike.

“Ugh, forget this.” Odysseus knocked Chrome to the ground. Agamemnon pressed his palms against the base of the hero’s neck, feeling a sudden burst of energy rush in through his hands. His cry for help died on his lips as he was knocked unconscious. Agamemnon shook the tension from his hands, the familiar sensation of revitalization creeping over him once again as Achilles and Agamemnon got to their feet.

“Yikes.” No matter how many times he saw Agamemnon and Menelaus using their powers, Achilles could never get used to the speed and efficiency with which they were both able to dispatch enemies.

“Let’s keep moving,” Agamemnon ordered, turning back to face Odysseus, who abandoned his Larcen disguise in favour of mimicking Chrome, who was already out of the way. “Lead the way.”

“Sure thing.”

“Reynard?”

“Yes?” Agamemnon breathed a sigh of tense relief.

“Pay attention next time. Please.”

#the iliad #iliad heroverse #prince's prose #full chapter #tw dubcon #tw implied dubcon #hector #paris of troy #helenus #troilus #aeneas #glaucus #agamemnon #achilles #odysseus #menelaus

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alwaysachorusgirl · 4 years

Text

Almost Perfect

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,595

Square: Date Gone Wrong

TW: none, just a lot of sweet, romantic fluff (because I like my Frederick soft, sweet, and romantic)

Tagging: @thatesqcrush, because it’s her Bingo

Notes: So, this ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would. And it looks like some of my paragraph formatting got screwed up when I copy/pasted from MS Word. Sorry about that!

Frederick Chilton took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and mustered up every ounce of courage that he had. He wasn’t expecting you to say yes to having dinner with him. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, he was fully prepared for rejection. He could only hope that you wouldn’t laugh in his face. He took one more breath and knocked on your office door.

“Come in!” You looked up and smiled when you saw your boss, colleague, and friend enter your office at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

“Good Afternoon, Y/N, I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

“Of course not, Frederick! Please, come in! I always have time for you.”

Your smile was warm and kind and made Frederick’s heart skip a beat. He tightened his grip on his cane, hoping it would be enough to hide the slight shaking in his hand. The other hand was holding a patient file, his excuse for coming to see you. His eyes followed you as you stood and walked around your desk to stand in front of him. He had fallen hopelessly in love in with you months prior, after the “incident” with Abel Gideon. You had been there at his bedside when he’d woken in the hospital after surgery. Somehow you managed to come visit him every day, all while getting your own work done, helping to run the BSHCI, and picking up his slack. After he’d been released from the hospital you had organized and scheduled his home care nurse and physical therapist. You had come to see him after you got off work, bringing groceries, cooking meals, and even helping with his laundry. You never asked for anything in return, always claiming that seeing him getting better and stronger was all you needed. He still didn’t completely understand it all, why a beautiful goddess, such as you, would even bother with a miserable wretch like him. But you had, now poor Frederick was too far gone to turn back.

“I, uh, came to return this patient file,” he said, holding out the folder to you.

“Thank you,” you said, taking it from him. “I hope everything was in order?”

“Oh, yes! Your notes are impeccable, as always,” he replied. “You always notice the smallest details that everyone else misses. It makes my job easier in regard to prioritizing cases.”

“Thank you, Frederick, that’s very kind of you to say,” you blushed at his praise, and nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. An awkward moment of silence passed before Frederick spoke up.

“Actually Y/N, there’s something else I’d like to speak to you about, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, it’s alright, Frederick, why don’t we sit down?” You looped your arm through his and led him to the couch. He waited for you to sit down and make yourself comfortable before he occupied the spot next to you. “Now, what did you need to speak to me about?”

“Ah, yes, well…” he paused, completely at a loss for words, and horribly second-guessing himself. His eyes met yours. You were giving him the sweetest and most gentle look. You truly were the most rapturous beauty he had ever seen. He was completely undeserving of you, and he was so certain that there was no way you would ever agree to going out with him.

“Frederick? Are you alright?” Your eyes were now full of concern. You took his hand and held it between both of yours. You could see that he was anxious and nervous about something. You slid closer to him, knowing that your presence seemed to have a way of calming him. “It’s okay, Frederick, I’m right here. You can tell me anything.”

“I truly adore your company,” he finally stammered out.

“And I adore yours as well,” you replied. He breathed a sigh of relief at that.

“Are you, by any chance, busy tomorrow night?”

“No, Frederick, I’m completely free. Did you have something in mind?” You felt the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and your hopes rising. Was he about to finally ask you out?

“Would you be interested in having dinner with me? I mean, I understand if you’re not—” He was shocked into silence by feeling of your soft lips kissing his cheek. Then he saw the radiant smile on your face.

“I would love to have dinner with you, Frederick, nothing would make me happier.”

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

The following evening Frederick arrived promptly at your apartment at 7pm sharp. You buzzed him in and checked your make-up one final time. You didn’t know what restaurant you were going to, you had asked him to “surprise you”, and the only hint that he had given you was that it was a newer, upscale place. You heard his knock on your door, and looked down at your dress, hoping it would pass muster. You checked the peephole to verify that it was him and unlocked and opened the door.

You couldn’t help but smile when you saw him standing there in the hallway. His suit was different than the one he’d been wearing at work that day but was still clearly designer and perfectly tailored. His cane was in one hand, a bouquet of red roses in the other. His own jaw dropped when he saw you. He couldn’t help but wonder as to how he’d gotten so lucky.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” he breathed. He held out the roses. “These are for you.”

“Thank you, Frederick,” you said, kissing him on the cheek, “They’re beautiful, and you look incredibly handsome as always. Come in, please; do I have time to put these in water?”

“Plenty of time, “Frederick replied, stepping inside, “the reservation is for 7:30 and the restaurant is only a few blocks away.”

He glanced around your apartment while you went into the kitchen to find a vase. It was small, but cozy and warm, and decorated to suit your tastes. He wandered over to the shelves where you kept your books. He wasn’t at all surprised to see all of Jane Austen’s works, along with collections of literary essays and criticism of her work. He pulled your well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice off the shelf. You had started reading it to him while he was in the hospital, but he had been released before you could finish it, and the place where you had left off was still marked.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going tonight?” You called from the kitchen.

“How do you feel about La Tempio’s?” He answered, putting the book back on the shelf. You came out of the kitchen with roses now in a vase, and your eyes wide.

“That new fancy vegetarian place that all the restaurant critics are raving about?”

“The very same.” He checked his watch. “And I think we should get going.”

You put the flowers down on the kitchen table, and grabbed a light shawl and your purse, double checking to make sure that you had your keys, phone, and wallet. You heard a fire truck go by outside, sirens blasting, but thought nothing of it. You took Frederick’s arm and let him lead you outside to his car. You were so busy looking at him that you didn’t even register the second fire truck screeching by your apartment building, or the dark gray storm clouds gathering overhead.

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

You and Frederick saw the commotion as you turned onto the street where the restaurant was. There were two firetrucks outside one of the local businesses. Firemen in full gear were scurrying around. Well dressed people were the standing across the street looking concerned. Frederick pulled his car into the first open spot he saw and turned off the engine. You both and walked a bit closer to investigate. You saw a young woman in black dress pants, a white button-down shirt, and a matching maroon vest and necktie and called out to her.

“Excuse me? Miss? Do you know what’s going on?”

“Kitchen fire at La Tempio’s,” she answered, walking over to you. “One second I was serving a table, and the next thing I know, there was smoke coming out of the kitchen, and the Maître D was asking everyone to evacuate quickly and calmly. If you had a reservation, you might want to reschedule. I don’t think the firemen are going to be done anytime soon.”

A loud clap of thunder rumbled overhead, and you all looked up at the darkening sky.

“That doesn’t sound good, “the young woman said. “You might want to head back to your car before- “She was cut off by the deluge of rain that suddenly fell down from above. You quickly thanked her and took Frederick’s arm. You didn’t want him slipping and falling, and you were both already soaked to the bone.

You tried to get back to the car as quickly as possible, but that was when one of your heels slipped and snapped off. You felt your ankle twist at an odd angle as you lost your balance and fell forward. Frederick’s arms reached out and caught you before you hit the pavement, but you felt a sharp pain shoot through your ankle.

“Shit!” You cursed. “I think I just twisted my ankle!”

“It’s alright, Y/N, just lean on me, I’ve got you. We’re almost to the car,” Frederick desperately tried to comfort you. You reached down and took off the broken shoe, limping while Frederick managed to get you both back the car. Once you were inside you both stopped to take a breath and figure out your next move.

“My dear, I’m so sorry. How’s your ankle? Would you like me to take you to the nearest emergency room or urgent care? Just go back to your place?”

“I think I’d much rather go back to your place, if that’s alright,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. You weren’t ready to give up just yet. You knew how nerve-racking it had been for him to ask you out. He needed this. You needed this, and you knew there had to be a way to salvage the evening. “You need some dry clothes and I’m sure you have something that will fit me. We can order take out and stay in, maybe watch a movie? Your couch is extremely comfortable…”

Frederick kissed your hand and nodded. He couldn’t believe how calm and understanding you were being about all this. He started the engine, carefully pulled out of the parking spot, and started the drive back to his place.

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

If anyone had told you that you would wind up on injured on Frederick’s couch tonight, you would have told them they were crazy, but here you were: lounging as comfortably, wearing a pair of his soft pajama pants and one of his button down shirts, your injured ankle in his lap while he tended to it. He finished wrapping and securing the ace bandage, then picked up the waiting towel and ice bag from the coffee table. He draped the towel over your ankle and carefully placed the ice bag on top of it.

“There, “he said, appearing to be quite satisfied with his work. “How does that feel? Has the pain reliever kicked in yet?”

“I think it’s getting there, and you’ve done a wonderful job, Frederick, thank you.”

“It was the least I could, especially given how horribly things have gone tonight.”

“Frederick, please, none of this is your fault! There’s no way either one of us could have predicted what happened.”

“All the same, Y/N- “he was cut off by the sound of the doorbell. “Ah! That would be dinner!” He carefully moved your ankle off his lap and onto a pillow. The couch was full of extra pillows and blankets that he had retrieved while you had been freshening up and changing clothes in the downstairs bathroom earlier. You stretched out while he went to the door. He came back a few minutes later with a large paper bag in his hands. He placed it on the coffee table, then went to the kitchen and came back with silverware, napkins, a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a corkscrew. He had ordered take out from your favorite Italian place, and you watched hungrily as he pulled various containers out of the bag.

“Baked Penne with meat sauce, and extra mozzarella,” he announced, handing you a container and a fork.

“Thank you, Frederick, I love how you always remember my favorite take out orders.” You took the food and dug in. It was perfect, just the way you liked it.

Frederick sat and stared at you for a moment, completely mesmerized. After the way the night had gone, he had fully expected you to reject him, but you were still here, with your kind eyes and sweet smile. He also got a secret thrill from the sight of you wearing his clothes. He thought you looked better in them than he did, but he would never say that aloud. Instead, he reached for the television remote, turned on the TV, and handed the remote to you.

“Put on whatever you like,” he said.

You took the remote and started searching through Netflix until you found exactly what you wanted. You looked at Frederick hopefully.

You okay with The Princess Bride? It’s my favorite.”

“Whatever makes you happy, Y/N,” he replied, opening the wine and filling the two glasses.

You both sat in comfortable silence, eating, drinking and watching the movie, pausing it briefly so that Frederick could clean up and put your leftovers in the fridge.

“Would you like another glass of wine?” he asked when he returned. He saw that you had rearranged yourself so that your ankle and the pillow under it were resting on the coffee table.

“No thank you, but do you know what I would like?” You patted the space next to you, and he sat down, a bit confused by the question. You lifted his arm and put it around your shoulders. You restarted the movie and put the remote to side before wrapping your arms around his sturdy torso and snuggling against him. You placed your head on his chest. Frederick had gotten the message by this point and wrapped his other arm around you. You smiled and snuggled as close as you could. “There, that’s much better.”

Frederick gently kissed your forehead.

“I’m sorry again for everything that’s happened, “he said softly. “I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

You looked up at him and it broke your heart to see such sadness in his eyes. You reached up and caressed his cheek with your fingers.

“Frederick, stop apologizing. This is perfect.”

You pulled his lips down to meet yours, soft and tentative. Frederick went stiff for a moment from shock, but recovered, pulling you close, his lips melting into yours. He had dreamed of this, but never thought it would happen. He could have sworn your lips had been made for his, the way they fit so perfectly. You pulled away to catch your breath and smiled.

“You know, I usually don’t kiss on the first date, but I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“So have I, Y/N, for months now, in fact. So, does this mean you’ll give me another chance at taking you out to dinner?”

You kissed him again and snuggled into his chest.

“Yes, Frederick, I’m yours.”

#thatesqcrush vday bingo #frederick chilton x reader #frederick chilton #hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #fan fiction #writing #raul esparza

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scribble-blog · 5 years

Text

Soulmate AU part 10!!!!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Guys. It’s been a week now since this started. I just wanted to say again, thank you to all the lovely folk who have liked, reblogged, followed, messaged, and replied. You keep me motivated and loving every word that I write, knowing that I’ll get to share it with you.

“We- ah, defeated! The three,” Marinette was saying to the police, and Damian stopped and listened, bewildered, as she played up her French accent, searching for words he was absolutely certain she knew. “And then we hid in the dark room, and I kept Mme. Isley quiet, as they looked for us. And then Red Hood came, and told us it was safe, and took Mme. Isley, and we came out to you.”

Gordon looked tired, but that did seem to be a Police Commissioner’s natural state. “Thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Damian Wayne. Let’s get your statement, real quick, and then you can go.”

Damian cocked one brow. “We were in a back room, speaking, when Pamela stumbled in, injured. Marinette bound her wound while I called for help. We were found by some of Scarecrow’s lackeys, but we managed to subdue them before hiding, until we were given an all clear by Red Hood. He took Pam, and we came here.”

Gordon grinned lightly. “Succinct as always. I’ll let your dad know if we need anything else.”

“It is appreciated, Commissioner.” Damian inclined his head, and offered an arm back to Marinette. “We’ll be on our way.”

The walk to the hotel was silent. Damian guided her, and she seemed lost in her own head.

Until they reached the hotel. As they stepped through the doors, Marinette was torn from his arms by two blondes. He tensed, preparing to fight, until he realized that Marinette was reaching back for them.

“How dare you, Dupain-Cheng! Have you even checked your phone? Do you know how worried we’ve been?” The blonde girl cried out. Damian, grateful he knew French, sat back to observe. “The whole city’s been talking about Scarecrow attacking the gardens, and you were there-“

“You really scared us, Mari,” the boy echoed, holding her tight. It took Damian all off half a moment to recognize him from the pictures Jon had shown him as his friend’s soulmate. How interesting.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Marinette consoled them. “Look, see, I’m okay-“

“You’re covered in BLOOD,” the girl screeched.

“Not mine,” Marinette insisted, “I’m perfectly unharmed-“

“Who’s this?”

Jon’s soulmate was looking at him. He’d spoken the last words in English. Marinette turned back to look at him apologetically as the girl also cast her eyes his way.

“I’m Damian,” He intoned. “Though I’m certain you both already know that.”

“This is Chloé, and I’m Adrien,” Adrien grinned at him, looking as smug as the cat that caught the canary.

Chloé sniffed. “We’re important people, Adrien. Last names. We’re Chloé Bourgeois and Adrien Agreste, Damian.”

Marinette, for her part, looked exasperated and was turning pink. “Guys, please-“

“It’s important that he knows who he’s up against if he does anything,” Chloé steamrolled on over Marinette’s protestations. “Rich boy or not, Marinette’s got us in her corner. And I’m not above using my superpowers to get revenge.”

“Alright, Queen Bee,” Adrien rolled his eyes, and very suddenly Damian realized that the bossy, screechy girl hanging off of his soulmate was one of the elusive heroes that Tim had spoken about last night.

“Enough.” Marinette’s voice cut across them, and Damian turned back to her. She looked at Damian in return, assessing, almost waiting.

“I’d like to spend more time with you, if you aren’t too worn out by all the excitement,” he found himself offering.

And he was rewarded by her bright smile. “I’d like that, too. Adrien, Chloé, I’m going to change, and you aren’t allowed to be your usual brat selves until I get back. Play nice.”

She walked away, and Damian was left staring after her. He’d found himself in turns very wary, very interested, and very awestruck by Marinette, and it was honestly something like how he thought a spinning top might feel, constantly unsure of how he would land.

Very disconcerting.

“She’s always like this,” Adrien advised, still grinning smugly as he clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll just have to learn to live with it.”

“Hmph,” Chloé moved so that she was leaning on Damian. He fought the urge to shove both her and Adrien away, possibly with some actual force. At this point not only was it in his best interest to play nice with Marinette’s friends, but he was also entirely sure they were doing this to mess with him. “One would hope that a soulmate wouldn’t just learn to live with something, but rather enjoy these things about their soulmate.”

“You can’t stand that Kagami will drink her coffee after it cools,” Adrien shot back. “There are things that you can dislike about your soulmate.”

“Not for Marinette.”

The tone of their conversation had become dangerously serious, and both blondes were still practically hanging off either side of him, conversing around him as if he were a particularly in the way wall. They were still in the lobby of the hotel, though he appreciated that their voices stayed low despite their- enthusiasm.

Damian stayed silent.

“No,” Adrien agreed slowly. “Not for Marinette. What say you, Damian?”

“I am not entirely certain what I would be agreeing to, honestly.” Damian wasn’t sure which of them he was supposed to be looking at, but they were both doing their best to stare straight into him. “I am also mostly certain that Marinette would consider this as you being your usual brat selves, as she put it.”

“Hmm,” Chloé squinted at him. “Rich boy’s got some bark. What about bite?”

“Rich boy kept Mari safe during a villain attack,” Adrien pointed out. “So he’s not useless. Also, rich boy? I’m rich. You’re rich. Was it supposed to be an insult?”

“Oh, Adrikins,” Chloé pouted. “Don’t play dumb. We’re rich, but neither of us is anywhere near Wayne Rich.”

“This is utterly ridiculous.” Damian finally pulled himself out of their grasps, though he notices neither of them so much as wobbles as they deal with the sudden imbalance. “If you two will not reign in whatever inane urges you have to bother me, I will simply wait for Marinette somewhere else.”

Adrien stood up again, shaking imaginary dust off of himself. “Alright, alright. Cool it, Chloé, he wasn’t a pushover or too rude towards us.”

Chloé was still glaring towards him. “Well. He’s passed the first test, at least. The jury is still out, especially since he hasn’t met Kagami or Luka, yet.”

“If you could stop threatening him, for two seconds!” Marinette dashed back over, and Damian had to keep his jaw from dropping. She’d been stunningly pretty in an innocent way, in the floral dress before, but now she was-

Well. She was gorgeous.

Her hair was down, damp but loosely wavy. She’d put on dark jeans and a pink top that shimmered with each movement, a scooped neckline that only just concealed where he now knew his name sat curled over her shoulder. She had a dark lump over one arm, and he assumed it would be a light jacket until she shook it out and revealed a triangular black shawl. In a second she had draped it artfully over her shoulders, completing the look.

“Disgustingly pretty as always,” Chloé sneered, but Damian caught the way the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile.

“So, Damian, what do you suggest we do?” Marinette ignored her friends, securing his arm again, and he let her. It felt normal now, the way the low buzz settled into his bones with the contact.

He gave Chloé and Adrien one last look before following her lead and ignoring them, turning her towards the door. “I intended to take you to lunch, if you would allow me. After your first official villain attack, I would like to show you some of the better aspects of Gotham.”

She gave him the same bright smile, and he felt like he was finally starting to understand why all it took was looking at Kori for Dick to start grinning sappily. He smiled back. His entire reputation as being haughty, angry and stoic was going to fall to shambles the moment anyone ever saw her with him. He resolved himself to being made fun of by his entire family for weeks, if not months.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree

#maribat #daminette #daminette soulmates #soulmate au #fanfic #funfact: this scene originally had Lila in it and was titled ‘liars in the lobby’ like a magic tree house book #question- would people be interested in seeing scrapped scenes and cut things? is this to your tastes?#because otherwise i keep them for no reason

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cherrywoes · 4 years

Text

004 | CONTROL

a/n: these next couple of chapters for control will be shorter as i don’t want to cram everything into one single chapter. they’ll be 004, 005, 006, and 007 respectively.

YOU SHOULD HAVE guessed that, whatever crowds Akaashi was involved in, it wasn’t somewhere you should be going. While Akaashi was a famous designer, he also had a life that you knew nothing about—a life that his assistants whispered about under their breath where they thought you couldn’t hear. Akaashi had always been adamant that you never step foot in the life that he’d created for himself, ever wanting you to be the innocent bystander if things went wrong; and, well, you’d always been about subverting expectations, but not like this.

Ayano pulled out a black, slinky dress from some designer brand you couldn’t see on the label, clicked her tongue, then put it back and began going through your extensive collection of cocktail dresses when the bodycon section didn’t produce fruit for you. You sat watching her from your faux leather and fur divan, holding a bottle of Screaming Eagle Sauvignon Blanc. The wine had been a gift from one of your more important backers and you needed it for the night you were about to have, if you didn’t blackout from panic first.

“Will you chill out?” Ayano sighed, dropping the expensive Yves Saint Laurent in exasperation. She was already dressed and ready to go in a black dress that had enormous slits to show off her legs and her dark hair had been curled to perfection. She looked more the model than you did right now. “It’s just a meeting, no different from any other one you’ve been to.”

You glowered at her and lowered the wine bottle from your mouth. “It’s a meeting with the Yakuza, Ayano. The Yakuza.”

And there lie the entire reason you didn’t want to go at all. If it had been literally any other person than Akaashi asking, you wouldn’t even be sitting waiting for Ayano to pull together an outfit for you. You wanted nothing to do with organized crime syndicates; one meeting with the Triad was enough for you, throwing the Yakuza in the mix was drawing a line in the sand.

“So?” Ayano shrugged and walked over to snatch the wine bottle out of your hands. You pouted at her and crossed your arms like a petulant child. “Look, it’s just one night and there’s no one you know there except for me and Akaashi. We’re going to be his arm candy for a few hours and then leave before the deals start going down. That’s it.”

You grumbled in reply and stalked off to the bathroom to brush the wine stains from your teeth. Hopefully before the night was over you could go home, get embarrassingly drunk by yourself and eventually crash in the tub like you always did. You didn’t deal with stressful situations like this very well at all, especially ones involving people who could kill you and most assuredly get away with it.

When you returned, Ayano had picked out a dress and laid it on the bed and was now destroying your shoe closet for the perfect pair to go with it. It was one you’d never worn, somehow, a plain black silk piece that had a gaping neckline and slashed hems at the side. It was actually one of Akaashi’s first pieces, you remembered, and he’d gifted you the prototype as a congratulations gift when he wasn’t all that big but you’d modeled for him anyways. That was over two years ago now, and you wondered if you could still fit in it.

You slipped it on and, other than finding the waist a little too hugging, it fit like it did the day you had gotten it. You began pinning your hair up to keep it up and out of the way, since you didn’t feel like doing anything to it to make it particularly high fashion, and Ayano returned with her spoils: an unbroken pair of Christian Louboutins that were going to kill your ankles before the night was over.

Right as you were going to slip them on, a Facetime call popped up on your phone. The only one who would call you around five in the afternoon on a weekday was Kuroo, so you answered it and stepped into the heels while you did.

“Whoa, [Name], I didn’t think I’d get a screen full of cleavage!” Oikawa shrieked, his voice throwing you for a loop. You picked up the phone and glared down at the screen depicting the pretty faced male, eyebrows rising in disbelief when you spotted the background of an airport behind him—the Tokyo airport, specifically. “That’s better, I love seeing your angry face so late at night.”

“What the hell, Oikawa?” You rubbed your face, sighing exasperatedly. “You go almost a month without contact and now you’re making Facetime calls?”

“Hey, I couldn’t help it!” He gasped, affronted. “But if you must know, I was doing some important business transactions that couldn’t wait.”

“In Argentina?”

“How’d you know about—” You watched a thundercloud roll over his face as he stared at something out of frame and over the phone. He looked pissed and you had to wonder what he was looking at in an airport of all things. “[Name]?”

“What?”

“Why is your face plastered all over this airport with Ushijima Wakatoshi?”

“When you flaked, they called him in last minute,” you explained, reaching for your makeup and ignoring the way a red flush was creeping up his face. “If you must know, he came last minute and we were just going to scrap the shoot before he did. Why does it matter?”

“He’s my mortal nemesis!” He was shouting now, mostly in disbelief, and was now rushing down the airport to the front doors, completely ignoring the gaggle of fangirls cheering for his arrival. “I can’t believe you, [Name]!”

“I thought your nemesis was Ushi...waka.” You finished lamely, realizing it was actually two names put together in a stupid nickname and not a bizarre name that made its way out of the woordwork. “Oh well, it isn’t like you don’t deserve it. You flaked, not me.”

You spent a few more minutes arguing with him until he said he was going to eat and that he would call you later to ask you more about how Ushijima was at the shoot. You’d rolled your eyes and agreed, hanging up and finishing putting earrings in your ears. You looked simple and classy, which was apparently the look Ayano wanted to go for—not too flashy, not too eye catching.

“Well,” you sighed, turning to Ayano who already had your bag in one hand and a fur shawl in another. “Let’s get this party going, shall we?”

MASTERLIST.

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taglist: @toaster-stick @katemocha @momowhoo

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyū!!

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