#but still putting him in etheral white and long princess clothes

[allmyandroids]

he is a whole meal fr ✨️

[h-s-moonshadow]

Sigils and Willows: Part 8

Nomira could not express how happy she was to have her clothes. They had not given her her bag, nor her nightgown books or candies. They had given her her clothes. She could have wept as she felt the familiar fabric hug her skin. Wedding dresses were not meant to be slept in. Indeed hers was meant to be taken off as fast as possible.

There was a pit in her stomach as she sat in her room, waiting to move down to the breakfast area. A worry. Her parents would send people after her right? They would try to rescue her from this place. From Untine.

From a place who’s king claimed that he did not know why she was brought here. Could that really be the case? If so, why was she here. Who had brought her here and for what purpose. She stood from the bed, thin but not uncomfortable simply not lavish, and started to pace around the small room.

If this was not a politically motivated strike why had it happened? The Princess seemed to be less of a scholar here, more of a warrior. Perhaps Princess Orsa was as Nomira considered Halnoa, a scholar of the blade and body.

Granted Nomira’s own “scholarship” was less that and more just her notating her favorite types of sigils, favorite theorycrafting about sigils. Even the possibilities of new sigils. It did not matter to her if her ideas were possible or not. Even here in the once home of the dragons she could not access the power she had always dreamed of.

She stopped pacing as she saw herself in the mirror. Tan skin, teal hair, silver eyes. She looked tired. Haunted. Sad. What could she do here? What if the king and princess were lying? Could she do anything about it?

The answer was obvious. No, she could not. Politically, she was as useless as a dull blade here.

Dull blades could still rip fabric, you just needed to apply more pressure. She looked away from herself in the mirror. The image of the tired sad girl staring back at her draining her confidence. She was not made for this type of thing. For political intruge. She was barely made for contracts and treaties. One look at the contract she had made with the Silver Forest and you would be able to see that she could not be trusted to do anything political. Why they agreed still baffled her.

She almost did not notice the knock at her door. Her mind was so in thought in the dull room around her that she barely gave it any thought, simply thinking it another product of her mental state. 

When it came again more insistant she finally moved to the door, and put on a smile. It was the prim proper smile of a princess. The servant who greeted her smiled back.

“Can I help you?” Nomira asked gently.

“You’ve been summoned to breakfast.” He replied with a small bow. “I am to lead you there Princess Nomira. 

Nomira nodded, wonderful she had a chaperone, and gestured for him to lead the way.

The grand hall was beyond Nomira’s wildest imaginings. The king used this for breakfast? Carved into what felt like the very heart of the mountain, with doors that seemed to lead into every other part of the castle and two large entrance doors made of stone, fifty feet high that lay open to a long staircase that descended to the city of New Untine, the grand hall was a sight to behold.

The walls were smooth as if sanded to the finest of grits. Colors that were a true part of the stone swirled and mixed in the stone. Reds, whites, yellows, greens, and browns swirled, dotted, and captured a natural beauty that also eemed truely ethereal.

The area itself could hold thousands of people. Perhaps tens of thousands if they were shoulder to shoulder. Or maybe just ten thousand. It was hard to say. The room was very large.

Nomira had not noticed that she had just been standing and gawking. It seemed strange. That now, in this place she would loose her composure.

She was in the day dress, a pale blue garment that dropped down to her ankles and had short sleeves and a modest neckline. Not to high not to low. The skirt flowed around her, yet she felt nearly informal as she walked into the dining area.

It was not that everyone in the room was dressed more formally than her, it was that everyone in the room was dressed differently than her. The noble ladies come to dine in the castle wore elegant tops that exposed their midriffs. Often the edges covered in sparkling gemstones or scales of metal.

The women also wore skirts that cut of at the knees, made of fine leather died to match. Were they died to match their eyes? Yes. Dyed brown, green, blue, or red in order to match eye color. It was a beautiful fashion.

The men in turn wore vests. No shirts adorned them, simply open vests with the same stylings of gemstones or metal scales. Shining in the light of the day. Wearing skirts the same color as their own eyes.

There were two people in the noble class who were not dressed in this style. Nomira watched the king and Princess of Untine as they sat at the high table. Both dressed in fine suits of a fashion that she herself did not know. They were elegant. Powerful. Two figures that loomed over the hall, though everyone inside of it was at least six feet tall apart from Nomira. She was the odd one out here.

She glanced around, she had been invited to dine here. To engage in breakfast with the court. There were empty seats at the high table, but perhaps. No, she had been invited by the king himself.

As she stepped towards the high table the king stood, gesturing to a seat, and nodding. He then sat down, and continued to eat his breakfast.

With a nod, Nomira walked to the seat and took it primly. She noted the looks of the other nobles. Curious, yet not indignant or enraged that she got this seat of honor near to the king. After Nomira had seated herself she spoke.

“Thank you your majesty, for this seat,” Her voice was cool, calm. She took a breath to calm her nerves. She nodded as the servants brought her a plate full of food. Toast, butter, eggs, bacon, and some varying greens. She blinked looking at it.

Her stomach rumbled. She was so hungry, more hungry than she was sure she had the right to be. That did not stop her from digging into the food. Prim and proper as always. She ate quickly and with a hunger that while not as potent, reminded her of worse days. She had gotten soft. That was obvious to her.

Her eyes trailed the room, and noticed that many other eyes were on her. The strange princess from a foreign land who happened to appear in this place. She cared not for the nobles eyes, but then…

The chair next to her moved. Nomira jumped turning to see the beautiful princess of Untine. Orsa. Hearts that woman was so tall. She blinked as the Princess sat beside her. Nomira paused fork halfway to her mouth as she just, took a moment. Stunned into silence by the strangeness of what was happening.

“Princess?” She inquired, or well tried to. That was the only word that came out of her mouth before her brain flooded her tongue with so many questions that she could not ask a single one. At least the many questions was part of the reason she was tongue tied.

The other reason was Princess Orsa herself. Tall, with light skin and dark brown hair. She was beautiful in a fearsome way. As she took a seat next to Nomira, Nomira could not help but gaze over physique of the woman. Muscles that shown even in that suit. A grace that could only be achieved by a true warrior, powerful yet gentle. And those ruby red eyes, not as stern as Orsa’s fathers but certainly beautiful in their own right.

It was not like when Orsa was running. Yes certainly Nomira had seen more of Orsa while she was running but somehow that was less than she saw now. Of the political side of the princess. Something she had, evendentlly mistakenly, wondered if Orsa even possessed.

Nomira shook herself slightly. Now was certainly not the the time to get distracted. She paused as she felt the ring on her right hand ring finger. Closing her eyes she closed her fist. Feeling that pressure. She had a duty, she would make sure to achieve that duty.

“Princess Nomira?” Orsa’s voice, a deep feminine tenor brought her out of her own mind. Nomira blushed deeply.

“Apologies Princess,” She said incining her head in a gentle sign of respect. She needed to focus. To play whatever political game would allow here to get out of here, to get home. “I got distracted and missed if you said anything.”

Orsa laughed, a beautiful series of tones straight from her chest. The sound of someone who enjoyed laughing and did so a lot. Nomira smiled back gently.

“I rarely say important things Princess Nomira.” Orsa responded waving a hand, a small smile touching her lips. “More often than not I only say important things at parties.”

“Oh?” Nomira intoned, taking another bite of her food. She was almost done with the plate. This breakfast had been amazing. Yet something stuck out to her. After the cold conversation they had had on the walls of the palace, Orsa was being rather friendly. 

“Yes, most often its when I’m tired and the dancing is done. I make a statement that my father simply must refute the following day.” She waved a hand. “There was a time where I made a proclamation that every child in the city needed a flower crown. Still don’t think that one needed refuted.”

Nomira paused, regarding Orsa. “Every child needed… flower crowns? You have the power to make procloations like that?”

Orsa paused. “Yes,” She paused. “Father and I share duties in the regards. He holds court today instead of myself. Starting soon.” She paused. “How does Galdraz do it?”

Nomira blinked, and for a moment was stunned. Orsa was allowed to make policy desisions? Perhaps it was underneath the kings supervision. Yet holding court. Dealing with the woes of the people. That was something usually only reserved for the ruler of a kingdom.

“I worked as a diplomat and ambassador, Princess.” Nomira replied after a moment. “I was not necessarily in charge of anything. I’ve never made any policy desisions. Or helped in court. Though I have attended many sessions.”

And offered advice. Advice that was never heeded until she worked so hard. She fought so hard. Until her father finally gave her the responseability to create a union with the Silver Forest. And she did. 

She almost missed Orsa’s next reply, but thankfully snapped out of her own thoughts as the Princess started to speak.

“You were not allowed…” She frowned. “Were you going to rule after your parents death or abdication?”

Nomira nodded. “Yes, it would either be me or my brother. Most likely myself,” She paused. “Depended on who was married, on who had heirs.” Nomira looked at Orsa. “Why do you ask?”

“It simply seems odd that a queen or king would be expected to rule when they themselves have not made policy desisions.” Orsa shrugged. “If it works for Galdraz then I see no reason for it to not continue, I simply find the idea odd.”

Nomira nodded. “I’ve used that argument, believe me,” She tried to keep the tired effect out of her voice. The one that came in whenever a subject like this was discussed, one she had argued on for so many years. “It has not worked like I wanted it to. Granted, it did get me a wedding eventually. Sadly…”

Nomira sighed looking at Orsa. She knew she looked pathetic here. With everyone so tall, so mighty. The Untinians were who killed the dragons, and each and every one of them looked like they could do so without issue. It was an intimidating sight. She paused and finished off the final few bites of her plate.

“Sadly?” Orsa prompted gently.

Nomira shook her head. “With luck I can convince your father to help me get back, then the wedding will go through.” She paused. “Does anyone really know why I’m here?” She asked gently. “Do you know why I would be here?”

At that Orsa seemed to shrink a little bit. Ruby eyes glancing out at the room. “No. I don’t think any of us know why you are here.”

An interesting choice of emphasis for words. Nomira noted that but for the moment dismissed the ida that it would mean anything. After all, she had a king to speak to. She stood, and walked around the table, so she could stand opposite him. She would look this man in the eyes.

[snoffyy]

I was disappointed that “fish hat” was not a prompt for either Zhaozaipalooza. Would you consider writing? Any character/pair as long as Zhao and a fish hat are present.

So hear me out; originally, I was gonna do a lil cracky piece with Zhao as a marine biologist forced to wear a fish hat by upper management but somehow it devolved into more of a spiritual canon piece???? Anyway, this was a lot of fun to write, so a big 'thank you!!!!' for the prompt!!!! Especially for giving Fish Hat the justice it deserves.

(and a tidbit of irosami just for you, Orange <3)

Fog. Ghostly wreaths of it. Zhao stumbled, trying to blink past the heavy vapour. In the distance, figures. Screaming; almost inhuman, but distinctly human enough that Zhao wasn’t sure which would have been worse.

They named their regrets, their minds slaves to their own ambitions. A cold prickle of chill wormed its way through Zhao’s veins. That was going to be him. His mind, no longer his own. He didn’t even know how long he had.

“No,” Zhao whispered, squeezing his eyes shut when another scream sounded in the distance. No, no, no.

Was he even dead? Alive? Undead? What had happened the moment he’d been dragged into the water to now, stuck in this awful hell?

“Pay your penance.”

A voice, silvery and sweet, the same voice he’d heard in the oasis before fire had alit his hands and he’d…

“Where are you?!” Zhao demanded. “You’re the princess, aren’t you? Show yourself! What are you doing here?”

The fog morphed in front of him. And then… like a shaft of light slanting through storm clouds, there she was. Distinctly otherworldly, no longer human. Her eyes, luminescent. Her clothing, wispy. Everything about her was ethereal, as if she no longer had any ties to the mortal realm.

“You neglected the notion that the moon spirit had multiple forms,” the princess (was she a princess any longer?) informed him, peering at him serenely.

“You,” Zhao snarled.

“Yue,” she corrected. “Names have meaning, and while the title of ‘Tui’ falls to me now, my mortal sentiments still remain.”

Zhao sneered. “I still don’t understand what you’re doing here.”

“You killed the moon spirit,” Yue murmured. “But in doing so, you killed the ocean spirit as well. They were a pair. One could not live without the other, even if a new counterpart was offered. La is dying, Admiral Zhao, and he needs a replacement.”

“Good luck with that, then,” Zhao said coldly, bitterly. “My life’s work, wasted. All the time and effort expended, and I didn’t even do it right.”

Yue approached him, and he could feel neither warmth nor cold from her.

“If that is how you want to put it,” she said, now reaching out and brushing her fingers along his brow. “But perhaps not. You will take La’s place.”

Zhao stared, and even the screaming in the distance seemed to ebb away. “Excuse me?”

Yue held out her hands, a headdress manifesting from thin air. Pitch black, with a white spot on the forehead, scaled over like –

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Zhao hissed. “A fish hat?!”

Yue levelled an unimpressed stare at him. “You have a choice here, Admiral Zhao. Forsake your mortal name and take on the title of ‘La’, or stay here in the Fog of Lost souls, where you will join their ranks.”

She pointed at the figures in the distant, hunched over and apathetic. The screaming had stopped, and the silence was damning.

“You will be known,” Yue pushed the headdress closer, “but not for your mortal feats.”

Zhao stared at the headdress.

“It is a kinder fate than you deserve,” Yue informed him, her blue eyes icy.

Zhao swallowed. He’d never thought himself a fool. He’d never wanted to believe himself a fool. But pride was a stubborn thing, and it often twisted his own tongue, made him turn his nose up, building scoffs and sneers like second nature.

But what pride did he have here, if only to forsake it to the fog?

He met Yue’s eyes.

And grabbed the headdress.

.

“My grandfather knew the Moon Spirit, you know,” Iroh said, joined hands with Asami swinging gently in the cool ocean breeze.

It was beautiful tonight, with a full moon and the lapping waves creating the perfect ambience for a midnight walk after a late dinner.

“Princess Yue, right?” Asami brushed a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “Her story is so saddeningly beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Iroh tore his gaze away from that strand of hair. “But Grandfather had seen her when she was mortal.”

“What of the Ocean Spirit?” Asami asked, stopping him with a squeeze of his hand before she bent down and lifted a white shell from the sand. “Avatar Aang fused with it, right?”

“No one really knows what happened to the Ocean Spirit,” Iroh shrugged, beaming when Asami grabbed his free hand and gently placed the shell in it. He tucked it into his breast pocket, patting it carefully. “But Avatar Aang said that the Ocean Spirit’s energy felt different. Almost like two new spirits had been born rather than just one.”

Asami hummed, her painted lips pursed, an adorable furrow of concentration scrunching her brows.

“Maybe some things aren’t meant to be known,” Iroh remarked, looking out over the ocean. The full moon was reflected within its depths, tranquil and lulling.

Push and pull.

Just as it has always been.

[redorich]

for the hermit canyon, i humbly request:

Etho messing with Karl and maybe like, Lazarbeam or Fundy, by pretending he’s moth man.

Quackity stalks through the woods, blissfully unaware of its other inhabitants-- not that he would care, if he knew. No, tonight, under the full moon (because it's romantic) he makes his move.

The Hermit, as Quackity is completely sure of, is a beautiful young woman with long flowing hair as white as snow. Because she is a creature of untold power and beauty, fairy tale logic obviously applies. Therefore, if Quackity can steal her clothes, she will have no choice but to marry him and they will live happily ever after as big booty bitches in love.

Nodding to himself, Quackity feels assured in his logic. He's wearing his favorite assless chaps, his best pair of knockoff Yeezys, and no shirt. He is ready for what is to come.

---

Karl lurks deep in the forest, illuminated only by the moon. He leans against a tree, taking care not to disturb his outfit-- he is camouflaged as a bush. Dangling strips of green and brown fabric cover his body, and his limbs are completely hidden in the costume so long as he stands still. It's a daunting task, standing still in the dark, dangerous woods at night. Nevertheless, Karl knows that this is what he must do.

"Triclops Mothman, my beloved," he whispers into the night. He will find Mothman, and he will marry Mothman. There is no alternative.

---

Far away from both Karl and Quackity, though still in the same spruce forest, Sapnap angrily prowls. Well, he'd describe it as a prowl. Truthfully, it's more of a pouty stomp. He knows that this forest has had multiple "Hermit sightings", and Sapnap wants-- no, needs what he's after.

"Hermit!" he screams into the night. "Come out and fight me, you little bitch! Man on man!"

To emphasize his point, he bangs a pot and a pan against each other several times. Sapnap is getting his revenge for that little ravager prank, one way or another.

---

Deep within the canyon walls, the Hermit complex looks like an overturned anthill with all its activity. It's Halloween night come early.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Etho insists.

Grian whines, "But Etho, I made it just for you! It matches Stress's outfit."

Stress, upon hearing her name, looks up from her book and waves. Cleo is currently fiddling with the thick mane of synthetic white hair Stress is wearing, styling the wig into a princess-y type braid.

"I'll say it again," Cleo says, looking very intently into Etho's eyes, "I could take your place."

"No," Etho sighs. "If what Puffy said about these guys is true, you'd probably bite someone's face off by the end of the night."

"You're no fun," Cleo huffs, but acquiesces.

"At least put on the wig," Grian demands.

Grian and Etho have a staring contest for a solid ninety seconds before Etho snaps his fingers in front of Grian's face, causing him to flinch and blink. "You cheater--!"

"I'll wear the wig," Etho interrupts Grian. Instantaneously, Grian loses his outraged moue.

Cleo sighs. "They're the same wig, right? Do I have to braid Etho's hair, too?"

"I think I'll be fine with my new flowing, luscious locks," Etho says with a humorous crinkle to his eyes.

They all laugh as Etho dramatically flips his fake hair, whipping himself in the face with it in the process. He also receives a thumbs up from Joe, who is in the process of searching for his contact lenses because "Herobrine doesn't wear glasses", according to Bdubs.

Night falls, and the Hermits are prepared. They hope their victims aren't.

---

Quackity catches a glimpse of silver-white after so long searching in the woods. With a little gasp, he eagerly pursues it. His beautiful maiden, ethereal and distant like the moon, darts between trees and leaps across creeks like she is flying, like her feet barely touch the ground.

He follows her to a clearing, but when he bursts through the brush into the open space, she is nowhere to be found.

“Mi rey!” he wails, “Fantasma hermosa! Come to papi!”

Etho, hiding in a tree about five feet away, has no clue what any of those words mean. He affects a terrible falsetto and throws his voice. “Hello, Quackity.”

Quackity jumps, looking around wildly for his beautiful girlboss queen. “Hermit?! You know my name?”

“Of course, Quackity,” Etho says, hefting a large rock in his hand. “Come closer, I have a cask of Amontillado we can share.”

Quackity turns toward Etho's voice just fast enough to catch a glimpse of the Hermit's mask, his (fake) long white hair, his decidedly not female appearance. Quackity looks the Hermit up and down. Etho has never felt more Perceived.

"What's a place like you doing in a guy like this?" Quackity says, flirtatiousness dripping from his voice.

Etho eyes the man's assless chaps with distaste from his crouched perch in a tree. Quick as lightning, he chucks the heavy rock in his hand at Quackity's head, knocking him out instantly.

Etho jumps down from his tree with a huffed sigh. "Well," he says, grabbing Quackity by the ankle and dragging him, "time to get to work."

---

"Pspspsps," Karl whispers, "heeeere Mothman..."

The sound of a twig snapping to his right makes Karl freeze, then turn ever so slowly. There's no one there. Karl holds his breath for what feels like an eternity, but is eventually forced to admit that the noise was probably just an animal. Surely, a creature of Mothman's size would make more noise when he walks, given the weight of his strong legs.

"Mothman," Karl says. "I wrote you a poem!"

Joe, who was up until this point hiding behind trees and ominously snapping twigs, feels a twinge of morbid curiosity. As a poet, he absolutely has to know what Karl considers an adequate love poem for Mothman.

With red cheeks, Karl professes his love:

"Your feelers make me feel so sweet

Your hindwings set my heart aflame

Fern-like antennae make me melt

And Mothman, you're to blame."

Despite himself, Joe is a little bit impressed. It almost makes him feel bad about what he's about to do-- almost.

A soft eerie glow seeps into the forest, catching Karl's eye. He investigates, creeping forward until he turns around a tree and sees glowing white eyes. He screams, but there is no sound, and the forest has disappeared. Only those eyes remain, and they too flicker out of existence.

There is a dim corridor ahead of him, narrow and lit by redstone torches. At the end, there is an iron door. He runs to the exit, but as soon as his hand touches the door it disappears and he is engulfed by swirling purple-- like a Nether portal, but so much more terrifying.

The purple is gone and he can just barely make out the menacing image of a man with glowing white eyes T-posing in the blackness. Karl opens his eyes and wakes up on the forest floor, prone and sore.

"Right," he mutters breathlessly to himself, "Mothman is not interested."

---

"--YOU BITCH ASS PUNK, I'M GONNA RIP YOUR LEGS OFF AND STICK 'EM ON YOUR HEAD!" Sapnap screams, banging the only pot he owns against a non-stick frying pan he stole from George.

"Well, that's not very nice, innit?" says a feminine voice. Sapnap looks left, right, behind him, up in the trees... then down.

Big brown eyes peer up at him through white bangs. A displeased pout set into a moon-pale face attached to an equally moon-pale woman chastises him without words.

"...You're the Hermit?" Sapnap says disbelievingly. He has his doubts that someone as small and pretty as this woman could wrangle a ravager onto his front lawn.

"You wanted a fight," she huffs. "And for the record, you totally had it coming, with Pamela's Revenge-- remember, the rava--"

"Yes, I know the ravager was named Pamela's Revenge! There were like eight hundred million death messages in chat about it, you jackass!" Sapnap snaps, trying to cover up his unease. It's not that he's hesitant to hit her because she's a girl; he would deck the shit out of Niki or Puffy with absolutely no provocation whatsoever. It's just that... she looks soft. Like a non-combatant. It would be too easy, too cruel--

Stress punches Sapnap in the jaw with a wicked right hook. "Stealing is wrong," she says.

While Sapnap is dazed and quite possibly mildly concussed, Stress follows up with a brutal kick to the shin. Sapnap makes a genuine effort to fight back, and he’s no slouch, but he’s been taken so thoroughly off guard that the best he can do with his head spinning as it is is to swing with a wild haymaker and hope it hits.

His fist makes contact with something soft and squishy. He hears a grunt, but Stress shoves him over onto the ground and dumps a bucket of glitter over his head. It burns his eyes, but more importantly it burns his pride. He doesn’t remember at what point he dropped his pot and pan (he must have at some point, because he punched the Hermit with an empty fist), but he’s angry enough to open his watery eyes through the magenta glitter and snatch George’s frying pan up off the forest floor, hurling it at the Hermit with devastating accuracy. She yelps, blocking with her forearm at the last moment.

“Knew I shoulda let Etho...” Sapnap hears the Hermit mutter. What’s an Etho?

Stress irritably bonks Sapnap on the head with the pan he threw at her. He goes limp like a ragdoll, and Stress sets about maneuvering his body into a sitting position leaned against a tree so she can do his makeup while he sleeps.

“Hope I don’t poke his eye out!” she says. “Ah well, he’s got two anyway. Now, should I go for a cute, summery look, or a dark evening look?”

---

In Atrium 1 of the Hermit Canyon complex, Puffy laughs loud and clear, clutching her paper cup tightly so she doesn’t spill her fruit punch. "No,” she chokes out, “he didn’t.”

Cub, holding a similar paper cup, waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Yep. That’s Etho for you. You know, one time he got Doc to run around with a snowman head on, eating spider eyes?”

“Oh man,” Puffy sighs, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. “I’m so glad I snitched on Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap. I can’t wait to see their reactions!”

Cub grins evilly. “Stress got pictures before she left.”

Puffy gasps, stars in her eyes. “I’ll bake you a whole cake if you get me a copy.”

“I’ll bake Cub a whole cake if he gives them to me instead,” Grian interjects from across the room. “I don’t need them, I just want to take them from you.”

“Nooooo!” Puffy wails melodramatically. “Grian, please spare me!”

“Five diamond blocks,” Grian makes his demand.

Puffy continues to fake-sob, pretending not to notice Scar sneaking up on Grian until Scar drops an anvil on Grian’s head, like a Looney Tunes episode but slightly to the left. While Grian is distracted, Cub slips the pictures to Puffy, who puts them in her inventory without looking.

Etho walks into the Atrium, now dressed as his normal self, including his natural hair, which looks like an angry wet cat perched atop his head, just the way he likes it. Everyone cheers.

“So, how’d it go with Quackity?” Puffy asks with a smirk.

“Well...” Etho says.

---

Quackity wakes up with the sun in his eyes. In front of him is the public Nether portal, and standing right in front of it is a wide-eyed Sam, staring directly at him. Quackity looks down.

He’s naked, covered in half-dried honey, and tied to a pole like the world’s sexiest flag. And he’s got the world’s worst hangover-- it feels like he’s been hit in the head with a large rock.

“Not again,” he groans.

“...This happens often?” Sam asks.

“If I had a nickel for every time something like this has happened,” Quackity says, wiggling his way out of the ropes tying him to the pole, “I’d have enough money to go buy myself a pair of pants.”

Sam averts his eyes to the sky, abruptly aware of exactly why Quackity would feel the need to buy a pair of pants.

“Damn it,” Quackity says. “Those were my favorite pair of assless chaps.”

“Were they now,” Sam says numbly. The sky is quite blue today, it’s rather beautiful.

Quackity huffs in aggravation, finally having freed himself from his binds. “Yeah, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to, you know?”

“Not really, no,” Sam says slowly. “I wouldn’t know much about-- assless chaps.”

The naked man shrugs. Haltingly, Sam unclasps his cape, pulling it off his shoulders and offering it to Quackity.

“Nah,” Quackity says, “I’ll just streak.”

“Please don’t,” Sam says with pain in his eyes.

[gyllenhaalstories]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS — SUGAR DADDY!ZEMO

summary: a series of unfortunate (or fortunate, depending whose side you’re on) events brought you to mandripoor seven years ago. it was fun, dangerous and exciting for the most part. a lot has changed, but you are back in high town in the hope of purchasing a rare monet painting, and reuniting with an old flame.

warnings: tfatws spoilers, alcohol, established sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship, smut (daddy kink, dom/sub/switch dynamics, choking, hair pulling, blowjob, fingering, both degradation and praise kinks, spit kink, cum play, marking, unprotected sex). 18+ MINORS DON’T INTERACT.

word count: 2685

gif credit: pedropcl

notes: this (very long) fic is brought to you by zemo’s #1 hoe. for the sake of the fic, zemo’s daughter and wife have never existed. i get it zemo is the bad guy daniel is not your typical hottie but let me live my fantasy and reclaim my crown as the original zemo fan. listen to off to the races by lana del rey and let no man steal your thyme by the pentangle if you want to fibe with me! i hope you guys will enjoy it!!! <3

“If you keep staring at me like this, I’ll mistake you for the Mona Lisa.” You took the last sip from your glass, which was immediately filled by the man standing behind you. You had felt his familiar presence a long time ago, but you were too mesmerized by the rare painting trapped in a cage of glass to bother notifying him. “Your glance has followed me around the room. In other circumstances, I’d find it creepy. Now, it’s just very flattering.”

You heard him laugh through his nose. You saw his reflecting in the glass, lit up by flashing blue and pink lights and vibrating ever so slightly to the sound of the loud music.

“You’re like a Monet painting. From afar, you are clear as cristal and easy to read like an open book. From up close...” You marked a pause and stoodby straight. Your eyes never leaving the work of art you had been scrutinizing for the past hour. Water Lilies in Bloom, it was called, an incorrect translation that always brought a grin to your lips. “You are a mystery.” You swallowed thickly the bubbly liquid, recognizing the peculiar taste of champagne.

“It is arrogant but right to think of myself as the pure definition of mysterious.”

You chuckled, throwing your head back in disbelief. Some things never changed.

“After all these years... I managed to find my way back to you. Now that’s a mystery.”

You turned on your heels as you spoke. “Is it, though? Tell me, Daddy. Is it really that hard to believe you’d recognize your property even after all these years. I heard they put you in a pretty little cage. Didn’t have much else to think about than what you missed most?”

He took you in, just how ethereal you looked under the colourful neon lights. You had your arms pressed against your chest, the shiny material of your matching bracelet and necklace twinkled. He squinted slightly, his lips curled into a smirk while he looked down your body, the one thing that kept him sane after all these years in jail (that and the thought of destroying symbols like super soldiers and make the world a better place once and for all). “Nice dress.”

“My Sugar Daddy got it for me.” You did a twirl, showing off your outfit innocently. “You like it?”

He reached up to his neck and pulled on the collar of his purple sweater, like it was a tie he could loosen up. “So you received everything I sent you.”

You clicked your tongue. “Not everything...” Your head turned to look behind you, where your most priced possession was glowing in its full glory — soon to-be yours, you should say.

“Use your words, Princess. Say it and it’s yours.”

It was your turn to analyze him, to take every ounce of cockiness and pride. “You’re playing with fire.” You walked closer to him, erasing the distance but increasing the tension between the two of you. “All the money in the world won’t get you everything you want.”

He was quick to move, his soldiers instincts never left his body, clearly. His delicate hand wrapped around your throat so effortlessly. It tightened, forcing you to manage your breathing. “Money got me everything I wanted already.”

“What is it, Daddy? What is it that you want so badly?” You clenched your jaw, holding his glance which was filled with lust, instead of rage and grudges.

“You never looked so beautiful.” He leaned closer too, whispering the words to your ear. It was liked the loud club music turned into white noise. He could not care less about the stares and the words strangers exchanged as they witnessed the scene. High Town was not his playground.

But you were his plaything.

*~*~*

History repeated itself, in one way or another. Icons rose and fell. Symbols mattered and vanished into oblivion. Originality turned into plagiarism. Winners would lose it all, losers would dig their graves deeper into the abyss.

History repeated itself. The sight before your eyes was the same one as seven years ago, when all that was on this man’s life before meeting you was this stupid Mission Report of December 16 1991. You met him at a party like this, in High Town before he was banned from the land. He caught your attention doing his ridiculous dance moves, sharing his knowledge about the art pieces showcased around the room. Then he brought you to a hotel, the ones so fancy they had multiple rooms and a vintage record player as part of the decor. Only, it worked, and he put on his favourite Édith Piaf records. Rien de Rien, Le Petit Homme, La Vie en Rose, song after song, you were diving deeper in your memories.. He was popping yet another bottle of champagne open and pouring some in flutes you would never touch for the rest of the night. The same night, seven years ago, it changed your life. At the second you regretted setting foot in Mandripoor, he changed your mind and gave you the best months of your life. You would ride around Europe in vintage cars, dine in gigantic mansions you called castles. You admired the old paintings of his royal family members while he brought you a silk bathrobe to change into after a steamy shower.

You’d get lost in your thoughts, he’d get lost in his ambitions. You two were one and the same, in one way or another. That affirmation sent shivers down your spine. You could not tell if it was a good or a bad thing, a shy voice in your head was reassuring you it was the former.

“They call me Baron again, I guess I’m not doing too bad after all.” His voice snapped you back to reality. He was still wearing that obnoxious trench coat. You hated it, it made him look like a pimp. Although that was not too far from the truth, as the mountain of luxurious jewelry and clothes in your closet proved.

“Do you like being back here?”

“I love it here.” The emphasis on the last word was audible. You nodded in agreement. This place was heaven on Earth for some people, hell for others. For both you and Zemo, it was somewhere in between.

“You’re certainly not here for me.” You laughed, setting the still full glass on the nightstand.

He shook his head, mouthing a negative response.

“What is it, this time? Mission report February 32?”

“Something like that.” He answered, after another silent laugh.

“If only you had made me your mission, your life would have been easier.”

“Yours would have been, too.”

You shrugged. You agreed, but you did not need to say it. He knew. The two of you knew that this warmth washing over your bodies was the answer to all of your problems. Yet, you were fighting the urge to surrender and give in.

History always repeated itself.

All it took was for him to set his hand on your exposed knee. You got flashbacks of the numerous times his hand rested there while you two drove deeper in the country side, in some old Chevrolet, Ford, or any other European brands he could find and buy.

“Say it, Princess. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallowed thickly and fell on your knees. He sat straight, as straight as he could on the comfortable mattress, and spread his legs wider. “I want to go back in time.”

He leaned foward and you opened your mouth, your tongue poking out. He spit in your mouth, and you swallowed. The giggle that followed your actions sent blood to his hardening cock. “Just as eager as I remembered, right? You’d do anything to please me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Daddy.” You repeated, the confession left you breathless.

“That’s my good girl.” He brushed your hair with so much tenderness for a moment, you let out a content moan. He changed the mood real quick when he pushed your head closer to his crotch and unbuckled his belt at lightning’s speed.

Your mouth was watering at the sight, a sight that was tattooed in your memory forever. Whatever relationship you two had went beyond fancy presents and sex, it was a connection that tickled your souls and left you a different woman than when it first started. You wasted no time, stroking him a few times as you spit on his blushing tip. You smeared the spit over his sensitive spot and pulled the sweetest moans out of him, which grew louder and more intense when you finally wrapped your lips around his head.

No one compared to you, to your attention to details, to the way you were taking him all in, inches by inches like you were made for his cock and his cock only. No one compared to how blissful you looked pulling back, choking on your own saliva and the lack of oxygen. “You look so beautiful, Babygirl.”

His praise made you bat your eyes, hoping to receive more compliments. You flattened your tongue, licking him from the base to the top before you deep throated his cock again. You never left him untouched, your hands were massaging his walls or exploring his thick thighs while your mouth almost brought him to the edge.

That was when he pulled on your hair and demanded you went back up on your feet. “I bet you’re soaked. All you need is to see a cock to wet your panties.” You nodded as one hand reached up to cup your face, the other to cup your core from under your dress. He could felt the ever growing wet patch. He discarded of your panties in one effortless pull and pressed his pointer and middle fingers against your sensitive clit. He circled it, studying your reaction.

“Daddy...” You breathed out. “I need you.”

“I’m proud of you for using your words,” his finger slipped inside of your entrance, you moaned out his name. “So greedy and needy and easy for me, like the good whore that you are. Is that right? You’re Daddy’s perfect little whore?”

He was two fingers in, all the way to the last knuckles. He pumped in and out of you slowly yet roughly. You smirked when he finally touched that spongy spot inside of you. “I’m Daddy’s. I’ll always belong to Daddy.”

“That’s right.”

He brushed his thumb over your clit, his fingers stopped fucking your hole to abuse the bundle of nerves until tears started to pool in your eyes.

“Be a good baby.” You looked at him with doe eyes, sucking his thumb between your plump lips. “Do what I want.”

And you reached your high. You had nothing to hold you up, except for your shaky legs that threatened to give in under your weight and the intensity of your orgasm. You sucked on his thumb harder, hoping to quiet some of your moans but your screams escaped your parted lips.

In a blink of an eye, you were pushed against the bed and bounced against the body that blocked your every movement. His pants were nowhere to be found, just like the rest of your respective clothes. Your finger tips brushed over the skin of his shaven cheeks, down to his neck and chest. The intimacy, you had craved it all these years.

“I bet that sweet cunt of yours missed my cock.” He spoke, chuckling mockingly when he pushed himself in your stretched hole. You both let out a long moan of satisfaction. He rested inside of you, adjusting to your warmth and tightness. “I was right.”

“You’re always right.” You flattered his ego, and earned a sloppy kiss in return.

His lips moved down to your neck where he sucked hickeys and left small bite marks as he picked up the pace of his hips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping to bring him that much closer, and deeper, into you.

Zemo pinned your wrists above your head and pumped his cock inside of your tight pussy like his life depended on it. “So fucking wet for me,  gonna make me cum, Baby.” He had tried so hard to hold back, not to mark you and claim you again.

“Wait for me.” You begged him, and he brought one hand down to your neck again. He squeezed it, choking you deliciously until your eyes rolled inwards. He tightened his grip ever so slightly and he felt it, he felt the way your walls fluttered around him.

He thrusted inside of you, his hips snapped against yours and the sound of your skin slapping echoed in the bedroom. “Cum for me, Princess. Cum with Daddy.”

And you did, your body exploded in fireworks when you felt his release planted inside of you. He kept moving, rocking back and forth. He leaned back, leaving your neck to rub your clit once again. He was a moaning mess, the overstimulation made it almost painful to keep going but he did not want it to stop, not until...

“Fuck, Daddy!” And a second wave of pleasure hit you hard, it left you panting and shaking even more than before.

Zemo had to pull away quickly, and already missed the feeling of being inside of you.

Your fingers reached between your bodies, dipping into your folds and moving up to your lips as they were covered in his seed. You painted your lips with his white cum, before you licked them and your fingers clean as he watched, completely amazed and mesmerized. “Taste just as good as I remembered.”

He laughed, he was always one step ahead of everything and everyone, but you always managed to take him by surprise. You were just that great, that perfect. He rolled to the side and fell heavily on the bed. His skin was glistening under the light of the chandeliers from the thin layer of sweat.

You pressed your legs together, clenching around nothing. You hoped you could keep his load inside of you, as a proof this had really happened and it was not just one of your daydreams where you two would be reunited.

“I missed this.” You boke the silence with a small voice. Your fingers brushed over the bruises on your neck, and you hissed at the sensitive skin.

He turned on his side, worried for a second that he went too hard on you. The smile and joy on your face proved him otherwise. “I missed you, Princess.”

“I missed you so much, Daddy.”

*~*~*

The sun hurt your eyes, he noticed. He slipped out of the bed to pull on the curtains only to hurry back to you so you could lay your head on his chest. You were still wearing your bracelet, he started playing with it.

His mind was racing, just like his heart. You could feel it rumble in his chest like a loud engine. Something was bothering him.

“Oh, Zemo...” You caressed his cheek, looking up to study his features. “You can fool the smartest people in the world, but you’ll never be able to lie to me.”

“I’m coming home, Baby. I’m coming home now.”

You looked down again, taking a moment to answer. “Let me guess, you’ll take me to a fancy house like Rebecca’s Manderley and Jane Eyre’s manor at the Rochester’s. You’ll show me around, make me feel like I belong. And you’ll leave, high and dry. Again. All the money and presents from your people won’t erase the pain I felt. Not this time, not ever.”

He pressed his thin lips together. Pain, suffering, he was used to it. He had his fair share of it, caused even more to other people. The thought of hurting you, however, was unbearable.

“Every kingdom needs its king...” He paused and moved you, so you were resting on your elbows and your face was closer to his. “And an even greater queen.”

[fatefulfaerie]

Domesticity

Zelink Week 2021 prompt #5/7 @zelinkweek2021

Word Count: 1,951

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild 2 (post)

Additional Prompts Followed: Hearts, Family

No Trigger Warnings

“Is one of us dying?”

The feast was definitely unsettling to Wendie, and although she was mostly joking, she couldn’t help but think that such a nice dinner at such a random time of the year was odd. Of course her dad was a great cook, but this was a step above, despite there being no family birthdays for at least three months and no holidays for five.

“No,” her mother said as she placed on the table a large bowl of goat-buttered mashed potatoes, one of Wendie’s favorite foods. She had said it with a slight motherly laugh and a warm smile. “No one is dying. We’re just having a family dinner.”

The mother, who went by the name Zelda, had aged gracefully over the past twenty years, blonde hair highlighted with streaks of white that her husband would often call angelic and ethereal when she would doubt her beauty. At the moment, her age-hued hair was swept into a single braid behind her head, messy yet secure.

“Our family dinners aren’t usually this elaborate,” Wendie observed. “You made mashed potatoes and seafood rice balls—which is Elyjah’s favorite food—grilled carrots, meat pie, mushroom skewers and you have an apple turnover on the counter for dessert!”

“Nothing gets past you,” her father said, putting a bowl of baked and salted radishes on the table. His blue eyes looked over to Zelda. “I think we raised them too smart.”

“Nonsense,” Zelda said, walking forward and using the rag that was just draped over her shoulder to wipe a smattering of flour off of Link’s forehead. “Where’s Elyjah?”

Wendie made a sound that sounded a lot like a lazy “I don’t know” while shrugging her shoulders where she sat at the table.

“He can just eat when he gets home,” Wendie reasoned. “There’s more than enough food.”

Wendie didn’t see her parents exchange glances, the seventeen-year old not caring in the slightest that her twin brother wasn’t here to ruin her first dibs on dinner.

“I’ll try and find him,” Zelda said with a sigh, Wendie looking back up at her parents. Link nodded as Zelda departed. Wendie once again questioned what was going on.

“Ly!” The father and daughter heard outside, Zelda from just the doorstep of their modest Hateno home calling out to the entirety of Hyrule. Link sat down across from his daughter, elbows on the table and arms folded into each other. The deep thought he was in concerned Wendie greatly. He wouldn’t even meet her glance. Was she in trouble?

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

Elyjah.

Of all the people to be in trouble, surely it was him. He had never gotten into anything truly bad but he was the biggest prankster in Hateno. The only shop he wasn’t banned from was the dye shop. The green-eyed troublemaker was here nonetheless and Wendie prepared herself for another fun show. Zelda moved to sit down next to Link at the table but Elyjah stopped as soon as he saw the table, mouth popped open and body frozen.

“Is someone dying?”

He had looked over to his sister when he asked the question.

“Yeah,” she said. “You.”

“What?” Elyjah asked, almost believing it.

“Wendie, that’s enough now,” Zelda said, before looking over to her son. “No one is dying. We would just like to talk to you both.”

Elyjah sat next to Wendie with the same bewildered look as her, trying to figure out what it was before their parents spit it out. It was like Hylia’s Day presents except they didn’t have a good feeling about this, especially when Link took Zelda’s hand and looked at their children, ready to address them.

And yet it was Zelda who started.

“Do you two remember the fairytale we used to tell you?” Zelda inquired, her voice shaky. “The bedtime story? Of the princess and the knight?”

Neither Elyjah nor Wendie had any clue of the relevance, but they both remembered the tale well.

“The one with the weird ending?” Wendie asked nonetheless. “Where he rescued her and then that was it?”

“Yeah,” Elyjah said. “Didn’t they just stare at each other in silence? After all they had been through, it seemed like there should have been more.”

Link dove his hand into his forehead.

“Zelda, you could have given them a better ending,” Link suggested.

Zelda scoffed and put her hands on her hips.

“It was a lesson in imagination,” she said. “And clearly none of you have any.”

“But that’s besides the point…” Link said, prompting Zelda in a different direction.

“Yes,” Zelda said, nodding at Link and returning her gaze to their children, confused as ever. And yet she smiled at them.

“You both have grown up so fast,” Zelda said. “We both love you very much and cannot believe that you have blossomed right before our eyes into adults.”

Zelda’s smile became sad and she bowed her head.

“You see it’s a lot easier to lie to children.”

Wendie’s brow furrowed.

“Lie…” she repeated from her mother.

When Zelda’s head tilted back up, green was glazed with waves of coming tears, making the emeralds that Link fell in love with a hundred years ago shine even brighter.

“That fairytale…” Zelda said. “The princess who used her sealing power to keep away Calamity Ganon and the knight who slept in a ruined Hyrule for a hundred years in order to recover from his injuries and save her…”

Zelda stopped herself. Twenty years of keeping it in and it seems it wanted to stay in. She wrestled with her conflicted heart, kept it at bay long enough for her to blurt it out.

“It’s true,” Zelda said, no weakness in her voice, no lie, no apprehension. “The knight and the princess really did fight the calamity, really did survive a century to see it through and then some. Once they tracked down the cause of the anomaly, destroying the true form of Ganon, they settled down in Hateno. They got married and eventually gave life to twins, a boy and a girl.” Zelda’s eyes were proud as she looked upon her children, although they glistened with tears. Her heart hurt to see their faces in shock, but the outspoken truth felt better than she could have imagined. She felt Link’s grip tighten around her fingers.

“You both have royal blood in you,” Zelda said. “Even though I stepped away from the throne in the search of a simpler, more fulfilling life, you both still have claim to the titles of Prince Elyjah and Princess Wendie. We wanted you to know in case that path would prove fulfilling for you and…well, now that you’re adults you have the right to know the truth.”

Wendie stood up and walked out of the house, her parents not daring to stop her. Elyjah, however, just sat in shock, piecing it all together in his mind. Link and Zelda both could see his green eyes working, much like his mother’s did when she went over schematics or theorized about plant life.

“The story,” he finally started, “everything you went through…the pressure…you wanted to protect us from that…you wanted to give us the childhood you never had…that neither of you had.”

Link nodded.

“That’s right.”

Elyjah pursed his lips and nodded. Sometimes he was just like his dad. He shrugged.

“Okay,” he said, replacing his empty plate with the one filled with the seafood rice balls meant for the whole family. “Cool,” he continued, or at least it sounded like the word “cool”, his mouth mostly filled with rice.

Link raised his eyebrows and looked over at Zelda.

“Apparently we’re…cool.” Link said the last word as if it were completely foreign.

“Not all of us,” Zelda reminded her husband. She started to stand up. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Yet Link placed a hand on her arm.

“I’ll go,” Link said. “You stay and enjoy the food.”

Link found his daughter on the banks of Firly Pond, knees hugged close to her chest and water lapping at her bare toes.

At first he waited with his hand on the bark of the near apple tree, pursing his lips. Sometimes he was thrust back in time twenty years, when he felt he had no idea how to be a dad. This was one of those moments.

Link saw in his mind’s eye Wendie’s big blue eyes staring up at him, stubby arms reaching for him. He smiled. She grew up so fast.

“I know you’re there,” he heard Wendie say. She didn’t turn her head away from the pond. “Did you come to give me a speech?”

Link walked towards her.

“Maybe.”

He sat down next to her and Wendie only gave him the smallest of glances.

“I feel like I don’t know my parents at all,” she finally said.

Link nodded.

“I understand.” He said. “I don’t agree, but I understand.”

Wendie looked over to his profile, trying to ascertain how he could be serious. The calamity was real and her parents fought it. Sheikah technology really could heal fatal wounds and the goddesses power really was wielded by a mortal, not to mention her own mother, who never seemed like a princess in the slightest. Her father was a knight in a kingdom that really did exist and she?

Well she was a princess. This whole time, she was a princess. The girl who was called the “ugly duckling” of the family as a child was a princess in peasant’s clothing. She almost wanted to go brag to the town, but that seemed petty for just a small ounce of appreciation from the people her age who used to tease her when they would play as children.

Her parents were legends and in comparison, what was she?

Definitely not a princess.

“You know us as what we became after everything we went through,” Link finally said, having taken the time to get his words together. “The people we were before…”

He hesitated.

“We were nothing more than what the kingdom wanted us to be…statues, legends, weapons…we were never fully ourselves, and we could never afford to be ourselves with an entire kingdom looking at us to save them from a calamity. The slivers that were left of us found a friendship in each other, one that grew into love in time. After everything was settled, we began to truly find ourselves, basking in the freedom to do so. It’s something that usually occurs in a fifteen year old but your mother and I were a hundred and twenty years old when we solved the identity crisis. She did not want to be royalty and I did not want to be a knight. When we finally did not need to be those things, we took our first breaths as Link and Zelda. We wanted our children to take those breaths from the very second they were born, and that is why we let you grow up before we told you the truth. We wanted royalty to be an option for you two, not a necessity. We wanted you to become yourselves, not tiny versions of us. I only hope we have…at least I think we have.”

Wendie smiled.

“You have,” she said. “If you want your daughter to have absolutely no idea what she wants to do with her life.”

Link brought his daughter closer by hugging her far shoulder, bringing her close enough to kiss the top of her head.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he said. It sounded strange but Link didn’t mean it as a bad thing. “Because finding out your passion for yourself is the most exciting thing in this entire wild land.”

[chrispevanss]

Under Your Cover

A/N: This is my (incredibly) late entry to @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ Marvel Diversity Challenge. My prompt was ‘Swimming Pool Summer’ by Capital Cities. If you enjoy, drop a comment, leave a reblog, send me a message, let me know! 

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, 18+ only!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader 

Word Count: 2293

“Bucky,” The name slipped through your lips as a pitiful whimper. Your nails scraped across his scalp, down the smooth expanse of his back. Bucky’s hands balled the sheets next to your head, his hips slapped against yours, desperate to reach that ethereal high.

“Yeah princess, just like that.” Bucky’s hoarse grunts pierced your ears, drawing you closer to your end. One hand absently trailed down your body, a single fingertip skated across your clit, sending waves of pleasure screaming through your body.

“I’m, oh god, yes!” Your mouth hung open in a silent O as your orgasm took over. It stole the words from your lips, replacing them with guttural moans, and scrapes of your nails down your partner’s back. Bucky followed a handful of thrusts later, his own orgasm turning him into a feral animalistic man. Large hands gripped your hips, sure to leave bruises behind, a reminder of who you belonged to.

When your head finally surfaced again, you were pulled into the soft expanse of Bucky’s arms. His lips peppered kisses along your head, his hand, mindlessly twirled across the naked expanse of your back. His skin was warm, and you could smell the intoxicating cocktail of his cologne and sweat where your head lay in his neck.

The soft thump thump of the bass from the party below brought you fully back to reality. Back to the reality that this was just a casual thing, that come tomorrow you would go back to work, and Bucky would go back to saving the world.

“We know Stark throws great parties, but I think the best party is the one we make in the bedroom,” Bucky chuckled into your hair. A smile found its way across your lips, a giggle broke the silence between the two of you.

You lay in bliss for a few more stolen moments. But that bubble of bliss was soon popped by a sharp, persistent knock on the bedroom door. With a groan, Bucky climbed out of bed, sliding his gray boxer briefs over his pert ass. The knock came again, harder and more persistent.

“Gimme a second!” His tone reached toward exasperation. He fished his pants out of the pile of clothes and flung the door open, pants half zipped. And came almost nose to nose with a tall, well built blonde on the other side.

“Bucky!” He drunkenly slurred. Bucky finished zipping his pants and sighed, shoving his hands in the front pockets.

“Steve, I’m a little busy here. Why don’t you go downstairs, have some water and I’ll come find you when I’m done okay?” Bucky said protectively. He slid the plastic cup from Steve’s palm, much to the latter’s disdain.

“Fine,” Steve pouted. Bucky closed the door, the click of the latch the sweetest sound you had heard that night.

“Now where were we?” Bucky started to shuck off his pants and underwear again. He knelt at the end of the bed, staring at you with unbridled lust in his eyes. He crawled toward you, the dim light glinted off the thin layer of sweat on his body, and you had to swallow down a desperate moan.

After Bucky made you come undone twice more, you lay next to him, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his body.

“I should probably go check on Steve,” He laughed, breaking the silence.

You reluctantly crawled out of the large bed, grabbing your own clothes from the pile, leaving your panties for Bucky as a souvenir.

“See you in a couple weeks?” You laughed softly, kissing Bucky’s chest.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, girl.”

—

His lips tasted like the cream soda he had been nursing all night, mixed with a soft hint of mint toothpaste. Intoxicating, really. Your hands curled around his shoulders as you pulled him impossibly closer, blurring the lines of your bodies.

“What do you say…” Bucky started.

“Yes.” You spoke up, answering the question that sat unspoken. His fingers found yours in the dark, you trailed behind him, away from the party, from the people, to a bedroom at the end of the hall. It was decorated in shades of blue, accented with beach themed decorations. A choice that screamed suburban guest room.

Bucky closed the door with a soft click and turned the lock into place. A shiver crawled up your spine as he wound his arms around your waist from behind, his face descended to your neck. You moaned softly, hands carding through his hair.

“Strip.” The comment was curt. Cutting through your haze of lust. You bit your lip, slowly unbuttoning your jeans. The material slid to the floor with your panties. The cool air stung as it hit your sensitive clit.

Bucky cooed praises in your ear. Your hands curled around the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head.

“Now the bra.” He instructed calmly. Your fingers unhooked the cotton garment, discarding it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Your nipples pebbled in the cool air of the room,  a shiver crawled up your spine as Bucky’s fingers traced along your hips.

“Now what?” You whispered huskily.

“Get on the bed and spread those pretty legs for me,” Bucky’s lips ghosted across your neck, pulling soft moans from your chest.

You leaned forward on the bed on all fours, making sure you wiggled your ass as you climbed toward the headboard. Bucky groaned in appreciation and you bit your lip when you heard the familiar sound of his belt loosening and the zipper of his own jeans descending.

“Like this?” You teased turning around, grabbing the backs of your thighs, feet flat on the mattress, your most intimate area exposed to your lover.

“Touch it.” Bucky breathed, his hand wrapped around his erection, slowly stroking. You dipped your fingers in your mouth before skating them down your body, the tips brushed against your sensitive clit.

Your fingers circled your clit, slowly, soft whimpers echoing off the walls. Your middle finger dipped inside your soaked folds. Using your slick as lube, your fingers began to circle your clit faster, harder. Your back arched off the bed as you plummeted towards your own end. Bucky’s breathing was labored, grunts and moans ripped from his chest.

“You close?” Bucky was at the end of the bed now, one knee on the bed, cock still firmly in hand.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes!” You cried out, tears had begun to form in your eyes, your fingers swiping over your clit even harder, faster. You could feel the coil within you tightening, you were almost there. Your head was thrown back, eyes slammed shut, right on the cusp.  

Smack.

Your eyes shot open, bewildered. You were ready to chastise whoever decided to interrupt your most intimate of moments. Bucky stood over you now. Completely naked, a dark smile crossed his face, your own features softened.

“Why?” Your voice shook.

“Because, the only way you’re going to get to cum tonight is gonna be on this fucking cock, understand?” Bucky’s voice was but a low growl as he caged you in with his arms. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You moaned, pulling him closer.

“Please?” You looked up at him doe-eyed. Your cunt was throbbing, and you were sure he could feel it without even touching you.

“What do you want?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow in your direction. Your hips bucked towards his, but before they could meet, before you could get the friction you desired, his hands shot out, pinning you to the bed.

“Buckyyyyyyy…” You whimpered, your finger traced down his chest, you put up your best demure front.

“Tell me. Use your words, and tell me. Or I’ll get dressed and leave right now.” Bucky dragged the tip of his cock along your folds. You preened into his touch, desperate mewls leaving your lips.

“Come on,” He cooed. “Tell Bucky what you want.”

“Your cock! Just fuck me stupid already!” You huffed. A wicked smile crossed Bucky’s face as he dipped the head of his cock into your waiting heat.

“Oh God,” Your eyes rolled back, hands gripped at his biceps. Nails dug into his flesh.

“That’s just the tip baby girl. You must be really desperate tonight,” He mused. His hips slowly bucked forward, driving his cock into you inch by agonizing inch.

When he finally bottomed out, you couldn’t hold back the loud moan that tumbled off your lips. Bucky grunted, almost feral, as he pulled out and pushed his cock back in.

“Every single time baby, so fuckin tight,” His teeth grit in pleasure, his hands white knuckled the sheets.

“I-I won’t last long, Bucky” You whimpered, your hand reaching between your bodies to rub your swollen clit.

“You’re gonna last until I tell you to cum, you hear me?” Bucky’s teeth caught your earlobe, his fingers pushed yours out of the way so his thick digits could circle your little nub.

His thrusts picked up, all sense of romanticism out the window. This was raw, animalistic, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it. His free hand gripped both of your hands and pinned them above your head, the sound of skin slapping against skin barely audible above your shared moans and cries of pleasure.

“You ready? You cum when I tell you or not at all okay? 3...2...1...cum” Bucky growled in your ear. Your orgasm crashed over you, sending you off the edge into that ethereal high. Your back arched off the bed, your heels dug into his ass, your clit pressed against his sweat warmed skin.

Bucky managed a few more thrusts before his cock began to swell within you. As you began to descend from your own high, Bucky reached his. Spilling his seed deep inside you, marking you as his. You moaned at the warmth that radiated through your body. His teeth sank into your neck as he rode out his own high. His hips stuttered, he spilled the last of his release into your womb before he pulled out, rolling to the side, chest heaving.

“What the fuck was that?” You smiled, leaning up on your elbow to look down at Bucky. He chuckled and pulled you in for a kiss.

“That was called sex, and that’s what we do everytime there’s a party because we don’t know a damn person out there, and sex is a lot more fun than trying to act like you’re interested in some drunk person’s stories.” Bucky’s hand ran down your sides while he shook with laughter.

You smacked his chest playfully. An ungodly snort escaped your body as you too shook with laughter.

“No! I meant the ‘you cum when I tell you or not at all’. The whole Dom vibe.” You clarified. Bucky looked into your eyes, lust glinted behind his crystal orbs.

“Did you not like it?” He cocked his head to the side. You quickly backpedaled, shaking your head no.

“No! No! I loved it. It’s just so unlike you.”

“Thought I’d try something different and truthfully,” He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “I’ve never cum harder. And if I’m not mistaken, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Your face grew warm and you cast your eyes down to the navy blue sheets. You nodded tentatively, chewing on your lower lip.

“C’mere.” Bucky opened his arms, and you gratefully obliged, snuggling your body up to his warm, broad frame. You breathed in the oh so familiar cocktail of his cologne and sweat. The nightcap of your trysts as it were.

You lay in silence for a few more stolen moments before you gently pulled away from Bucky.

“You okay?” He propped himself up on his elbow as you shuffled through the pile of clothes, picking up your own garments.

“Yeah. I should probably go check on my friends. Make sure they aren’t downing questionable shots, or making out with questionable people.” You laughed, tugging your panties and jeans up your legs. “I think Tony is having a party next weekend, you gonna be there?” You already knew his answer, or hoped you did.

Bucky’s face fell to the sheets and so did your stomach.

“I uh. I need to talk to you about that. I know this isn’t the best place, I mean, we just hook up at parties but this has been eating at me since the first time we did this, what was it 9-10 months ago?” Bucky’s hand scrubbed the back of his neck, he sat up straight, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Buck, if I’ve said or done something I’m really sorry. You know I never intended to hurt you,” Your voice cracked a little, you approached the bed and extended a hand to the still very naked man.

“No. No. It’s not that. It’s this. Us. This no strings attached hooking up. I can’t do it anymore. I caught feelings and I should have fucking told you a long time ago but I couldn’t. I didn’t wanna fuck up whatever we have because I really do enjoy you. I enjoy being with you, and I want that to extend outside of partying. I want to take you to dinner, and breakfast, I want to make coffee for you—” You leaned forward, cutting Bucky off with a soft kiss. His hand reached up to cup your face, as his opposite hand wrapped around your waist.

“So…..” Bucky chuckled, pulling away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You smiled and bit your lip.

“Wanna go get coffee in the morning?”

“I’d love that,” Bucky whispered capturing your lips in another toe curling kiss.

Tagging: @tellmealovestory​ @dontshootmespence​

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Big Decisions | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey my lovelies! I know, right, another story in the same week as my other one?? What has the universe come to! I had this idea the other night and I kind of just rolled with the punches. I'm not sure how good it will be, I haven't written in a while and I had an idea of where I wanted this to go and, as usual, it wrote itself and ended up somewhere else. I'm not sure how much I like it but regardless here it is. I tried to make it as fluffy as I could because that's what I need right now lol. Anyway's I hope you like it! Sorry in advance for how long it is!! All my love until next time <3

Description: Y/n is from an influential family like, but not as powerful, as the Mikaelson's and her father is running for the governor of Virginia. In order to increase voting in favour of her father both families decide to merge. In order to do so Y/n agrees to marry one of the Mikaelson boys. The only problem is that she loves all three of them and can't possibly choose between them.

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, seriously, don't be afraid of having all three at once, that doesn't need a warning

Word count: 5032

Tags: Fluff (or at least attempted fluff)

(Pics aren't mine but the moodboard is :) )

Your footsteps echo softly down the hallway of the Mikaelson’s mansion. Your heels click the beat of a song you haven’t yet learned the words to into the hardwood. It’s a miracle you can even hear it over the rumble of the party below. A thousand voices reach your ears in a crescendo of “good evening” and “my don’t you look lovely” but it stands as little more than white noise in your mind. Your heartbeat rages with it all, mingling with the greetings of strangers and the song your feet are creating at the same time.

The only thing you can truly think about is last night in the garden. It had been Kol’s idea, actually, to have one last night together. It was a beautiful notion, too, if not one that left four souls aching as though they were only one soul being forced into four different fragmented pieces.

There you sat, four fragmented pieces of one soul, tangled so elegantly that anyone looking in would have to squint to see the separate beings. Your back moulded so perfectly into Elijah’s front that it was as if you were made to never be apart in the first place. Though Klaus’ head fit so perfectly in your lap that it would be madness to think anything but the same. However, both such things ignore the delicate trace of Kol’s lips against your neck and mouth and fingertips in such a way that the night sky hadn’t shone half as bright as the stars he left you seeing. How could you even begin to make a decision.

None of you feel quite right about the arrangement. Your families have been close for a few years now, you having met the Mikaelsons at a founders party in your first year of college. Both of your households are founding families with a lot of influence in many parts of the south-eastern United States. While the Mikaelson’s are renowned, your own family, the Lancaster’s, are less well known. With your father running for governor of Virginia it was decided, quite suddenly, that your two families are to combine in order to gain the needed momentum to win at the polls. You, the only daughter to Mary-Anne and Johnathan Lancaster, are to marry any Mikaelson son of your choosing.

To any other woman in Virginia that offer would be a dream come true. The Mikaelson’s are akin to royalty in the United States. However, every other woman in Virginia hasn’t spent the last two years completely consumed by all three brothers. There are only a handful of moments that you can recall that don’t include even one Mikaelson. Every night you fall asleep wrapped around one of your boys. Each of their scents are permanently ingrained in your memory. How can you choose when no matter who you pick the other two will still be there.

You pace back and forth at the top of the winding staircase, silently dreading the descent. You gather the pilling fabric of your gown into your hands and let the silk cool your fiery skin for a few moments longer. You try to hold on to a few pieces of comfort with it. The way Kol had smelled of honey this morning and the feel of Elijah’s arms around you and the little marks Klaus left that are still fading beneath your bodice. You breathe in each of them before you take the first step.

You don’t want to go down the stairs but the first step only brings you to the second that much faster. You take them one at a time, letting your feet even out before every push forward. At this moment you wish that the stairs would never end. You would rather wind for years as your dress turned to dust around you than face the unrelenting truth that waits at the bottom. You would rather turn to dust than choose.

You come too quickly to the bend in the stairs that will reveal you to the party. The murmurs that were previously dulled are now at their peak, crashing over you with a harsh fury of cheerful nothings. You wish you could immerse yourself in the chatter like any other party however tonight isn’t just another party. It’s the party and families from across the country have gathered in the halls below to hear you make your decision.

With a quick breath in, you bring yourself into the glittering light cast by the chandelier hanging above the sweeping foyer. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust from the dark hallway. When they focus once more the air is sucked from your lungs in a startled gasp that turns every eye in the vicinity towards you. As if a switch has been flicked, every sound in the room dies out until all that is left is the slightest tinkling of the glass above your head and muffled sounds of awe.

You will give them that, the dress Rebekah Mikaelson had picked out for you is stunning. A rose coloured, silk gown that would make any Victorian princess green with envy. It’s strapless in the sense that it has silk that hangs off your shoulders, leaving your skin exposed and dusted with gold. Your hair has been curled and pinned up, allowing for some tendrils to frame your face. Bekah dusted the same gold she used on your shoulders on your eyes, bringing a finishing touch to your look. She truly does work miracles.

Your hand stalls on the railing for a moment, your eyes searching the sea of faces below you. It’s surreal to have all the attention on you. You’re used to being around important people, you yourself are one to most people, but you’ve never felt like you fit in with them. You’re just an ordinary girl after all. An ordinary girl who just happens to have the hearts of three Mikaelson’s in her palm. Now, if you could only spot them amongst the crowd.

As if they can hear their names flowing through your mind, they appear at the base of the steps. You shouldn’t be surprised at how dashing they all look but you’re still left open-mouthed at the sight of them. They're each clad head to toe in all black, the perfect contrast to your dress. The dark to your light and vice versa. They never disappoint.

Your feet begin moving of their own accord to meet them at the bottom of the staircase, the clicking of your heels ricocheting like bullets through the still silent foyer. You can feel their stares like flames on every inch of your exposed skin. The crowd is holding their breath in anticipation of the interaction to come, waiting ready for the moment you make your decision. It feels positively medieval, as if as soon as you choose you will be forced to rip off your clothes and mate for the court to see and deem your bond official. It’s too bad if that’s what they're expecting. They would be in for quite a shock if they saw the distinct markings of not one but three Mikaelson’s already on your skin.

Three mouthwatering scents swirl around you, encouraging you to move faster. Before you clear the last fifteen or so steps, however, the unthinkable happens. You trip. Your heel catches the loose fabric of your dress and rips your feet out from under you, a riptide of events that should have been foreseen. Your eyes slam shut the minute you go into freefall, not wanting to see the mess your body will create when you hit the marble. The fall feels like hours rather than seconds, waiting for an impact that will shatter life as you know it but the end never comes.

“Baby,” it takes you a moment to register the arms around your waist and the pine tree scent enveloping you, “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Another pair of hands grip on to your arm, sending waves of familiar warmth and nutmeg rushing through your chest, “my clumsy darling, what was our dear sister thinking when she put you in those heels.”

“She clearly wasn’t or else she would have remembered that she tripped three times just this morning,” you’re pulled easily into a new pair of strong arms, “isn’t that right, love?”

You can’t help but let the smile fall on your lips, your eyes tugging open to meet the ocean ones already looking at you, “you know me too well, Klaus.”

The smile is already on his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “of course love, that’s my job.”

He leans down to place a quick kiss on your forehead before steadying you. You turn to face the remaining brothers, both of whom look ready to pull you once more into their arms. They’re circled around you, blocking the crowd from seeing you until they have had their moment with you. It warms your heart immensely. Up close they look even more ravishing. When you take your time inspecting them, though, you see the circles under their eyes.

Elijah’s are the most prominent, his skin tinged a plum colour that in no way mars the beauty of his face. If anything it adds an ethereal glow. He’s always been the one to worry the most. He is the oldest after all, most of the stress falls on his shoulders. His deliciously sculpted shoulders. It’s his job to hold his family together, tonight is no exception. You waste no time pulling him towards you and wrapping your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his chocolate hair.

“You look like you need a nap, Eli,” you tug softly at the strands between your fingers, “it’ll all be okay.”

You can feel the deep breath he takes, as if the air is going into your lungs instead of his, “I know, baby.”

He squeezes his arms around you a little tighter than usual before releasing you. It takes Kol no time to scoop you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. You grip his back with shaking fingers, admiring the muscles through his jacket as a moment of peace before the storm to come. You don’t want to let him go. You don’t want to leave the little bubble the four of you have created.

“No matter what happens out there tonight, I'm yours darling. Until the sun doesn’t rise in the east, I’m yours,” he places a soft kiss to your throat and tears sting at your eyes but you refuse to let them fall.

He pulls back, a small smile on his lips. You look up to the other two one last time, feeling the crowd grow impatient at your hidden actions. You know that tonight isn't about you but you can’t help but let the seconds tick by freely. This could very well be the last moment the four of you share publicly.

Klaus nods his head carefully, squeezing one of his hands into a fist at his side, “until the sun doesn’t set in the west, I am yours, love.”

You pull your lip between your teeth to bite back the trembling, steeling yourself as you turn in finality to Elijah. His chocolate eyes are already on you. The determination in them lights something hot and not at all unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. He takes another deep breath, your eyes drawn to the rise and fall of his chest.

“And every moment after I will be yours, baby, that is my promise.”

When the words leave his lips you revel in the fleeting moment of calm that rushes over you.

The strength in your voice startles you a little bit, “I am yours before, during, and after. That is my promise. Let’s do this.”

The boys stand taller when you say the words, completing a promise you made to each other over a year ago. They part, allowing you to walk into the crowd of statues. No one moves, every eye glued to you once more. You can’t help but feel small under their gaze but you don’t back down, choosing instead to smile and stare back.

“Sweetheart, there you are!”

And just like that all the activity in the room restarts, all the chatter and music and tinkling restored like a fire under the floor. Your mother, Mary-Anne, appears from the crowd in a stunning blue gown. It accentuates her delicate features. She was a southern belle in her youth and it still shows, especially in her accent. You could get lost in the honey that is your mother’s voice.

“Hello, mama,” you fall into her embrace easily, breathing in her lilac lotion, “I’m sorry I took so long, Bekah wanted everything to be perfect.”

Your mother giggles, music to your aching soul, “except the shoes I see.”

You pull away with a blush, meeting her cheerful eyes with mild embarrassment, “oh my, you saw that?”

“Darling, all of Virginia saw it,” she takes your arm, leading you towards the ballroom where guests are steadily flowing to designated tables, “you gave those boys quite a startle. Your father too. He dropped his drink.”

She giggles again as she directs you to a table at the front of the room, elegantly decorated with an array of flowers and candles. There are enough seats to allow for both of your families and a few other important people to enjoy a nice meal. Your stomach tumbles in a way that makes you doubt the amount of food you will be enjoying tonight.

Your mother hands you a glass of champagne which you take gratefully, “will he be here soon?”

“I’m sure he will be,” she smiles gently at you, pushing a fallen curl behind your ear, “how are you feeling, darling? You look a little rattled.”

“It’s a lot to take in, mama. I’m alright,” you take a sip of your champagne to punctuate your words, letting the sweet bubbles cool your throat.

She places her hand on your own, pulling your attention back to her, “you’re allowed to not be. You’re doing a lot for this family, you know. Your father and I appreciate you very much. It can’t be easy.”

“The hard part isn’t getting married,” you meet her kind eyes and almost crumble, “It’s almost too easy to spend a lifetime with any one of them. They each mean the world to me. Mama, how am I supposed to choose?”

She shakes her head gently, her own curls bouncing lightly, “you just have to trust yourself, darling.”

The ballroom fills steadily, flowing conversation and music through the open space. You quickly spot the Mikaelson's, Bekah now in tow, as well as your father, who looks locked in a serious conversation with Elijah and Klaus. He’s nodding along to whatever they’re saying, clearly absorbing whatever notion they’re pushing. Kol, on the other hand however, remains silent, gazing around the space before locking eyes with you. Even from across the floor you can see his shoulders loosen slightly. Bekah tries to say something to him but he just brushes her off before moving towards you. You feel a touch guilty but you'll apologize later. Right now you need him.

You pass your glass back to your mother, accepting another knowing smile before all but running towards Kol. He clears the space quicker than you can, meeting you just in front of the table.

“You know, I don’t recall having told you how breathtaking you look yet this evening,” his words pour over you as he takes the final steps towards you, “and that should be a punishable crime. You look absolutely stunning, darling.”

He laces his arms once more around your waist, drawing you into his chest, “we’re all a little flustered tonight, I think I can pardon you just this once. Besides, I haven’t told you how marvellous you look yet either.”

You whisper the words into his chest, closing your eyes for a brief moment. His touch brings you some clarity. You wish you were curled up watching a movie instead of in a ball gown.

He pulls back slightly, lifting your chin to meet his warm eyes, “I meant what I said earlier, no matter who you choose I’m not going anywhere. None of us are.”

“I don’t think I can do it, Kol,” you look towards your father sitting next to your mother, both laughing with another couple, “I can’t hurt any of you.”

“Love,” you're pulled from Kol’s grasp and into a different but no less familiar hold, “we know this isn’t what you want. It’s not what any of us want. You need to trust us. Follow your instincts. Now come on, we’ll miss dinner.”

Klaus leads you to the table and a plate filled with what would normally be your favourite foods. Elijah is already waiting with your chair pulled out, sitting you between your mother and father.

He leans down before you can sit, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks, “just relax, baby. I love you.”

He presses a kiss to your ear before tucking you in and taking his own seat across from you. The ballroom soon fills with the sharp sounds of forks and knives scraping against porcelain and even more happy chatter than before. Your own table becomes a flurry of excited words and talk of the upcoming elections and wedding ideas. You’re bombed with many sneaky attempts to hear your decision early but you brush every one of them off, nervously taking bites of food every few minutes.

“So, honey,” your father turns to you with a grin, lowering his voice and drawing you into your own little bubble, “how’s my star doing?”

You focus on his nose, not wanting to meet his eyes quite yet, “I’m great, dad. This dinner is wonderful.”

He chuckles quietly and you can feel his gaze trying to pull your focus to him, “you would know, right, with all the food you've eaten?’

He isn’t wrong, you’ve barely cleared half your plate, “I’m not hungry is all.”

“You? Not hungry? Now I know something is really wrong here,” his hand grasps yours lightly, “look at me, what’s going on in that noggin of yours?”

You don’t mean to sigh but it happens anyway, “It’s just a lot to digest. It’s a really big decision.”

“You’re right it is, honey,” he squeezes your hand gently, “but I know you’ve got what it takes. You can’t disappoint me. Never have and you never will.” He looks in front of you, “besides, I think those boys know what they're doing. I trust them to help you figure this out.”

Like your mother, he always seems to know what to say. You have a strong family, one that holds each other up in the hardest of choices. You look across the table to meet the eyes of three men already looking at you. They each smile at you in their own way. Elijah’s is with his eyes, the rest of his face remaining stone. Klaus smirks at you, the blue of his eyes sparkling mischievously. Kol tilts his head to the side, a soft grin on his lips.

Soon the music becomes louder and guests start pouring onto the dance floor, swaying to an elegant piece made up of violins and flutes. Your own table clears with the rest, leaving the four of you alone. Elijah, as per usual, is the first one out of his seat.

“Would you do me the immense honour of sharing this dance?”

The formality in his words brings you a bubbling sense of warmth and you, of course, rise to meet his outstretched hand. He leads you to the middle of the floor, twirling you under another chandelier before pulling you tight against his chest. You’re once again wrapped in his forest scent and you lay your head against him, trusting him to keep you from falling. The music swirls around you, drowning out the noise of the others around you. They're no doubt speculating that you’ve made your decision but, in reality, this is just yours and Elijah’s thing: dancing.

He moves you beautifully across the floor, pulling you slightly to where it feels like you’re gliding on ice. The rest of the couples move back, allowing for the two of you to take as much space as you need. You feel like you dance for an eternity, giggling as he spins you endlessly across the polished wood floor. He eventually lifts you, turning you in what you assume is a final twirl, only to pass you into another pair of ocean breeze arms.

Klaus takes over effortlessly, falling into the same pattern that Elijah had created, “sorry to cut in, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You move the hand that lays on his shoulder and wrap it around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and drawing as close to him as you can. He takes his time dancing with you the same as his brother had. By now all the other dancers have stopped and cleared completely off the floor. Each eye is trained on the pair of you like lasers to a target. You will yourself to remain completely focused on Klaus’ movements.

It takes both an eternity and mere seconds for you to land in Kol’s arms, who twirls you one last time, perfectly stopping with the music. When the last violin dies out, a clock chimes through the room. Your shoulders tense on their own, the rest of your body following suit. Ten O’clock. Choosing time.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome,” your father’s voice pours through speakers placed around the hall but you can barely register the words being said, “I know many of you have travelled great lengths to be here today and for that our families are incredibly grateful. Tonight is a momentous occasion. It marks the engagement of my girl, Y/n, to one of these fine men.”

Your father motions across the room to where you stand, now with all three brothers stood in front of you, “each one of them have expressed their interest in my daughter and now, with all of you to witness such a grand step in her life, she will choose which of them she would like to marry.”

Whatever head that wasn't already turned now faces you, each holding their breath in anticipation. You aren't looking at them though. Instead, you’re facing the three men that you would do anything in the world for. You can almost see your aching heart already in your hands, ready to rip it into three even pieces and hand it to them with little bows.

You look at Klaus first. Your creative spirit who could fill an entire museum with paintings of your face alone. His hands twitch slightly at his sides and he closes them into fists when you notice. He offers you a small smile and you remember the other night when he fell asleep on your lap while watching a movie in the den. He hasn't been sleeping properly with all the arrangements for tonight being settled and you running your hands through his hair had been the final push he needed to collapse. You make sure he’s looking at your lips when you mouth I love you across the room.

You turn quickly to Elijah from there, locking eyes with him immediately. Your warrior who looks especially undone in comparison to his usual put together self. He looks like he has to stop himself from closing the distance between the two of you and that it’s taking most of his remaining energy to do so. That’s Eli for you though, he never can stay away from you for too long. When you mouth I love you to him he stands a little straighter.

You find Kol’s eyes easily from there. Your rebellious, hell-raiser with a glint in his face that you would be able to see from all the way across the room. His hand is in his hair, tugging the strands between his fingers in a way that only he could make look elegant. He’s got a look in his eyes that begs you to do something entirely untraditional. He mouths I love you before you can even open your mouth.

You stand there for an eternity, your feet stuck as though rooted through the floor. Every moment from the past two years rushes through your head. You aren't dying; this isn't a life flashing before your eyes type moment but it may as well be. These three have been your entire life since you were introduced. Not one of them alone could have brought you here. Every moment for two years has been leading to you standing here, with them, at this very second.

It hits you quite suddenly that if you were to remove two of them, the equation that makes up who you are wouldn't be correct anymore. You’ve been juggling with the idea that your soul is four parts rather than two for quite some time now. It wouldn't be right to give three parts to one person, not when each of them have taken the time to so delicately etch their names onto their own separate parts.

You can’t pick just one of them. You’ve known that from the beginning, you just didn’t know what you were going to do about it until now. Your hands tremble now that you know your decision, a chill running up your spine at the thought of sharing it with the crowd. It’s not exactly conventional what you’re about to say.

“I choose Klaus.”

The crowd releases the breath it had been holding for hours. Too bad they're going to be sucking it back in soon. Klaus’ eyes are wide, his mouth open as though he didn't expect to be your choice. Your heart breaks for him and you remind yourself to spend more time with him when this is all over. Your other two boys look devastated, the smiles on their lips looking more like pained grimaces. Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“And I choose Elijah.”

Just like that there is once again no air left in the room. You begin walking towards them, ignoring the buzz of whispers growing in the room. You peer over their shoulders at you parents who don’t look nearly as stunned as they should. In fact your mother is beaming at you. You can feel the pride radiating off her from thirty feet away. You can’t tell if your father mouths I told you so or if you imagine it.

The boys begin moving towards you as well, ready to cover you from the storm raging around you. You can tell there are a thousand things they want to say but you’re not done speaking yet.

You look to the last Mikaelson, willing a smile to take over the frown on his gorgeous face, “and, of course, I choose Kol.”

The crowd roars around you but you’re surrounded with a wall of Mikaelson, blocking you from the prying eyes. You look at each of them, trying to gauge their reactions. You know they said that they're yours but you never discussed marrying all of them. You don’t even know if you can do that. It’s now entirely overwhelming in a completely new way. All three of them stare at you with a mix of shock and awe. Like this is the first time they’re seeing you. You wring your hands together waiting for one of them to say something.

None of them do, though. Instead Elijah closes the space between your bodies and crashes his lips onto yours, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard. His hands grasp your waist with strong fingers, leveling you against his tall frame. It sends shocks through your entire system and you revel in the outright display he’s putting on. He’s the last one you would have expected to lose it in a crowd.

Kol is the next one to close in on you, wrapping his arms around you as well and gently kissing your shoulder. The fire Elijah started in your stomach only increases when Kol bites down. You gasp into Elijah’s mouth but it’s quickly swallowed by the man himself. Kol’s lips feel heavenly against your exposed skin.

Klaus finally steps towards you, tangling his arms in the mess of your bodies and completing your circle. His lips meet the side of your throat in a way only he can, biting down deliciously. When Elijah finally pulls away from you, the rest of them follow. You know your skin is most definitely bruised and your lips swollen. Your curls have most definitely fallen from their pins. You would be worried but each of them still hold you, caged around your body for no one but themselves to see.

The rush of the evening hits you all at once, a strong fatigue laying across your bones. You let your eyes close as you lean further into Elijah. Sensing the finality of your movements, he scoops you up, careful to keep your dress in it’s beautiful condition. He starts walking out of the room, ignoring the protests around him. On cue Kol and Klaus join him on either side.

“Eli, we can’t leave, they’re expecting us,” you can’t hide the yawn in your voice.

“We can, and we are leaving, baby,” he tightens his arms around you, “you need to sleep.”

You shake your head unconvincingly, “I’m fine, Eli.”

The other Mikaelson brothers just laugh.

The smile in Kol’s voice is audible, “yes you are, darling, but humor us won’t you?”

“They’ll be mad at me,” your voice trails off at the end, blackness creeping in around the edges of your mind despite your protests.

“You’ve done more than enough, love, we can take it from here.”

Klaus’ voice is the last you hear, not even making it back up the stairs before you drift out of consciousness.

[lorelylantana]

Spontaneous Chapter 2: One Day at a Time

First-Next

Ao3

Chapter Rating: G Overall Rating: T

Zelda was woken up by a faint rustle. She opened her eyes to a small creature with an ethereal blue glow about it. It was currently digging through their pack. A quick glance to the side confirmed Link was still asleep, so she was alone with the creature. She remained still as she watched the blupee straighten, some of the herbs they’d gathered clasped in its paws.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” she said, still lying on her side. She expected the creature to flee, hopefully without any of their supplies. Instead, it merely turned to look at her. It stared at her for a moment before padding over to where she was still leaning on her side. The blupee pawed at her hand where it rested on her knee, opening her fingers and pushing something into her palm before running off with the herbs. Zelda brought her hand to her face to look at what she was holding. A red rupee twinkled back at her.

Alright then.

Zelda figured she should tuck the money away, but she was still too drowsy to really care. She settled back asleep, the money still loosely grasped in her palm.

Her day started with the sweet scent of baked apples. Zelda was a bit disoriented, laying down with her head resting on the pile of clothes instead of leaning against the rock she fell asleep on. The outer layer of her dress must have dried while she slept and was now draped over her as a makeshift blanket. Link was already up and bustling around their meager campsite. 

“Good morning,” he said, which she thought was generous, considering the sun was directly overhead. He handed her an apple. She bit into it, more out of habit than out of hunger. Her stomach must have shrunk in the past century, because she was stuffed by the time she finished. She watched as the Epona horse nuzzled at Link’s hair, and he fed her an apple as well.

“You should register the horse at a stable,” she said. He looked at her.

“What happens when we register?” he asked.

“They’ll give us a saddle and bridle, for one thing,” she said, and held up the red gem in her hand, “It’s a good bargain for just twenty rupees, and you’ll be able to give her a name.”

Link tilted his head the way he always did when considering his options. “What do you think we should name her?”

Zelda shrugged, “You tamed the horse, it’s your call.”

“No I didn’t.”

That made her pause, “What do you mean you didn’t tame the horse? Where did you find her?”

He shrugged, “She found me, really. When you sent me to Hyrule Field to fight the boar she just came running.”

That didn’t make any sense, but there’s no point in pondering a question with no answer, so she moved on. She handed him the pile of clothes.

“Here, put these on and we can be on our way.”

He stared at her, making no move to take the bundle. She held them out further, “Go on then. I’ll smother the fire.”

Instead, Link pushed the clothes back to her chest.

“You should wear them. You bought them,”

She pushed it back, or she tried to. He wouldn’t budge.

“It was bought with money made selling your gems, they’re by all accounts yours.”

“I gave those to you, and if that doesn’t suffice then I’m giving these to you.”

It shouldn’t be this hard to get a grown man to wear clothes. 

“You need to wear clothes when we see Impa,” she insisted, pushing the clothes back towards his chest.

“Why?” he held them out to her again, brow furrowed.

“Because it’d be rude not to!” she hissed, patience wearing a bit thin. He conceded at her frustration, and reluctantly pulled on the pants while she tidied up their camp, folding the spare cloth and tucking it away in Link’s pack and throwing any scraps of wood into the water. When she straightened out the tower further up the mountain caught her eye, “Was that tower blue last night?”

“No,” the word was muffled by the tunic as he pulled it on. His head popped out and he continued, “I registered the tower this morning. Figured it couldn’t hurt. Besides, you were out like a light.”

He grinned at her, bright and cheeky. She felt a small smile of her own grow at his tease, going so far as to swat him on the arm as she passed. Zelda pulled herself up onto the Epona horse’s back, having absolutely no desire to walk the mountain road barefoot. Link himself opted to walk alongside them until they reached the stable. He then walked up to Ozunda to sort out the mare’s registration. While they tacked and put the horse into the system, Zelda read the book titled Rumor Mill. She had hoped, rather optimistically, that it was something of a news publication. It seemed a bit questionable, but after what she had to live through Zelda was hesitant to discount any folktales as outright false. Then it was time to go, and she was once again helped into the saddle before heading South.

Link named the horse Epona.

The trip to Kakariko was uneventful. Zelda tried to walk as much as she could, but it wasn’t much. She rode Epona as they walked the roads dismounting whenever they crossed terrain that might be more accommodating to her bare feet, such as the grassy plains or the sands bordering some of the rivers. Walking helped bind Zelda to the era at hand, clearing her mind as she focused on the blades of grass between her toes instead of the echoes of Calamity. Sadly, she tired quicker than she would have liked, her dragging feet causing her to stumble a couple of times before Link insisted she ride once more. She let her feet dangle, refusing to put them in the stirrups. She’d managed to prevent any chafing on her thighs by spreading the remains of her skirt over the leather seat, but without pants there was no mitigating any pinching from the stirrup straps. Epona followed Link without complaint or diversion, so there wasn’t a real need for Zelda to interfere much anyway.

Link on the other hand, exhibited none of the weakness she did as he darted this way and that, picking up whatever caught his eye and slipping into a pack that really should be full by now. Sometimes he would run ahead to slay any monsters in their path. Zelda contemplated asking him to ride with her, but decided against it when she saw how often he ran off.

 “Keep the entrails,” Zelda had said the first time he’d done slain a pair of bokoblins and made to walk away from the remains empty handed, “They’ll be useful later.”

He didn’t question her, but he started collecting everything he saw after that.

Without the need to focus on guiding the Epona Zelda found herself daydreaming more than once. Daydreaming was not the right word, it implied whimsical, pleasant musings. A far cry from the guilt ridden nightmares plaguing her thoughts. Link noticed her discomfort, because he seemed just as aware of her as he was 100 years ago, but didn’t seem to know what to say until he asked, “What’s one thing you like about this time?”

Zelda snapped out of her daze, looking his way but not quite focusing on his face, “What?”

“What’s something that you think changed for the better?” he raised his hand but seemed to think better of it, instead brushing his fingers against her calf. The touch helped tie her to the moment, and his features came into sharp focus. His brow was furrowed, but she wouldn’t say he was glaring.

She didn’t answer for a moment. It seemed wrong to look for a bright side to all this destruction, but there was a determination in his eyes that pushed her to face the question. She looked around. They were walking along a river, and a gentle breeze caressed her skin. 

“It’s peaceful,” she admitted, “There’s hardly anyone on the roads, but that means you can hear the birds sing.”

“What else?” he encouraged.

“The horizon is visible in all directions,” she said, “I feel like I can go anywhere.”

“Where do you want to go?” he asked, loosely holding onto her ankle.

“Lurelin,” she replied, “I wasn’t allowed to go because it was too remote and would take time I should have been spending at the Spring of Courage. I hear the water glimmers in the sun and the sand is white as snow there.”

“We can go there now if you like,” Link said, squeezing her leg before letting it go. Zelda wished he didn’t, but couldn’t bring herself to voice her loss. She smiled at the thought of dropping everything and pursuing her own desires, of forgoing every single obligation until she felt well enough to face them.

“We should see Impa first. She’s waited for us long enough.” That answer didn’t seem to satisfy him, so she tried for a joke, “At the very least she should have my old clothes, and my boots, Hylia save me.”

The smile felt fake on her face, but the opportunity to assuage Link’s baseless guilt over his clothes was enough to lead them on. They reached Kakariko well after dark, but Zelda had them approach the central house anyway. The guards gaped up at her, reverent even though they had never seen her before. Perhaps they recognized her mother’s jewelry, which she couldn’t bear to part with even as she tore her pious gown to shreds. A squeak came from somewhere up above, and Zelda looked up to find a flash of silver hair retreat into the house.

“Princess Zelda?” the guard to the left asked.

“Yes,” she answered, “Is Impa well?”

The guard nodded, “She’d be a lot better if she saw your face, Princess. Please, go right up.”

She slid down from Epona’s back and walked to the stairs. Link came by to take her arm, which she was grateful for, even if the part of her that brawled with Ganon for a century raged at her own helplessness. They stood in front of the doors in what seemed like seconds, though they had taken their time. Link made no move to go through, giving her the time she needed to brace herself. 

Zelda took a shaking breath before pushing against the ancient wood and stepping into the room beyond.

[huearmy]

Life Is Beautiful - II

Summary: You are a glass half full person, your life motto is “Life is too short to… Insert something and anything here”. During your whole life you wanted something more, and even not knowing what it is, you put yourself to find out and get it, experiencing everything  brilliant that the world offers - within the measure of what is safe, of course. The curious thing is that your way of living ended up rousing  the interest of two vampires. One who sees beauty in everything and  loves to exist, currently working with suicide prevention; and another one who no longer sees grace in things, in that boring immortality that never ends, and only complains about the Netflix catalog all the time.

Pairing: Jimin x reader / Taehyung x reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, mature (not really a smut i guess?)…

Words:  8593.

Rating: +18

Warnings: As much as my writing is soft and light, and as these are not the main topic of the story, treated in a non-descriptive way, there are sensitive themes from the beginning of the first chapter to the end of the fic that can trigger sensitive people, like depression, suicide, addictions in general - Jimin literally works at a suicide prevention center here. SO PLEASE! Read responsibly, my intention when dealing with topics like this is always 1) dealing with them in myself, as a way of putting out part of my own healing process 2) generating identification in other people, so they can go through the difficult time a little less alone. THIS IS A STORY THAT SEES THE WORLD WITH POSITIVITY.

Chapter I - Chapter III .

Dating is a very mortal thing, very human thing. Because mortals believe in love and want it, as they live for such a little time and die so easily, they are seeking for it every time, afraid that they will never ever find this great noble sentiment, a person to call theirs, to take care and be cared of. Vampires on the other hand have no need to be afraid of these fleeting things. Most times when they have an interest in other vampires, they just act on it, whether to periodic casual encounters, ether to live an endless affection in the empty eternity, just let's move it together. It is not common for vampires to fall in love - in fact most do not even believe in the word love - so no feelings are wasted, even the most superficial ones like the carnal impulses or the need for company. That's because existence is too long and feelings are few. When it happens it is unmistakable. For mortals it is precisely the opposite. Too many feelings for a short life. This creates an irrational anxiety and fear of choosing the wrong person, someone that isn't for them, and ending up just wasting time of their ephemeral lives. That is why dates are so important, it is a test. If it is a good experience it is a sign to continue, if it is bad go to the next option.

Jimin always wanted to have such experience. He likes the romance of mortals, which takes place at a slow and smooth pace like in books and movies, and he wanted to try. He just never got interested enough in anyone to think about actually asking them out... until now. Today he has a date with you.

He ran to his closet to choose an outfit - he already had four options ready in his head, but he needed to prove it to see which one would look better. He was just so excited you said yes! He was so eager to see how you will dress up, because of course, you are already beautiful, but the idea is to try to look even more beautiful to go on a date, and imagining you doing this thinking about him makes Jimin smile until his eyes disappear in two half moons. ________________________________________________________________

Taehyung was laying upside down on his bed, lazyly throwing a ball to Yeontan chase it, again, again and again. On the old record player there was a vinyl that he bought almost a century ago, filling the air in the room with jazz. His feet bounce site to side on the rhythm of the bass and he is tempted on singing along. He couldn't - because he wouldn't even try - remember the first time he heard this song, only that it was in the first half of the twentieth century and he probably met the singer personally, since he loved going to the shows. In his almost four hundred years of existence, this was one of the times when he was happier, different from now. He chased after the pretty girls, made them feel like princesses with the polite and gallant way he talks, kissed their red painted lips and drank the red from their necks... And then made them forget about him so they wouldn't have nightmares about his fangs and red eyes. He also had fun with the young men who went out to party and accepted anyone who wanted to party with them with hugs and high laughter, but it was not so good to drink from them, because alcohol changes the taste of blood too much... Still it was fun though.

Now none of that is interesting. And he doesn't even know why. He also doesn't know why he feels so angry all the time. But he feels. He gets irritated when he sees Jimin being happy and excited as always while he doesn't even want to move, and then he feels guilty because it's not like he wants Jimin to stop being like that. It's just... It seems that at any moment he will be alone forever. Taehyung slowly got up and lined up his silk pajamas looking at himself in the full length mirror. Even though he feels empty and purposeless he is elegant. He headed to Jimin's room. His intention was to apologize for being rude but he forgot it at the moment he stepped inside the door. "What is it all?" He looked to the mess of clothes and shoes around the bedroom.

Jimin ran out the closet with a hoodie in one hand and a suit on the other and not using any pants. His eyes were anxious.

"I don't know what to wear! I want to look good but don't want to overdress..." He whined in front of the mirror. "None of my initial ideas seemed right when I tried..."

Taehyung made a face, trying to remember what day of week was. "I thought you didn't have work today..." Tae found an empty bed space to sit on.

"I don't..." Jimin turned to him with a bright smile that almost blinded him. "Today I'm going out with a girl! I have a date!" And there it was again. That pain of feeling Jimin slowly slipping away. He is the only one Taehyung really got attached to after so much time, the only one he wanted to stay forever... But the feeling doesn't seem reciprocal anymore. "A girl? Who is it?" Tae asked, trying to swallow the sour taste on his mouth. He was there to apologize, not to smash Jimin's smile once more.

"Y/N. She works with me, and she's very sweet. I think you would like her if you meet her." Jimin dreamly said, hands dropping the clothes he was holding. "Why do you think that?" Tae got along.

Jimin sighed, thinking of you, trying to put you in one or a few words. It was hard.

"I don't know... I identify with her." He approached Tae, taking his face on his cute hands. "She is like me." Taehyung closed his eyes, and the image of some bubbly cute girl in love with live, appreciating little things, formed in his mind, and then this cute girl replaced him in Jimin's heart. He already hates her. Hates you. He harshly sighed. "If you want to look unpretentious, modest, choose jeans. A pair that values your beautiful legs." Taehyung recommended calmly. Jimin smiled and ran back to the closet. "Button-up shirt, one that looks casual but still shows that you care." Jimin searched through the closet looking for something that matched Taehyung description, seconds later he came back with a white shirt with a mandarin collar and short sleeves, slightly oversized, and ripped jeans that hugged his tights nicely. "What else?" He asked, already feeling more confident.

"Any of your shoes should look good, I think... And it's raining, so you need a leather jacket."

At the end Jimin was perfect, with his hands full of rings, hair fixed showing his forehead, and using an expensive perfume, but in fact he is always perfect. Carefully he put all his clothes back in the closet, so as not to have to tidy up the room when he gets back, and even to control the anxiety a little since he got ready too early. When he finished Tae was no longer in the room waiting for him.

"Taetae?" Jimin knocked on Taehyung's door, even if it was open.

Tae was back on his previous position on his bed, head hanging off the edge. He didn't look back at Jimin's direction, keeping his eyes close as if he was just enjoying the song playing on the old record player. He wasn't at all. "Hm?"

"Thank you." Jimin softly said, sitting beside him.

Taehyung slowly opened one eye, lazyly humming again.

"You welcome, you looked lost." He unconsciously took Jimin's hand, interviewing their fingers. "I thought you were already leaving."

Jimin shook his head, chuckling to himself.

"I got carried away with my enthusiasm. I only need to pick up Y/N in an hour and twenty six minutes."

"Silly you."Tae mumbled.

"Yeah... Silly Jiminie." He was dreamly, looking to nowhere specific. After a moment without conversation, they made eye contact. "You went to my room to say something. What was it?"

A pout formed on Taehyung lips.

"I'm sorry."

Jimin answered with a soft grin, using his free hand to affectionately mess Tahyung's hair. After so much time together it gets easier to solve conflicts, it is possible to see how simple it is to ask for forgiveness. This makes immortality much more enjoyable. They both knew they were fine. _______________________________________________________________

You said bye to your roommate, and she wished you luck, saying for the hundred time that you are beautiful - she hadn't seen you this excited to a date before. In the cold, empty corridor of your building, still in front of your apartment door, you checked if your keys, wallet and cell phone really were in your little lap-bag - which sadly you hardly use because your heavy books, lunchboxes and other everyday things don't fit in it. You took a deep breath and put your hair behind your ear with a slightly shaking hand, feeling the stomach full of those silly butterflies, just for thinking that Jimin was already down there waiting for you. It was raining so much now that even though it was late afternoon the sky was dark as if it were already night. When you opened the front door, the cold air caught you off guard, it was cold enough to make you shiver, even if you were wearing a jacket and wool pantyhose. Jimin came up the stairs to you with a big umbrella in his hand and a satisfied smile on his face.

"I swear where we are going is pretty warm inside." He said, giving you space to go under the umbrella with him. "You look cute by the way. Beautiful actually."

Your face heated as you hooked your arms together, a grin in your lips.

"You don't look bad yourself."

If Jimin had any blood circulating in his veins he would blush too. Thank you, Tae. He thought.

"I was afraid you would give up on going out today, because of the weather..." Jimin expressed, really relieved that you didn't.

"I never miss an opportunity to have a good time. Just rain can't stop me... maybe a tornado..." You jocked.

"Thank god I saw nothing about tornadoes in the weather."

You laughed, and you were about to answer something but Jimin stopped, and you shut up when you saw him opening the door of a sporting car, and even if you don't know anything about cars to the point of not even knowing what brand it was, you sure could say it was expensive. Your broke ass was freaking out.

"Is this your car?" You couldn't keep the words from coming out of your mouth. Jimin just smirked, thinking it was cute.

"Miss?" He motioned for you to come in, and when you were comfortable in the leather seat he closed the door for you. One second later he was getting in himself.

He took his time to put on his seat belt, so he could look at you whole again. You two have never been in such a small enclosed space before, so now, even with the other smells, like rain outside and the leather of the seats, he could smell you a lot better. And it was good. Everything about you was cute, even the pulse of your blood in the artery in your beautiful neck. He could just look at you forever, but it would make you uncomfortable, probably, and that's definitely not the idea of this date. "You are using transparent rain boots." He stated, noticing it now.

"Ah... Yeah. I didn't want to wet up my feet." You slightly freaked. The only other pair of shoes you have to rain days is way old and ugly - the pair of hiking boots you use almost everyday to college and work - so you opted for yout transparent rain boots and cute socks.The result was not very fashionable, but you didn't have much else to do other than to hope it would look cute or at least talk a little about your personality. "I like to use socks that match my mood, even if people can't see."

Jimin hummed, analyzing the yellow socks in your feet. A happy color.

"I see." He smiled. "I guess you never use black socks then."

You looked at him, really serious.

"Those are for final exam days."

He laughed. You like to make him laugh.

"And what's the meaning of yellow socks?" Jimin asked, really expectant of your explanation.

"If I'm still in such a mood at the end of the night, I'll tell you." You smirked.

"Ok."

He took you to a fancy cafe, just like his car, the moment you went through the door you knew the money you brought with you wasn't enough, the whole place with the marble floor and vintage decor in a level totally different from the simple cafe in front of the train station that you usually buy your coffee before work. There weren't many people, most likely because of the rain. With a hand in the small of your back, Jimin walked you to a table, and pulled a chair for you. Your eyes were sparkling as you looked around, to the fancy illumination set, to the plants adorning the wall behind you, to the beautiful girl in a beautiful dress some tables from yours.

"We always drink coffee in a not so nice place in a not so nice situation, so I wanted to change it a little bit." Jimin seated beside you.

"Is a nice change indeed." You gave him a sweet smile.

"But if you think it's too boring, just tell me, I am not attached to plans." He jocked, but with truth behind it.

You thought for a second. "What if I say I want to go to a climbing gym?"

"First I would say that my shoes are not good for this activity, nor your dress... But, why not?" His response made you smile and your heart skipped a bit.

"I'll think of a more suitable activity for our outfits then."

Seconds later, a waitress came to your table with a notepad in hand and a cordial smile on her face. She was using the black uniform with a colorful apron on her waist, and a vintage eyeliner, you thought she was also nice looking, just like the rest of the place and people around you.

"Already know what you will want?" She asked, looking between you and Jimin.

"Ah! I haven't looked at the menu yet! Just a moment." You reached the cute booklet beside the flower pot in front of you. As you guessed before, the prices were a little more than you had planned to spend, making your stomach flip. Jimin rested his elbows on the table.

"I want an espresso, the small one, please." He cheekly smiled. "And she..." He stopped himself. He could bet what you would want, based on the kind of coffee you always buy to yourself, and your feed on instagram, but asking you directly was better, but most important: girls in this century can make their own order themselves. So he would just wait for you to talk. But you didn't say anything right away, you were nervously staring at the menu in your hands instead.

You were calculating. If you took the cheapest coffee among the expensive ones, which should certainly be a delight, you would not be a miser, and there would be extra money left for emergencies which is always good. But you could also buy a cheaper coffee and a cookie maybe. But a piece of pie would be so good too, there were some really beautiful ones in the showcase, but to also drink something would take all your money at once...

"Strawberry Mocha Latte, please." You ordered, wishing to not regret it.

Jimin, who was watching you closely during the few seconds you got to make a decision, saw how you longered a little more on the pies and cakes page, and the quick looks you sent to the showcase, humed.

"Thinking better... I'm up to something sweet too. Can you please tell me what flavor is that brown pie, with the white thing running down the sides?" He asked the waitress, chin on his hand.

"Sure. That's Cocoa Pie. It tastes like hot chocolate, the white thing is melted marshmallow." She explained.

Jimin heard your heart speeding up and then you gulped.

"I want a slice of it, please." He smiled at the waitress one last time.

"Anything else?" She asked.

"No." Both of you answered together.

Jimin had eyes only in you once again.

"Well, you were talking about college." He signaled for you to continue the previous conversation you were having on the car.

"Oh... yeah. College..." You couldn't remember the last thing you were telling him. Jimin lightly passed his index finger through your forehead, to undo a frown you didn't notice you were making.

"You were saying you didn't know exactly what you wanted to study." He took advantage of the proximity to put your hair behind your ear.

"Right. I always dreamed of things like being president, firefighter, astronaut and superhero. Something helpful." You laughed, especially because Jimin was laughing imagining you doing such things. "So I signed up for psychology when vacancies were opened for classes and I started working at the center as complementary hours... and it has been incredible."

"You don't sound like you have found what is your dream." Jimin commented.

You shrugged, playing with the sleeve of your dress. "It's because I didn't. I don't know what I want to do with my life, but I can't just sit down and think about it, so I started from somewhere. Going to college, or whatever, later would be a waste of time. Life is too short. You understand me?"

Not really. Imortallity and such. But Jimin could have some empathy. "Tell me more."

You sighed.

"Mom says I always have been different... My siblings are really chill. Dad supports me in any decision I make since ever, even the dumbest ones. I'm blessed, because for them I can be anything I want. I just don't know what it is. I feel that I can't disappoint them and waste all their money trying to discover myself. I need to at least get a degree in the process." You ended your speech with a dismissing laugh, as if it wasn't your biggest intern issue. "But I'm talking too much about myself... Your turn."

"It's not a problem, I can hear about you all day." He just flirted. "But well. My first degree was in law, I wanted to know how things work. Then I studied history, because I have a certain... intimacy with it. Basically everything I study is because I like it or am curious about it. I love taking courses on the internet too."

You were a little shocked. You didn't exactly know Jimin's age, but he looks at most two or three years older than you, and he already has two degrees? Rich kids really live in another world.

"Your family must be so proud of you." You said, stunned.

"I don't have family." Jimin simply responded.

In one second you were freaking out.

"I'm so, so sorry... I didn't mean to touch a delicate subject. Sorry." You reached both hands to his arm which was resting on the table, hoping you didn't ruin everything offending him or making him feel sad.

Jimin let a light chuckle out, putting his other hand above yours.

"It's ok. You couldn't know. Besides, it is not that delicate of a subject." He smiled, trying to make you relax. "I have been alone since I remember, since ever. No mom or dad. Just me. At some point I met this guy and he proposed to be my tutor, he adopted me, and it was the closest thing to a father figure that I ever had. And I'm sure parents aren't... that way." Jimin's eyes got dark for a second, but before you could say anything, he smiled again, brighter than before. "Now it's me and my friend Taehyung."

He said the name Taehyung with so much affection and fondness, that you almost heard him completing with "And he is my family", and in fact that was the feeling hiding in Jimin's words everytime he needs to talk about his friend to someone.

"Everytime you talk about this friend of yours I feel like meeting him. He must be so nice."

Jimin's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"I think he will love you. If you like it, I can invite you for lunch or something like that." His hand tightened on yours.

Was it a cue to a kind of second date already? Your face heated up.

"I would love to."

Your orders arrived, Jimin needed to let go of your hands, and you from his arm. As expected, your coffee was divine, creamy, warm and sweet in the right measure, warming you up inside and making your tongue melt with satisfaction, that your heart even hurt less at the price you would pay for it. Jimin got the tiniest bite of the cocoa pie and hummed in delight, catching your attention. Vampires have no problem eating human food, but it's not like it's very satisfying, the acting was to make you look at him with puppy eyes. And it worked.

"Y/N, you need to taste it. Here." He filled the spoon with a piece way bigger than he ate himself and reached it out in front of your mouth.

You wanted it so bad you didn't even think how he feeding you could be embarrassing, you just ate it. No regrets.

"It really tastes like hot chocolate." You said with doe eyes.

As you talked, he made you eat the whole slice yourself without noticing it. You were just so happy, having a good time with a nice, handsome guy you crush on, and a cute delicious meal, in a conceitual, beautiful place. If life wasn't so short, you would like to do it forever.

"Hmmm, Jimin?" You said, mouth slightly full. "How Escape Room sounds to you?"

He smiled widely.

"Sounds like a good new plan."

________________________________________________________________

You're a masochist, Jimin came to that conclusion after fifteen minutes of escape room adventure. First of all you chose a suspense and horror story to play, which surprised him a little but didn't make him think much about it. It turns out that in addition to the tense story where you need to find out where the main character's body was hidden in order to get out, an actor dressed as a masked serial killer appears from time to time to scare and chase you with a fake knife. Jimin is not really scared, since his improved hearing and smells make him notice the presence of the actor before the jump scare, but you... As much as you are smart to find the clues and connect the facts, you are a scared cat. Every time you give a loud scream that gradually becomes a nervous laugh, grab his hand and run away pulling him with you, clearly enjoying yourself. He could hear your heart racing and smell the adrenaline and endorphin running through your blood. "We need to go back to the library... Do you think he is there?" You shout whispered, one hand still holding tightly on his, and in the other you were analyzing the clues you already had.

The heat in your face from running and your slightly lack of air just made you look cuter, Humans are so fragile and precious.

"He isn't, we can go back." Jimin whispered back.

"How do you know?" You tried to peek around the corner of the corridor.

"I saw him going to the other side as we ran." He lied, actually he could hear the actor's breathing behind a door on the way to the library. Probably both of you would run again, and that's ok to Jimin, so he can put himself between you anthe guy protectively and see if you'll look at him the same as the first time he did. Before the time goes out, you solved the mystery with almost any help from Jimin, who was too busy paying attention to you and your focused expression, and needing to ask for a hint just one time. You were euphoric and proud as you both walked out the room, bragging about your brain, and also pouting about how sad the story actually was and how that freak neon mask of the killer was spooky. You were so distracted talking about how much fun you got that you didn't see when Jimin paid for the game without splitting the bill. You had previously agreed that even if you didn't have the money to pay half of it, you would help. That was not fair.

You decided not to complain. "All this running made me hungry!" You said as you two walked over to his car. It wasn't raining anymore, the night sky slowly starting to show up as the clouds moved away with the wind which was still strong and chilling. Seeing you close your jacket better, Jimin put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. With a vampire's body temperature he wouldn't be able to warm you at all, but at least he could shieldering you from the wind... And you still thought the caring act was the cutest thing. You also put an arm around his waist. "Are you hungry too?" Nope. Jimin doesn't even remember how the feeling of hunger is, the bloodlust is too different to compare, besides, what for you was physical effort, for him it didn't even come close to being tiring. But he got along with it. If you had any more ideas that postponed him taking you home and saying goodbye for the night, he would accept it. "Ah... Sure." For the third time in the night he opened the door for you. "Why?" You took your place in the passenger seat and searched for something in your purse, taking it out all smiling when you found it. Ten pieces of colored paper. Coupons. "Chinese food. The discount is bigger if ordered to go." You sang. Coupons are your treasure. When Jimin thinks you can't get any cuter... ______________________________________________________________

In order not to risk spilling any type of sauce on the leather of Jimin's expensive car seat, you insisted on going to eat at your apartment, since it was not far from the Chinese restaurant. Jimin was uncertain at first, but you ensured that two of your roommates were traveling and that the other doesn't sleep early and wouldn't mind you hanging out in the living room as long as you don't make a lot of noise. The question was not whether he was going to bother your roommate or not, Jimin is a gentleman, he would never do anything to offend someone inside their own home, the question is whether he could get you to invite him in with all the words - the last thing he wanted to do was end your date bursting into ashes for entering without being properly invited and you having to vacuum him off your carpet. It would be a really sad and stupid way of dying. He nervously insisted on carrying all the bags and followed you upstairs - the elevator was broken - and down the cold corridor from your floor to your door. You opened your purse to get your heavy set of keys - your father always said that the more keys you need to carry the greater number of responsibilities you have, and for some reason that makes you internally proud of yourself - searching for the right one to open the door. Jimin cleared his throat. "Y/N... I really don't want to bother..." He said, and you looked at him with doe eyes. He put the bags on the floor to keep his hands free to hold yours. Before you could object, he continued. "I had a lot of fun with you today, and I think we got to the part I say bye the right way... You know, walking you to your door and them kissing you... Maybe?"

Like in the movies, he thought. Your heart scaped one... no... a lot of beats. He was holding both your hands, and looking right to your eyes, and talking about kissing you. Still you pouted, and he knew you would fight him on it, of course you would, but you did more than this, getting him by surprise. You reduced the space between you and pecked his lips, one of Jimin's hands went up to cup your face and try to kiss you more, but you pulled back with a frown.

"Done. You walked me to my door and kissed me." You were looking at his eyes as intensely as he was looking at yours. "But you said you were hangry and I bought all this food for us, so you are not going home yet."

You used your emergency money and coupons that you took a long time to collect just to be able to spend more time with him, and you wouldn't miss it for anything. Jimin smiled till his eyes disappeared.

"Do you want me to get in so we can spend more time together?" He asked as if he could read your mind, but it was just because it was what he wanted too.

"Yeah." You nodded, feeling kind of weird for admitting it.

"Say it..." Jimin insisted, eyes so intense you could think he was hypnotizing you. He wasn't, he would never do that to you.

"I want you to get in so we can hang out a little more..." You said, voice small.

"Invite me formally then." He openly asked.

It confused you, you thought it was funny, a chuckle escaping your lips. In your head you were sure that Jimin should read fanfic or something like that to be so good at being cliché. You pulled back and opened the door, stepping aside. "Please come in, Jimin." You smirked to him as he picked the bags from the door and obliged.

He didn't turn into ashes. You closed the door behind him and picked his jacket, kicking your boots. He followed you close to the kitchen, where he dropped the bags on the table.

"Hmmm. You can make yourself comfortable, I'll just say to my roommate that I'm home and brought food. I'll be back in a sec."

You run in your tiptoes down the hall, as Jimin already knew the apartment was empty when you arrived. He opened the cabinets and drawers, looking for plates and cutlery, before you came back he would have prepared the table for you two - or just you really - to eat. He got it done and you didn't come back, so he explored. The kitchen had little of your smell in it, a sign that you spend little time in it, which is okay, Jimin's kitchen is not his favorite part of the house either. In the living room you were more present, he found where your smell was stronger, your favorite place to take naps and marathon series, the recliner. It looked really comfortable, so he could understand. He walked silently down the hall and found your bedroom door, the door was open and you weren't there, but of course, as much as he was curious about you and your most personal place, he wasn't going to enter without permission, just looking quickly the stuffed animals at the head of your messy bed before heading back to the living room was enough for now.

In the meantime, you were leaning against the closed door of your roommate's room, which should have been at home, as you left her before you left, but she wasn't. Staring at your phone screen with your face burning you took a deep breath. She texted you earlier, yet you were having fun so you didn't see it before. It makes no difference, she just put even more ideas in your head and embarrassment in your face. Cutiehoe: i got to my babe's place

Cutiehoe: so u can get laid if you want booboo

Cutiehoe: nntr

Cutiehoe: tell me later hf

You didn't think of inviting Jimin to do anything more than eat. It wasn't your intention. But now you are thinking about it. A lot. You considered running to the bathroom to cool off a little, but on second thought, you left the boy alone for too long, he must be feeling awkward waiting for you. So you got back to him, who was actually very comfy in your recliner, reading the book you left there earlier. He did make himself comfortable - it isn't hard to a vampire at all.

"I set the table." He smiled, closing the book.

"Did you?" You looked to the kitchen table in surprise. "Ah, it wasn't necessary... I was planning on eating here, so we can watch a movie or something... And eat from the boxes so I won't need to wash the dishes later..."

You were afraid the talk would die at some point and that it would be awkward, so the movie or whatever would be an emergency escape or something, you use this tactic for dates and making new friends since middle school.

"That's good for me too." He crossed his leg, as if it wasn't his first time in your house, and you don't know if it relaxes you or makes you tense. "What do you want to watch? I love cliche super silly rom-coms, aaaand animal planet documentaries."

You didn't know if he was joking or not but it made you laugh anyways, you finding it funny and cute.

"You can choose..." You handed the remote to him. "I'll bring the food and a blanket to a comfier experience."

"Ok." He took the opportunity to lightly brush your fingers when he took the remote, just like in the movies, and watch you sigh shakily over it. In fact he spent all night doing these little film cliché things, most of them you didn't even notice, but little by little it was affecting you, working you up.

"Ah. " You remembered. "Any of my roommates are here, you don't need to worry about bothering."

Jimin made a face, a thinking pouting face, then smiled widely, which made his eyes disappear. "Good. I didn't like the idea of having to contain myself around you."

Everything he says sounds so flirty that sometimes you don't know how to answer, so you just laughed as if it didn't affect your now slightly horny mind and left the room again.

Food on the coffee table, blanket turning your bottom halfin a burrito, a documentary about cats lowly playing on the TV - Jimin's choice, really - you both just chatting. Jimin was marmeized on how entertained you were by the conversation, telling him about how you managed to rent your room in such a good apartment, with nice roommates, in first place, he couldn't say if the story was really interesting or if it was just you making it sound like it was. You were so focused on the conversation that you didn't even noticed he wasn't eating at all. "But is kind of sad, because I'll probably be moving out next month..." You sighed then stuffed your mouth with chicken.

"What do you mean?" Jimin frowned.

"My savings are about to end, and what I earn at the center doesn't pay my rent here. And even if they paid I still have the college to pay, I will have to go after student internships. So next month I'm going to change jobs and move to a cheaper apartment. I'm just not going back to the dorms, no sir." You shrugged.

"Have you found any promising places yet?"

"Not really. The best place I found is only good because it is pet friendly, but besides it, it is hideous." You made fun of it, but you were frustrated for real, your roommates would let you stay as long as you needed, but it wouldn't be fair. Jimin laughed and pulled you to a half hug, which you gladly accepted, laying your head on his shoulder.

"You"ll find something..." He made a thinking pout. "If it would make you happy, I have a cute dog, and you can be his friend if you want to, specially if you can't afford your own pet, you just need to pay a visit to my house sometime."

"I would love it! I love dogs! And cats! And parrots... And ferrets, I want a ferret sooo much! But I can't afford myself these days." You finished your box of food, and with a clap of your hands you looked at him with shiny eyes. "But enough of my complaints, your turn... "

"My turn?" He has a hand in your chin.

But since when that you didn't notice the touch at first?

"Yeah... You tell me a story now, or whatever, what comes to your mind first." You nervously chuckled.

"Uhum." He nodded and pulled you close to kiss you.

The soft peck you gave him earlier was still ghosting his beautiful lips, he was still wanting to deepen it. He spent the whole conversation observing you to know if you wanted it too, if he should, and all the openings you were giving him made him excited. You kissed him back, reaching his shoulders with both hands. He started the kiss at a tentative pace, and soon you took the lead in a slow and nice rate, making him remember that probably you have more experience than him on it, or at least it is more recent than the last time he kissed someone like this. Before he knows it, he is hovering above you on the couch, your arms embracing his neck, one of his hands on your waist, wishing he could take your dress out of the way to feel your skin.

"This was the only thing on my mind." He pulled back after who knows how long, lips close enough to brush against yours, forehead on yours. "Your turn. What is on your mind now, Y/N?"

So intense... You mentally cursed that you were trapped in the blanket, preventing you from embracing him with your legs too.

"A lot of things actually..." You giggled. "You know... When the universe gives me an opportunity I usually don't let it pass..."

"Uhum. I noticed." He smiled against your own smile.

"I want to take you to my bed and strip you. That's the thought." You admitted. "That's the thought." He repeated with a rusky voice that gave you goosebumps, getting up and pulling you with him. You tripped over the blanket, but he held you, connecting your lips together again, and again. "Lead the way please."

You took him by hand and went to your room. You barely passed through the door, Jimin was all over you again, arms circling your waist from behind, mouth finding its way to your neck, sweetly kissing your pulse of life, right over your artery. He had no intention of biting you, the thought didn't even cross his mind, your smell is just so good and addictive he couldn't help himself. The smell of life on you, plus the smell of who you are, now that he could feel it so closely, after experiencing your lips... He never felt that way, whether with a vampire or a mortal, but it wasn't going to be now that he was going to question the strange fire burning inside his chest.

Soon you two were making out in your bed, gradually pieces of clothes and your animal plushies dropping to the floor. More than once you imagined Jimin above you like that, one hand holding your jaw, the thumb of the other hand playing with the hem of your bra, legs entwined with yours, while you explore the skin on his bare back with your fingertips. You were feeling fulfilled. You couldn't hold your breath when he gave you several pecks, and then smiling against your mouth he devoured you again, pinching your hips playfully. Even in that position, he was still flirting with you, making you feel relaxed and safe, and it made your heart flutter, and those insistent butterflies in your stomach took off all at once.

When your bra was off, letting you in your panties only, you put a hand on Jimin's - beautiful - chest, making him stop and look at you.

"Yes?" He asked with heart eyes and a low smoky voice.

"Do you..." You struggled to focus as he was looking at you as to remember each detail of your face for eternity. He was indeed. "Do you by any chance have a condom with you?"

He internally slaps himself for not being prepared for every possible scenario resulting from your date. He didn't think about sex at all, didn't remember that mortals use condoms, or that condoms exist, so he didn't get the idea of buying such thing -  it would be the first time ever. Damn! It is an important thing!

"I don't." He blinked twice.

"Oh." You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking. You don't have any either, actually you don't even remember the last time... "Ah! Two of my roommates are actually a couple, and I know they must have condoms somewhere... Can you wait a lil sec?"

You looked up at him as if you were insecure he would say no. He just chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose.

"Of course." He got off of you, laying himself by your side.

You gave him a cutely bashful smile and hurried out the room, just in your underwear. A really beautiful sight.

Vampires do not have STDs and are totally sterile, so the need to use a condom is totally non-existent, yet, Jimin decided not to say anything about it and just use it, because he would have to expose himself too much to make the arguments make any sense, and, of course, for a matter of respect and consent. If it's important to you, then why question it? He was just hoping you would find it in your roommate's stuff, so you wouldn't change your mind on going all the way with him... Hoping that at least if you end up changing your mind you would be up for cuddles, so he could hide his face in your neck and feel you in such a way a little bit more. For him it's just as intimate, but in a different way. You came back a while later with the small colorful package and a weird look on your face - you found it in a really private drawer - to find Jimin laying on his back, facing the ceiling with eyes closed. He looked so beautiful. For a second you panicked, thinking that he could have fallen asleep, then he got up on his elbows, mischievous eyes sizing you up and down with so much interest.

"Get back here, Sweetheart." He softly talked, husky voice making your feet move before you could think about it. When you reached the bed he pulled you by the hand and in a second was above you again, hands holding you close. He chose to ask the next question in your ear. "Can we continue?"

"Yes." You took a handful of his nape hair as he attacked your neck with kisses once more.

The last underwear pieces were discarded in no time, letting just skin on skin, and the sensation of it was the only thing both of you could think clearly at the moment. You did what you've been wanting to do since you met Jimin, so much time checking him out when you believed he wasn't paying attention, and satisfactorily grabbed his ass, in response he grabbed yours too.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N." He whispered against the base of your throat. Then he made eye contact, just adoring you, and you could feel it in all your body.

Both of you held your breath together when he entered. You wanted to look away, or close your eyes, but it wasn't possible at the moment. Jimin's face brightened up and he let out a giggle. "Stop, don't laugh." You hid your face with a hand, for some reason this making you lowkay insecure.

"Sorry." He got your hand out the way and pecked your lips. "I just think you are precious."

It is strange. Vampires don't believe in love, even if it is Jimin, who seeks for it around him all the time, in movies and books, and always dreamed to experience such a thing that mortals live and die for, deep inside never really believing he would find it. But... Somehow... Now lying on your embrace, two bodies in sinc as if they were one, breathing and voices mixed, eyes fixed on each other's every response, mouths reaching one another in their own will. He was burning inside with a feeling he could only think as similar as what the imagined love is. Did he exist for so many centuries to meet you in this time? So he could see you trembling because of him, making him want to do it again and again? Not because he feels good, or because you smell and taste good, but because he adores you...

Your arms wrapped his torso, pinning him against you, bringing him closer, even if it wasn’t possible, in what you were looking for comfort in, as you were trying to regain your breath. A different smell of yours filling the air.

Breath. You need this to keep living. Actually you need a lot of things to not die. So ephemeral. At this moment, thinking of it, as he rolled his hips a few times more and kissed you passionately, you were everything in the world. Even if you are an ephemeral being. The idea of you not existing anymore in some decades, or next day, was terrifying, at the point of him considering...

"Yellow is for euphoric happiness, I use it when I don't know what to do with my own excitement." You pulled him from his thoughts, pushing his hair away from his face with a content smile on yours.

He looked at you without understanding.

"My socks. I promised to tell you my yellow mood if till the end of the night I were still feeling it." You explained.

"I see." He let himself fall beside you, still not letting you go, burying his face on your neck instead. You gladly cuddled him back, playing with hair, and felt his smile wide on your skin as you did. "Can I stay a while longer?"

"I wasn't expecting you to leave at all. Is already late." You said in the middle of a yawn.

You both stayed in silence for a moment, he could sense you falling asleep.

Then you talked again, getting away just enough to look at him.

"We need to get clean, also is healthy to pee after sex." You were already getting up from the bed at the end of the sentence. ________________________________________________________________

The morning came lazyly, with you soundly sleeping with your head on Jimin's arm and legs entangled with his, noses touching. Vampires don't exactly sleep, or they hibernate, or they just close their eyes and rest, and that's what Jimin is doing as your peaceful breathing and heartbeat lully him.

Through the curtains a beam of sunlight slowly invaded the room, as the sun began to rise outside bringing the day. Noticing this, Jimin covered his arms around you, to prevent burns, but out of curiosity he let the light reach you, until now he only saw you in the night, and wanted to know how you would be under the cover of the day. When the golden glow reached you, it was almost as if you were shining. Everything about you said loudly how alive you are, and that is charming. It made him feel slightly guilty for thinking, even for a second, about taking it away from you out of a selfish feeling of him.

Just having the opportunity of experiencing you this way should be enough to him. He shouldn't be greedy.

A tune sounded in the quiet room, making you stir and grumble, hiding in his chest, still asleep. It was Jimin's phone, ringing somewhere on the floor. Carefully he moved from you, avoiding the sunlight, and looked for it, one second later - literally - he was sitting on your desk chair, answering the call in a low tone so as to not disturb your sleep.

"Yes?" He answered, knowing it would be Tae scolding him for not being at home before dawn, but getting by surprise that it wasn't an angry Tae on the other side of the line, but a scared one.

"Jimin?! Are you coming home?" He cried.

Jimin stiffed, all alarms sounded loud in his mind.

"Tae, what's wrong?" He questioned louder.

"I'm outside, on our neighbour's porch. I can't go back inside... The sun will reach me, Jimin. I don't know what to do." He panicked. Jimin hasn't heard Taehyung speaking this fast in decades.

Without thinking more, he started to get dressed, phone still between his shoulder and ear.

"Keep on where's shadow no matter what, I'll be there soon. Don't cry ok?"

"Jimin?" Your groggy voice reached him, making him remember about your presence. You were rubbing your puffy morning eyes, but they wided when you noticed his distressed face. "What's wrong?"

How could he explain to you he needed to go and save Tae before the sun explodes him?

"My friend... Domestic accident." He stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't plan to go this early."

"Just go, your friend needs you." You smiled understandingly.

Already full dressed he came to peck your lips, a fast peck.

"I'll call you."

You smiled, planning on going back to sleep. He ran in full speed, lucky the other's buildings covered him as he reached for his car. Usually he was in favor of safe driving, but today is not a day for it, he stepped on the accelerator, making the tires sing loudly, and the world outside became some kind of a blur. If imagining that you, a mortal, someday will inevitably die hurted his chest last night, just the possibility of the rest of his existence without Taehyung was excruciating. Maybe when he got home the situation would turn out that wasn't that serious, and that was what he wanted, but maybe he would arrive to no one to save.

"Jiminie?" Tae voice sounded petrified on the line.

"Yeah? I'm here."

"Can we stay on the call till you get here?"

Taehyung was terrified. They both were. So no red light stopped Jimin this morning.

"Of course, my soulmate."

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I’M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG! If you want to be tagged, let me know pls.

[loruleanheart]

Desired Fate, Chapter 10

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The atmosphere around him had become much colder and darker as night descended on the Gerudo Highlands. The prophet stirred. Everything hurt, but there was also the headache that only intensified when he tried to reason with what had happened.

It had to have been a dream… A very terrible and ridiculous dream… Yes, a dream… Not a prophecy...

His mind couldn’t accept that Hylia herself spoke to him.

Yet, If it hadn’t been real, then how had he survived Sooga’s attack?

Hylia… That vile goddess had turned his whole world upside down, her ways more bewildering to Astor than even the Yiga Clan.

The conflicting thoughts had been tormenting to begin with, now they were only magnified to an unbearable intensity. As devoted as he was to the Calamity he was only mortal, and he didn’t want to perish over what he’d so blindly followed for too long. But the alternative would make him a failure in Calamity Ganon’s eyes, and wasn’t the Calamity the only thing that mattered? 

She had known everything… Every thought and emotion no matter how deep or repressed, she had laid it all bare, and it terrified him. He feared his thoughts of the princess and his potential to be disloyal to Calamity Ganon.

That wasn’t the only thing he had to worry about. The Yiga Clan was almost certain to make another attempt on his life, and they knew the location of his hideout. The prophet gave a frustrated groan and turned to leave the Gerudo Highlands before a potential ambush could be devised by the clan.

He began to wander northeast aimlessly, only having a vague idea of where he was going. Eventually, desert cliffs gave way to lush green fields.

He could see Hyrule Castle’s silhouette in the distance, and he began to feel jittery, nearly breaking into a burst of insane laughter. He tried to focus his thoughts on how ironic it was that he and the princess now had the Yiga as a common enemy. Anything to not have to think about what was revealed to him by the goddess. It couldn’t be true…

Oh, I’m sure that would go over well. The king would be so thrilled… The prophet thought facetiously.

He gave Hyrule Castle and its surrounding town a wide breadth, also avoiding villages or other areas where people might congregate.

As he rounded the perimeter of the Lost Woods he couldn’t help but notice how visible the back of the castle was from this vantage point. Which window belonged to the Princess? The castle’s wide moat separated the ground he stood from the castle, but still, it was breathtaking to be so close.

The Lost Woods was much the same way. It was surrounded by water, with only one foot-path going in. The pink flowering top of the Great Deku Tree could be seen at the center of Great Hyrule Forest, and Astor thought back to that fated day he crossed paths with the princess before that great, imposing tree. Somewhere, within those woods was a much more mysterious place he had only seen in visions -  that place where the Silent Princess flowers grew rampant, and he was intent on finding it.

oOo

“No matter what it takes, you must awaken your power before the Calamity returns.” King Rhoam’s commanding voice filled the castle’s sanctum.

Zelda looked down, gathering her resolve. If the Calamity was going to rise on her 17th birthday, as newly uncovered images from the broken Guardian indicated, she didn’t have much time left. 

Whatever it takes? What is that supposed to mean? I’m already doing everything I can.

She bit back her protests, one more time, ever the good, obedient daughter. “Understood.”

“I sense you have become complacent regarding your duty,” King Rhoam said, becoming colder.

Zelda slowly looked up, at a loss. She could sense Impa’s sympathetic gaze on her, and she wanted to cast a glance back at the advisor in shared exasperation but thought better of it. “I - I’m sorry father. Please believe me. I’m trying my hardest. I really am -.”

“No more, excuses, Zelda! From this moment on you are to have nothing to do with the childish hobby you’ve been carrying on with Sheikah technology and you are to devote yourself fully to unlocking your power. You must be single-minded in this crucial duty. Or perhaps it is your poor attitude that is interfering with your training.”

Zelda flinched internally, but it barely showed on the outside.

“Yes, I understand… I will try harder.”

The King’s expression hardened and he raised his voice. “No, you don’t try! You do it! You are going to the Spring of Courage immediately, and Link and Impa are to accompany you, do I make myself clear?”

The Princess held her head high as she headed to her chambers to change into her ceremonial white gown. As soon as she was out of sight she let out a big huff and nearly broke down, but somehow held herself together.

She took her time getting changed, disconsolate and a little bit spiteful to have been humiliated in front of her friends. 

The gown was pure white and was designed with the goddess Hylia as inspiration. It was a small consolation to feel closer to her ancestor by donning the dress and royal heirlooms. 

She fixed her hair, undoing her braid and brushing it out. She put on the gold bracers and tossed her hair to one side to fasten the gold Hylia crest necklace passed down in the royal family for countless generations.

As she languidly moved about her chambers, her mind raced with thoughts of hopelessness. She had already trained at the Spring of Courage and Spring of Power in the past, and both had yielded no results. All that remained was the Spring of Wisdom on Mount Lanayru, and she would only be permitted to make the trip up the mountain when she reached the age of 17. But with knowledge of the day of Calamity Ganon’s return she knew it would be too little too late.

Before she left her chambers, Zelda paused to look at herself in the mirror. She gave a sharp exhale. All of Hyrule was believing in her, leaning on her to save them... or at least that's how it felt. Zelda wasn’t unaware of the fact that she was the subject of mockery among those who were aware of her unfulfilled duty. And although those closest to her were doing their best to support her, a void remained.

The worst was coming. She knew it. If only she had someone to brace herself against for when the Calamity would inevitably rise and consume everything and everyone she loved.

Zelda rested her forehead against the mirror and closed her eyes, holding back tears one more time, unsure how much longer she could hold on before she gave out.

oOo

Astor found himself in that mysterious place. The one seen in his visions as of late, particularly when the princess drew near to him. It was an ethereal and dark forest, hidden away within the Lost Woods much in the same way as Korok Forest. Perhaps it was the goddess who led him there and allowed him to find it, although Astor wasn’t sure if it was real or illusionary.

Moonlight peaked down through the tops of the trees, the blue and white Silent Princess flowers seeming to glow in its light. Was it always night here? It was clearly a refuge for him.

He took an uncertain step forward, looking around. There was a small spring of clear water.

He thought of the princess and how she would likely go to the Spring of Courage and Power soon. Let her try, the prophet thought. She wasn’t going to be unlocking that power anytime soon. He could envision her visiting one such spring, her shoulders bare, her dress clinging to her form as she stood in the water so focused on unlocking the power that evaded her. That jittery feeling came back in full force.

Kill her… You’ll be in control again… 

No, no… I must stay as far away from her as possible, lest the goddess’s prophecy comes true…

He wasn’t sure which one was Lord Ganon’s will. His trust in the Calamity had been so compromised he couldn’t discern Ganon’s or even fate’s design any longer. There was a part of him that wanted so much to remain faithful to Lord Ganon. He didn’t know how else to exist, even knowing that to remain loyal would end in regret for a prophecy unfulfilled and his own death.

The prophet held his head in his hands. He hastily disrobed, leaving his clothing in a haphazard pile, signaling his mental disarray. He got into the small spring, completely bare save for the circlet he wore with the Malice Eye. Many bruises from his earlier fight marred his pale skin.

Thoughts and feelings he might have easily shoved away before were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. No, it was downright impossible after the goddess’s parting words, and his thoughts of the princess were running wild. He could feel the distance between himself and the Calamity widen further, and he panicked.

He slid under the water’s surface, holding his breath as long as he could. If Hylia was merciful maybe he’d drown and in death, those vexing feelings would stop plaguing him. The urge to take a breath was increasing, and he came back up, gasping.

Astor relaxed a bit, resting his head on the edge of the spring and stretching out into a comfortable position in surrender, hoping this place was indeed illusionary and that no one would stumble upon him in such a state, not that travelers typically explored these woods for fear of becoming lost.

This place was so… otherworldly… so beautiful. Astor wondered briefly if Calamity Ganon could even ‘see’ or perceive this place.

And at last, he confronted the goddess’s prophecy with a clearer mind, although wavering between doubt and resent. How could it come true? He had acted with such cruelty toward Princess Zelda, why would she ever look at him with anything other than disdain?

Astor had once been very disciplined in his mindset towards the princess and his plan to bring about her demise, but he was out of reasons to fight what had been repressed. His thoughts of her lingered and then intensified. He yearned to embrace her, to touch her, and ached to feel her hands on him. He was paralyzed by the thought, but he couldn’t deny how exquisite it would be to give in to those feelings if the opportunity ever arose, despite knowing he would continue to resist out of fear of losing himself.

The desire to have her was increasing to a point of no return and Astor knew he would have no peace until he could, at the very least, see Princess Zelda again.

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: barbie movies as troupe plays part 1 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw

𝐚𝐧: if you think i won’t do all 36 barbie movies, you’re wrong. regardless of whether people want this or not. i have barbie brainrot 24/7. i’m just separating it into parts so it’s not too long *this isn’t meant to be that serious y’all my reasons vary from legit to just jokes

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥: i won’t go in-depth with any plot differences from movie to play, or how the characters would work out... for now *chuckles in future ppt*

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏: nutcracker, rapunzel, swan lake, princess and the pauper, fairytopia series, magic of pegasus, barbie diaries, island princess, three musketeers 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐: coming soon 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑: coming soon

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: mixed troupe! spring x autumn. one of the seasonal events/scouts for A3! has a nutcracker theme, and to avoid spoilers that’s all i will say :3

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: since this is based on barbie’s take on the nutcracker, changing up the cast from what tsuzuru had in plan:

clara/sugarplum fairy: sakuya. i want to see him go through a costume & hair transformation sequence, not gonna lie. 

nutcracker/prince eric: juza. obviously he has to be the ruler of the land of sweets.

mouse king: sakyo or chikage. i want one of them to wave around a sceptre and say quotes like “i’ll reduce the Nutcracker to a pile of splinters"

pimm: taichi... pimm is a spy :O who has to do dirty work :O but the real reason is i just want taichi to follow around sakyo again or maybe even chikage this time lol

major mint & captain candy: tsuzuru and citron respectively. mint is pretty serious and awkward, candy is a lot friendlier- i just think it’ll be a good way to insert some humor in the play

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: mixed troupe! summer x autumn.

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: rapunzel in this one actually is the “servant” of gothel. also, rapunzel has a magical paint brush and also there’s dragons. who are purple. 

rapunzel: kazunari. obviously. actually, kazu has a lot of similarities with her: a good artist, patient, adventurous, quick thinking, hardly ever complains- also he’d look good with long hair i think ><

gothel: omi. there is an action fighto scene + also just the theme of omi playing villains lol... also THERE’S A SCENE WHERE GOTHEL PRETENDS TO BE RAPUNZEL BY WEARING A LONG WIG AND BOI- KAZU AND OMI’S BODY BUILDS ARE SO DIFFERENT BUT IT’D BE FUNNY IF THE PRINCE FALLS FOR THE TRAP ANYWAY

penelope: kumon. a PURPLE funny and clumsy dragon- fight me, the only answer is kumon especially once you see who’s next.

hugo: juza. a PURPLE dragon who’s penelope’s dad but he’s gonna be the older bro in this one (i wonder why...) 

hobie: a passive and worrisome rabbit... Tenma.

prince stefan: he also has a couple fight scenes... ngl bc stefan has blue eyes, light brown hair + described by the wiki as “fierce”, he’s banri. 

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: winter troupe. i will stand by this forever. 

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: this is like one of the ones i’ve had figured out for a while already...

odette & odile: tsumugi. i’m just saying, tsumugi’s duality- he can do both the white and black swan because he has power. impact.

prince daniel: not tasuku bc spare him the prince roles he’s sick of it. guy. why guy? because he obviously has a good idea of how to act like a prince :3 

rothbart: HOMARE! I WANT! THIS MAN! TO PLAY THE ANTOGONIST! GO OFF ABOUT DARK ARTS! TRANSFORM EVERYONE TO ANIMALS LIKE THE EXTRA BEING YOU ARE.

fairy queen: azuma. ugh just- imagining how ethereal he’d look.

erasmus: tasuku. he’s a troll that can act mean, but is genuinely kind and helpful... also, the VA of erasumus is also the VA for “unnamed burly villager” and i’m just saying-

kelly the cygnet: hisoka. there’s too many animal children, so hisoka is gonna be the baby swan. uwu. also, kelly has a quote, “I can't sleep.” and wOW THE IRONY

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: WE’RE GOING FOR THE COMEDIC ROUTE WHAT’S UP SUMMER. reason: i went “wait... no actor really looks super alike though.”

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: tafahfuoahoaf it’s my favourite barbie movie... OKAY SO THE RUNNING GAG OF THIS IS THAT THE PRINCESS & PAUPER DON’T LOOK ALIKE, BUT EVERYONE KEEPS GOING “Wow! you two look so identical!” no they don’t

anneliese: muku. first of all please look at the sprite i used in the header. anneliese = pink = muku. she’s the sweet princess archetype... but in this version she also goes on tangents about rocks and mineraLS AND HOW THE MINING INDUSTRY SUX AND THE ABSOLUTE AUDACITY OF-

erika: kumon. first of all, the sprite in the header again. erika = blue like ugh this is perfect. ALSO erika has a cat who BARKS and i just imagine kumon talking to her cat like: WOOF WOOF WOOF GRRR GRRR and the dog responding and everyone in the palace going wtf

king dominick: i had such a crush on him anyway he’s tenma. rich, young, talented king who disguises himself as a page so he can find love for realsies. im just saying. he won’t be tenma’s only role tho ><

julian: kazunari. the wiki went “he’s the only bestfriend a barbie MC ever married” really shook me like ugh friendship dynamic between muku and kazu roles??? also kazu’s genuinely smart so him as the tutor was just gucci in my eyes

preminger: misumi. FIRST OF ALL PREMINGER IS ICONIC? WHEN HE SANG HOW CAN I REFUSE I WAS LIKE UGH KING. i just wanna hear misumi play an antagonist that’s also funny and do things with his voice.

madame carp: yuki. a bossy and rich woman who owns a dress emporium. pretty much it.

nick & nack: YUKI AND TENMA. THEY WILL DOUBLE ROLE FOR THE SAKE OF BEING MISUMI’S DUMB UNDERLING DUO

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: spring troupe. i wanna see them have wings uwu.

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: just gonna combine the whole fairytopia series into one 

elina: itaru. first of all, pink motif. also i just like the idea of itaru being this recurring protagonist.

bibble the puffball played by kamekichi

laverna: recurring villain citron. for no reason other than i think it’s cool when he plays power hungry villains

enchantress: i just want sakuya to play a role that’s more of a “powerful character” but still really kind uwu. another recurring good guy.

azura & glee: tsuzuru. elina is azura’s apprentice, and glee is a friend who’s generally really happy... ngl, i wanna see tsuzuru play someone more energetic for funsies

nori: masumi. nori is kind of a stubborn and jealous person at first, him and elina won’t get along right away BUT DAMMIT THE ENEMIES? TO FRIENDS IS GUCCI!!! 

merman prince nalu & linden: chikage... yeah i just gave chikage the guy roles ngl... but i wanna see chikage as a handsome merman AND handsome fairy so *shrugs*

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: cross troupe. spring x winter.

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: partially based on the ice-skating cards (i have yet to read the event story, unfortunately).

annika: tsuzuru. i thought it’d be fun to cast tsuzuru as a more sheltered character due to annika’s parents’ protectiveness. the contrast y’all.

shiver: sakuya. shiver is a polar bear cub sidekick who’s friendly and likes shiny things and that’s just... really cute... put bear ears on sakuya...

brietta: guy. brietta is annika’s older sister... who got transformed into a pegasus by the villain... i wonder how they’d change the pegasus thing lol

wenlock: tasuku. NOT GONNA LIE- i want tasuku to play the villain for all these wonderful one-liners: "Oh, smile! You didn't lose a daughter; you've gained a pet!", and "I thank my lucky stars I didn't marry you!"

prince aidan: masumi bc i want more roomie interaction on stage i mean their friendship keeps getting cuter and cuter.

cloud queen: azuma... that’s all. i just remembered her bc her hair has a braided crown, and i went “azuma braided hair brainrot”

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: mixed troupe! summer x autumn.

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: i was gonna make it full autumn, but then the age casting felt awkward since they’re in high school...

barbie: taichi. barbie here is shy but wants to stop blending in the background! i just went “damn that do be resonating”. also i wanna hear taichi sing more y’all and barbie is a singer/guitarist here

courtney: azami. i like the idea of azami playing a spunky character who’s more of a tomboy, but still does like fashion and accessorising and... lip gloss?

tia: misumi? tenma? idk the intelligent and passionate archetype is very broad... especially in a high school setting

kevin: kazunari. just the whole best friend thing + kevin being a goofy person who loves to make ppl laugh ugh

racquelle: yuki. i know racquelle’s a bully here and say not to bullying... but sharp tongue.

todd: honestly? todd was so boring in the moving. we need someone like banri to give him CHARACTER!... yes that’s my reasoning ugh

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: sUMMER SUMMER SUMMER-

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: AHAHAHA WHAT IS THIS CASTING? MY REASONINGS FOR THIS ONE IN PARTICULAR ARE SO SHALLOW LMAO

ro/rosella: “a 16 year old girl who can talk to animals! adventurous and brave” me: *gasps* mISUMI-

prince antonio: “prince antonio loves travelling and exploring-” okay yeah it’s kazu...

queen ariana: i just want yuki to sing to me “love is for peasants which we’re obviously not” and i’d go :O also ngl... i wanna see yuki in like darker palettes and plotting to poison all the royals

princess luciana: queen ariana’s daughter... played by muku. because i wanna hear muku counter yuki with “all the shoujo mangas books i’ve read, all the poems always said, that the heart is made to share...”

sagi the red panda & azul the peacock: honestly, just basing it off of colour matching but tenma is sagi and kumon is azul lol

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐞: AUTUMN x SPRING

𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭: AHAHAHA WHAT IS THIS CASTING? pt 2 

corrine: i keep wanting to put sakuya in these roles oops. i just... let him sword fight on stage again :>

viveca: purple musketeer, artistic, designs clothes... fights with ribbons... you know, for the sake of banri being a fAshIoNisTa... it has to be banri y’all "Don't mess with the animal print dress!"

aramina: green musketeer, fights with fans, romantic and loves ballet... pfft, for the sake of “wouldn’t it be funny-” it has to be azami. poor bby, having to swoon over romance on stage- he can’t relate

renee: chikage. purely because of that scene where she threw a feather duster (?) at a flying shard of glass and perfectly hit it. yeah.

helene: the old and strict instructor that teaches them how to be musketeers... sakyo.. duh.

philippe: the main antagonist... it has to be omi again. and since philippe has a goatee, we’re bringing back facial hair omi~

prince louis: itaru, lol. he’s like the one significant non-action oriented character in the film. he has just enough moments where itaru still looks princely, but mostly? he just wants humans to fly y’all.

want to order again?

[mcfanely]

Ivory and Gold

With Ninjago finally falling into a state of calm again, the Ninja finally find a chance to take a well deserved break after the whole Prime Empire debacle. What better to have time off than to visit the Kingdom of Shintaro upon official invite of King Vangelis, for his daughters birthday celebration. Only, Cole can’t help but feel that he’d already been to the ivory city before. The name at least rung a deeply hidden bell in his mind, the only issue was that he couldn’t place the memory.  4518 words

It wasn't every day that being a ninja coincided with celebration and relaxation, but sometimes karmic justice did work in their favour. 

Though it did always seem that whenever they donned their gis, it was for anything but a normal day. That the action of pulling on their masks, making sure all their weapons and armour were in place, checking the fit of the clothes and the tightness of their belts to prevent any mishaps during possible battles. It inherently meant danger. It meant that something had gone wrong with the world again, that there was another big bad on the horizon and it was their job as protectors to prevent the world from plunging into the hands of whatever evil and dark force had decided to try and play their hand and take over. 

Yet this time, things had been a little different. Generally, the kingdoms within Ninjago kept to themselves, as much as everyone else did. They interacted, yes, traded goods and services, but that was as far as anything really went. It was a state of harmony, a working relationship. 

Cole had heard about the Ivory City of Shintaro a while back, he didn't specifically remember who had mentioned it initially but the information was stored somewhere in his mind. He'd seen it too, or at least he'd felt he had. Stood on the deck of the Bounty, staring in astonishment as they descended amidst the towering structures that made up the city. Turrets that reached high into the sky, made to look even more vast due to the peak of the mountain that the kingdom already resided upon. 

Their duties as ninja was to protect life, maintain a visage of hope. Be people to look up to, and to be relieved to see. 

Sometimes, it also included showing face. It included being given opportunities and experiences that Cole would never have expected to have should he have led a normal and mundane life like anybody else. Such as being invited to a generally fairly closed off kingdom to celebrate the birthday of one of the heirs to the throne. Princess Vania, it wasn't a name Cole was very familiar with. 

Honestly, he wasn't familiar with anything there. Even as they docked and promptly met with and escorted through the complex and winding hallways of the kingdom's palace by a guide with wings no less. Golden sheets that almost looked like silk flowing in an invisible wind, and it looked as though any form of flight with them seemed impossible. Yet still, the man floated gracefully above the ground.

Nothing about the kingdom was ringing any bells other than the distant inkling that this wasn't the first time he'd been there, or that he'd heard of it. Faces, names, they were all completely foreign, but the feeling the place provided… 

It was so familiar, right on the tip of his tongue. 

"Earth to Cole," came a voice, and Cole promptly snapped back to reality with Jay's face far too close to his own. "You're thinking pretty hard."

He took a short step back to place some distance between the two of them before answering. "Yeah, I guess." Cole took a brief second to actually take in where they had ended up in the castle. The floor they were walking on was polished to perfection that it almost felt like sacrilege to be walking across it. Patterned with gold lines that stretched as far as Cole could see, turning corners as the floor did, glinting and glimmering in the sun as it passed through the windowed walls. "Just, you know, taking everything in." And he was. He may have been distracted, but he was taking in the splendor of the kingdom. 

"Awesome, isn't it?" Jay said in a wistful tone, his pupils practically blown wide. They both slowed down in their pace just slightly. They were still following along behind their winged guide and their friends, just a little bit further back. "It's not every day that we get invited to anything to do with royalty--."

"Well, I mean, we have." Cole shrugged loosely, not going into much more detail on the subject. He didn't need to anyway, since Jay just gave a slow nod, his eyes briefly tracking over to Lloyd, who seemed to be sharing a conversation between Kai and their winged companion. 

"That was, you know, ninja stuff." The lightning ninja replied, in time that strongly implied the idiom of 'water under the bridge'. "We were there to do a job. But here, it's to have fun." He seemed fairly ecstatic about that fact. 

They'd all been told of the reason for the trip not long before they'd actually set off. No real precursor, more of a 'pack your bags, we're heading off the following morning'. The invitation had been carefully constructed, a cream envelope with gold embossing announcing that the contents were for all of them to read. 

You have been cordially invited to the Shintaro Kingdom to partake in the birthday celebrations of the crowned Princess Vania.

It had read funny, and Jay had mentioned that it sounded portentous. 

An engagement that included all the ninja. It wasn't a battle to fight, it was a party to attend. Down time that they all agreed they needed and deserved. 

"Finally, something that's not stressful." Sighed Jay as the group came to a flight of stairs, which led up briefly to a huge standing white door, arched with golden and near cerulean blue tones that made the white stand out even more, if that was even possible. At this point, their guide turned back with a bit more of a measured expression. It was calm, but also the face of a man doing his job. 

"You are about to be introduced to the King of the Kingdom of Shintaro. He's been looking forward to your arrival." the man said with a smile, "We've all heard of the great deeds you've done. It's a pleasure to have you here. Now, King Vangelis awaits."

The man turned back to the door, flying a little higher to its centre, "It is with great honour," He began, the booming voice resonating around the now open throne room. Cole's mouth dropped at the magnitude, and it's beauty. It seemed to be an expression shared by everyone as they stepped forwards. 

"That I present the famed Ninja!" 

__

To say the day was busy would be an understatement, but Cole knew that the following day, the day of the actual birthday celebration would be a whole lot more hectic and exciting. They'd been given a proper tour of the castle after they'd met with King Vangelis, followed promptly by a walk around the city with the same royal guard as before guiding them through streets that were all filled with people setting up for the following days celebrations. There was a sense of calm to the place, a nice warmth and camaraderie that was displayed by anyone they had met. Everyone worked together, shared tasks and helped out in order to have everything done before the sun had dropped behind the horizon. Between walking through thin streets, sidestepping people walking down the paths with arms full of colourful bunting, Cole had spent a good portion of the day lost in thought. 

It was always a problem when he noticed something he couldn't quite put his finger on; and this kingdom just made him feel weird. The foreign familiarity of everything, the cleanliness of the air he breathed in struck a chord in his lungs, the way the sun dipped down below the halo of clouds that circled the peak of the mountain, below the city limits. How the orange colour still glowed from underneath the blanket before it finally disappeared behind the horizon line for the day. It was incredible. 

Déjà vu inducing, but incredible. 

Eventually, they were all guided to their rooms for the night. Guest rooms in the Palace of all places, an entire hallway dedicated to bedrooms specifically for visitors to the kingdom. As rooms went, they were lavish. Four poster beds adorned each one, huge amounts of room space, closets and cabinets that would go unused in their brief stay in the sleeping quarters, but it was more than what Cole had anticipated. What with going from sharing a room both at the monastery and shared living spaces in the reduced size of the Bounty, to finally getting his own place to sleep when they'd remodeled and rebuilt the burnt down shell of their old training ground, it was nice to have that privacy maintained. Anyway, if Cole needed anyone then he could just head to the room to the left or right of him and find one of his friends to talk to. Privacy didn't mean constantly staying alone. 

Yet, Cole was alone with his thoughts. Laid out on top of the beds quilt, the light from the day now faded fully into the din of the night, it was a time when he was meant to be winding down, not letting his mind run wild.

He just couldn't stop thinking. 

It was one thing, to have a minor inkling at familiarity, but it was another thing to be so sure that he'd heard of a place before to such an extent that somewhere, deep down, he'd seen this place before. He'd seen the climbing walls of ivory white, the buildings topped with cladding of the best blue and the most perfect gold that gave such an ethereal quality to everything. It was such a unique place. Anyone who'd ever set eyes on a kingdom like Shintaro would forever have the place branded into their memories. There was nothing like it in the whole of Ninjago, yet there Cole was with one arm draped over his eyes in an effort to bring sleep to him even in his energised state, sifting through his memories for anything that would help him make sense of the feeling that had planted itself in his chest. 

It brought with it warmth, a softness, the sensation almost tinted with rose in the best way. 

There was something that Cole was missing. Forgetting. 

However the darkened room, the softness of the mattress beneath him, the calming silence that the night always brought about; even plagued with an active mind, sleep was never really far away.

Cole fell into it, the comforting and restful silence.

For what felt like a blink.

He felt his eyes crack open far too soon, though he must have been asleep. His legs were now tangled with the bed covers and he'd migrated over onto his chest, hair falling in his face and what looked like a less than glamorous drool spot just beside his pillow. He had been sleeping. 

The dim blue light of the early early morning fizzled through the windows, providing a bit of light into the previously darkened room. 

Cole could go back to sleep easily, all he had to do was let his eyes slip closed. 

Then a noise met his ears. It was faint, the sound of shuffling almost. Enough to make his brow furrow and get him to sit up in bed, though a short glance around his room didn't reveal anything to him other than that his vision was still blurry from sleep. 

Then the noise happened again. Much clearer this time. Distinct, even, enough that Cole's eyes were open and alert in an instant. 

He wasn't sure how he'd missed it, but Cole was sure that barely a second ago he had been alone in his room. 

Now… 

Well, now he was staring into the eyes of… Something. It was short, purple skinned and had a mouth of sharpened teeth. A hood was pulled low over its head but it seemed as equally shocked to see Cole awake as Cole was to see the nightly visitor. 

Everything happened so quickly after that. The intruder started to make their escape, but even in the dregs of sleep, the earth master was quicker. Barely two steps away from the bed and the creature was laid out on the floor with Cole standing above him. 

He was about to speak, to question the reason behind why this… thing was lurking in his room. Where he'd even come from?

Before a tiny glint of gold caught his eye. 

Cole's eyes flicked briefly down to the locket around the intruders neck, clicked open in their brief struggle. It held two pictures inside, and before he realised it, Cole was reaching for the small piece of metal. Tugging it from the other person's neck, the chain breaking at the clasp, the pictures that were held reverently inside froze him to the spot. Half stood up, clothes still crinkled from sleep, the creature on its back just at his feet going all but forgotten as he stared at the faces that looked back from the black and white images. 

On the left side, the unmistakable face of his father. A small smile on his face, as he was looking over the expanse between the open locket, over to the picture that was held in the opposing side. 

A face that Cole had feared would fade from his mind for years. Being left with nothing much other than fond memories, though they were few and far between. Context and details lost over time, fading as many old memories did. The visage of his mother looked back up at him, as beautiful as she'd been the last time he'd ever seen her. He couldn't have asked for anyone better to have helped raise him.

Then, puzzle pieces began to slowly slot together, and a memory that had never even crossed his mind for a second was now pushed to the forefront. 

It was clear, scarily so, for how buried it had been. 

"What do you mean you're leaving." Came a high voice, almost whiny and temperamental. Small hands reached up and grabbed onto the closest thing they could reach, that being the bottom of the woman's shirt. The material was soon balled up in the child's palms, fabric stretching as it was pulled down . 

There was a quiet sigh, and arms reached down beneath the young boy's arms, scooping him up as if he weighed absolutely nothing. Dark hair, in vast need of a haircut dangled in front of his eyes, it was fluffed up and looked like he'd been rolling around on the grass, or messing around in some undergrowth if the twigs and loose pieces of foliage tangled in the strands were anything to go by. 

Lilly looked down at her son with a soft smile, then leaned forwards, pressing a prolonged kiss to the cheek of the boy in her arms. 

Cole squealed in retaliation, voice high and arms flailing as he failed to free himself from his mother's unrelenting grip. Still, the kiss went on until eventually, finally, she pulled back. Only to dot smaller briefer ones over his cheeks and nose. 

"I already told you yesterday, sweetie." Her voice was soft, but measured, as though they'd had this conversation a few times before. She crouched down, placing Cole back onto solid ground, then ruffled his hair even with all the earthly mess accumulated in it. 

"But you're going to be gone for so long." Cole crossed his arms over his chest, his face dropping into a sulk. 

Lilly crouched down more to her son's height, even though her toddler was still quite on the shorter side than his peers. "Only four days, Cole. I'll be back before you know it. It's only a short trip to Shintaro, your grandfather needs a little bit of help with something and he needs me there."

Cole looked up, brow furrowed in far too much suspicion for someone so young. "Because you're strong?"

"Yes, honey, because I'm strong."

"And- and," He paused, his fingers looping into a couple of the torn holes in the hem of his shirt, picking at the loose threads there. "And, you'll be okay? You'll be back? Because, you know, you're--" The words were muffled as he brought his hands up to his mouth, the sleeves of his jumper blocking the words. 

Dutifully, Lilly leaned forwards further until Cole could move closer to her ear to spill his small secret.

"Because you're more fun than dad…" He whispered, and she pulled back with a wide smile and silently shaking shoulders. 

"We'll keep that between the two of us." The words sounded like she'd gained some type of achievement. "But I promise, I'll be back. And whilst I'm gone, you're in charge?" 

Cole's eyes only widened, "Really?" He grinned. 

"Really, sweetie. Really. I need to have my little man looking out for my other older man."

Cole slowly came back to reality, still stood stock still in the centre of his bedroom, the locket held reverently in his grip as the blurred sleepy feeling that had overtaken his vision was replaced with a slight sting which could only mean the onset of tears. 

He shook his head, drew one sleeve over his eyes to catch any stray droplets, before his attention shot immediately down to the floor. 

The empty floor. 

Cole cursed. 

He'd been so caught off guard, so caught up in memory he was surprised he even remembered that whoever the intruder was, they'd disappeared as promptly as they had so suddenly appeared. The floor was bare, no inch or indicator that there had even been anyone there in the first place, or if Cole had just been dreaming.

The locket in his hands stated otherwise. 

He stared down at it, his feet moving him back over to the edge of the bed in autopilot, where he slumped down and kept staring. 

He'd always been told he looked a lot like Lilly. By anyone that had known her, the comparison was always drawn. Or at least, they did draw it. They looked at him, old family friends, long time neighbours. They all reverently stated that he was just like his mother. 

Until any comment like that slowly came to a stop. 

Cole hadn't heard it much at all, following her passing at least. 

His fingers traced their way over the image, moving with the contours of her face, captured and frozen in an everlasting expression of peace and contentment. 

It was the exact way he remembered her, that small smile that was always there. The warmth in her expression, even towards the end. 

Cole hadn't been allowed to see her as she'd only gotten sicker and sicker, but he remembered her laid in bed at home. He'd spent most of his time there, sat quietly with a book or sharing headphones and music with her to keep her company. He could never have imagined that one day he'd leave that room and he'd never see her again. 

"That same song again?" 

The words came out of nowhere, an internal and forgotten dialogue that dragged sharply at Cole's heartstrings. 

"Well, if you want to change the song, you can be in charge of the music," He was sitting on the right side of her bed. His mother was laid just under the covers, her back propped up with a couple pillows and her hair was pulled back from her face with a hair-tie. Even around the usual expression on her face, she was clearly sickly. Her skin was paler, a grey tone permeating the darker tone. There were bags under her eyes, ones had just got deeper and deeper with each passing day. Cole was sat cross-legged on top of the covers, music player held in his hand and a single earphone hanging from one ear. His mother had the other one. 

She held up one hand to stop him, "No, no, the technology is far too complicated."

He closed his eyes, before holding the player up to her, "You literally just press this arrow button--" 

"As I said, sweetie, far too complicated."

"You grew up with this tech as much as I did, mom."

That seemed to catch her out for a second, but she just chuckled and shook her head. "No, no, I didn't. This is, why you're holding the music box--" 

"Player."

"And I'm just listening to it." Lilly said plainly, then rested one hand on her son's knee afterwards, squeezing lightly. "Though you don't need to be sitting there flicking through songs for me, don't you have homework? Or friends to write letters to."

At that point, Cole knew that she was just trying to make him laugh. Phones were a thing and she was fully aware of that factor, if the grin that split apart her previously stoney facade meant anything. 

Cole laughed, resting his head back against the headboard. "I'm spending today with you. I'll get my homework done tomorrow, I promise."

"You'd better." Lilly smiled, threading a hand through his hair. He just paused for a second, allowing his eyes to slip closed at the contact, "Otherwise we'll have to tell your dad that you did it and then rush to get it done last minute, all the while trying not to get caught in the lie."

Cole just grinned even more, "You're words, mom, not mine." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll sit in here tomorrow and do my work. Deal?" 

"Or," She spread her hands, as if she was going to impart a revelation upon the world. "You could sit outside, because it's been sunny the past few days and you've been cooped up with me." Lilly pointed to the window of the room. The curtains were drawn, they always were. It kept the room dim, the light from getting too harsh, but there was a warm glow from the sun permeating the material. 

Cole sighed. He could sit outside, he could sit in the middle of the flower beds. Sure, it would frustrate his dad and track mud back into the house, but with the sun shining down on everything, the colours and the smell floating in the air around him; it would be worth it to get his school work done outside. Yet, there was also the fact that he wanted to sit and spend time with his mother. He wasn't a child, he wasn't sheltered from the world. His mom had been sick for a while and she only ever seemed to get worse and not better. 

He could see how it affected family life too. It was rare that Lilly got up out of bed anymore, and with his dad out working it left Cole with the lion's share of chores and jobs to get done. He didn't mind, how could he? It kept everything clean, his mom didn't get worried and his dad wasn't stressed over the unfinished tasks when he came back home from a performance or rehearsal. But it was clear that what was happening to Lilly was affecting everyone. Smiling was hard to come by whenever he left her bedroom, he was always partially focused on a task along with wondering if his mom was okay. 

Which was why it made it easier sitting with her and getting stuff done. If he was worried, all he had to do was look to his left and see that she was fine. 

It made the day easier to handle. 

"Cole, you're going to sit outside tomorrow, right? Have a quiet day, leave chores alone for a while. Go on a walk or something." Lilly offered with a tilted head, "No rush to get things done."

"Other than homework." 

She nodded in agreement, "Other than homework. Which you will do--" 

"Outside." They said in unison. 

Cole smiled and leant over to press a kiss to his mom's forehead, "I'll have a quiet day tomorrow then, mom."

"You'd better."

That night, he'd walked out of her room like he did every other day. The following day he'd brought her breakfast, then walked out into the middle of the bed of chrysanthemums with a maths textbook slung under his arms. The day had been far too unassuming for it to be anything but normal. 

Cole hadn't thought that the final memory he shared with his mother would be something so mundane. She deteriorated rapidly afterwards. He was kept away from it, prevented from going into her room. He knew the reason behind it, the attempt to shield him from what must have been the last few days of his mother's life. 

But staring down at the picture in the locket, a face that he hadn't seen, hadn't thought about properly for years, it brought everything crashing back. Every birthday, every small conversation. Every night spent with his dad's old record player spinning in the corner of the room, his small hands in her sure grip, his feet - donned in fluffy socks - were stood on top of hers as she danced her way around the living room of his childhood home, guiding Cole's movements. 

She'd been to Shintaro, she may have even walked the same halls he'd walked that morning. He may have literally followed in her footsteps. 

Though that realisation fell into the background as the first of the tears dripped slowly down his cheek and landed as a dark mark on the bed covers. More only continued to follow as he looked at her picture in his hand. One of his dad, the other of his mom; their family back together again in a way that Cole had never imagined, or expected to happen. 

The tears wouldn't stop flowing, the hiccuped breathing that came with crying was silenced by his own hand clamped over his mouth. 

He'd just had someone in his room, but he didn't care about it during the moment. He'd found his mother's locket around said creature's neck, but that fact moved to the outer reaches of his awareness as Cole sat on the edge of his bed, head and shoulders slumped forwards as if acting as a barrier between the world around him and the precious memory held in his hands.

Even with his found family in rooms both to the left and right of his own, he stayed where he was. Tears falling slowly and silently, shoulders shaking minutely. The rising sun had begun to show itself now, a line of hazy orange flowing warmly into his room. Cole could get up, he honestly should go and get someone and tell them about what had taken place. 

He just found he couldn't move. He didn't want to move, he didn't want anyone to see him in the state he was in. 

Crying over memories that were so far in the past, long forgotten until that one moment. The warmth and happiness of his mother's smile, her soft voice yet foreboding and stoic demeanor. 

Cole could wait until everyone else was awake before he mentioned what had happened. 

For now, he was content to sit in the comfort of the memories of his mom, his palm closing as he clicked the locket shut. 

-

AO3

Thank you, @existentiallyrandom, you’re so galaxy brained!

[emy-loves-you]

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 31: Fantasy+Crime

Based on a prompt from @writing-prompt-s: 

“Other princesses have Fairy Godmothers. You have a Fairy Godfather. He doesn’t exactly grant wishes in the usual way, but the Fairy Mob always has your back.”

Fairy Godfather!Roman, godchild!Patton

TW CHILD ABUSE AND ANIMAL DEATH 

Day 30 | Masterlist

Patton grunted as he scrubbed the floors with all the energy he had. He bit back a whimper as his back throbbed from the fresh bruises and cuts. He wasn’t allowed to make a sound until he was asked a question. Patton knew that if he was too loud, his back wouldn’t be the only thing bruised.

“BOY!” Patton’s head snapped up to see his mother at the top of the staircase. Patton made sure to keep direct eye contact, partly because it was required and partly because his mother was wearing nothing but a loose sheer robe.

“Yes, ma’am?” Patton internally winced at the pain in his voice. Showing weakness just meant worse punishments.

Luckily she didn’t seem to notice, making her way down the stairs to the parlor. “Stop scrubbing the tiles. Your work was…” she sneered at the pristine floors, so clean she could almost use it as a mirror. “...adequate. Apparently we will have guests coming over for dinner tonight. Pasta won’t be enough for tonight. Since we haven’t been able to get a new chef yet, you’ll need to prepare a meal for the seven of us. Just cook up a few chickens and serve it with the pasta and salad.” She turned and started to walk away.

Patton whimpered. “The chickens?” That meant that he’d have to… k-kill the chickens.

Suddenly, a hand collided with his cheek. Patton reeled back, falling onto the ground behind him. Patton’s mother stood above him, fuming. “What did you say, boy!?”

Patton bit back a whimper. “Nothing, ma’am.”

She gave him a look before huffing, storming up the stairs. “We better have a perfect dinner tonight, boy! Or you’ll wish for a fate worse than death!”

Patton forced himself to stand up, ignoring the pain as dread forced its way into his system. He grabbed the cleaning supplies and limped his way over to the kitchen, putting them in their respective places. He then opened the door from the kitchen to the backyard, whimpering as a few drops of heavy rain hit his skin. He made it around halfway to the coop before collapsing.

Patton let out a strangled sob as everything hit him at once. The pain in his back from his previous beating. The pain in his knees and arms from scrubbing the floor for several hours. The pain in his face from talking out of turn. The pain from the heavy raindrops hitting his skin and freezing his bones. The pain in his heart from what he had to do.

Patton continued to cry, unaware that the rain had stopped. Or, more importantly, that the rain had somehow shifted to where the area around Patton remained dry; and the area around the manor’s windows increased with vigor, making it impossible to see anything from inside the manor.

Patton heard the sound of a twig snapping off to his left and immediately sat up, forcing his tears to stop flowing (a trick he’d found useful over the years). He internally frowned at the mud on his clothes before forcing a smile onto his face. He turned to look at the person approaching, confusion rising in the back of his mind. His parents had fired all of the staff over the past few years, and the guests weren’t scheduled to arrive until later tonight. And there was no way that his parents would be found outside in the mud. So who could it be?

Standing a few feet away from Patton was a young man, around 30 years old in appearance. He wore a simple black suit with a blood-red undershirt and handkerchief. His dark brown hair was perfectly arranged, and his tanned skin looked flawless. His dark green eyes pierced their way into Patton’s soul. (Patton was so busy observing the man’s ethereal beauty, he didn’t even realize that the man was completely dry). The man smiled at Patton, showing his perfectly white teeth. “Hello, young one.” His voice was deep and smooth, reminding Patton of a warm fire after a long day of work. “What is your name?”

Patton let out a shaky breath. The man was a stranger, and it would make sense not to talk to strangers. But Patton’s learned from experience that he would be in pain if he didn’t answer questions when asked. “My name is Patton, sir.”

The man’s smile widened slightly. “Patton, what a lovely name.” Patton shivered as the words brushed across his skin. “Tell me, Patton, why are you crying?”

Patton started crying again, not realizing that he was more eager to speak than normal. “I-I have t-to kill the chickens.” He whimpered out, wincing as one of his tears rolled over a cut on his jaw.

The man frowned, tilting his head to the side. “Why must you kill the chickens?”

Patton let out another sob. “We have guests arriving for dinner, and mother wants me to cook some of the chickens for supper.”

The man smiled. “Oh, have you never killed a chicken before?”

Patton shook his head. “No, sir. Ever since father fired the cook, I’ve been buying meat from the market. But we were on such short notice, and we have no meat beyond the chickens in the coop.”

The man’s expression darkened. “I assumed that your parents worked in the manor.”

Patton shook his head. “No, sir. My parents are Lord and Lady Hart. There are no more workers in the manor.”

The man frowned. “I was unaware that the Harts had any children. And how do they keep the manor in such pristine condition without anyone to take care of it.”

Patton smiled slightly, glad to prove his usefulness. “I am the only child of Lord and Lady Hart. And I am the one who takes care of the manor!”

The man furrowed his eyebrows. “You keep this entire manor in this condition? You can’t be any older than 10!”

Patton’s smile fell slightly. Yes, he did look quite young, with his blonde curly hair and big blue eyes, freckles smattered across his bruised skin. And maybe he was quite small, around the height of a 10-year-old and so skinny that most of his bones were showing. But it still hurt to be called a child. “I’m 14, sir.”

The man’s face was now blank. “What.”

Patton felt another chill go up his spine, but he forced himself to keep his voice from shaking as he spoke. “I turn 15 in the fall.” It was currently spring, when the rains were heavy and the winter chill was barely letting up.

The man smiled again. Even though there was no difference between this smile and the last one, something told Patton that this one was forced. “Ah, how I love birthdays. How will you celebrate it?”

Patton tilted his head to the side, confused. “Celebrate?”

The man clenched his fist slightly, but his smile and relaxed posture stayed the same. “Well, Patton, I came bearing a gift.” He kneeled down to where Patton was still sitting on the ground. “Have you ever heard of a Fairy Godmother?”

Patton thought for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t believe I have, sir.”

The man frowned slightly before smiling again. “Well, in most fairytales, a young maiden in need will be blessed with a Fairy Godmother, who helps them achieve their dreams.” He brought his hand up to cup Patton’s bruised cheek. The hand was extremely warm compared to the chilly air, and Patton leaned into the touch. “A Fairy Godfather, on the other hand, is slightly different. They can protect young humans who have been hurt by the people they should be loved by. And you, Patton, have been hurt very badly.”

Patton shook his head. “But sir, I deserve my pain!” He saw the incredulous look he was given, and started rambling. “I slept in this morning and was late to cook breakfast, so Father set me straight. I didn’t have the flavor of jam that Mother wanted out on the table, so she punished me for not being prepared. I didn’t call Father ‘sir’ when answering his question, so I was punished. I spoke out of turn instead of doing my job, so Mother gave me a smack as a warning. She was very generous that time. Just today, I’ve been so disobedient. I’m a horrible son. I don’t deserve a Fairy Godfather!”

“Shh…” A thumb caressed his cheekbone, and Patton melted into the touch, still crying. He hiccuped as the thumb wiped away his tears. “Don’t cry, little one. You are not to blame.” Patton went to interrupt, but the hand grew warmer, and Patton sighed at the blissful feeling. “Patton, you may feel as though you deserved this, but you did not. No child deserves the pain that you’ve been through.” Patton let his head be tilted upwards, and his gaze was suddenly locked onto the man’s piercing emerald gaze. His eyes seemed to glow as he spoke. “Patton, I wish to be your Fairy Godfather. Will you allow me to protect you, to allow yourself true happiness? To end the pain and suffering, once and for all?” The air around them seemed to still at his words, the world itself bending to his will. “Patton Hart, do you accept me as your Fairy Godfather?”

Patton’s instinctive thought was to say no. He deserved his pain! The man would soon see how damaged Patton was, and Patton didn’t want to burden another person! But another, smaller part of him spoke up. It was the part of Patton that yearned for the warmth of this stranger’s hand. The part of Patton that smiled when he heard a happy tune, and cried when his parents stopped tucking him in at night. The part that didn’t want Patton to be hurt any longer. I want to be happy.

Patton let out a sob, nodding his head frantically. The man smiled sadly. “Child, you need to use that lovely voice of yours.”

Patton ignored the way his voice cracked as he forced himself to answer. “Yes! I accept you as my Fairy Godfather.”

The man smiled, his green eyes glowing. “Then it is done.” There was a flash of bright light, reminiscent of a fire, and Patton had to close his eyes. When he opened them, the man was gone, a small ring lying where he once stood. It was a beautiful gold ring with ruby gemstones along the band. He slipped the ring onto his finger, and was surprised to see that it was a perfect fit. Patton slowly stood up, noting that not only had the rain stopped, the pain on his cheek had completely disappeared. He turned towards the chicken coop, dread forming in his stomach from what he now had to do-

Five chickens were laid out next to the coop, all with their necks snapped. Patton shakily made his way to the coop, scooping up the chickens to take inside. Their feathers were completely dry, and so were Patton’s cheeks. He had no more tears to shed at the moment.

Patton lugged the dead chickens inside, checking his face in the nearby mirror. His cheek was still bruised, but Patton couldn’t feel any pain from it. Patton shrugged it off, focusing on the task at hand. He did his best to follow the directions from an old cookbook he’d found on how to properly prepare raw chicken. It took the rest of the day to cook, and Patton had just made the pasta when there was a knock on the front door. Patton ignored it, moving to make the salad. He knew that his father would answer the door, and that Patton was not to be seen by the guests.

Sure enough, Patton heard his father’s voice ring throughout the house. “Welcome! You must be Lord Ignus. It is a pleasure to meet you!”

The person laughed. “You’re referring to my brother. You may call me Viridi. These are my associates. You may call them Anguis and Umbra. My brother had some matters to attend to, but he and our final associate should arrive before dinner begins.”

Patton continued to chop the vegetables as he heard his father speak. “Then, let us wait for them in the study.” Patton heard footsteps moving in the opposite direction and sighed, wiping the sweat off of his brow. He’d been working in this stuffy kitchen for hours now.

The door suddenly swung open, revealing Patton’s mother. “Is the food ready, boy?”

Patton shrunk under her gaze, but continued to cut the vegetables. “The chicken and pasta are ready to be served, ma’am. I’m currently cutting up the vegetables for the salad. It should be ready in a few minutes.”

Patton’s mother glared at him. “It should already be done by now!”

Patton whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

His mother scoffed. “Grab some Chardenney to go with the chicken.”

Patton frowned. “We don’t have any Chardenney left…”

Patton shouldn’t have been surprised by the pain that now bloomed across the back of his skull. He whimpered as he accidentally cut himself with the knife. “Listen here you brat.” She growled out. “You are nothing but a nuisance and a waste of space. If you can’t do your job correctly, you’ll wish for death by the time I’m done with you.” She pushed him forward, and Patton winced as the knife dug into his skin. “Get some damn wine.” And with that, she left.

Patton held back tears as he held his now blood-covered hand close to his chest. The pain was excruciating, and Patton didn’t know what to do-

“Is she always like that?” Patton spun around to see a man sitting on the countertop near the door, relaxed as if he’d been there for hours. He wore an expensive-looking black suit with a purple undershirt and handkerchief. His pitch black hair almost completely covered his amethyst colored eyes. His skin was deathly pale, nearly translucent.

Patton attempted to ignore the pain in his hand as he answered the man’s question. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir-”

“Please drop the formalities.” The man interrupted, examining his dark purple nails. “Call me Umbra.”

Patton bowed his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Umbra. My name is Patton.”

Umbra seemed to shudder as his eyes appeared to glow. Patton blinked in surprise, and the glowing was gone. “It’s dangerous to just give your name out like that, Pa-” He suddenly stopped, appearing to sniff the air. His gaze focused on Patton’s hands. “You’re injured.”

Patton looked down, staring at his blood-soaked hands. He’d almost forgotten about his injury. “It’s fine-”

A hand touched his, and Patton looked up in alarm. Umbra was suddenly in front of him, inches away. Patton felt his breath catch as Umbra whispered. “I’d assumed it was the chicken I was smelling…” His fingers traced through Patton’s blood along the cut, and Patton felt a shiver go up his spine. They stood like that for several seconds before Umbra’s fingers grazed against Patton’s ring. “Where did you get this?”

Patton saw Umbra’s expression and looked down at his feet. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

There was a moment of silence before Umbra sighed, letting go of his hand. “The bleeding stopped. Go ahead and rinse the blood off. I’ll finish chopping the vegetables.” Patton was about to speak up, but Umbra beat him to it. “Do it, Patton.”

Patton felt the shiver again as he went to do what he was told, knowing that he could get in more trouble for refusing. He carefully washed the blood off of his hands, making sure that there were no stains from it. He looked back at Umbra and was surprised to see that the salad was done and a bottle of Chardonnay sat next to it. “H-how?”

Umbra smirked. “I am a man of many talents.” He turned and opened the door leading to the dining room. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Patton. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.”

Patton shuddered as the door closed. He didn’t feel uncomfortable, he’s actually felt better today than he has in his entire life! But something about the people he’s met today…

Patton shook his head, grabbing the salad and wine. He needed to have the dining table ready for dinner!

Patton quickly had the food on the table, each dish covered to keep them warm and/or fresh. He then filled the glasses with wine before quickly hurrying back to the kitchen. Technically, Patton should go to his room (one of the old servant's quarters), but he didn't want to get in trouble for not cleaning up the kitchen. Patton felt his stomach twist in hunger, and Patton wished that he had eaten some of the food before moving it to the dining room. But that would be bad. Patton’s already done enough bad things today. Only good boys got food.

Patton heard the door from the parlor to the dining room open. “My esteemed guests, may I present to you: your dinner!”

Patton whimpered, hugging his knees. He wasn’t allowed to be in the dining room while the guests were eating, and the only other door led to the chicken coop, and Patton wasn’t allowed outside unless he was doing chores! He was stuck in the kitchen until the meal was over!

Patton whimpered as his stomach twisted painfully in hunger. He wasn’t told he could eat tonight, but maybe Patton could have some bread for cooking the chicken well on his first try?

Patton was about to get up and find some bread when he heard a familiar voice. “Thank you for treating us to this feast, Lord Hart.”

Patton’s blood went cold as he heard his father answer. “Please, Lord Hart was my father’s name. We have no need for formalities between us. My name is John, and this is my wife, Elizabeth.”

Patton felt his skin grow warm as the voice chuckled. “Then call me Rubrum.”

Patton forced himself to stand as the discussion continued. “Well, I’ve been introduced to the others, but who’s this young man?”

A different voice answered. “You may call me Glacies. It is a pleasure to be here, John.”

Patton cracked open the door and surveyed the dining room. Patton’s father was closest to Patton, sitting at the head of the table. His back was to Patton, and for that Patton was grateful. Patton’s mother sat on his left. A few seats down sat five men in expensive black suits with different colored accessories. Patton recognized one of them as Umbrum, and-

Patton barely held back a gasp, remembering to stay silent at the last second. Sitting at the other end of the table, staring at him from his spot behind the door, was Patton’s Fairy Godfather.

[let-it-raines]

I don't really know what I want, but I do know that I want Captain Swan in the Enchanted Forest! Ready, set, go!!!

So, found this little thing when I was trying to find my grocery list of all things. lol. So I obviously had to post it for you guys 😘 

Found on ao3 | here | if that’s more your jam!

Rating: Mature

-/-

A long white cloak trails behind her, the bottom of it brushing against the floor to pick up dirt and other small pieces of nature covering the ground. There are grass stains, brown and green streaks marking the ornate piece of clothing, but it will be cleaned and cared for until her cloak is as white as snow.  

He would know. He’s seen every marking on this particular piece of clothing be wiped away, whether by servants or a touch of magic, and the next time he sees her wear the cloak, it will be as if it is fresh from the seamstress and placed on her back with no interference.

‘Tis like that every time.

Killian chuckles to himself and wipes his knuckles along his lips while he reaches with his hook to dust away any dirt that has clung to his own leathers. He may not have a team of women behind him to make sure he stays laundered, but he can at least make himself look presentable. After all, the princess has come all this way, dodging her guards and her companions and anyone who might recognize her from the portrait of her hanging in the royal Governor’s office not half a mile from the ports where she’s milling about now.

She’s quick, that one, has more smarts than those who have dedicated their lives giving her the lessons that are supposed to educate her, but there are still some things that slip her mind after all this time.

Like wearing an ornate white cloak and leaving her golden hair falling down in waves over her shoulders instead of tying it with a ribbon and hiding it away. She reeks of royalty or some other kind of high-born woman, and high-born women do not come to a fish market where there might be pirates about.

They are scoundrels. Shouldn’t she know that?

“Smee,” Killian calls, hopping down from his post until his feet land heavy against the solid wood of the Jolly Roger, “make sure the place is spotless by nightfall. Every damaged board better damn well shine.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” his first mate says, tugging on his red knitted cap. One day the man has to get something a little more discreet. Maybe he and the princess can teach each other how to blend into a crowd.

With a sauntering step and a swing over his heavy coat around his calves, Killian quickly walks across the deck until he’s descending from his ship and moving across the uneven docks. Misthaven is one of the richest kingdoms in the realm, full of potential for water imports and exports, but the King and Queen have never put much more than one gold piece into repairing things. Maybe they would invest more if they knew how much time their beloved daughter spent time here.

Or maybe they would whisk her away so she could never see the sea again.

The docks are full with throngs of people milling about, each of them carrying a basket or parchment-wrapped fish, but Killian doesn’t pretend he’s about to stock up on supplies. He’ll do his own fishing if need be, and if not, he’ll find their fishermen when their supply is fresh and not a day or two old like they are today. Cutting out the middlemen and all.

She is currently talking to a vendor who sells baked goods. He believes her name is Ariel and that her husband works in the fishery, but he has never made their acquaintance. He tends to keep to himself and let Smee and Scarlet deal with making the acquaintances of the locals in each port.

“Thank you,” Emma sighs as she passes over a few coins in exchange for what Killian assumes is her favored sweet bread. “I’ll see you soon, Ariel.”

Ah, so he was correct in her name.

Killian knows Emma isn’t expecting him to be standing behind her by the way the emerald of her eyes widens and she nearly drops her food. It is endearing, and he struggles to keep both corners of his lips from turning up. In compromise, he lets one side smile while he slightly squints his eyes, mimicking the look she claims he gave her the night they met.

He knows what look he gave her, and it certainly wasn’t decent enough to be seen in broad daylight.

“Captain,” she says slowly, narrowing her own eyes.

“Milady.” He leans down and mockingly bows. She must be resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She so despises when people bow to her. “Enjoying the shopping?”

“”Tis a nice day for it, don’t you think?”

“Of course.” Killian steps closer to her but stays far enough away to be proper. He may not know the names of everyone here, but they certainly know his. Say what you will about Captain Killian Jones and his following of wenches, but he lives by a code, one he does not take lightly. He won’t do anything to impede upon Emma’s reputation, at least publicly. “Might I suggest looking at crustaceans near my ship. I haven’t bought any myself, but the word around the village is that they are divine.”

“You’ve been listening to what people have to say?”

“Oh, you know me. I’m a man of the town, a man of the people you might say.”

Her lips press together in a small, timid smile before she begins walking toward his ship, her cloak whipping behind her and her hair being blown in the wind.

She’s an ethereal beauty, this one.

“You’re not supposed to meet me on the docks,” Emma murmurs. “It makes it too obvious.”

“Darling, if you aren’t going for obvious, might I suggest not wearing a snow-white cloak when everyone else here is in shades of brown with slightly torn clothes.”

“Says the man wearing leather and a vest that’s nearly unbuttoned down to his navel. That’s not exactly inconspicuous.”

“I’m a pirate, love. I’ve never been inconspicuous.”

She turns to him, squinting her eyes once more, and he simply winks before nodding his head and turning her on her way toward the Jolly. No one pays them any mind. Everyone is too lost in their own worries and their own business to look at the two of them, but nevertheless, he urges Emma to pull her hood up and tug it around her face. As long as no one recognizes her face, all will be well. She’ll simply be the maiden who climbed aboard The Jolly Roger with him, and he’s got enough of a reputation that the news will not be of any substance for gossip. It will simply be another day for him.

At least he hopes so.

His crew stop their repairs to watch he and Emma moving aboard, but the moment Killian makes eye contact, they all turn away and quickly return to their tasks. They know not of who Emma is to the kingdom, but they know who she is to him. They are also aware that his companion is none of their damn business.

“You do not have to shoot daggers with your eyes at them, you know?” Emma laughs.

“I was doing no such thing.”

“You know you can’t lie to me. I can tell.”

“One of the worst bloody things about you.”

“Ah, see, but I know that you’re lying when you say that.”

Killian huffs underneath his breath before stepping in front of her so that he can look in her eyes. They’re a mixture of emerald and gold, two treasures any pirate would be happy to possesses, and the sunlight brings out the colors of her eyes until they are the most gorgeous thing in his sights. Then again, they didn’t need the sunlight for that.

“Do you always insist on being so frustrating?”

Emma’s lip curls up and runs her finger down the center of his chest, twisting her nail into his tufts of hair. “I know you like it, Captain.” She steps closer, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear, “and you know there’s no point in denying it.”

“And if I were to deny that I enjoy finding you frustrating?”

“I think I’d have to coax the words out of you,” she whispers. “Now, isn’t there a novel you had talked about showing me? Down in your Quarters?”

“I know you are teasing me, love, but I did pick up a few new stories for you in the Southern Isles.”

“Yeah? Have you read them yet?”

“Aye, but I don’t think that would have kept you from taking them.”

She kisses the underside of his jaw before walking away. “You know me so well, Captain.”

Bloody temptress.

The waves move beneath his feet as he follows Emma, not bothering to explain himself to any of his crew except to tell Smee he’s not to be disturbed unless they are under dire circumstances. Even then, he doesn’t want to know unless it is not something that can be handled without him.

Priorities and all.

By the time he is below deck and in his Quarters, Emma has already unclasped her cloak from her neck and draped it over the windows, dimming the room and providing them with the privacy they need when meeting during sunlit hours. He much prefers the safety of the night and the blanket that the darkness covers them with, but it is easier for Emma to meet him during the early afternoons when the sun is high in the sky and the crowds in the villages are full.

He will take her whenever he can.

“What’s this one about?” she asks as her fingers flip over the delicate pages of one of the novels he has laid out.

Killian shrugs off his coat, the weight falling off his shoulders, before he steps up to Emma, pressing his chest to her back and rolling his hips into her delectable backside. He runs his lips over her jaw before settling behind her ear. She’s sensitive there, and small bumps always rise on her porcelain skin whenever he runs his lips against the shell or allows the hair on his chin to brush against her.

“This one is about the structure behind ships and how to improve the speed of our sails.”

“You have a Pegasus sail. What do you need this for?”

“I enjoy learning about ways to improve. I wouldn’t want to be caught unaware.”

“No,” she sighs as his teeth nibble against her, “you wouldn’t. Do you expect me to read this?”

“That one wasn’t for you. Grab the one with the white ribbons tied around it.”

Emma leans forward enough that he loses his grip on her and that his lips fall away, and he takes the opportunity to start unlacing her corset. He takes pride in being able to do just as much as any other man with his hook, and for the most part, he’s able to. However, he appreciates that Emma has loosened the first few strands and that he’s able to undo her dress while he presses his lips to the back of her neck, breathing in the vanilla scent of her soaps and the flowers of the potions he knows she slathers on her wrists and her neck.

“Tales of Arendelle.”

“A collection of love stories,” he tells her as her dress begins to fall from her shoulders. “The rumor is that most of them are true, if not embellished the slightest bit. One in particular caught my eye for you.”

Emma shrugs her shoulders to help him get her out of her dress until she’s left in nothing but a thin white shift. “And what was that?”

“A princess who fell for a pirate.”

Her head is thrown back in laughter, and she turns around to face him, her lips parted and cheeks flushed. “That is a little too on the nose, even for you.”

“What? You do not care for hearing a story similar to ours?”

“Who says I’ve fallen for you?”

“You do.”

Emma hums and deftly unbuttons his vest, dragging her mouth along each patch of skin that’s uncovered. “I don’t seem to recall saying anything of the sort.”

“I wrote it in my logs if you’d like to check.”

“I think I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“That would be a first.”

She huffs and pushes him back until he’s stumbling to his bunk and propping himself up on his elbows while he watches Emma dispose of her shift until she’s left wearing nothing. Her skin has always been so beautiful. In the summers, it is a darker color that makes the rosy tint of her nipples blend in more, but now she’s as pale as the snow that occasionally coats the ground. She’s like porcelain, but she does have her imperfections.

He thinks he loves every damn one.

Well, he knows because he loves her. Ages have passed since he has loved someone, but he knows the feeling enough to know how he feels on the days when he is able to see Emma.

On the days and weeks and months when he isn’t as well.

Emma quickly undoes his leathers, each brush of her fingertips stirring him to life, before she carefully takes off his brace with his hook, kissing all of the permanently red scars there. She’s the only one who has seen this part of him besides the men who helped heal him, and she’s the only one who will ever see the red scars and the place where his body is broken like it was not before.

He’s got a reputation to uphold, one of a fierce pirate captain who survived losing his hand to the Dark One and who takes what he wants when he wants it, but none of that applies to Emma.

None of it has ever applied to her.

She is the sun in his life when two hundred years have been covered in dark clouds that have blocked all light out.

Light looks a hell of a lot like emerald eyes and golden hair with a smile that’s worth more than any treasure.

“I’ve missed you,” Emma finally says as she tosses his hook to the floor and crawls on top of him until her knees are pressed on either side of his hips, her folds pressing against his cock until he can feel exactly how much she already wants him. “The next time you leave, I either need to come with you or you have to be away for fewer months.”

“How do you propose you come with me?”

Her hands run across his cheek before pushing his hair back off his forehead. “I simply leave my parents a note that there’s no need for me to be with them as they have dinner with diplomats and royals from different realms. I’m simply something pretty for everyone to look at. They don’t need me.”

“Ah, but you know how that is not true.”

“It is.” She shifts her hips and rubs herself against her while arching her back and letting her locks cascade in flowing waves down her back that remind him of the sea on her calmest days. “My brother is the one who is tasked with being the diplomat, with taking over it all, and I do not wish to be him for a moment.”

“You’d make a wonderful queen, my darling.”

She laughs and leans forward to finally press her lips into his. They’re as soft as always. He has never quite been able to figure out how it is possible for her lips and her skin to be as soft as silk, but he’s thankful for it. He’s thankful for the way that her mouth expertly moves over his, pulling and pushing, taking and giving, and for the way her hands thread into his hair, tugging on the strands until their noses hit each other’s cheeks. His hand finds her hair, anchoring there, while his stumped arm wraps around her back until her breasts are pressing into his chest hair.

Many a siren has tempted to lure him into their graces, but none has been so successful as Emma.

“I do not want to be queen. I’m thankful the laws couldn’t be changed to make me so. I want the freedom I cannot have behind those stone walls.”

“You are my queen, my love.”

“And you are my freedom.”

Emma shifts once more until she’s sinking down onto him, her warm walls enveloping him and pulling him into her as heat stirs deep in his belly. It’s always been like magic between the two of them, like the light magic that flows from Emma’s fingertips and emanates from deep within her, and he’s often thought that she loses control of her magic when they’re joined like this. She has never mentioned it, never discussed feeling it like this, but there is something about the way his skin prickles and his heartrate picks up that has him know that something about this is different.

Something about her is different.

Killian has never been a fan of magic. It has taken everyone he loves and his hand away from him, but he is undoubtedly a fan of Emma’s magic.

He is undoubtedly a fan of every part of her.

There is not much to her movement today. Emma is controlling the strokes and controlling how both of them feel. She always prefers this position to any other, and he cannot say that he blames her. It allows her walls to squeeze him and for her to keep the pace when that is something he would normally do. It allows for their lips to constantly stay connected, only straying in order for him to wrap his mouth around her rosy peaks or for Emma to bite down on the underside of his jaw. It allows them to be connected in every single way, and while Killian expected their coming together after so much time apart to be fast and harsh with heavy strokes and no soft affection, it is the opposite of that.

He has a particular penchant for taking her from behind and allowing himself to sink all the way inside of her with his hand firmly on the roundness of her bottom, but he will never complain about having her like this.

He will never complain about having her in any way when he was never supposed to have someone so good in his life.

“I have thought of you every day, my love.”

“So you’ve kept your promise then?”

“Aye,” he sighs, pulling his lips away from hers and pressing his forehead to hers as sweat begins to drip down her back and hit against his arm. “I have dreamed of your voice, of your taste, of the way that you look when you want me. I have dreamed of the sound of your laugh and the way that you could spend all day reading without wanting for anything. I have dreamed of nothing but you.”

“I thought of you every day, Killian.”

“Good.”

He wraps his arms around her waist and carefully shifts them until Emma is on her back and he’s caging her in. When he slips out of her, he hisses, but he easily pushes himself back in until he’s controlling his strokes and their tempo. She’s unbearably wet, and when he pushes her knee back to move even deeper inside of her, he knows that he won’t last too much longer.

Emma is too irresistible for that.

The breathlessness of her moans and the way her eyes flutter closed every time he presses inside of her nearly cause him to perish, but he presses on, wrapping his fingers around her thigh and digging his nails into her skin while his arm rubs into where they are joined. She’s always been a fan of that and a fan of the way the roughness of his skin feels, and he can’t help his own smirk.

“You are incredible, my love, my darling, my queen. I need nothing more than you and this. I need nothing more than us.”

“Killian,” Emma whines, her back arching, “please.”

If she wasn’t so breathless, he knows she would have words about his terms of endearment for her.

“Please what? Tell me.”

“Faster,” she pants, and he obliges, leaning forward and biting into her collarbone before soothing it with his tongue, moving in and out of her until she’s a quivering mess and her limbs barely have any function.

When she falls, it is to his name, a breathless whisper that is only heard by him, and Killian treasures the sound, committing it to memory and allowing himself to treasure having her in his arms. He will not leave for many fortnights now, will be seeing her as often as they are able, but every moment like this is a moment he wishes to commit to memory and to be able to mark down as easily as he marks his gold in his logs.

Her magic is everywhere, flowing in the room and surrounding them, little pinpricks of pleasure intensified until he’s falling too.

There is nothing else in the world like this.

There is no one else in the world like Emma, and he has traveled to all of the realms and lived for centuries. Time stood still for many a year, his body and face not aging, and as much as he dreads lines appearing around his eyes and the darkness of his hair fading away, he thinks growing old with Emma would make it all worth it.

If only they could.

“I love you,” Emma whispers later. They haven’t redressed, are still only covered by the cloth on his bunk, and her fingers are trailing through the matted hair on his chest and the silver chains that lie there while he reads to her from another novel he brought home for her. This one is another tale of love, but there are no extenuating circumstances. It is simply a man and a woman who love each other and are able to live their life together.

“Aye, I love you, darling.”

She nuzzles her cheek into his chest and sighs. “I told my parents I had a suitor while you were gone.”

“You jest.”

“No, no. I did. I – fuck, Killian. I’m nearly twenty-five now. We’ve been seeing each other for two years, and I do not want to be with someone else. My parents are proper people. My mother has lived her entire life as royalty, and she isn’t going to allow me to wait to marry for much more time. I have already put it off for long enough.”

“Emma, your parents will never approve of me. I know you see this side of me, but to the rest of the world, I’m a pirate. I’ve stolen and killed and caused damage in my path. I have hurt people who did not deserve that hurt.”

“You don’t do that anymore.”

“I do if it’s necessary.”

“Killian.” She moves away from him and manages to find space on the bunk to sit up and cross her arms over her chest, not bothering to cover herself with a sheet. “I am not kidding. I have told them I have a suitor. I have started the process, so I can finally stop living my life in secret. If they don’t approve of you, I can leave. I’m not the heir. I don’t have a responsibility. I can live with you, and we can go wherever we want, do whatever we want.”

“I will not ask you to leave your family for me.”

“You’re not asking me. I am telling you that this is what I want!”

He arches a brow. “And you’re sure?”

“You were away for four months. I thought through everything. I know every possibility, and as much as I am hoping for the most favorable outcome, I’m prepared for the worst. My parents will always love me. I have no doubt of that, but if they cannot accept that I will be unhappy living as the wife to a man I do not love, then I must leave. Will you take me away if it comes to that? Will you?”

Killian hesitates. There is nothing he would love more than to no longer have to meet Emma at odd times and only at certain days, but he knows deep within his heart that her parents will never accept him. He was once a lieutenant in Emma’s grandmother’s Navy, but he’s no longer that man.

Maybe to Emma, but not to the world.

He reaches up and tucks strands of her hair behind her ear. “I will do anything you ask of me as long as you are sure it is what you want. Your heart’s desire, love. That is all I want you to have.”

“My heart’s desire is you.”

“Then we shall tell your parents, and I will prepare for every outcome.”

Emma’s smile is one of the most beautiful he’s ever seen before she falls back against his chest and wraps herself around him. “You said there was a tale of a princess who fell for a pirate? How did that one end?”

“I shan’t spoil an ending.”

“Even if I ask?”

His lips softly brush against her temple. “Our ending will be better than that of the book simply because it is ours and ours alone, my love.”

[amphtaminedreams]

Filling the Met Shaped Hole (No, Not Like That): The Best Red Carpet Looks of Awards Season 2020

Hi to anyone reading,

I want to jump straight into things and ask a question. Which is the best Met Gala theme of the last 5 years and why is it Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination?

Seriously though, despite the fact that I’m not sure anything will top Heavenly Bodies with the preceding and succeeding Met Galas being relatively disappointing (the camp theme definitely could have been taken further and lets not even talk about the Comme Des Garcons disaster), I still get excited for the gala every year, staying up til whatever hour of the morning so I can see all the fashion live. Of course, it makes complete sense that this year’s event has been postponed until October given the circumstances but the chosen theme of Fashion and Duration had the potential to be quite interesting, so I hope we do eventually get to see it; whilst I don’t miss endlessly scrolling through photos of every white male celebrity wearing the exact same suit and tie to the point where fangirls claim Harry Styles to be a pioneer of breaking gender norms because he wore a pink top, I long for the days where we could all temporarily coexist in peace and harmony thanks to the internet’s collective dragging of the Kardashians for paying no attention to the theme whatsoever. We should’ve guessed life as we know it was about to be flipped on its head when they actually turned up in something interesting last year.

What I’m trying to say is that I would love nothing more than to jump back in time to when tomorrow morning’s top Google search would be best Met Gala looks, and not how many lives did Boris Johnson’s fuckery cost us today. So in honour of the lack of trivial content, I thought I’d fill the Met shaped hole in our lives (amongst many other unfilled holes; today the freezer door at work hit me on the ass whilst I was putting ice cubes out and I think for a split second I got all flushed) by putting together a collection of my personal favourite red carpet looks from this year’s awards season and their respective afterparties: the BAFTAs, Brits, Critic’s Choice Awards, Golden Globes, Oscars, SAG Awards, and the Grammys to finish with.

Enjoy!

British Academy of Film and Television Arts Award (yes, that’s the BAFTAs but I needed a longer title)

(L-R: Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy, and Scarlett Johansson in Versace)

I am a British fan of television and arts but I will gladly say it: of all the awards ceremonies, the BAFTAs is hardly the most exciting, and the red carpet even less so. As I said, lots of boring men in boring suits and middle aged women being dressed by stylists who seem to think we’re dead from the neck down by the time we hit 40 and dress us accordingly so. Any hint of a décolletage explicitly forbidden.

There were a few good looks, however. From left to right, above we have Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy and Scarlett Johansson in Versace, who looks so amazing I almost forget that 1). Versace is going down the drain and 2). Scarlett Johansson would stand in front of a forest and take the role of a tree if she could. Which, along with her whole defence of Woody Allen, is really shit-she’s genuinely great in Marriage Story and an otherwise talented actress. As for Zoe Kravitz, she is up there with Robert Pattison as one of my biggest crushes right now and looks amazing in literally everything she wears, and Rooney Mara is consistently low-key yet elegantly dressed. 

(L-R: Greta Gerwig in Gucci, Florence Pugh in Dries Van Noten, Renee Zellweger in Prada)

Renee Zellweger proved an exception to the rule when it came to women over the age of 40 generally having clueless stylists-her dress is beautiful, very reminiscent of the delicate, demure beauty of 50s icons such as Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. Florence’s dress, I actually really loved. It didn’t seem to go down all too well with actual Florence Pugh fans but red and pink together is an elite combo; I’m still firmly on the “surprised that it works but I’m into it” train. I mainly included Greta’s dress for the green velvet, to be honest; it’s disappointingly low-key for Gucci but nice enough all the same.

(L-R: Andrew Scott in Paul Smith, Charlize Theron in Dior, Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta, and Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli)

I was particularly excited to see Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli-yes, I adore her because she played Daenerys Targaryen and I was ride or die for that bitch but also whenever I see her interviewed she has the most exuberant energy and honestly I want to be best friends. It’s not the most interesting dress Schiaparelli has ever put out there, but I like the fact that she went for something unique all the same.

Forest green is a colour I find hard to resist which is why I included Andrew Scott’s otherwise kinda basic suit (points for it being velvet) and Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta. As elegant as the dress is, I would love for her stylist to have really leaned into the forest nymph vibes I’m getting and do something a bit less uptight with the hair and makeup; like imagine loose curls with tiny braids and hair rings and a dark lip and a slight smoke around the eye and...yes, I have very specific visions, I know. As for Charlize Theron, her work with Dior is the only reason I care about the brand; there’s definitely a case to be made here for giving Maria Grazia the benefit of the doubt, assuming that she tries all the prototypes on women who look like Charlize and that that’s why she’s happy to send dresses that are otherwise relatively underwhelming down the runway. 

The Brit Awards

(L-R: Charli XCX in Fendi, Ellie Goulding in Koche, Hailee Steinfeld in Fendi, and Harry Styles in Gucci)

In my opinion a much better reflection of quintessential British style than the BAFTAs, I originally ruled out including any music award ceremony red carpets in this post until I saw Maya Jama and Charli XCX’s looks. Consider me pleasantly surprised by Hailee Steinfeld’s cobalt blue burnout dress, a classic incarnation of the regal bohemian aesthetic Fendi channelled in their 2019 haute couture show. Plus Charli’s emo take on Glinda the Good Witch is also Fendi, driving home for me just how much I love their collections. I don’t know if I’d be sure about Ellie Goulding’s dress on the rack but the simple styling makes it work and she looks gorgeous, and Harry Styles looks just as pretty in a Gucci look that is MADE for him.

(L-R: Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood, Celeste in Gucci on the far right! I’m not sure who the guy in the middle is, I’m sorry and if anybody knows drop me a message and I will correct this immediately!)

Unfortunately, Harry Styles and Celeste didn’t get to pose together because this is really a perfect his and hers Gucci look; I feel like seeing one outfit next to the other would really highlight the quirky elegance of each. That being said, it feels criminal to talk about elegance without including Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood in the sentence; the dress is obviously stunning quality on its own merit, but Adwoah is what elevates it from unremarkable to ethereal. Fuck the weird ass knight figure that’s currently on top of the Brit Award, this woman is the definition of statuesque! Put her on top of the trophy you cowards!

And just to get it out of the way, when it comes to the guy in the middle, to quote Keke Palmer:

Sorry to this man.

Honestly, I saved all the red carpet photos from a Nylon (I think it was Nylon?) article back when the awards aired and towards the end of the photos they stopped including names-this happened a few times when I was looking through red carpet galleries. I reverse image searched where I could but not every photo turned anything up. If anyone does know who this man is, message me so I can include his name. He looks sick, and as far as suits go, this one is built upon and accessorised enough that it’s actually a look rather than the same old variation of a suit we’ve seen a million times before that may as well be the straight man’s designated red carpet uniform. 

(L-R: Maya Jama, Neh Neh Cherry in Bottega Veneta, Laura Whitmore)

And now the woman that forced me to include the Brits red carpet in this post in the first place: Maya Jama. Don’t get me wrong, my mind isn’t blown by this dress on its own, I probably prefer Laura Whitmore’s (Jaded do a similar newspaper dress and I’ve resisted adding it to my basket for 6 months now, this is the ultimate test of whether or not I finally cave), but Maya looks fucking MAGNIFICENT. The fit, the gloves, the confidence with which she carries it, it’s all SO good. Considering the timing, this is basically her Princess Diana revenge dress levelled up, 2020′s Jessica Rabbit moment. 

(L-R: Maya Jama, Ellie Goulding, Kendall Jenner)

Obviously anything is gonna be a step down from the red carpet look but Maya’s Brits afterparty outfit was cute too, if a tad Pretty Little Thing. 

Don’t ask me what Kendall Jenner was doing at the Brits afterparty btw, because I have no idea. We live in a world where the Kardashian-Jenners just seem to occupy every public space possible and I’ve begrudgingly accepted it at this point. I don’t have the energy to question it-and it helps that green catsuit is actually Very Cool™. 

For the last of my favourite Brit Awards looks, we have a few more afterparty photos-from left to right we have Charli XCX again, Lizzo, and Anne Marie. It was Charli posting her dress on Instagram that sent me searching for afterparty looks in the first place; apparently wearing nothing but feathers and crystals is something that appeals to me, and the more I read that statement, the more it sounds spot-on. I’d categorise it as gothic glamour hoe, and slot it in with the rest of the night-out clothes in my wardrobe that I think I’ll finally have the balls to wear out of sheer desperation once this lockdown is over. The Blossom to Charli XCX’s Buttercup here, we’ve also got Anne Marie looking extra AF and I loveeeee it; it’s an ensemble somewhere between a high-end version of Alaska Thunderfuck’s candyfloss Sugar Ball dress from season 5 of Drag Race (Alaska DID deserve to win AS2 nation, rise up) and a low-key version of a Katy Perry California Dreams Tour costume. I don’t call it low-key as a drag, just a regretful admission of the fact that maybe wearing a cupcake bra which squirts whipped cream out of the boobs is a bit too much for most of us. 

Critic’s Choice Awards

(L-R: Alison Brie in Brandon Maxwell, Chloe Bridges in Azeeza, Cynthia Erivo in Fendi, Florence Pugh in Prada)

I was going to say the Critic’s Choice Awards is kind of America’s version of the BAFTAs but then I remembered that the BAFTAs is really the only big TV and film awards ceremony we have here in the UK and that it’s kind of sad that I have to compare our most high-profile red carpet of the year to L.A’s most low-key one. Getting Cynthia Erivo and Florence Pugh to infiltrate is the best we can do. 

THAT BEING SAID! 

They both look amazing. This is Florence’s best red carpet look of this year, imo (she the prettiest icicle I’ve ever seen), and Cynthia Erivo’s arm must ache from serving the entire awards season. And in Fendi! Taste!

Side note before we move onto the next set of looks: has anybody else watched Alison Brie in Mad Men and Community simultaneously and experienced the extreme cognitive dissonance that comes from watching her play a tragically nerdy (relatable tbh) 18 year old and an overly-sophisticated 30 something married to an ad man in the 60s at the same time? Weird, but anyway! The orange dress with the red lipstick is channelling Marina Diamandis’ Froot era style subtle sex appeal and is a timeless, playful combo. Put the hair up into a beehive and it’s Megan Draper on a date in Cabo-don’t know much about the place but I know the sea is aqua and the sun seekers are blindingly white and the cocktails are plentiful (and whatever colour you want them to be), and all that together is a juicy palette if we’re talking cinematography. The Mad Men directors are out there somewhere shaking their fists at the sky that they never got to consult me on that, I’m sure. 

(L-R: Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Erdem and Zendaya in Tom Ford)

Zendaya’s red carpet look was the stand out of the Critic’s Choice Awards for sure; the skirt I can do without but I hope that hot pink metal breastplate ends up on display somewhere because that is ART, and she is the perfect person to wear it. The Tiffany Pollard “she's so powerful” meme was made for this moment. 

Also, can we talk about Phoebe Waller-Bridge backing up my Dior 2019 Haute Couture wasn’t *that* bad hypothesis? Because unless I’m mistaken this is one of the dresses from that collection and it is quite beautiful. Yeah, black mesh isn’t going to start a revolution or anything but it’s so delicate looking it almost seems out of place on a red carpet-I don’t know if it’s the structure of the bodice or the tulle but I can totally see this in a gothic ballet, whether that’s sensible in theory or not. Probably not. But then again I did quit ballet when I was 10 after months of getting people to near poke me in the eye on the way out of class so it would look like I’d been crying and I didn’t have to go to my lessons after school. So what do I know? Fuck all, in case that wasn’t clear. I also feel a little vindicated by Saoirse wearing one of the Erdem dresses I loved from last year’s collection-if multi-award winning actress Saoirse Ronan’s probably ridiculously well-paid stylist liked it enough to pick it out for her then I guess I’m doing okay in terms of taste levels.

(L-R: Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab, and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

The last few Critics Choice Awards looks I picked out above aren’t thrilling or anything but they’re cute enough to include-from left to right we have Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab and Margaret Qualley in Chanel. It’s kind of besides the point, but Margaret worked with Chanel throughout awards season and I just wanted to add my two cents in here and say that I think she’s the perfect person to collaborate with (also think Laura Harrier would be a good match, anyone agree?) and that in a similar vein, I urge Miu Miu, the creative directors of which I’m sure are eagerly awaiting the opinion of irrelevant Tumblr user amphtaminedreams, to work with Lucy Hale more often. I feel like if girl stopped starring in those shitty Blumhouse horrors and did something a bit more sophisticated she’d fit the brand right down to a T.

The Golden Globes

(L-R: Cynthia Erivo in Thom Browne, Dakota Fanning in Dior, Jane Levy in Steven Khalil, and Janina Gavankar in Georges Chakra)

Finally! I hear you cry! A more exciting red carpet! It’s not the Oscars, but celebrity stylists still pulled the big guns for this one, the Golden Globes probably being considered the second most prestigious American awards ceremony of the year. Plus Dakota Fanning was there! Big yay for me! She and Elle can practically do no wrong in my eyes and are probably the only 2 women that could take on Dakota Johnson and Jennifer Lawrence when it comes to established red carpet style. 

Cynthia Erivo did it again, of course, as slick, as dignified and as regal as she was at the Critic’s Choice. The woman really has got this power stance thing locked down; she always seems so cool and confident in everything she wears that the whole getting dressed up to go out out out (we call going to the club going “out out”, but I’d say a red carpet is a slightly bigger deal than my local club with the sticky floors hence the 3rd out) thing looks like second nature.

(L-R: Zoey Deutch in Fendi, Karamo Brown in Grayscale, Lucy Boynton in Louis Vuitton and Kat Graham in Georges Hobeika)

Lucy Boynton was another of my Golden Globes stand outs, and in general is someone who I really look forward to seeing at red carpet events. She (or her stylist, I don’t know how much of a role she plays!) always seems to commit fully to an outfit and sees it as part of a whole concept where the makeup, hair and accessories are equally as important and that is a girl after my own heart. 60s space age empress is the theme here and I’m all about it-well, either that or a feminine editorial take on the tinman from the Wizard of Oz but the former sounds a bit cooler and does way more justice to how good she looks so we’ll go with that. Quick shoutout to Kat Graham too because she looked absolutely radiant. 

(L-R: Shailene Woodley in Balmain, Winnie Harlow in Laquan Smith, and Zoe Kravitz in Saint Laurent)

The trio above I really couldn’t skim over, Winnie Harlow especially; my America’s Next Top Model grudges aside, she consistently turns it out at every event she’s invited to. She’s another woman that wears pieces with such confidence that they look like they were actually made on her body-even if the garment itself isn’t the most breathtaking in the room, she’s the one that draws my attention. Though she’s got these dainty, other-worldly qualities about her, what you’d expect to be a gentle presence is firm and commanding and whilst the sharp drama and glitz of the dress probably helps, that’s just the way Winnie Harlow is naturally, based on her other red carpet appearances. 

Zoe Kravitz is an interesting one because, on the one hand, her looking amazing with that bone structure (I would trade a vital organ to look like that any day) is a given, but it does also seem like she went out of her way to do something a bit different this past awards season. I have always loved her street style for its trademark edge and the androgynous, oversized silhouettes that she leans towards, and the overt femininity of her red carpet dresses is that grungy, skater girl aesthetic completely flipped on its head. It’s cute, and if anyone can pull a dress as kitschy as this off, it’s Zoe. She’s got that just rolled out of bed look we all dream of that screams “I’m over this shit” whereas the rest of us have to rely on dark circles to get the message across. It’s very weird to think that she and Shailene Woodley were in Divergent together, especially since Zoe in particular has changed so much since. 

My main note with Shailene was just that I got excited to see that Balmain dress off the runway-it was one of my favourites from the S/S 2020 collection (IIRC, mostly on the basis that I’m pretty sure it wan’t haute couture), and it looks good! Not wildly good because I’m not sure the fit of the dress is inherently all that flattering, but still good-she makes it work.

(L-R: Taylor Swift in Etro, Sofia Carson in Giambattista Valli and Scarlett Johansson in Vera Wang)

I know a lot of people online didn’t seem to like Taylor Swift’s dress, but she looks cute, imo. I will say that I’m surprised it’s Etro! At first glance I would’ve thought Carolina Herrera or Oscar de la Renta or something along those lines. And predictably, I think Sofia Carson looks flawless. If you’ve read any of my other posts you’re probably sick of hearing it but I really can’t resist anything that is this modern Disney princess, like powder pink layered tulle? Feathers? What did you expect me to say, ew? I think deep down my clothing preferences will always be that of a 9 year old girl and you know what, that’s okay. Sometimes. Well, when it comes to red carpets. That’s when you can kinda get away with it.

(L-R: Bell Powley in Miu Miu, Billy Porter in Alex Vinash, and Charlize Theron in Dior)

There’s a few things worth mentioning when it comes to the above outfits. Firstly, and most importantly, I need to proclaim my love for Billy Porter. No man is doing it like him, honestly. To compare Harry Styles in his pink suits is unfair. The drama and the beauty and the flair that Billy brings every awards ceremony is on another level and that’s all I have to say about that. If you disagree, I’m gonna need a bullet pointed essay-I am that firm in my opinion.

Second, Bell Powley in Miu Miu semi confirms the direction their PR team tend to head in when choosing women to work with. I might be totally alone here but I feel like she and Lucy Hale both have one of those porcelain doll faces which work really well with Miu Miu’s signature girlish silhouettes and overly-ornate details. 

And thirdly, just to restate my earlier point: someone give Charlize Theron a pat on the back for bringing some life to a Dior design. That is all.

(L-R: Jodie Comer in Mary Katrantzou, Joey King in Schiaparelli and Kaitlyn Dever in Valentino)

All the newcomers really turned it out too, which is a sentence I type through gritted teeth; to call Jodie Comer of My Mad Fat Diary origins a newcomer pains the former depressing 2013 black and white Tumblr user in me, though I suppose to the US audiences uncultured in the ways of British teenage angst Vilanelle is her breakthrough role. And how Vilanelle is this dress too!? It’s bold and it’s attention-grabbing and it’s fun and it is definitely very theatrical female fictional villain that you were inexplicably drawn to as a child before you realised why as an adult-”oh, it’s because she was hot”. 

Joey King in Iris van Herpen was a pleasant surprise too considering that when I first looked through the red carpet photos I only knew her as the girl who was in that shitty Netflix original-having watched her in The Act, I apologise for the dismissal! And I admire the sartorial choice! I adore Iris van Herpen designs but as a short girl, wearing one of her dresses to a red carpet event is a risky decision-I hate to admit it because casting a diverse range of people for shows is something I have come to expect of my favourite brands, but the appeal of a lot of IvH pieces comes from the movement of the garments on standard willowy runway models. Fortunately, the styling is really complementary here, and whilst it can’t be denied that the dress itself does swamp her a bit, I liked that she and her stylist stepped out of the box. 

Kaitlyn Dever’s red carpet look is obviously a lot more typical, but you can't go wrong with a Valentino dress, and this one in particular is so suited to the aura she gives off-it’s young and it’s fun and it’s fresh and the intricate floral print, otherwise muted if not for the spring influenced pops of pink and red, is timelessly pretty.

(L-R: Akwafina in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Celine, Beanie Feldstein in Oscar de la Renta, and Renee Zellweger in Armani)

Lastly, there was Saoirse Ronan in Celine-one of my highlights of the night; she looked phenomenal, a glacial toned dream, and it was pretty different to what I generally expect to see her in. I might be way off base and in need of a bit of a review of her red carpet style, but I feel like she usually leans more towards pretty than edgy with regards to her styling at these kinds of events and a loose fitting, gun metal glittered slip dress is, imo, the perfect way to hit that previously uncharted midway point between the two.

(L-R: Kate Bosworth in Prabal Gurung, Kathryn Newton in Valentino and Sarah Hyland)

Now onto the afterparty looks, and I’m not gonna lie, they’re usually the highlight of the ceremonies for me; I feel like the initial ceremony is all about looking respectful and maintaining that whole dedicated actor image, whereas it seems the literal point of these showbiz parties is a competition to be the best dressed person in the room. Competition really makes people step their game up, and we always get to see more young talent whose style tends to be more current than that of the people we see on the red carpet. 

I’ve got to say, as annoying as I found her character in The Society, I have to overlook that gut instinct of irritation when I see Kathryn Newton and accept how stunning everything going on here is; honestly, she looks like an angel, and I feel like the team at Valentino must reeeeally like her to put her in that dress.

(L-R: Alexa Demie, Ashley Benson in Georges Hobeika, Maude Apatow and Barbie Ferreira)

Obviously I was super excited to see the Euphoria girls on the red carpet, especially Alexa Demie-she does 90s/early noughties inspired glamour better than anyone else on the young actor scene right now and her personal style and the sass she does so well as Maddy Perez shines through every time. Whilst Barbie Ferreira’s look is more casual and achievable for the rest of us in terms of wearability, it’s just as interesting a take on the same period; the delicate pink makeup, hair and jewellery with the 90s inspired slip dress in light teal is a red carpet take on soft grunge for the ages. As for Ashley Benson, she always looks gorgeous and that’s all I’m gonna say before I get emotional and start going into a rant about how her and Cara Delevigne’s relationship was one of the only good things about this shitshow of a year and how now that they’ve broken up the single flame of hope inside me has been extinguished and how their sex swing is gonna get so lonely with them caught in the middle of an ugly custody battle and-

You get the idea.

(L-R: Storm Reid, Sophia Bush in John Paul Ataker, and Sydney Sweeney)

(L-R: Billie Lourd, Paris Hilton, and Camila Morrone)

The Oscars

(L-R: Charlize Theron in Dior, Cynthia Erivo, and Florence Pugh in Louis Vuitton)

Ah, the Oscars. This is where the big money is really spent, and bad decisions are made-in fairness, this year’s winners were a lot more satisfying than usual and I think all of us felt that Parasite was a well-deserved win. I really thought it was gonna be Once Upon a Time in Hollywood just as a bit of a token gesture to Tarantino considering it’s his 9th film, though undoubtedly his worst of the ones I’ve seen, so I was relieved that this wasn’t the case. That being said, it still pains me to see the horror genre being ignored by the academy-in my mind, Florence is here for her performance in Midsommar just as much as Little Women. 

At the risk of getting repetitive, just assume my opinions on Charlize Theron in Dior here are the same again, that Cynthia Erivo is still bringing goddess energy (this is probably my favourite of her looks), and that against the opinion of the masses, Florence looks divine in this colour. I mean, when I say the masses I just mean the people I follow on Twitter, but still, I just wanted be an excuse to be dramatic so that I could insert a meme.

(L-R: Natalie Portman in Dior, Regina King in Versace, Scarlett Johansson in Oscar de la Renta, and Sandra Oh in Elie Saab)

Once again, Scarlett Johansson’s stylist is doing God’s work; this outfit is everythingggg-the Oscar de la Renta dress is probably my favourite thus far. Like we’re talking angel, but make it fitted and sexy, and I hope you read that in the Tyra Banks voice I intended because 2 memes in a row would rob me of any credibility I’m building as a fashion account and I’m not ready to trash that for bad memes just yet; give it a couple of mental breakdowns and I’ll be there. Natalie Portman’s look was a favourite of mine too, with the cape over the top adding a sophisticated touch to the celestial, slightly bohemian feel of the dress. I initially found the detail of the names embroidered into said cape to be quite moving-in a dream world, directing would be my career of choice and so I really admired the statement-but finding out that Portman herself is the only director hired by her own production company ruined that for me a little bit. Then again, multi-millionaire celebrities making performative gestures for good publicity and not doing all that much to make any real change? Colour me shocked.

(L-R: Beanie Feldstein in Miu Miu, Brie Larson in Celine and Billie Eilish in Chanel)

Now, of all the Miu Miu looks so far, I think Beanie Feldstein definitely got the best one. The intricacy of the embroidery, the silhouette, the old Hollywood stye curls-it’s all so graceful. I’d say this is probably her best look of awards season and she and her stylist did a really great job.

And as for Billie Eilish...Guys...do you think she might be wearing...Chanel...by any chance? I’m not sure.

Seriously though, as far as an oversized tweed suit with the brand’s logo emblazoned all over it goes, I like this look. The acid green roots and the jewellery are what make it for me, adding to the grunginess of the outfit which is interesting against Chanel’s prim and proper aesthetic of the last few years. I know she has good reason for the way she dresses, but I’ve never quite been able to appreciate it-this outfit proves to me that her style doesn't automatically equal ugly and occasionally, she can make it work.

(L-R: Leona Lewis, Colton Haynes, Dita von Teese)

Elton John’s Oscars afterparty being the less exciting of the two big ones in terms of fashion-the other being the Vanity Fair afterparty which I’ll cover in a moment-I thought I’d whizz through it (posturing aside though, I bet Sir Elton’s party was a lot more fun).

(L-R: Chiara Ferragni, Donatella Versace, Bella Thorne)

This is a big statement considering Alexa Demie attended, but I think Chiara’s outfit and overall styling might be my favourite of the partygoers; if they decided to do a live action Barbie film in 2020 minus the PG ratio-because lets be real, she’d be a noughties Paris Hilton type and get up to some SHENANIGANS-this is the look that would become iconic. 

(L-R: Ashley Greene in Off-White, Alexa Demie, Sydney Sweeney, Annalynne McCord)

It was a hard decision to make though: I’m just as into Sydney Sweeney’s interpretation of burlesque come 1950s red carpet Barbie, Ashley Greene’s surprisingly delicate Off-White number, and Alexa’s dress and (as always) impeccable styling. That being said, Chiara’s clearest contender here for the best dressed of the night is Annalynne McCord. I know I'm one to throw similes around but she looks like an ACTUAL Disney princess-the dress is magical and an absolutely flawless fit. She carries it with such grace. I'm truly in love.

(L-R: Tessa Thompson in Versace, Vanessa Hudgens in Vera Wang, SZA)

As for the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty, there were SO many iconic moments this year. SZA was the definition of the fire emoji, Tessa Thompson’s throwback Versace was the mermaid’s take on BDSM fashion I never knew I need to see, and I’d die to turn up to my graduation ceremony (here’s hoping for a successful attempt at the old uni shebang this time, lol) looking as elegant and simultaneously extra as Vanessa Hudgens did in Vera Wang. I mean, this was before Vanessa went on her dumb Instagram live corona rant because she was upset she couldn’t go to Coachella and I still kinda lived for her, mostly because of moments like this. She’s always been the queen of channelling a more hedonistic, carefree era and this dress is the most refined example of that boho decadence yet. It sounds dramatic to say but the rich purple is such a bold choice considering it’s a a colour we rarely see on the red carpet but now I’ve seen eggplant coloured silk I need it, lol. 

(L-R: Suki Waterhouse in Fendi, Lili Reinhart in Marc Jacobs, Lucy Boynton and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

Then there was Suki, Lilly, Lucy and Margaret as well who all went full angel mode in some of my favourite runway looks of last summer’s haute couture week; Suki’s Fendi dress and Lili’s Marc Jacobs number were highlights of both their shows and there’s something even more magical about them both when the uniformity of the runway is removed. I also would go on about how much I love Lucy Boynton’s style for the millionth time but I think you get my point.

(L-R: Nicole Richie, Cynthia Erivo, Hunter Schafer, Billie Porter)

The more I look at the photos I saved from the Vanity Fair “red” carpet, the more I come to the firm conclusion that these looks are my favourite as a collective. Along with the elegance and sex appeal of the outfits above, we’ve got all these looks too which are so VIBRANT and fun and experimental. Billie Porter is absolutely majestic and continues his reign as the king of in-your-face, theatrical red carpet style, and Hunter and Cynthia look so radiant. Whilst Nicole’s look isn’t as colourful, she still brought drama with the satin gloves and the smoke lined eyes, and she is definitely ready to step on someone’s neck here.

(L-R: Halima Aden, Ella Balinska in Schiaparelli, Emma Roberts, Ciara)

(L-R: Kiki Layne in Michael Kors, Kim Kardashian in Alexander McQueen, Kylie Jenner in Ralph and Russo, Lashana Lynch in Michael Kors)

(L-R: Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Stella Maxwell, and Sarah Paulson with Holland Taylor)

I’ve got to say, it’s really cool to see Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen too; it’s interesting that as far as I know, she and Joey King were the only ones to wear her this awards season, both being up and coming actresses. It would be a good choice for the brand, probably best known for its futuristic, conceptual aesthetic, to also focus its PR efforts on the young potential inheriting that future. Orrrr it could just be that Rowan, Joey and I have the same (good, lol) taste-not gonna lie, from my experience of stalking her instagram Rowan Blanchard does make some unique fashion choices and her feed is full of bold outfit inspiration.

(L-R: Adriana Lima in Ralph and Russo, Alessandra Ambrosio in Armani, Billie Eilish in Gucci, and Donatella Versace in Versace)

Then there’s Billie Eilish, who is really on another level. This is her second custom made baggy suit of the night, this time Gucci. IMAGINE. Chanel and Gucci making custom pieces to suit your very specific style. Again, though, I really like this; whilst it’s very clearly a Billie outfit, it’s got a level of sophistication, cohesiveness and glamour to it that takes it to that I can admire. 

(L-R: Camila Mendes in Moschino, Barbara Palvin and Dylan Sprouse, and Chiara Ferragni)

Honestly, the Vanity Fair red carpet really belonged to young talent this year, and Camila Mendes in one of my favourite Moschino looks from the Picasso collection really seals it. She could’ve just gone for a basic pretty dress-this isn’t a natural choice-but she really does have the proud, regal look of a woman who knows some man is gonna paint her a portrait that will end up in a famous gallery one day. 

One last thing before I move on, though. How the fuck does Chiara Ferragni get everywhere?! And by that I don’t mean how does she get invited, I had the shock of finding out this woman I followed on Instagram because I liked her outfits and thought she was pretty is a hugely successful businesswoman in Italy long ago. Power to her. She’s a big deal! I get it! I just mean, physically HOW? How do you hit Elton John’s party AND the Vanity Fair party in one night and look this good? God really does have favourites, huh. Well, I guess in this hypothetical scenario where I believe in him anyway. 

The SAG Awards

(L-R: Dakota Fanning in Valentino, Kaitlyn Dever in Ralph Lauren, Scarlett Johansson in Armani, and Zoe Kravitz in Oscar de la Renta)

So, I kinda forgot the SAG awards existed and thought that my post was basically finished before I looked in my folder and saw the one dedicated to this ceremony. My initial reaction was like “oh, this is the shitty Oscars, right?” and I assumed the red carpet would be shit and that I could call it a night-it’s 3:30am, I wish I was calling it a night-but then I looked and saw that I had even more outfit photos saved in that folder than I did for my Oscar dedicated one. Because fuck, I want to to sleep, but the SAG awards had a surprisingly good turn out?! So maybe not as irrelevant a ceremony as I thought? Because Dakota Fanning turned up looking like some divine mythical being again, Scarlett Johansson pulled another incredible look out the bag, Zoe Kravitz was a modernised Audrey Hepburn, and Kaitlyn Dever read my comments about her dress being “timelessly pretty” and said “bitch, you really thought” before showing up looking hot as fuck. Truth be told, I think the SAG awards were first but in this universe where Kaitlyn Dever would pay any attention to my opinion of her outfit do we really care? 

(L-R: America Ferrera, Andrew Scott in Azzaro Couture, Camila Mendes in Ralph and Russo, Caleb McLaughlin )

(L-R: Lupita Nyongo in Louis Vuitton, Lily Allen, Nathalie Emmanuel in Miu Miu, Cynthia Erivo in Schiaparelli)

See, I was going to make a comment above how I took back what I said about Camila Mendes not just going for pretty dresses (which I guess I just did here instead-JUST TO BE CLEAR SHE STILL LOOKS STUNNING) and then I uploaded the next photo set and got distracted by 2 things:

1. How weird it is that British legend Lily Allen, who does not get NEAR enough credit for her smart her songs were might I add, is dating David Harbour AKA. Hopper off Stranger Things!?

2. How mad I still am about Game of Thrones and how dirty the writers did Nathalie Emmanuel (and Emilia Clarke and Lena Heady and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and basically everyone else on that show but that’s another story).

In this same universe where Kaitlyn Dever cares about my opinion can we make the issues I have in the last bullet point not exist? Please?

(L-R: Sophie Turner in Louis Vuitton, Renee Zellweger in Maison Margiela, Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Armani, and Renee Bargh)

(L-R: Gwendoline Christie in Rick Owens, Madeline Brewer in Monique Lhuillier, Kathryn Newton in Valentino, and Lili Reinhart in Miu Miu)

Finishing off the SAG looks, we’ve got the four above. 

Once again, Kathryn Newton was Valentino’s blushing crown jewell; Allie Pressman hate aside, she really is the perfect dressing up doll for the brand. Fresh faced and poised, she has all the elegance and gentle femininity necessary to make floating down the runway as Valentino models do look natural, and Lili Reinhart did an equally good job being a Miu Miu girl. She makes that idiosyncratic cutesy-ness work, all the frills and fragility of a china tea set look easy where I’d just look like I’d been consumed by a charity shop doily. Madeline Brewer did a good job too, helping a Monique Lhuillier design pop in a way that it doesn’t usually. When your hair is bright red and your dress cerulean blue, coral tinted lipstick is a *ahem* choice, buuut in this case it paid off because the result is a look which demanded my attention-ML dresses are reliably pretty, however, they tend to be predictable. Madeline and her styling did a good job subverting that formula. To end the section, though, I feel it’s only fair to save my fave woman til last-probably one of the few people in the world that isn’t a Rick Owens model that can pull off his designs. Ofc, I’m talking about the queen that is Gwendoline Christie. If we’re talking embodying brands, she did justice like nobody else could to the spectacle of Owens’ formidable, out-of-this-world aesthetic. This is her version of the princess moment, and when you’re as striking as she is, nothing less would do. 

At least my girl Brienne of Tarth is thriving<3

The Grammys

(L-R: Ariana Grande in Giambattista Valli, Cardi B in Mugler, and Pia Mia in Julien Macdonald)

TBH, like I said with the Brits, I never planned to do any music award ceremony red carpets, just because I feel like the fashion tends to be more geared towards a younger audience buuuut I’m kinda glad I changed because Ariana looks INCREDIBLE. MESMERISING. TRANSCENDENT. JFC. There’s a reason the photo of her on her Wiki page has been changed to one from this night and it’s because she looks absolutely exquisite, like some kind of moon goddess with an R&B touch which I suppose is kind of her brand? Sometimes I go kind of lukewarm on Giambattista Valli and forget how mystical but at the same time frothy and indulgent and all around luxurious the pieces can be. This is a cupcake of a dress and I want to eat it. Cardi B has become a bit of an unexpected fashion icon and Pia Mia looks as hot-party-girl as ever but I feel to put anyone next to Ariana in this dress seems harsh because she just completely stole the show and I don’t even know if she won any Grammys.

(L-R: Josephine Relli, Gwen Stefani, Jameela Jamil in Georges Chakra, and Chrissy Teigen in Yanina Couture)

Other than Ariana, I’m not gonna lie, there was nothing wildly exciting, BUT I did think there were some beautiful colours out on the runway-plus for all her occasionally bad takes I really like what Jameela Jamil stands for and her style has always been very quirky cool. The electric blue tiled effect with the black mesh underneath kinda reminds me of a peacock, and contrasts wonderfully with the carpet-it’s very reminiscent of her T4 days. She’s one of those people that seems to get aggression directed at her that’s completely disproportionate to whatever it is she’s supposed to have done; sometimes the way she goes about saying things is wrong but the intention behind what she’s saying is usually good. Then again, the internet still despises Chrissy Teigen (in a way that’s kind of excessive considering what we seem to collectively let some people get away with) for a dumb AirPods tweet and I’ve included her too. THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL STATEMENT, this time anyway. I just think she looks good!

If I’m going to get controversial about anything, it’ll be Gwen Stefani. She looks stunning, the dress is stunning, and the boots are stunning. The outfit is not my problem! My problem is how she seems not to have aged at all. This woman is 50 years old! That she drank the blood of her Harajuku girls is the only explanation here. Can you imagine if she tried to pull that shit today? She’d get rightly accused of being a culturally appropriating weeb in about 10 seconds flat and we’d have to pretend to stop liking Cool and Hollaback Girl. 

(L-R: Finneas O’Connell in Gucci, Lucky Daye, and Shaun Ross)

(L-R: Tess Holliday, Dua Lipa in Alexander Wang, Tyler the Creator, and Grace Elizabeth in Giuseppe di Morabito)

Back to what I’m supposed to be talking about in this blog post: the fashion. And here, most importantly, Tyler the Creator looking like a cast member of the Grand Budapest Hotel. IDK why. But I love this man.

(L-R: Lil Nas X in Versace, Lizzo in Versace, and Shawn Mendes in Louis Vuitton)

(L-R: Billie Porter, FKA Twigs in Ed Marler, and Swae Lee in Giuseppe Zanotti)

See in general, the men were a lot more interesting on the Grammys red carpet. With the exception of Twigs, Dua and obviously Ariana, the men’s outfits are a lot more memorable; Billie Porter became the most fashionable meme on the internet, for god’s sake. And even when their outfits weren’t extravagant, they were just more interesting, imo, which is a rare occurrence. I didn’t expect Finneas O’Connell to be the writing half of Billie Eilish (the other half being Billie herself) I cared about and yet, in that Gucci blazer, here we are. 

(L-R: Jessie J, Hailee Steinfeld, and Madison Beer)

(L-R: H.E.R, Usher, FKA Twigs, and Matt Shultz)

Of the afterparty looks, my favourites are what we can see of these more casual outfits-I love what F.K.A Twigs and H.E.R are wearing, the headscarf with the leatherjacket on top is in particular very throwback rockabilly, and I’m even into whatever it is Usher’s got on.

(L-R: Olivia O’Brien, Amine, and Alrissa)

(L-R: Salem Mitchell, Machine Gun Kelly, and Sydney Sweeney)

Now, how to round this all up!? How to relate the confusingly persistent but very welcome presence of Sydney Sweeney on, like, ALL these red carpets back to the MET!?

IDEK. It’s been a long year. 

The Met Gala has usually come and gone before we know it, but with everything going on, it’s been the longest January-May I think most of us have ever known. I keep going on about COVID-19 in all my posts now but I have almost forgotten how to write an intro and outro because the pandemic is pretty much consistently on the brain and unless I have something right in front of me to use as a distraction, my mind tends to wander off into a very anxious place. I think, like many others, I feel frustrated and disappointed and angry with the way the situation is being handled by the people who are supposed to protect their citizens, and by how much of a fight some are putting up against measures that are in place to try and save lives. The point of this ramble, I guess, is that whilst we should never forget what’s going on and do the best we can to help prevent the spread of the virus, it’s okay to still care about mundane shit. Was this post one big long distraction for me? Probably. But if there’s something harmless you can do to keep your anxiety at bay, don’t feel bad for doing it. Contrary to popular belief, you can care about more than one thing at once. You can be sad that something you were looking forward to has been cancelled whilst still being sad for the people who are suffering because they’ve lost love ones or who have been forced into precarious living conditions. If talking about clothes on the internet is going to help you get through this pandemic, power to you.

If anyone has read til the end, thank you! I hope you are well! As always, feel free to reply to the post or inbox me with your thoughts! It doesn’t even have to be related to this post. If you’re struggling with everything going on, feel free to reach out too. I spend too much time on the internet anyway, lol! My plans are to finish my fashion week reviews and then I have a Lana Del Rey albums inspired lookbook which I pinched off the stans on Twitter (who I will of course credit when I write it!). For the time being, look after yourselves!

Lauren x