#dressing a bit boring is fine sometimes actually. its been so long since I wore jeans & theyre comfortable

[anglerflsh]

obsessed over wearing a single article of clothing again lads

[five-rivers]

Is there any way we could possibly convince you to write more of the Eldritch!Danny au? As it's own phanfic? This, of course, would only be done once you are under considerably less stress, and can comfortably put the effort into that, if there ever could be such a time whilst writing Mortified and Stars Aligned. It could even wait until one or both of those has reached a point that you deem them Completed™. I'm just immediately part of Sam's Cult XD

It’s been a bit, and this is kind of random, but...

.

Clockwork’s avatar pressed the food to Danny’s lips, and he bit down, hard.  Juices dribbled down his chin as the food squirmed.  He moaned in something like relief as the pressure in the venom sacs in the roof of his mouth lessened.  He ate.

He kept Dreaming of himself with fangs and venom. Did that mean something?

A cold pressure under his chin forced him to look up.  Clockwork’s avatar inserted another piece of food into Danny’s mouth.  

Of course, it means something, it said. You are such a generous soul that you must give of yourself before you can even do something as basic and vital as eat.

Something about that didn’t sound right, but Danny wasn’t in a position to argue, not when he found himself so hungry.

Clockwork’s avatar fussed over him, feeding him more and more, past the point of mere satiation to the point where he felt bloated and slug-like.  He wanted to curl up and sleep real sleep.  The image of a caterpillar who, having gorged itself, began to form a cocoon, flittered across his mind.  

You are a long way from metamorphosis yet, dear one, said Clockwork’s avatar.  Come.  I have something for you.  

Danny followed the tug of the chained collar around his neck, blinking blearily, his footsteps just a little unsteady.  

The careful direction of the chain led him to a small table cluttered with trinkets.  Clockwork’s avatar leaned down to press its cheek against the crown of Danny’s head.  Its cloak fell to either side of Danny, cutting off his field of view to the left and right, leaving him with only the table and the wall behind it.  

A gift, said Clockwork’s avatar.

“Why?” asked Danny.  It felt odd to speak here, and much more so in English, but he was still learning how to use his True Voice.  

I wanted to give you something myself, before we celebrate your birthday.  

“My birthday is ages away,” said Danny.  

From some perspectives, perhaps.  But we missed so many of yours.  We must make them up before the next one.  

There was something ominous there, but Danny just leaned into the avatar’s touch, unwilling to devote himself to interpreting omens.  

Pick one, said Clockwork’s avatar, pick wisely.  Gifts received in the Dream become part of you.

Danny nodded and opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to look at the trinkets—no, the gifts—again.  Gifts that, like all good gifts, came with strings attached.  

There was something off about that thought.

But it didn’t matter.  It wasn’t as if he could refuse a gift.  

He reached out.  

.

He picked the beaded pectoral necklace.  Mostly because he was curious to see how it went on, what with the collar around his neck and all.  Yes, this was the Dream, and multiple things could exist in the same place at the same time, but usually there was an… internal consistency, of sorts.

It turned out the answer was that the necklace merged with the bottom edge of the collar, which felt weird, but it was fine, because both were manifestations of Clockwork’s Love.  

The unfamiliar weight of it hung strangely off his shoulders, especially given the counterweight that hung down his back, and forced him to alter his posture.  He stood straight and… Well.  Not tall. But to his full height.  

Clockwork’s ticking sounded pleased.  An echo of something where Danny’s heart once was agreed with that assessment.  

When he left the Dream and went on with his life, it seemed as if not much had changed, except—

He felt more confident.  More coordinated.  He didn’t stutter as much.  People listened to him more.  

Even Sam and Tucker remarked on it.  

Only a few days later, Clockwork called him back, reeling him into the deep Dream by the chain attached to his collar.  He had another gift for Danny.  A bracelet.  Its weight joined that of the necklace.

Since you seemed to enjoy this so much, said the avatar, running its fingers over the faience beads.  

And so it went.  

Every few days, Clockwork would call him back and give him some new little adornment.  A ring.  A jeweled comb.  An anklet. A brooch.  A belt.  Each gift seemed to smooth away some almost imperceptible flaw in his waking self, seemed to draw more eyes to him, more attention, more praise.  People who would never give him the time of day before actually sought out his company.

He wondered.  Each thing he was given was a display of wealth.  Did that come across, somehow?  Or was it simply gravity, the mass of his presence pulling in their regard?

The improvements weren’t just in his human life. The others were easier to fight, to distract and ward away.  Their blows did not hurt nearly as much, nor did their ‘appearances’ distress him as much as they once had.  

He noticed, too, the weight of what he wore in the Dream.  Each ring, each bauble, made it easier for him to sink into the depths, made it harder for him to reach the surface.  

Sometimes, after a return, he would like on the floor in his room, panting.

But he was growing stronger, too, and he hoped—

It didn’t matter what he’d hoped.  

He could no longer reach the waking world. He tried seven times before the chain, vibrating with amusement, pulled him back to Clockwork.  

We must celebrate, said Clockwork’s avatar, pulling a sort of woven metal sleeve over Danny’s right hand.  It hooked neatly onto the rings on each of his fingers.  

“Why?” asked Danny, barely holding himself back from falling to pieces.  He had a responsibility to Amity Park.  Not to mention, he wanted to live there with his friends and family.  

Because it is a wonderful milestone, that you are too powerful to reach that place on your own.  The avatar placed a crown of knotted metal on Danny’s head.  This is what a cult is for, my little gem.  To pull you up.  

“What if…” said Danny, “I get too… heavy to be pulled up?”  

Another milestone.  

.

Except, no, Danny’s hand still hovered over the table, undecided.  He let it fall back to his side and blinked, shaking his head to clear it of the vision that had just overtaken him.  

Did it show what would be, what might have been? Or merely a possibility?  

Reality splintered.

.

He put his hand down on a stack of folded white cloth, jostling the bells sewn to the hems.  He didn’t actually know what it was, but it seemed harmless, and the fabric was soft.  

It turned out that the cloth was a set of folded veils.  The bells were weights, to make them hang properly.  

Clockwork’s avatar helped him put them on in front of a mirror, since Danny had never worn anything like them before.  The cloth was thin, diaphanous gauze.  Where the veils touched the clothing he was already wearing, it whispered away, like it never was.  In some places, mostly on his shoulders and back, for some reason, the veils merged smoothly, seamlessly, with his skin.  It was an odd sensation, made more so by the fact that his nerve endings seemed to extend partway into the cloth.  

Although, that might not be by design, but because Danny expected it.  This was the Dream, after all.  

Once all the veils were in place, the only pieces of his body exposed were his hands and bare feet.  It was strange, looking at himself in the mirror through the sheer veils over his face and head.  He almost looked like a ghost.  

It was… it was kind of embarrassing, being dressed like this.  The veils were the only things he was wearing, and even with all their frothy layers, he could make out the silhouette of his body beneath them.  

He spun in place, just enough to hear the bells ring with high, clear tones.  Like this, the subtle embroidery on the veils looked like feathers.  

When he woke again, normal clothes felt rough and coarse against his skin in comparison.  He gritted his teeth and bore it.  He couldn’t very well walk to school in the nude.

“Did something happen last night?” asked Sam, surveying Danny up and down.  

“Um,” said Danny, “yes, but why?”

“You look…”

“Mysterious,” said Tucker.  

“Ethereal,” decided Sam.  “But also…”  She hummed. “Untouchable, maybe?  I don’t know.”

Danny explained what had happened.  

It was in the course of just messing around that they found another effect.  

“Dude,” said Tucker, as Danny sat on his shoulders, “did you lose weight or something?”

“No?” said Danny, turning away from his sticky-note masterpiece on the classroom ceiling.  “At least, I don’t think so.”

“You just seem a lot lighter than the last time we did this.”

They weighed him later, at Sam’s house.  He was.  

The next time he visited the dream, there were changes.  One, the sensation in the cloth had extended.  He could feel almost all the way to the ends of some of the shorter veils. Two, his form beneath the veils was less distinct.  Softer. When he put his hand underneath them to check, his body felt softer, too.  Three, he was glowing.  

Of course, said Clockwork’s avatar, stroking its cold hand down his back in a way that made all of his new nerve endings overload.  As the illusion fades, the truth may shine.  

It did not elaborate, no matter how Danny pressed him.  It did, however, pet him until he was left as little more than a pleasantly chirping puddle of veils and feathers on Clockwork’s floor.  

He did not note the significance of the feathers until his next visit to the Dream, whereupon some of his veils had become wings, bells still attached and ringing with every motion.  He spread them out and flew.  

Flying was even better than he had imagined. Never before had he known such joy.

The changes continued, the form he wore in the waking world becoming progressively more and more alien to him, more grating and uncomfortable.  

“That only makes sense,” said Sam.  “You’re more than us.  Being constrained like this can’t be good for you.”

Tucker nodded in agreement.  “I mean, look at all of this.”

Danny looked around the cafeteria, catching several worshipful gazes.  

“You don’t belong in a cage like this.”

“I want to be able to help,” said Danny.  It had become easier, in some ways.  It was as hard as ever to fight the others, but human aggression stopped dead in Danny’s presence.  

“You’ll still be able to,” said Sam.  “But Tucker���s right, you should be trapped here. You should in a high place… on a pedestal.  Somewhere to give us hope.  Somewhere we can look up to.”

He stood in front of Clockwork’s mirror again. There was a suggestion of a human body beneath the wings, but nothing more than that.  Soon, even that would be gone.  

Even as he thought it, he let his wings shift, forming a more spherical shape.  The light at his center became blindingly bright, but Danny could still see the chains of Love attached to it that kept him grounded.  

One of those chains pulled taught as Clockwork summoned him, not even bothering with the avatar this time.  This time, Danny would be able to talk to Clockwork directly, and it would be fine, because Danny had shed that illusion of humanity and become more like Clockwork.

He entered Clockwork’s direct presence and—

.

Danny reeled as the vision simply stopped being something his mind could interpret.  He felt a part of what he called his sanity crumble.  

Perhaps…  Perhaps not that one.  Instead…

.

He chose the featureless white mask, lifting it with both hands.  It was surprisingly heavy.

Clockwork’s avatar reached out, the sleeves of its robes whispering past Danny’s ears.  Let me help you put that on, it said.  It took the mask and flipped it over, brushing the broad, white satin ribbon out of the way with its thumbs.  

Before Danny could think to protest, before he could decide if he wanted to protest, the mask was pressed against his face.

The soft inner lining fit perfectly snug against his features.   Perfectly enough that it forced his eyelids and lips closed.  The bottom edge of the mask cupped his jaw, preventing him from opening his mouth.  

He could not see, with the mask on. Somehow, this surprised him.  Part of him had expected to supernaturally be able to see through the mask.  

This was inconvenient.  On the other hand, not being forced to see the Dream and its denizens could be a boon in and of itself.  

Clockwork’s avatar finished tying the ribbon.  When you wear this, only those who know you will know you.  And only those who you keep in place of your may have their knowledge progress.  

Danny tested his ability to speak, first with human words and then with his True Voice.  The best he could manage was a sort of hum.  

I know you best of all.  One cannot progress past completion.  Remember, those who Love you will understand you, even without words.  You will be allowed to remove the mask if it pleases you.  

Danny nodded to show he understood, the weight of the mask making the motion more energetic than usual.  

It took Danny time to learn how to navigate the Dream blind.  The Dream was, well, Dream.  It did not follow the usual rules of object permanence.  Things Danny could not directly perceive existed only at the whims of others.  While he was with Clockwork, he could have faith that things would stay mostly stable, but once he left, his world shrunk to echoes and what lay against his skin.

But when he did finally make it home and opened his eyes, he was able to fully understand what the mask gave him.  

He could not see the nightmares and madness lurking just under reality.  His sight was human.  He turned to his mirror and saw not a monster, but simply his physical body.  

He found himself weeping in relief.  It had been so hard.  Even if it was an illusion bought by ignorance, for the first time in far too long, he felt safe, no longer exposed.  

Whether or not it pleased him, he might never take the mask off.  

He walked to Jazz’s room to tell her the good news, only to discover he could not speak.  

After some experimentation, Danny and Jazz determined that, when he wore the mask, his speech was as constrained in the real world as it was in the Dream.  If he wanted to talk, he had to slip into the Dream to take it off.  

It was inconvenient, but still.  A perfectly hidden identity and relief from seeing were more than worth inconvenience.  

With the mask on, he almost felt human again.

Before the school day began, he paused in the bathroom and braced himself.  He had gotten away with being quiet at home, but at school, teachers would require him to answer questions.  

He stepped into the Dream and reached up to untie the knot at the back of his head.  It would not come loose.  Danny pulled harder.  

If it pleased him.  

Well, it didn’t please him to be exposed in school.  Beyond that… Danny suspected that Clockwork also had a hand in when he was allowed to remove the mask.  

A few weeks later, the school psychiatrist diagnosed him with selective mutism.  

“It almost makes sense,” claimed Tucker, gesturing at Danny’s ceiling, “if you think of it like a parent keeping their kid safe on the internet.  Like, you don’t want their identity exposed, so you keep them from giving away personal information or talking to strangers.”

“That,” said Sam, poking Danny’s cheek, “or he wants your cute little face all to himself.  What do you even look like in the Dream?”

“Like me,” said Danny.  He raised a hand to touch his face.  “I don’t know what I look like with the mask on.”  The words came surprisingly easily.  Before the mask, he’d worried that he’d eventually be unable to speak English, what with how difficult it was becoming to translate his thoughts to sounds.

Later that day, there was an incident.  Danny couldn’t help.  He couldn’t see.  

(It was, however, very clear that the others could see him.)

(He couldn’t help but feel guilty.)

That night, Clockwork pulled him into the Dream.

There is someone I want you to meet, said Clockwork’s avatar as its fingers untied the mask.  

“Who?” asked Danny as the mask came away.  He nearly forgot his question as he once again took in Clockwork’s appearance.  He had forgotten how beautiful it was here.  Tears rolled down his face.  

Your brother, said the avatar, gently leading Danny forward.  I think you will get along.  You both like masks.  

It took a few minutes for Danny to distinguish this new presence from Clockwork’s, but once he did, the name came easily to his mind.  This was Nocturne, the Dream Eater.

“Why is your mask different from mine?” asked Danny, because he couldn’t make a good first impression to save his life.  

The mouth and eyes on Nocturne’s mask turned upward in humor.  It plucked Danny’s mask from the hands of Clockwork’s avatar, and, to Danny’s simultaneous horror and delight, Danny discovered that he could feel Nocturne’s claws on the mask as if they were on his face instead.  

That is because it is your face, said Nocturne, the one you show the world.  Why wouldn’t you feel it when it is touched?  When it is damaged?  Nocturne ran his fingers down across the space where eye holes would have been in an ordinary mask, and Danny found himself forced to blink.  For the other, it is because you are a child.  I see and speak for myself.  A child sees the world through their parent’s eyes.  A child has no voice, but their parent speaks for them.  

“Will it change when I get older?” asked Danny.

Nocturne laughed.  You will not grow older.  He moved forward suddenly, pressing the mask to Danny’s face, and putting one of his other hands against the back of Danny’s head.  You will always be the youngest of us.  The most… Human.

.

Is something wrong? asked Clockwork’s avatar.

“No,” said Danny, quickly.  “It’s just hard to decide.”

You could have them all, it said, if it is so difficult.  

Danny shook his head.  “No, I just need more time.”

Maybe if Danny were human, this would be about getting the best deal, choosing the gift with the lowest price, but he wasn’t, and it wasn’t.  This was about choosing the price he wanted to pay.  

It surprised him, how much he wanted to pay some of them.  

.

The set of bracelets clinked merrily when Danny touched them.  They were four bands, each about two inches wide and a couple millimeters thick.  The metal they were made of was smooth on the outside, but on the insides, they had the same fractal patterns as the collar.

The manacles are a good choice, said Clockwork’s avatar, approvingly.  

Manacles.

Not bracelets.  

Unfortunately, he didn’t think he was allowed to change his mind.  

The manacles went around his wrists and ankles, each one closing with a snap.  When they shut, the metal they were made of swirled, the hinges and seams disappearing to present a flawless surface and the overall shape shifting so the inside laid flush against his skin.  

As soon as he closed the last one, and it finished altering itself, Danny felt a sharp pain through the center of his wrists and ankles, followed by a radiating numbness, as if a rod had been driven through each manacle, through each wrist and ankle, stopping only when it hit the other side.  But the numbness soon faded, and as he flexed his hands and feet, he didn’t feel anything like that.  

Still.  The message was clear.  The metal bands were not coming off.  

Clockwork’s avatar took one of Danny’s hands, and examined the band.  The metal, which had warmed against Danny’s skin, turned frigid under the avatar’s touch. For a moment, Danny’s vision blurred, and he saw a multitude of delicate chains leading from the manacle in every direction, connecting it to Clockwork, the other manacles, the collar around his neck and who knew what else.  His vision cleared.  A few long, silent minutes later, the avatar released him.  

They were made with much skill.  I hope you find them useful.  

Danny nodded.  

The manacles weren’t visible in the waking world, but Danny imagined he still felt them.  Especially when he was doing things with his hands or feet.  

‘Made with skill,’ indeed.  

Lots of skills.  Skills like drawing, writing, dancing, sign language.  He didn’t trip or stumble any more but moved smoothly.  It was interesting.  It didn’t feel like the skills belonged to someone else.  They were his, now, wherever they had originally come from.  He knew how to do each thing he was doing, and he did them intentionally.  

Still, his art (which he had always considered at least decent) was now scary good.  He’d also outplayed Ember on the piano a few days back, breaking her hold on the people who had been listening.  She’d been… rather upset about that.  

It was worth it.  

The string attached to the gift didn’t make itself known for a while.  One day, while he was drawing, his wrists burned cold, and he found himself drawing something more than what he’d originally intended.  The general subject was the same, but the skill put into it, the effort, was far, far greater.  He’d meant to doodle a little, maybe for ten or so minutes before he went to bed.  

Instead, it was hours later and if it wasn’t on the back of his French homework the drawing could have been hung in a museum.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world to imagine that he was being puppetted, controlled, that the manacles made him into a marionette, but that wasn’t what it felt like.  Instead, it felt as if something had flipped a switch inside him.  

He understood, then.  The manacles granted him skills, but he couldn’t always decide when to use them.  Or how much.

It wasn’t the last time it happened.  He’d suddenly be seized with the urge to do something.  Make use of some skill.  And whatever he did when those urges settled over him was inhumanly good.  Dangerously good.  As in, attracting the wrong kind of attention good.  

Those men in suits had been there for him, and he was quite certain that, if he had been perceptible to people foreign to Amity Park, they would have tried to take him.  Tried, being the operative word.  

More importantly, the mural he’d been compelled to paint on the side of the supermarket last night seemed to be attracting a following.  He’d attempted to keep elements of the others out of it, but he knew they somehow slipped through, slipped past his attention, and into his art.  

Sam and Tucker thought it was fine, though. He was inclined to trust them.  

He was glad that the manacles did not seem to infer any violent or deadly skills.  He wasn’t what he would do if they did and the urge to act turned into an urge to harm.  

The manacles turned cold.  

Perhaps he’d bake a cake.  Something for Sam and Tucker, as a thanks for putting up with him.

.

Danny slumped against Clockwork’s avatar, who held him without complaint.  These visions were mentally draining.  They would be, what with containing weeks compressed into seconds.  

Were they seconds?

.

The picture frame caught Danny’s eye.  It was a picture of him, as an infant, being held by Clockwork’s avatar, the great expanse of Clockwork himself in the background. Danny wasn’t quite sure he knew the picture was of himself.  Really, he’d been a generic-looking baby.  But he did know.  

He took the picture.  

Nothing happened.  He went home, woke up, and went about his normal life.  On occasion, he would look at the picture when he dropped into the Dream.  It warmed something in him.

It took him a month to realize he was aging backwards.  

To be fair, no one else seemed to notice, either, even though the change was much more rapid than normal forward aging.  Danny suspected they were being blocked from noticing.  

No, that wasn’t quite right.  They treated the age he appeared as the normal state of things, but they also treated him as if he were his apparent.  Something which had bothered him all last week, even if he didn’t realize why it was happening.  

It made it slightly more embarrassing that he himself had only noticed when he’d gone to retrieve a cup from the top shelf in the cabinet and couldn’t because he was too short.  

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were confused when he brought it up to them.  They seemed to be under the impression that he’d always been a few years younger than Sam and Tucker.  That he’d been skipped forward a few years to be in the same class as them.  Danny had let the subject drop.  He had no idea how to even begin fixing this.  If it even could be fixed.  

Every day, as he got younger and younger, he also seemed to attract more and more attention.  Positive attention.  People would smile at him, tell him he was cute, give him presents out of nowhere. Danny couldn’t say he hated it.  

Until he got small enough for people to carry around. Which they did.  Frequently.  Without asking for permission.  Even this wasn’t so much of a problem.  

Until the cult.  

Until the knife.

Until the sacrifice.  

(And Clockwork was so thrilled to be able to raise him from infancy.)

.

He hadn’t decided yet.  

How could he decide?  They were amazing gifts.  Terrifying gifts.  Gifts he could not refuse.  Gifts he didn’t want to refuse, at least on some level.  

But this wasn’t about what he wanted.  It was about what he could live with.  

The pectoral gave him power and the respect of his peers but took away his ability to use those things in the defense of Amity. Although being powerful in the Dream was an idea that tickled at the shadows in Danny’s mind.

The veils gave him something he always wanted – flight – but at the cost of his humanity and individuality.  

The mask would protect him, let him hide and return to a mostly ordinary life, but he would lose the chance to face his new existence on his own terms as well as some of his autonomy.  Not to mention, his ability to actually help his people.

The manacles gave him skills he’d enjoy, but also made him a hazard for others.  

The picture frame…  Something twinged inside Danny’s chest… The picture frame gave him a new life with Clockwork, from the very beginning.  But he’d lose everything else and kickstart an unmanageable cult.

He couldn’t give up his friends, his family, his human life.  He couldn’t give up his ability to protect Amity.  Perhaps all those things would fade from importance in his mind as he became more and more other, but for now they were razor sharp.  That made his choice clear.  

“The manacles,” he mumbled to Clockwork’s avatar. He could work around the drawbacks (even if part of him resisted the notion that the drawbacks were drawbacks).

The avatar stroked Danny’s hair.  An excellent choice.

“How,” said Danny, trying to recollect his thoughts, “how do they work?”

Danny’s eyes fluttered as he saw the chains on the manacles again.  The way they felt on his skin was just like what he remembered.  

Skills that go unused are lost in the Dream. These find them and bring them to you, bind them to you, so they are never lost again.  Clockwork’s avatar plucked one of the chains.  It felt as if someone had traced their fingers possessively up one of his arms.  Although some of the chains have other functions.  It nuzzled Danny as something deep below in Clockwork’s depths began to chime.  One can never be too connected to those they Love.  

Danny woke in his bed and moaned.  His pillow was wet with drool.  Evidently, he had left his body behind this time.  That happened, on occasion, when he went to the Dream. He was never sure how he felt about it.

He raised his hands up above his head.  As expected, the manacles were not visible, but he did feel more… connected to the world around him.  Being connected was good.  It meant that what happened before wouldn’t happen again.  It meant that he wouldn’t be lost.  

He lowered his hands, clasping them over where his heart would have, should have been.  

The connections, though, were mostly to Clockwork, who was as inhuman as any of the others Danny protected Amity Park from. Should that bother him?  He thought of what Nocturne had said in the other timeline, the one where he had chosen the mask.  He’d known, already, that as much as Clockwork protected him, he also kept him in a state where he needed that protection.  Wasn’t it natural?  Wasn’t it the desire to keep Loved ones close?

His breath hitched as he briefly felt the soothing mental weight of Clockwork’s Love increase.  

It was fine, wasn’t it?

[sleepysnk]

AFTER SOME TALKING WITH @catboyjaeger I DECIDED TO FULFILL SOME WILLY SMUT. call me weird, but i love writing for him gn. I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY 😏

After Hours

Pairings: Willy Tybur x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW

The smell of perfume was in the air as (Y/N) sprayed it onto her skin. She was finishing the last few touches of her outfit for the evening. She was finally going out with her boyfriend Willy for the first time in forever. He had been busy with a few last minute business trips, so he hadn't gotten the time to take her out.

Tonight he decided to take her to one of the nightclubs. Anything for his girlfriend.

"(Y/N)! Are you almost finished?" he asked, stepping into the room they shared together.

The air was knocked out of his lungs at the sight of his girlfriend in front of the vanity, she wore a white dress that hugged her body, her breasts in full view, as well as her thighs which were hugged by the dress. He remembered buying it for her awhile back, it reminded him of how much she looks like an angel.

"Sorry babe! I got distracted," she replied, putting the perfume back onto the table. "What do you think?" she asked, spinning around so he could get a view of her.

He was speechless, she looked so beautiful to him. "You look great, it makes me just want to say fuck it and not go." he said, taking her hand into his.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone off the nightstand. "I would love to but you already said yes my love! So I win," she said, throwing a cheeky smile his way. "Let's get going shall we?" she asked, raising a brow.

Willy took out the keys from his pocket. "You wish is granted," he said, taking her hand and guiding her down the stairs.

The summer air felt nice as they both stepped outside to get into his car, (Y/N) felt the heat already going to her body where the dress hugged. Curse the damn dress for doing that, she silently prayed it wouldn't get worse.

"How do you wear suits everyday in this weather?" she asked, putting her seatbelt on as Willy started the car.

A chuckle came from his throat. "I'd like to ask how you can wear crop tops in the winter," he said, looking towards her.

She rolled her eyes, playfully smacking his arm. "Mind your own business," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

He leaned over, kissing her cheek. "You're cute when you're angry love," he said, putting the car in drive.

-

The drive to the club was long, it was all the way in the city. (Y/N) knew the city pretty well since Willy was always taking her there. Plus he worked in the city, and sometimes she would come down to see him when he was on a break.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the club. She had gone clubbing before, but not in a place like this.

"Do you come here often?" she asked, looking towards Willy.

He looked at her before taking the keys out of the ignition. "Yeah I do, I usually would come here with co-workers. You'll like it," he said, kissing her cheek.

The two stepped out the car and went towards the entrance of the club, she felt his hand on the small of her back. She heard the sound of faint music coming from inside, as well as some lights.

"Next- oh shit! Willy? It is good to see you!" the bouncer said, smiling at him.

"It's good to see you as well, this is (Y/N)," Willy said, looking down towards her.

The bouncer crossed his arms. "You got lucky with him," he whispered to her.

She laughed a bit and looked over at her boyfriend. "Yeah I did," she said, smiling a bit.

"Right this way," the bouncer said, moving out of the way so they could enter. "Have fun!" he added, waving at the them.

The two made their way into the main area of the club, alcohol filled (Y/N)'s nose as she walked in. People sat in booths or at the bars, while some people danced to the loud music. This was nothing like any club she had been to, the lights were bright as well making her squint.

"Stay by me." Willy said lowly in her ear.

She nodded as he took her hand, guiding her amongst the people around them. Many men and women stared as she walked by with him, her dress was revealing, and Willy was attractive. The looks were definitely expected.

He guided her towards the bar, her eyes landing on a few people who sat around it.

"What can I get ya? No way.. Willy?! Is that you? It's been awhile," the bartender said, staring at him with shock.

"It has been a long time, it's good to see you." Willy said, shaking his hand.

The bartender looked over at (Y/N). "Who's the fine young lady?" he asked, pointing at her with his thumb.

Willy chuckled, putting his hand on her thigh. "This is (Y/N)," he replied, looking towards her.

She felt a bit shy but waved at him. She knew Willy was popular, many people knew him around the city. He gained respect from many people and it was something she had to get used to while dating him.

"Pretty name.. what can I get you both? It's on the house," he asked, looking at the two of them.

"Ah um.. get me a Jack's on the rocks and for the lady.. she'll have a martini," Willy replied, looking at the bartender.

He nodded. "You got it!" he said, walking away to go fix their drinks.

(Y/N) looked towards Willy. "You know a lot of people," she said, laughing a bit. "What's next? The club owner knows you?" she asked, rolling her eyes playfully.

A chuckle came from his mouth. "He actually does," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "Don't worry love, they never usually bother me. I know it can be overwhelming for you," he said, taking her hand into his.

(Y/N) smiled feeling his touch. "It's fine.. just awkward I guess," she said, chewing on her bottom lip.

She heard glass hit the table as she looked over seeing her drink in front of her. She thanked the bartender and took a sip of the martini, her face scrunching a bit at the alcohol burning down her throat.

"Shit.. that is strong," she said, wiping away the liquid from her lip.

Willy only chuckled as he sipped his own drink. "You always liked it strong," he said, playfully throwing a smile her way.

She rolled her eyes and swirled her drink around. Suddenly she looked over seeing someone approaching the two.

"Willy! It's so good to see you!" the man said, patting his shoulder.

He looked back at the man and smiled. "Magath! It is a pleasure to see you," he replied, shaking his hand.

"I gotta show you something, do you mind coming by for a second?" he asked, nodding a bit.

Willy's eyes averted towards (Y/N). "I'm fine with it," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

He seemed a bit surprised but stood up. "If anything happens come find me," he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

She nodded and watched as he walked off somewhere in the club with the man. She sighed, leaning back in the chair. She stared down at her drink and swirled it around as she waited for him to come back, she took out her phone and looked through her social media. Boredom was going rushing through her.

She heard the seat shifting next to her, her eyes averted to see a man staring at her.

"What's up?" he asked, throwing a smile her way.

(Y/N) nodded. "Um.. not much really, what about you?" she asked, putting her phone on the table.

He sighed. "Same same, I just saw you from afar and I thought you were stunning." he replied, eyeing her body.

She felt heat rush onto her cheeks from the mans words. She silently prayed he would just take the hint that she wasn't exactly interested, she knew how Willy would get when a man would even breathe next to (Y/N).

"Oh um, thank you! You're too kind.." she replied, looking down at the floor.

He smirked. "You come here often? I've never seen someone as pretty as you are around here," he asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

She rubbed the side of her arm. "No, um actually this is my first time coming here," she replied, still avoiding his gaze.

He nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Did you come by yourself?" he asked, raising a brow.

(Y/N) laughed a bit. "Um no, I came with someone." she said, giving a weak smile to the man.

He eyed her body with hungry eyes, he swirled his drink around. "Ah I see.. it's a shame to leave someone as beautiful as you are alone here. Are you seeing anyone by chance?" he asked.

A hand was put on her shoulder gripping it a bit. "(Y/N)? Who's this?" she turned to see the clear blue eyes of her boyfriend standing behind her.

"O-Oh! Um.. I don't know babe. He just came over to talk to me," she replied, looking towards the man.

Willy's eyes flickered towards the man in front of her, he shot an annoyed glance his way. The way he looked at his girlfriend didn't sit right with him, he knew those looks. He could tell the man was undressing her with his eyes most men did those kinds of things, and he wasn't any different.

"I see.. let's go (Y/N). It's getting late," Willy said, patting her shoulder.

She furrowed her brows. "Huh? Wait.. babe we just got here," she said, nodding her head.

"(Y/N). We're leaving." he said with sternness in his voice.

She stood up as Willy took her hand into his. "Um.. nice meeting you I guess?" she said to the man before walking away with her boyfriend.

The grip on her hand was tight as Willy guided her outside to the car, she felt many eyes on her as she got into his car.

"Babe why-"

"I don't want to hear it." Willy said, cutting her off as he started the car.

(Y/N) looked down at the ground as he began to drive back home, the silence filling the car was awkward. His hand found its way to her thigh, gripping it tightly as he drove. She chewed her bottom lip, avoiding any eye contact towards him. She knew he was pissed, the way his jaw was clenched and the way his eyes stared at the road made it obvious.

What was going to happen when they got home?

-

The drive home felt long. Neither of the two spoke any words.

Willy put the car in park, removing his hand from her thigh. She felt his eyes boring holes into her head, she kept her eyes down towards the floor.

"Go inside and go upstairs," he said, breaking the silence between them.

(Y/N) looked towards him, her pulse quickening. "Baby-"

"What did I say (Y/N)? Go inside and go upstairs." he said in a serious tone.

She looked away before exiting the car, slamming the door as she entered the home they shared. (Y/N) wasn't sure what was going to happen as she made her way up the stairs towards the room they shared. She leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath as she felt her nerves spiking.

The opening of the front door made her freeze. She heard the footsteps of her boyfriend making his way up the stairs, her breath stopped as she watched as the bedroom door opened.

Willy tossed the car keys onto the nightstand. His eyes averted towards (Y/N) who leaned against the wall, staring at the floor.

He walked towards her, his taller body leaned over hers. She didn't look up, fearing to see what look he head in his eyes.

"Look at me," Willy said, looking down over her.

Her eyes looked up into his. "O-Okay.." she replied, swallowing thickly.

His arm found its way around her waist, bringing her body closer to his. She felt the heat radiating off his body, she could see the anticipation in his eyes.

"You know... I didn't like the way thay guy was staring and talking to you," Willy said, his voice low near her ear.

She felt a shiver go down her spine. "Babe I-, um.." she said, looking down at the ground.

His hand grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he said. "Understand this, I should be the only one staring at you like that princess. You're mine," he added, running his hand down her sides.

Goosebumps littered her skin feeling his touch, she began to grow hot. "I understand.." she replied, looking into his eyes.

A smirk grew onto his face. "Looks like I have to teach you a lesson huh?" he said, raising a brow. "Come here.." he added, bringing her body against his.

Willy pressed his lips onto hers, engulfing her into a passionate yet rough kiss. His hands gripped her hips, bringing them close to his, her arms flew to go around his neck. His larger hands squeezed her hips.

Heat pooled in between her legs, she squeezed her thighs together to get some friction. Suddenly, she was lifted off the ground. A yelp escaped her lips as she was carried towards the bed.

He lied her down on the bed, crawling above her as he kissed her roughly. Her legs spread apart with his body, she put her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss between them.

The kiss was broken by Willy pulling away, her lips slightly puffy from his kisses. He stared down her body hungrily as his hands traced down her sides, running circles around her abdomen.

His hand trailed up her dress and stopped where it met her thighs. Suddenly she heard the snapping of fabric and watched as the dress was torn off her body. Her eyes wide.

"Was that necessary?" she asked, leaning up a bit.

He chuckled. "I can buy you another one. Now lay down," he replied, tossing the now ripped dress aside.

She was now left in just her bra and underwear, her body shivered a bit feeling the cooler air now against her skin. She squeaked a bit feeling his teeth grazing against the skin of her neck, sucking on her sweet spot earning a moan from her mouth.

His hands trailed down to cup her breasts, giving them a small squeeze. Her nipples becoming hard from the contact, she shivered a bit feeling his lips going down her chest to her abdomen then to her navel.

He stopped, looking up at her as his head was now in between her legs. "Look at that... you're already soaking. I've barely touched you," he said smirking.

She moved her hips a bit towards him. She felt so eager and needy for him.

He stood up, loosening his tie and tossing his jacket off. He leaned down towards her ear. "I'm going to fuck you so good you aren't even going to think about standing tomorrow," he said lowly.

Her body tensed as she felt his fingers run along her abdomen. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up feeling his touch, small sparks danced across her skin. She felt the print from his pants on her thigh, making her shiver.

She felt his hand go behind her back, feeling her bra being unclasped with one hand. Curse this man and his fingers, he tossed it off admiring her breasts. She felt her face heat up as his eyes explored her.

"Aw, are you shy now princess? Don't be shy," he said, kissing her cheek.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh shush," she replied, looking up at him.

She froze noticing how his face was now serious. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Willy asked, staring down at her.

Goosebumps rushed onto her skin as she heard his words. "U-Um.. maybe?" she replied, looking away from him.

A chuckle came from his throat. "You've been a brat all night. Part of me thinks you like when I teach you lessons," he said, running his fingers down to her clothed clit rubbing small circles.

A soft moan slipped from her lips feeling his fingers circling her clit. Her moans making his cock twitch.

Willy hooked his fingers around the hem of her underwear, he pulled them off and tossed them into another part of the room. His eyes filled with desire seeing how wet her pussy was. Anticipation grew inside of him as he spread her apart with his hands.

He leaned in, swiping his tongue along her folds. She cried out in pleasure feeling his tongue exploring deep into her, she gripped the sheets as her mouth remained open taking deep breaths. Her body was on fire feeling his tongue deep inside.

"Oh fuck baby just like that!" she cried, throwing her head back in pleasure.

Her moans only encouraged him, he slid two of his fingers into her core. Using his tongue to double the pleasure.

(Y/N) felt hot as his fingers curled and twisted around inside of her, cries and moans came from her lips.

He felt the tightening of her walls around his fingers, she was close. (Y/N) could feel the knot in her stomach forming as he continued to thrust his fingers into her, her hands found their way into his hair slightly tugging on the blonde locks.

"B-Baby.. I-I'm gonna cum," she moaned, moving her hips upwards a bit.

That's when his fingers stopped moving. A whine came from her as he removed his fingers from her pussy.

"Not yet princess," he said, licking her arousal off his fingers.

Her body felt hot, the room was beginning to heat up and she felt sweat starting to form onto her skin. She watched as he took off his shirt, tossing it aside. She heard his belt being unbuckled, she pressed her legs together in anticipation.

Willy opened her legs again, giving a view of her pussy which throbbed with need. He leaned down towards her face, pressing his lips onto hers as he inserted his finger back into her pussy. She moaned into the kiss, moving her hips upwards.

"You like when I finger you princess? Do you wanna cum all over daddy's fingers?" he asked, nibbling on her ear.

She let out a shaky breath. "Y-Yes please.." she replied, gripping the sheets.

His finger curled to that one spot, making stars fill her vision. "How bad?" he asked lowly.

"Bad.. really bad," she replied, a slight moan escaping her lips as he pumped his finger into her.

He stopped pumping and removed his finger. "Hmm too bad," he said, smirking as he watched her squirm.

Frustration ran through her as this was the second orgasm he denied, she felt her body shaking with need. She wanted to cum so bad.

He removed his boxers exposing his cock, she stared down at the pre-cum which leaked off the tip. He was needy to get into her and ravish her, his body almost acting on its own as he crawled on top of her.

He positioned his cock at her entrance, her core dripped with arousal. He ran the tip along her folds, slightly spreading them open. Soft moans came from her mouth as the tip ran along her sensitive bead. She wiggled her hips, trying to push his cock in.

"You're needy huh baby? Look at the way you're moving for my cock," he said, putting his hand around her throat. "I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't even think about that guy from tonight," he added, squeezing her throat a bit.

She felt his cock slide into her, her walls surrounded him tightly. A groan came from his throat, her pussy was slick from his actions before.

He slowly thrusted into her, savoring the way her walls hugged his cock. "Fuck.. your pussy feels so good princess, it's addicting." he groaned, squeezing her thighs.

His cock poked at the places that made her mind go blank, moans escaped her lips feeling his cock thrusting into her quickly.

"Fuck! Yes.. right there daddy!" she cried, throwing her head back.

Her words encouraged him, he quickened his pace. He put his hands on either side of her head, she saw his slightly flushed face. The sweat on his head made his blonde hairs stick to it, she put her arms around his neck to bring him in for a kiss.

The kiss was rough, she yearned for more. She brought her hands to his back, digging her fingernails into his back.

He leaned back up, placing his hand over her stomach pressing down. He felt his cock deep inside of her.

A smirk grew onto his face. "I'm so deep inside of you... you like when daddy's cock is fucking you? Oh princess I'm gonna fucking ruin you.." he groaned, putting his hand around her throat.

She felt the knot forming in her stomach. "Ruin my fucking pussy daddy.. ruin me with your cock," she moaned, looking into his lust filled eyes.

Willy felt her walls tightening around him again, she was going to orgasm soon. He stopped, lying down on the bed and motioning for her to get on top of him. A small whine came from her as she wanted to continue in the other position, but nonetheless she got on top of him.

She sunk down onto his cock, the new position giving better access to her g-spot. Her mind was clouded and sweat went down her body.

"Come here.." he said, taking her by her chin and pressing a rough kiss onto her lips.

He thrusted into her, causing a loud moan to escape her mouth. He gripped her hips and dug his fingers into them, squeezing and thrusting his cock deep into her.

"Oh fuck! Baby just like that!" she cried, throwing her head back.

The familiar knot in her stomach formed again as he thrusted. His own orgasm was slowly approaching as his cock twitched inside of her.

"Fuck.. princess you look so fucking beautiful on my cock like this. You wanna cum baby? I can feel you getting closer, cum all over my fucking dick. I want your cum dripping down my cock," he said, squeezing her throat again.

Suddenly as if on queue, her body gave in and her orgasm took over. A loud moan escaped her mouth as her walls tightened around him, her orgasm made her body shake and her vision filled with white stars.

Willy smirked. "That's my good girl.." he groaned as he kept thrusting into her. "You want my cum inside you baby? You want me to fill your pussy up with my cum?" he asked, gripping her hips.

She barely could get words out from her orgasm. "Y-Yes baby.. fill my pussy up," she cried.

He thrusted a bit longer until he felt his orgasm hit, a loud groan came from his throat. "Fuck..." he said.

She felt his cum fill inside of her, coating her walls with his white seed.

For a few moments, they lied there panting recovering from their orgasms. (Y/N) collapsed onto the bed next to him, she felt tiredness rushing through her body.

He turned next to her kissing her cheeks. "I love you.. I hope you know that," he said, brushing his fingers against her cheek.

She smiled. "I love you too babe.." she replied, playing with his hands.

A smirk came onto his face. "I'm not done with you just yet," he said and sat up.

Her eyes went wide. "But babe I'm so tired.." she groaned and rolled over to the other side of the bed. "I can barely walk too," she added, feeling the soreness from her thighs.

A yelp escaped her lips as she was lifted off the bed. "I can hold you up in the shower," he said, smirking as he headed towards the bathroom.

[noona-clock]

What’s Your Sign?: Aquarius

Genre: Future/Space!AU

Pairing: Yunhyeong x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Words: 6,180

Author’s Note: Since I’m so fascinated by astrology, I decided to do a Zodiac series! I will be writing a one-shot fic for each sign featuring different members from different groups (and even an actor!). Each story will be posted on the 5th of the month during that sign’s season. Please reblog, comment, or send in an ask with your feedback! Thank you for your support 💜

Yunhyeong’s eyes blinked open as the soft trilling of his alarm clock began to gently float through the air, and as he did every morning, he forced himself to sit up to decrease the chances he would fall back asleep.

As the alarm began to get slightly louder as the seconds passed by, Yunhyeong cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak the first words he spoke every morning: “Computer, turn off alarm.”

The trilling cut off and the eerie silence of outer space settled in his bedroom.

Honestly, he should be used to the absolute quietude of being in space, but... somehow, he wasn’t. It still put him on edge and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Computer, what’s the weather like on Earth?” he asked as he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up, sliding his feet into his slippers.

“Please specify a location,” the computer replied, and even though it was literally a computer, Yunhyeong was pretty sure he detected a hint of sass in its tone.

“All right... how about... Paris?”

“Please specify. There are fifty-three locations on Earth named ‘Paris.’”

Yunhyeong pursed his lips in slight annoyance before retorting, “What’s the weather like in Paris, France?”

“It is currently three degrees Celsius in Paris, France, with a 36% chance of precipitation, 68% humidity, and winds of 14 km/h.”

Well, it certainly didn’t spark any romantic images of the City of Love in his head, but it was interesting to know, at least.

I guess.

“Thank you, Computer,” Yunhyeong murmured as he turned around and bent to make his bed.

He didn’t start every morning asking the computer in his living quarters what the weather was like on a prominent Earth city, but maybe now he would. Maybe he would have to add that into his usual morning routine, right in-between getting out of bed and smoothing his sheets down over his mattress.

I mean, it had been a full two years since he’d lived on this space station, so it was probably time for a small change... right?

As long as the change didn’t get in the way of his research, of course. That’s the whole reason he was out here in the first place, alone on a privately-funded space station: to research and, hopefully, breed new species of plants.

Climate change was (and had been) really taking a toll on Earth, but technology in the last few decades had allowed most, if not all, humans to immigrate to various other planets and space stations in the Alpha quadrant. But living in space and on non-Earth planets meant having to figure out whole new ways to farm and live off the land -- even when there was no actual land.

So, Yunhyeong had been delegated by the government to conduct research and experiments on a fully-equipped space station to try and grow new edible plants.

It sounded boring, yes, but it really wasn’t! I mean -- not for him, at least, because Yunhyeong loved to cook. More than anything, really, he loved cooking.

He just felt at home in the kitchen, and nothing excited him more than experimenting with ingredients and coming up with new recipes. Even if the dish turned out to be basically inedible, he never felt defeated or like he should just give up. On the contrary, cooking energized him! And it felt that much better when he got a recipe right.

Honestly, that’s the only reason Yunhyeong had accepted this position even though it had meant living by himself for... who knows how long? 

He was an outgoing extrovert, but being constantly alone was overshadowed by the fact he was constantly cooking and growing his own ingredients -- and being paid for it!

...Still, though. Sometimes he did have to admit that it would be nice to have some company. Someone with different taste buds who could try his recipes and give real feedback.

When he’d asked his manager why it had to be a solo mission, the reasoning had made sense: adding another person into the mix increased the probability for conflict, and it was pretty vital that Yunhyeong stay focused on his end goal.

Totally understandable.

But that didn’t stop him from daydreaming at night just before he fell asleep.

We... won’t get into that, though. The day had just started, after all!

After making his bed (and, today, hearing about the weather in Paris, France), Yunhyeong ducked into his closet to change into one of his government-issued suits. All of his clothes were basically the same, and while it had bothered him a bit after first moving here, he’d gotten over it pretty quickly. No one else was here to see him, so what did it really matter what he wore? The clothes he’d been given were perfectly fine, and he would have plenty of time to dress a bit more flashily once he returned home.

As he always did, Yunhyeong quickly but thoroughly brushed his teeth after getting dressed, ran a comb through his hair, then set off toward his hydroponics lab.

Once he began his work -- taking cuttings of new plants that were growing, jotting down observations of changes which had happened overnight, experimenting with the sand from a nearby planet and seeing how its cellular structure changed when different liquids were added to it -- he realized that today would be just a typical day. Another day as same as the ones before it.

It had actually been quite silly of him to think that something so trivial as asking about the weather conditions on Earth would somehow have an effect on his day.

Except... it kind of had. Nothing major, of course. He still got his work done as he always did, and he was still incredibly focused. But he also found his mind had been slipping, daydreaming about Paris, France -- especially centuries ago when films were in black and white and men walked around in suits with hats every day. 

Paris back then seemed so romantic, didn’t it? He imagined the whole city had a sort of candlelit glow about it even though there had definitely been electricity at that time. But candlelight made it dreamier and, even though he was a botanist by trade, Yunhyeong was a total sucker for anything dreamy.

(Did this have something to do with the fact that an old girlfriend had once told him he had very dreamy eyes? Perhaps.)

By the time his mid-day meal break rolled around, he’d gotten plenty of work done and made plenty of progress with his modified Thyme plant; he also found that the almost-ancient song “La Vie en Rose” had become stuck in his head.

Since he didn’t have to work for the next hour or so, Yunhyeong asked the computer to play the song through the station’s intercom system.

A warm but immediate thrill emanated through him as he heard the opening notes, and he told himself he would have to play music more often -- any music. He hadn’t realized until just now how lifeless this space station truly was. 

He lived here, but was he really living?

It’s not like he expected this situation to turn into some sort of romantic film where a beautiful stranger happened to be passing by and fell in love with him at first sight. He was level-headed enough to realize that would never happen! 

But he could still have fun, couldn’t he? Off the clock, of course. His job was too important and time-sensitive to risk losing focus because he wanted to have more fun.

No, he could absolutely wait until he’d finished work for the day before turning on some music and letting loose.

Oh, boy, he could just imagine it now: some good music flowing through the intercom -- maybe some Jazz music. A nice glass of wine. And his mother had sent him a very nice pair of silk pajamas recently that he hadn’t yet worn --

...Wow.

He was, apparently, at the age where jazz music, wine, and silk pajamas was considered “fun.”

Wonderful.

But, to be fair! He was in outer space! On a space station! By himself! Growing plants for a living! What other kind of fun could there be?!

It’s not like he could just go out to a restaurant or a club with some friends and --

A sudden and very loud banging interrupted his thoughts, and Yunhyeong was so startled that he almost dropped his glass of water.

His brow furrowed immediately as he took a few steps out of his kitchen, craning his neck past the doorway to look toward the entrance to the station.

The station didn’t really have a “front door,” per se, but for all intents and purposes, someone had just knocked on his front door.

More than knocked, actually. They sounded like they wanted to smash the door right off its hinges!

“Who in the world could that be?” Yunhyeong muttered to himself as he cautiously crept toward the entrance. He hadn’t received word that a supervisor was coming for an evaluation or anything, and he couldn’t imagine someone would come all the way out here for an unannounced visit.

Just as he reached the keypad to unlock the inner door, his mysterious visitor knocked loudly again, though they sounded more desperate this time.

Yunhyeong quickly typed in the code, and after hearing the hiss of the door unlocking, he turned the handle and opened it.

You rushed in as soon as the gap was wide enough, barreling past Yunhyeong and nearly knocking him over.

“Whoa!” he cried, startled and very, very confused. “Who --”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have time to explain,” you answered after you’d just barely come to a halt a few feet away from him. “But the police are probably going to be here soon, and I need you to tell them you don’t know anything, okay? You’ve never seen me before. Where can I hide?”

Yunhyeong stared at you, blinking slowly in astonishment.

...What?

“I -- I’m sorry?” he stammered.

“Where can I hide?” you repeated, your voice hurried but quiet. “Please, I must hide. I’m fairly certain they’ll be here any minute now.”

“...Who?”

“The police! I just --” you hissed, though you stopped yourself short and took a deep breath. “I can explain everything later, I just need somewhere to hide.”

Yunhyeong stared at you some more, and now that you weren’t blabbering on about hiding from the police (seriously?! Hiding from the police?!) he was able to take a few moments and gather up the situation in his head.

You -- a complete and total stranger, of that he was sure -- had just showed up at his space station asking to hide from the police.

...This couldn’t be real. Right?

And what made it even more unbelievable was the fact that you were actually quite beautiful.

If he had to be totally honest, your attractiveness was one of the very first things he’d noticed.

He was an adult male who’d been living entirely alone for an extended period of time, okay?! Can you blame him for noticing that someone was incredibly pleasing to look at?!

But then his thoughts of your looks were interrupted by his thoughts of what you’d said.

You needed somewhere to hide, and even though he absolutely should not let you hide in a government-issued space station... his romantic sensibilities took over.

I mean, hadn’t he just been thinking a very short while ago about a beautiful stranger somehow appearing on the station?! And how he’d never considered that it would actually happen because things like that don’t ever happen in real life?

But it was happening now! A beautiful stranger had somehow appeared on the station!  You were most likely a criminal, and there was a very good chance he would lose his job if anyone ever found out he’d helped you...

But, I mean, come on. You can’t blame him for thinking this was just a tad exciting!

So... yes, he was going to help you! And if you ended up staying here and falling in love with him, then so be it!

“My lab,” he said, nodding toward the door behind you.

You let out a soft breath and murmured a thank you before turning on your heel and darting into the room.

He followed you, pointing out the small storage room where he kept his extra equipment and watching carefully as you rushed over to it.

As soon as the door slid closed behind you, there was yet another knock at the station’s entrance.

Yunhyeong’s eyes widened slightly for two reasons: 1) He hadn’t had any visitors in a very long time, and now, all of a sudden, he was about to have two? 2) You had been eerily correct about the police showing up any minute -- if this was, in fact, the police. 

He wasn’t sure who else it would be, so he made a hasty retreat out of his lab and back toward the entrance.

Again, he quickly typed in the code to open the door, and he had just barely touched the handle before the new visitor -- or visitors -- let themselves in.

“Excuse us, Sir,” said a middle-aged but very fit man in an Intergalactic Police uniform. “I’m very sorry to disturb you, but we’re looking for a wanted criminal and thought we’d tracked her down to this area.”

Yunhyeong gulped, nervous that he wasn’t a good enough liar to help keep your cover. But he would do his best!

“A -- a wanted criminal?” he asked as he knit his eyebrows together in worried confusion. “What -- no, I haven’t seen anyone. It’s just me here. I haven’t had any visitors for... well, quite some time. Or ever, really. I’m doing government research, you see, so I don’t really have time for anything except my work.”

The policeman nodded slowly, and the younger woman in uniform behind him let out a short huff of breath, obviously frustrated their lead hadn’t taken them any closer to catching you.

“Understood,” the woman murmured before adding. “So sorry to bother you, Sir. If you catch word of anything, please contact us as soon as you possibly can. We believe she should be considered armed and dangerous.”

...Excuse me?

Yunhyeong’s mouth fell open slightly, and his brain was starting to yell at him to tell these police officers the truth. He hadn’t seen any weapons on you when you’d come in, and you had certainly seemed more panicked than dangerous... but they were saying quite the opposite!

Except... he hadn’t seen any weapons on you when you’d come in. 

If he remembered correctly, which he had to assume he did since you had just come in a few minutes ago, you weren’t wearing large or baggy clothing, so there really wasn’t any place to hide a weapon -- unless it was a very small weapon. In that case, Yunhyeong felt almost confident that he could manage to take it from you somehow.

Plus, your beauty was definitely clouding his judgement, and he wanted to get the chance to actually talk to you before letting you go and never seeing you again.

So, instead of coming clean and being a useful, helpful citizen, Yunhyeong simply nodded. “Yes, of course,” he assured the officers. “I will keep an eye out.”

The officers turned to leave, but the man stopped before he could turn around all the way.

“Actually, would you mind if we just did a quick search?” he asked in a very polite tone. “Just protocol, of course. Plus, she might have beamed in without you knowing, and we wouldn’t want to leave without knowing for sure you’re not in any danger.”

Yunhyeong raised his eyebrows but then took a step to the side and extended his arm out into the station to allow them inside. “Please, be my guest.”

The female officer headed back toward the kitchen where he’d been putting together his lunch not even ten minutes ago while the male officer basically made a beeline for his lab.

“Ah, that --” Yunhyeong said, following him and peering into his lab over the man’s shoulder. “That’s my lab.”

“What did you say you do again?” the officer asked curiously.

“I’m doing research,” Yunhyeong answered. “Plant research. For the government.”

The officer let out a low hum of understanding and continued to stand there, presumably eyeing his equipment and searching the room for any signs of an intruder.

But the longer he stood there, the more quickly Yunhyeong’s heart began to beat.

Finally, the officer took a step back and turned on his heel to search other areas of the station.

Yunhyeong let out a soft breath as soon as the officer was out of sight then went back to the station entrance to wait for them to finish.

After only about five minutes, both officers met him at the door, thanked him for his cooperation, and wished him a nice day before stepping into the small chamber separating the inside of his station from the void of outer space and beaming themselves out.

Yunhyeong closed the inner door, turning the handle to lock it and letting out an anxious breath. But he didn’t have time to lean back against the door and gather his thoughts because there was currently a wanted criminal hiding in his lab.

He practically ran to the doorway of his lab, grasping the doorframe and calling out, “They’re gone, you can come out.”

A few seconds later, the door to his equipment storage room opened, and you peeked your head out.

“They searched the station and just left,” Yunhyeong explained, his heart fluttering inside his chest upon seeing you again.

You let out a breath and stepped fully into the lab, closing the door quietly behind you. “Thank you,” you murmured as you began to make your way over to him.

“Sure...” he replied expectantly, waiting for you to start explaining the situation.

When you stopped a few feet in front of him, a cautious and bashful smile tugged at your lips. “So...” you started, your voice a bit shaky. “I, uh -- It’s really not as bad as you might be thinking.”

Yunhyeong couldn’t stop from smirking -- just a tiny one. “Well, the police said you’re a wanted criminal who should be considered armed and dangerous, so what I’m thinking is pretty bad.”

Your eyes widened and you held your hands out in front of you, waving them a little to assure Yunhyeong he had it all wrong. “No, no -- I’m not armed, I swear! And definitely not dangerous. Just -- This is going to sound like I’m making it up, but I promise you, I’m not.”

Well, now Yunhyeong was really intrigued. “Go on,” he pressed.

“I... Well, for the last couple of years, I’ve been working on a... project.”

“That doesn’t sound shady at all,” Yunhyeong chuckled.

“I was trying to create a clone,” you explained hurriedly. “Nothing shady, exactly. It’s kind of a long story, but I got a research grant and decided to try cloning but it didn’t turn out like I expected because my clone kind of went rogue and she is the armed and dangerous one. Not me. But the police don’t know it’s a clone, obviously, so they’re looking for me when it’s really all just a big mistake!”

Your story did sound a bit far-fetched, and Yunhyeong shouldn’t have believed it.

But... for some reason... he did. There was just a look in your eyes that told him you were being truthful. A timbre in your voice that emanated sincerity.

So, he believed you. Despite logic telling him he shouldn’t, he did.

One corner of his lips lifted into a half-smile then, and he said, “Well, you’re welcome to stay here for a bit. Are you hungry?”

A look of pure relief washed over your exquisite features, and you held out your hand toward him. “I’m Y/N, by the way. That’s my real name, you can look me up.”

Yunhyeong let out a soft laugh as he shook your hand. “Don’t worry, I believe you. And you’re safe here. I’m Yunhyeong.”

“Thank you, Yunhyeong,” you replied, your hand gripping his firmly. 

But then, suddenly, your grip loosened, and you wavered a bit where you stood.

“Oop!” Yunhyeong uttered as he reached out to steady you. “You all right?”

You grasped onto his forearms, and when you tilted your head to look up at him, he saw your complexion had blanched quite a bit.

“Yes, I --” you murmured. “Sorry, I guess I haven’t eaten in a while, and the adrenaline’s worn off, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, come eat,” he said as he moved to slide one arm around your back and then began leading you toward the kitchen.

You continued to apologize as he helped you down the hallway, and once he’d pulled out a chair at the small table, he assured you there was absolutely nothing to be sorry about.

To be honest, this whole situation was quite thrilling for him. A mistakenly wanted criminal who had almost fainted from hunger? He had never cooked a meal for a mistakenly wanted criminal who had almost fainted from hunger before, but he now felt like this was what he’d been meant to do. Born to do.

I mean, he’d always loved helping and taking care of people, and he certainly loved cooking.

(Plus, you were just so gosh darn beautiful. It was his absolute pleasure to have you in his home and serve you a home-cooked meal!)

He whipped you up the quickest but heartiest thing in his repertoire: a ham sandwich. But his ham sandwich was not just any old ham sandwich. Of course, not! He used only the best mayonnaise, only the best lettuce and tomatoes grown right here on the station, only the best bread he’d baked himself last night, and only the best ham... which was not really the best ham because, living in space, he had to use his food replicator. And he hadn’t yet found one single food that was quite as good when using the replicator. It was fine, but it just didn’t taste exactly the same.

Oh, well. He hoped the rest of the fine ingredients would make up for the slightly less than average ham.

“It’s not much,” he said when he set the plate in front of you just a few minutes later. “But it’ll do the trick.”

“Oh, no, are you kidding? This is wonderful,” you said breathlessly, your eyes widening slightly as you gazed at the sandwich. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been eating the past couple days. This seems like a feast compared to that.”

Yunhyeong couldn’t help himself; after hearing that remark, he pulled out the other chair at his table and slid into it, his brow furrowed with curiosity. He set his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm before asking, “What happened?”

You took a huge bite of sandwich first, closing your eyes with pleasure as you chewed. And then you began your story.

You told him all about how your clone had gone rogue for reasons you still hadn’t figured out. She had replicated weapons and gone on a crime spree, robbing and killing anyone she could get her hands on. You actually got choked up as you told him, and Yunhyeong had to resist the urge to reach out and put his hand over yours.

Of course, you had tried your best to stop her, but that had only made it easier for the police to confuse you for her and make you their target.

Once you’d realized the police were on the hunt for you and not your clone, you’d gone into fight or flight mode -- and you had chosen flight. You’d hidden anywhere you could find, only staying in one place for a few hours.

“How did you end up here?” Yunhyeong asked, taking your empty plate and standing up to make you another sandwich. You’d eaten this one so quickly, and if you really hadn’t eaten much real food over the last few days, there was no doubt you had to be famished.

“Honestly... pure happenstance. I just found a small space station on the map, punched the coordinates into my transporter, and beamed right in.”

A smirk tugged at Yunhyeong’s lips but he turned to start making your sandwich before you had the chance to see.

Pure happenstance. Luck. You hadn’t come here by design; you’d just picked his station and beamed yourself in unknowingly.

“Y’know...” he began as he took two more slices of bread. “It’s funny because I’ve been on this space station by myself for quite a while now, and just this morning I was thinking about some beautiful, random stranger just happening to pass through. But, obviously, I was thinking about how it wouldn’t happen.”

“That,” you said before clearing your throat. “That’s a strange coincidence.”

When Yunhyeong glanced over his shoulder, he saw your expression had turned shy, and it made him feel a little shy. Which was odd because he was rarely ever shy.

“Very,” he murmured in agreement after turning back around and continuing to make your second sandwich.

It was comfortably silent for the next minute or two, the only noises that of Yunhyeong spreading mayonnaise on bread and tearing up the lettuce to fit better on the sandwich. But then, when he turned back around to join you at the table and set the plate in front of you again, you murmured a soft but earnest “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Yunhyeong replied before once again sliding into the chair across from you. “And... you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

You had just picked up the sandwich to take a bite, but upon hearing his words, you paused. Your brow knit together, forming deep wrinkles in your forehead. “Oh, no, I --”

“I think you’d be safer here than anywhere else,” Yunhyeong interrupted gently. “The police have already been here, and there’s no logical reason they would come back here to look for you. At least, not for a while. And maybe we could get this all squared away in the meantime. Find your clone and clear your name.”

You stared at him in slight confusion for a few moments before shaking your head a little and asking, “But... why? Why would you... help me?”

Yunhyeong let out a soft chuckle and lifted his shoulders into a shrug. “I guess... it’s been a long time since I’ve even talked to another person face-to-face. And you’re innocent. I can’t just let you go and risk you getting caught and arrested when you’re only guilty of an experiment gone wrong.”

For a split second, he thought about adding on the fact that you were incredibly nice to look at, and he was becoming overwhelmed with an urge to take care of you. But when he remembered the shy look you’d gotten after he’d just said the word beautiful, he decided against it.

For now, at least.

You slowly put the sandwich back down on the plate, and before Yunhyeong could try to distinguish the expression on your face, you burst into tears.

“Whoa,” Yunhyeong murmured, his head jerking back in surprise. “No, please --”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed, bringing your hands up to cover your eyes and cheeks. “I just -- It’s been difficult the past few days, and I thought --”

Without hesitation, Yunhyeong got out of his chair and crouched down next to you, resting one hand gently on your back and the other on one of your wrists.

“It’s all right,” he assured you in the gentlest voice he could manage.

“I can’t even remember how many times I thought I was going to die,” you admitted, your voice muffled and interrupted by sniffling sobs. “And you have absolutely no reason to help me, but you are, and I’m so relieved, and I just --”

Yunhyeong shushed you, rubbing your back and watching with concern as you began to wipe your cheeks.

You then turned your head and looked over at him, tears still brimming in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you choked out.

Yunhyeong’s lips curved into a smile, and he moved his hand to your shoulder, squeezing you there. “You’re welcome. You’re going to get through this, okay? I can help. I work for the government, so I bet I can get in touch with someone who can straighten this all out.”

You shook your head a bit and gulped down the large lump of emotion obstructing your throat. “But I -- I can’t do anything to repay you --”

“I told you that I’ve been living here on my own for a long time, right?”

You nodded.

“Honestly, having some company is repayment enough. Just... be my friend,” he said with a tiny shrug. “For as long as you’re here, that’s all I ask in return. Be my friend.”

Yunhyeong’s heart burst when he saw the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile, and it began to glow in his chest when you nodded again.

“If you’re going to keep feeding me delicious food, I can definitely be your friend,” you assured him.

“Hey, if it’s delicious food you want, you’ve come to absolutely the right place,” he grinned before squeezing your shoulder one more time and then standing up to let you eat your sandwich in peace. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to work soon, but feel free to look around and make yourself at home. There’s not much, really, but there’s a shower and some extra clothes.”

“Okay,” you said quietly, nodding and wiping away the last of your tears.

As you turned back to the table and began to eat your sandwich, Yunhyeong quickly made one for himself to take back to the lab. Since he’d been interrupted by... this whole situation, he hadn’t been able to actually have anything to eat during his lunch break. But as long as he turned away from the plants and equipment to eat, it should be fine.

“I’ll just be in the lab,” he said after completing his sandwich and heading out toward the hallway. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” you answered just before he stepped through the kitchen doorway. And then you called out, “Thank you again! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this!”

Yunhyeong simply smiled to himself.

Hopefully, he would be able to get back into his work mindset -- at least for a few hours or so. He needed to try his best to get as much work done as possible because he had a sneaking suspicion you were going to become more and more of a distraction the longer you stayed here.

Even though he had been given no parameters as far as work hours when he’d started this position, Yunhyeong had set a schedule for himself to try and keep some semblance of a normal life. He, like most people, needed time to unwind after working all day, but if he had no specific clock out time, it was very possible he would work well into the night.

So, from his very first day on the station, he’d set an alarm for six in the evening so he could force himself to stop working and enjoy his evenings.

And, unsurprisingly, his evenings after work always started off with cooking.

But, unsurprisingly again, this evening was a little different than most.

Or... all. It was different than all of the evenings he’d had on the station thus far. Every single one.

Over the past several hours, he’d only heard your presence on the station a few times. He must’ve been too focused on work to notice much else -- either that or you’d just been incredibly quiet. But, apparently, you’d been up to a lot because when he locked up the lab for the night, he caught sight of you standing by the window in the living room across the hall. Your hair was wet and you were wearing a pair of his pajamas, something that unexpectedly tugged at his heart.

“Hey,” he greeted as he stepped into the room. “I’m all done with --”

He trailed off when you turned around to look at him. Your face had been scrubbed clean, and even though you really didn’t look much different -- if at all -- the sight of you standing there, fresh-faced with damp hair and wearing his pajamas... it made his heart jump up into his throat and his breath catch, for some reason.

Truly, it had been far too long since he’d had any social interaction.

You must have thought he was staring at you for reasons other than that, though, because you bashfully looked down at the pajamas and said, “I wasn’t sure if it was okay -- I can just wear my own clothes if you --”

“No, no,” he interrupted hastily, taking a step closer to you. “No, it’s fine. Sorry. Wear whatever you want, really.”

Your lips curved into a soft grin, and you gestured behind your shoulder with one hand. “I was just admiring the view,” you told him before turning back around to gaze out the window.

Yunhyeong joined you, taking several large steps to come and stand next to you.

He glanced very briefly out at the scenery before him, finding his eyes were of a mind to settle on you instead.

Either he had forgotten just how beautiful you were or the relief of being safe had melted your anxiety and heightened your attractiveness because... wow. The slope of your nose and the curve of your lips were stunning and enticing. Your eyelashes, your cheeks, the way your hair framed your face.

“It’s so beautiful,” you said, your gaze fixed on the stars and planets visible from the window.

Yunhyeong almost laughed because you had voiced aloud his thoughts almost exactly.

“Yes,” he agreed with his eyes still locked on you rather than the outside view. “Yes, it is.”

You continued observing the scenery for a few more moments -- long enough for Yunhyeong to get his wits about him, thankfully, and when you turned to look at him, he was fairly certain it wasn’t obvious he’d been staring at you.

“So,” you stated. “What can I do to help?”

“Well, you’re in luck,” he answered with a grin. “I mean, unless your idea of fun isn’t quite the same as mine... But I was planning on making pasta for dinner and then breaking open some wine, putting on some music -- Jazz, if you’re into it -- and just... relaxing.”

And, now, if you were there, he could actually have a chat. A good, old-fashioned chat.

But... if you liked to create clones in your spare time, then you most likely weren’t the type of person to label that type of evening as ‘fun.’

“That sounds... amazing,” you replied, somewhat breathless.

Oh!

Well!

Color him surprised!

“Yeah?” he asked, trying to tamp down his excitement. “I’ve come up with a pretty great recipe for spaghetti sauce. I can teach you how to make it?”

Your lips curved into a smile, and you nodded quickly. “Yes, please. I would love that.”

As Yunhyeong led you to the kitchen, he found himself already daydreaming about... well, so many things.

Cooking with you. Drinking wine with you. Listening to music with you. Chatting with you. Getting to know you better. Allowing himself to open up to you so you could get to know him better.

Then, of course, daydreams about all that led to daydreams about later on down the road. Cooking with you and sneaking kisses in here and there. Drinking wine and listening to music and snuggling on the couch with you. Chatting with you those really deep chats that only surface when you’re fully and entirely comfortable with someone.

He still hardly knew you, of course, but at this moment... he could imagine himself falling in love with you. And even if that never happened -- or even came close to happening -- just the idea of it was enough.

He wanted it to happen, of course, and he was definitely going to try as long as you were willing.

But, if today had taught him anything, it was to never assume. Never assume things can’t or won’t happen. Never assume that, just because every day previously had been the same, today wouldn’t be different. Anything could happen!

And he knew this had absolutely no bearing on the events of today, but... Yunhyeong planned on asking the computer what the weather was like on Earth more often.

Just for fun.

OTHER SIGNS: ARIES, TAURUS, GEMINI, CANCER, LEO, VIRGO, LIBRA, SCORPIO, SAGITTARIUS, CAPRICORN, PISCES

[lihikainanea]

Request?/idea, since you’re in that headspace: Bill coming home from a shoot to find tiger drinking her feelings away on the couch.

Anonymous said: I'm in my feelings 'cause I'm dealing with some crap & its making me crave angst. Like Bill & Tiger having a drunken night in & lately Tiger's been feeling insecure so she goes to town on the alcohol. It loosens her up & she starts blurting out her insecurities to Bill. Like how she doesn't understand why he wants to be with her, when he could be with supermodels & how she doesn't want to hold him back. Really silly stuff that her brain thinks about sometimes *sighs*

Edit: I got carried awayyyyy.

I feel so called out right now. Listen man, I think usually tiger has her head on straight, except sometimes...maybe if he’s been away for awhile and really the only thing she’s seen of him is the airbrushed and photoshopped pap pictures and professional shots from whatever it is he’s promoting and where--maybe then sometimes it gets hard for her. Bill is just...god, he’s so beautiful you know? Inside and out, and sometimes tiger gets a little self-conscious about it. About why her. To boot, she’s met all of his ex-girlfriends--Bill has dated models, models, actresses, people who are paid large sums of money to be that beautiful on a constant basis.

It scares the hell out of her.

But I think she’s getting better at reeling it in, right. Sometimes it’s hard when he’s away and all she sees are these perfect photos of him impeccably dressed,  but then she remembers that this is the same dude whose eyes cross a second before he sneezes--every time. This is the same dude who gags when he tries to eat spinach. The same dude who whacks his big ass forehead on everything, who seemingly can’t control his limbs in all of their spectacular length. He’s impeccably dressed until she finds out that the shirt he wore cost $8,000 and that watch on his wrist is a cool $200,000 and then she bursts out laughing because Jesus Christ, his entire world is fucking ridiculous.

But maybe these things start to rear their ugly head when she’s had a lot going on. Bill’s been home and tiger’s been around but she’s also been working on a big project. And she levelled with him when she started it--told him straight up she’d be pulling long hours and really running herself a little thin, but this project had huge repercussions for her and if she knocked it out of the park, then the rewards for her and for her job would be incredible. Bill gets it, he knows what that’s like, and he’s not about to punish her if she needs to do this. So instead he just tries to maintain whatever balance he can for her--ensuring that she takes small breaks if it’s feasible, having a good breakfast waiting for her if she has to work on the weekend, making sure that the food she’s eating and snacking on is healthy and nourishing even if she has to vacuum it down in a 45 second time frame and then get back to work. And when she’s nearly in tears from exhaustion and the hustle of it all, he’s always waiting with a warm cuddle and some encouraging words to get her through.

But tiger also kind of...overdoes it. A lot. And has trouble really dealing with things. So maybe towards the end of the project, Bill comes home one night and she’s pretty tipsy on his couch--which is fine. She had a small win at work, she told him, and wanted to celebrate buuuuut whoops her hand slipped and she just kept pouring glasses. Bill doesn’t think much of it, she’s been working so hard. So he gives her a messy smooch, joins her for a drink, then hauls her into the shower with him for some play time before bed.

Tiger has a pretty hard time getting herself out of bed the next day.

And maybe that night or the next night, Bill is prepping dinner when tiger stumbles home--literally stumbles. She had happy hour drinks with a few colleagues on the project after work, but drinks turned into shots and sorry bud, she overdid it. Bill frowns a little--I mean, it’s Tuesday--but lets it go. He gets her changed into his shirt, tries to get her to eat a little something, but she basically falls asleep at the table.

And as the week goes on it kind of just gets worse. Because tiger is stressed out, she’s working herself thin, and when that happens--all kinds of crazy ideas creep into her brain. And maybe it’s triggered by one of her idiot colleagues, who said something to her over drinks. Sometimes about how handsome her date to the Christmas party was, and then another colleague pipes up that yeah that dude is famous--and then it becomes a whole thing. She’s grilled on how she met him, what he’s like, what they’re uh...doing. Like, are they together? No? Oh, that makes sense. Hey didn’t he date a lingerie model last year?

And then the pictures are pulled up. Of him and his ex-girlfriends.  Lots of them.

Maybe, to her credit, tiger didn’t realize how much it bothered her. How much she archived that in the torment section of her brain, just to be recalled endlessly for the days after. But come Friday--homegirl is basically a fucking mess. Because she’s realizing everything Bill is doing for her--cooking her good meals, offering up lots of back and tummy rubs and head scritchies, always ready with a bear hug, picking up things for around the apartment she always forgets, doing her groceries for her, running all kinds of menial errands that seem like nothing but always take her so much time on the weekend. And it’s all just been...a lot. Her colleagues’ words have been on her mind all week, the stress of the project is making her crack, and come Friday she’s just a mess. So maybe Bill insists on a quiet night in--if she wants to get drunk she can do it plunked on his lap on the couch.

And she does. But then it kind of just....explodes. And I’ll bet it happens right as Bill reaches and squeezes her tummy a bit, gives her a few pats there on her soft parts. It’s something he loves to do and something that normally gets her purring but this time it just kind of shuts her down.

“Don’t,” she snaps, and pushes his hand away. He’s a little taken aback by it because she usually loves when he does that.

“Okay,” he acquiesces, “Sorry, kid. You usually like when I do that.”

“Yeah well did your lingerie model girlfriend like it too?” she mutters under her breath.

“What?” his brow furrows in confusion.

“Your lingerie model girlfriend, Bill,” she isn’t yelling, but her tone is definitely escalating, “Remember her, buddy? In all of her perfectly proportionate glory?”

“Tiger, what are you--”

But she’s almost hysterical now, that quickly, and it’s this disastrous mix of exhaustion, stress, anxiety, self-loathing, anger--god, everything explosive about her is all coming to a head.

“Why, Bill?” she demands, “I guess that’s what everybody wants to know, right? Why me, after her? Why me, after all of them? The actress--the few actresses, actually. The model. The other model. The pro volleyball player.”

She’s staring at him accusingly, hopping up from his lap and pacing the living room. She has her drink in hand, and it’s sloshing messily over the rim of her glass. Bill wants to interrupt her, ask her what the fuck she’s going on about, but in actuality he’s kind of just...stunned into silence.

“Everybody at work is asking me how, asking me why. Why me. With someone like you. Because they didn’t have this, did they?” she lifts her shirt, pokes at the squishy part of her stomach, “They didn’t have boring 9-5 office jobs. They didn’t look like death in the mornings, or hungover, or tired or any of that. They didn’t have 17 different kinds of zit creams in their bathroom, did they? I’ll bet they certainly didn’t have pants they wore only one week a month because they bloated like a puffer fish and nothing else fit. You said it yourself about one of them--god the fuck was her name?”

She stops her rant, finishes half of her glass in one gigantic gulp. Bill’s eyes are huge, scared, and he’s motionless on the couch.

“I can’t remember her fucking name,” tiger waves passively, “But golden pussy? Does that ring a bell?”

Tiger drinks the rest of her wine in another giant gulp, and actually throws the glass against the wall. It shatters and Bill winces except now...now he’s mad. They’ve had this conversation before, and he’s not about to have it again. No fucking way. He can handle her moods, he knows he’s a lot to deal with, he gets that she can be a little on edge about it--but this? Hearing her put herself down so much, think she’s unworthy of him? That makes him angry. With her. Because how dare she.

The glass shatters, and tiger continues her tirade--but Bill stands.

“I didn’t see you for fucking months, Bill,” she says, “All because of this girl and what you called the best pussy you’ve ever had. Why don’t you find her again--her and her entire wardrobe of tiny little negligees, and go a few rounds with her instead. She’s more your type, no?”

And she’s just about to lace into him again--and it’s not HIM she’s mad at, she’s just mad at everything and all of what he embodies in her life--but she doesn’t have a chance. Because Bill is in front of her, and in a flash her back is slammed to the wall and her jaw is squeezed in his hand, his knee pinned between her legs.

“Enough,” he growls, “Enough, tiger.”

It breaks her a little bit--just a tad, but enough that he can get through. She swallows the lump in her throat, the one that was making her voice all shrill and shrieky, she sniffles and tries to keep the tears at bay.

“Look at me.”

“No,” she chokes, but he grabs her chin and roughly tilts it up, “Bill, no.”

But it’s too late, he has a hold of her and his eyes--furious and wide--are burning a hole through hers.

“I’m not doing this with you again,” he seethes, “Tiger, if I wanted her--or anyone else--I’d go out and get her.”

Tiger sniffles, chokes a little, but Bill doesn’t move.

“I want to throw you over my knee and spank your ass raw for this kid, and I would if I thought you were in the right mind,” he threatens through gritted teeth, “But you’re clearly insane. Fucking insane.”

“It’s you,” he jostles her chin a little and she whines, “Get it through your thick fucking skull kid, it’s you.”

And then he lets go--pulls away so suddenly that she crumples to the floor. He’s madder than hell--mad that she still thinks this, still thinks so little of him at the same time, mad that she’s drowning everything she’s feeling in alcohol. She knows better. On all accounts, she knows better. So he takes a step back, watches as she just gives at the knees and oozes to the floor. He takes a deep breath, runs his hand through his hair, walks a few steps to the bar cart. He pulls a glass from it, pouring out a thumb of scotch and knocking it back in one go. He takes a steadying breath in--the sound of her soft whimpers are breaking his heart, but god, she needs to learn. Needs to learn that he’s hers, in every single sense. That he couldn’t be with anyone else if he tried. That it’s her--everything, all of it, is hers. He's hers.

He exhales deeply, walks back and crouches in front of her. Then he does the only thing he can think of--he lurches forward and kisses her. Kisses the hell of out of her. Knocks her head back into the wall with the force of it as he grabs her face, settles his knees between her legs. And he doesn’t ease off when he feels her start to pull back, instead just tightening his hold on her and not letting her get away. She’s crying now, full on tears wetting his hands, and he just doesn’t give a shit. She needs to know. Needs to believe. But the more he kisses her, the more he’s kind of melting--she’s had a rough go of it, he knows that. And every time anything gets rough for her, she kind of faults to this belief that he just...doesn’t want her. That he shouldn’t want her. And he tries to understand, to meet her stress and anxiety with compassion--but sometimes, it’s a lot for him too.

He breaks apart from her finally, out of breath. His cheeks are red, his eyes on fire, and she’s just watching him carefully. He sighs, kneeling down further to kiss granny’s locket around her neck, then to lay his lips firmly on hers again.

“It’s you, tiger,” he whispers, “I don’t know what else I can do to make you believe me. But it’s you.”

She sniffles, nods a little.

“I know you’ve had a rough week. I know you’re tired, stressed, anxious,” he continues, “But god help me, I don’t ever want to hear you say any of that shit ever again. Clear?”

She nods lightly, meeting his eyes shyly.

“Swear it,” he says.

“I swear,” she mumbles.

He picks the locket up from her neck, holding it to her lips. She kisses it briefly, and he leans in to do the same after.

“Bill,” she mumbles, “I’m sor--”

He cuts her off with a gentle hand over her mouth.

“Enough for tonight, kid,” he sighs, “Just enough. Let’s go eat.”

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 3

The Best Intentions

Part 3

“It is no imposition, believe me,” Ansgar replied. “As much as I despise the fact that your building is suffering problems, I do enjoy solving them now and again.” He surreptitiously allowed his gaze to follow the path of her hands as they straightened out the denim of her skirt. He saw a strength in her movements, a power in the way her muscles shaped beneath the fabric - a power matched by her forthrightness. Not overwhelming, mind you… not false… not pretentious… just… present. This one - she knew what she wanted and how to get it, that much was obvious.

And admirable.

“Perhaps,” he continued, “you would like to change into something more suitable for structural investigations before we begin.” With his eyes, he indicated the Louboutin pumps, still lying discarded on the stage floor. “Why don’t I go take a look at the sprinkler heads installed backstage, and you tell me where to meet you when you’re done.”

Jo’s comfort came in the form of a pair of old broken in trainers (stained with paint from the tech shop), faded, ripped jeans (exposed knees from load-in from her last theatre job in Paris) and a ratty, old, black short-sleeved t-shirt (sprinkled with holes). She kept a wardrobe on hand in her office for days like this. Box office days, she dressed smartly, prim, proper for all the old biddies spending their pension on Puccini. Tech days, she wore black from head to toe. On opening and gala nights, she felt at home in a little black dress or a gown. Dressing for an office meeting felt like work.

The computer and its dancing screensaver called to her in the corner to research the lighting issue. The ramifications meant long hours of interviewing new candidates for her design or technical team. But that would have to wait… the rest of the repairs needed another pair of eyes, the haunted blue of the engineer. Something weighed on him, a brooding quiet, a dark hurt, a something that she couldn’t quite read yet.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the oh-so-soft denim whispered against her skin. She blew a kiss at her borrowed Louboutins, promising another night in them… soon-ish. She returned to find Ansgar wandering around backstage, making notes on a clipboard, knocking on walls with his fist, shining his torch this way and that, and testing the pulley system for the flies.

“Thank you,” Jo said announcing her presence, “I… this works.” She threw her arms out beside her palms out, displaying a tattoo on her left forearm. “Much more me for days like this.”

“Where do you need me?” he tucked his notes under his arm. His gaze followed her arm and the flash of color he saw.

“Ah, under the stage.” She pointed below her feet. “The sprinklers may have caused water damage? The hydraulics for the turn table works only when it wants.”

“Temperamental,” he commented with a chuckled grunt. He took control, leading them off stage right to the staircase for the other area. “Have you used the pyrotechnics down there?”

Jo followed closely at his elbow, anticipating questions about the integrity of the areas she showed him. “Not since… not last season.”

“Any of the directors turn in specs for it for the upcoming?”

She shook her head though he didn’t look at her. “Not yet. The designers haven’t either. We still need to find a team for The Flying Dutchman.”

Jo asked Ansgar to look over the box seats and the arrangement of it. The dip of the seats had started scaring some of the older audience members, fearing they’d fall into the orchestra below. The wall between dressing rooms seven and eight had begun to warp. The floor in the rehearsals spaces needed patching and sanding. She toured through with a careful ear listening to his tips and concerns, and possible hidden agendas amongst her crew.

When they were through the laundry list of items, Jo found some relief. She stood at the top of the orchestra, hands gripping the back of a red velvet seat. “I love my work, Herr Martinsson. I haven’t an ounce of talent of my own, but I love this place. I’d love to see it sparkle again. And so would Harold.”

Ansgar stared, his focus narrowing on her. “I’m sorry. Harold?”

“The opera ghost,” she teased. “He’s been with us the entire time.”

He humored her and offered her a good natured laugh, stepping in to stand beside her, looking over the sea of red. He placed his hands on the seat beside her. “Well, Joline… and Harold… I think I can help.”

She looked down and quieted the tiniest of swells of disappointment in her belly when she saw a wedding ring on Ansgar’s left hand. Attractive men were always married; she should know, she’d married one. “We both appreciate it. Harold and me.” She pushed a smile to her lips and brushed his shoulder with hers.

“Well,” he said, “we’ve a duty to our ghosts; to make sure they’re happy with the things they’ve left behind, don’t we?” Ansgar’s speech slowed as he spoke, the impact of his own statement not lost upon him.

His thumb, in an autonomic motion, tucked into his palm, the tip of it rubbing against the underside of the golden band that remained around his finger.

“I’m sure Harold will be supremely happy,” the woman by his side quipped. Ansgar’s lips quirked into a small smile, partly at her praise, partly at the fact that she had missed his passing discomfiture altogether. Or so he’d hoped.

In further hope of distraction, he raised his clipboard, running his finger down the list he’d made. “Well, Froken Lindberg,” he said, “if that is all of the issues, then, I think I ought to get back to the office and get this to my project manager. Get her on contacting the subs and suppliers immediately, get warranty claims made and bond claims if need be.”

“You mean Froken Wiessing?”

“No,” Ansgar shook his head. “But I think… well, Julia and I will have some other things to discuss.”

“Anything I need to worry about?”

Ansgar looked down at her and smiled. “Not anymore. Listen,” he said, “I apologise for all of this happening, I apologise for my company being so unresponsive, it’s… it’s not like us… not like me at all. Quite the opposite.”

“I know,” she shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s all being sorted now, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” he affirmed. “Are you sure?”

“Well,” she grinned up at him. “There is one more thing you can do.”

“Name it,” he challenged.

“Take me to lunch. I’m starving.”

Ansgar laughed. It felt good to laugh again… very good. Truly, honestly good. “Of course,” he bowed his head, smiling. “You name the place. It’s the least I can do.”

Jo discovered Carousel her first week as House Manager. The Mediterranean outdoor café suited her low-key wardrobe and Ansgar’s higher end threads. The grilled rib-eye tasted of heaven on a plate but Jo loved making a meal of the appetizers instead of gorging herself on mains. As she angled into the wooden bench, she wiggled-slid behind the oblong table, “The gazpacho and watermelon should be a sin.”

Ansgar folded himself into the chair at the head of the table, to her left. Grinning at her, he took in the colorful and lively atmosphere. It all seemed so… normal. So ordinary. Comforting normality of his home.

Her voice dropped to a sensual moan. “The sweet and the savory…” She rolled her eyes skyward. The grumble in her stomach wasn’t just hunger but curiosity about her lunch companion and this need to prove herself worthy as House Manager. After months of chasing attention at Martinsson Construction, she now felt consumed by this mad drive to show him that the house and how it ran remained safe in her hands.

“I brought the mockup of our final mailing and advert campaign… the last push to get asses in the seats for the new season.” Ticket sales and revenue secured her position. As it was her first full season as manager, it was final examinations on her worth. “We open in September with The Marriage of Figaro.”

His finger traced along the glossy production photographs of women in wide elaborate frocks and taller wigs. The text read clean and concise, listing titles of the upcoming operas, dates, the box office website, and other means to purchase tickets or sponsor levels. “Impressive,” he nodded.

“Did you get your invitation to the opening night gala? My staff sent them round to all the executives at your company.”

“Uh… no… no. I’ve been away,” he repeated his mantra from earlier. “I’ve not caught up on correspondences. I assume that Britta has added it to my calendar.”

Jo wrinkled her nose, “This is boring to you.”

“Not at all. Your… passion is admirable actually.”

Her wide blue eyes met his and kicked herself for flirting with him. She shouldn’t encourage this. She couldn’t.

But it was one lunch. One lunch couldn’t hurt.

It’s only lunch, Ansgar thought.

But it was true what he’d said, he admired her passion. it seemed to permate every inch of her, seep from her pores. Passion - well, it was extremely attractive. Her passion for her job, her passion for her art - for it was her art, he knew. Even if she wasn’t the Prima Donna, or a visual artist or a composer or even if she wasn’t a musician or a set designer or a lighting designer, it was still her art.

Like his work with steel and glass in structural engineering, he knew her expression of her self came with the craft of engineering logistics.

“Tell me,” he said, stabbing up a forkful of spinach salad, “what’s your talent utilisation style?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him over the rim of her water glass. “My what?”

Ansgar swallowed and nodded. “I mean… your management style. How do you… how do you manage to keep all those….”

“Artistic types in line?” She chuckled. “Sometimes it’s like herding cats… cats who have been rolling in catnip and have eaten an entire bag of Smarties. You just have to know how to use the right toys to fiddle them out and get them to pay nicely together.”

“Oh.” Ansgar laughed. “Sounds a bit like my situation, except sometimes my cats have been chewing on the Valium tablets or tippling at the brandy. Most sluggish, and they simply do not want to come out of their hidey holes.”

She inhaled through her nose. “So I’ve noticed.” She flashed him a closed-mouthed grin followed by a slight cringe at the brazenness of her words.

Which again made Ansgar laugh. “Touche,” he tossed. “Okay, change of subject,” he smirked. “This Gala of yours, this opening night do you’re organising.”

She shrugged. “What of it?”

“Well, I suppose I’d like to know when it is.”

“Why, do you want to go?” Her sudden burst of eagnerness made her grimace. “I mean,” she composed herself. “Do you plan to attend?”

Here goes nothing, Ansgar thought.

“I believe I do,” he said, plainly. “That is, if you will allow me to accompany you for that evening. It’s the very least I can do.”

Jo pushed her spoon through what was left of her gazpacho, watching the bits swirling round the bottom of the bowl. She smirked, her head bounced slightly on the sound of humor. “When I stormed your castle this morning…” She chanced her gaze back up, “I… well, uh… I didn’t think…” she spread her hands wide and circled around the half eaten dishes they’d consumed, “this would happen.”

Ansgar laughed with her, matching her mirth. The exaggerated and animated gesture unexpected but none the less amusing. He dipped his head in an almost bow. “Admittedly, this wasn’t my agenda for the day.”

She pointed upwards and nodded, dropping the last of her pride, and then shrugged, “It was the least I could do.”

The imitation of him was spot on and he gave into a good-natured chuckle at his own expense. He’d extended that precise statement to her more than once, to assuage his guilt, to be the attentive and present CEO that he should’ve been, to be the man he believed himself to be. “Fair play, fair play.”

As their laughter faded, Jo addressed the elephant that sat between them, pink and plump and ripe for a tickle. She chose her words carefully, mincing them so as not to wound or offend. “I don’t want your obligation.”

Then she waited, stealing another glance at the ring on his left hand, curled around a pint.

Don’t entertain it, Jo. Not for a breath, not for an afternoon, not for a thought or some scorching hot sexual fantasy. Your mother had a sense of humor, naming you after Dolly Parton’s other woman, but don’t be that woman, Jo.

You’re not that woman.

Clearing her throat, she covered her pause and stray thought. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I do actually want your obligation.”

This was met with a furrow of his brow and his fingers brushed the sexier than sin stubble at his chin.

“My professional self would feel satisfied… I’d get off—I’d celebrate it!”

Pull it together… Jesus, Jo!

“As CEO of the company that built my building,” she carefully spoke without a trace of arrogance, “I absolutely want your obligation. But me? Jo, me?” To illustrate her point, she splayed her hand over her heart, inadvertently accentuating her breasts. “She… she doesn’t want your obligation.”

Ansgar lowered his pint from his lips, his movement slow and controlled. He seemed to consider her words as if each one were a bead of condensation that hung on the glass. “I think you’ve misunderstood me…” That was the moment he struggled with a way to address her.

“I understand it. Your company and your name are in jeopardy, but I’m not looking for that kind of publicity. I won’t say anything to the press. As long as the work in the theatre is fixed by opening,” she waved her finger between them, “we’re sorted. Hell, make it a restoration special, to the press if you want… your good deed for the community, for Stockholm. We’re square.”

Ansgar couldn’t help but smile at her take on his invitation. A diplomatic and thoughtful, perhaps even pragmatic solution to the complication that brought this woman trampling down the door to his office. If he read her correctly, he’s piqued her interest, if the lack of drink thrown in his face were a sign. She remained his lunch companion, another indication that he hadn’t piqued her anger. He couldn’t use work obligations to spend an evening with her.

Using a different tactic, he began, as his grin intensified, “Well, as long as we’re square—“

Before he could say anymore, she cut him off, “Hey! I got an obligatory lunch for my efforts.” She grinned over a piece of seasoned bread she shoved into her mouth. “That was the least you could do. My gala,” she shook her head, her speech muffled by bread, “would go above ‘the least.’”

[solerwolf21]

Soul Eater OC’s Jay & Xion

This is just some OC’s I made. I really just wanted to make powerful characters since I rarely do and focus on them growing as people. But I don’t think I’ll make this into any sorta story but I might write some events that happen to them and post em. I don’t really know yet but hope you enjoy the read never the less.

To be said least, a quiet and normal life was something most people dreamed of living. To have a nice little home of their own, maybe a family and some good friends. Simple living. Well, at least most people but in a world where people can turn into weapons, witches and monsters roam freely it was sometimes hard to have that simple life. At least for those that wanted it.  

A small pub easily missable to most and should be highly avoided by tucked itself neatly within the borders of the Aokigahara forest in Japan. And within its confides, vile men and women alike filled it's seats all wearing devilish smiles and faces as they enjoyed the latest haul of their efforts. Fresh and untainted souls. A man plucked out one of the blue spheres his fanged teeth gleaming as saliva dripped down his chin,

           “Nothing beats a fresh soul. I can almost hear their screams from earlier.” he said proudly to himself as he devoured his meal. He wasn’t the only one who was enjoying their fill as the other patrons were dining similarly. The dense forest around them was perfect harvesting souls from those who ventured to close or to make people disappear. Plus with who else was lying within the forest they were more than set in this place. No one would ever find them or try to stop them. So when the door to the place opened abruptly it drew the attention of everyone.

They watched as two people entered the building one taller than the other. The obvious male of the two wore a long overcoat and its black design was interrupted by the large white 'X' design on its back that cascaded to the front. But with it being open it showed his grey shirt that had a large number '4' that could be seen peeking from the side and finished with a longer shirttail than normal. His jeans fit his form though the pockets bulged along the legs and more of those white 'X's showed on them all the way down to his grey boots. His face wasn't visible since it was being covered by his hood but the silver of his necklace was noticeable as it hung from his neck with a small crown on the end.

           Next to him standing just to his shoulder was a female figure also shrouded by her hood. Her jacket was a similar black as his and even had the same white 'X' that stretched from the back to the zipped up front. The jacket was a bit bigger than her form causing it to double as a dress as it trailed all the way under her waist. Leggings covered the rest of her lower half with their grey design. On her feet were a simple pair of sneakers that had their tongues popping out for flair. Her funnel hood blocked any look at her face.  

           The bar was silent as the residents all just stared at the two newcomers, both amazed and confused. Without a word did the two walk up to the counter and take seats on the stools. The barkeep eyed them warily as he approached them,

"Is there something I could help you with?" he questioned. At first, the male said nothing but the barkeep being the closest he could see his brown eyes as they analyzed him and it sent a slight chill down him but he didn't know why,

"Yeah I guess you could.' a teenage voice spoke out, "We were out this way and was just looking for some directions actually. We saw this place and figured what better place to get some." he replied. At hearing that everyone else seemed to relax, some of them even chuckling. Well besides the barkeep who's concern was only growing the longer these two were here. A bigger man got up from his booth. With a toothy and sinister smile on his face, he walked up to him and placed a heavy hand on the teenager's shoulder,

"You want directions? You came to the right place then. We'd be more than happy to help both of you out." he answered as he was eyeing both of them. The teen made no movement from the sudden hand on him but the girl seemed to almost flinch out of reflex. The bigger and obviously drunk man didn't notice but the barkeep sure did and he began to back up ever so slowly. The man's grip grew a bit tighter as he got closer to him,

"We got some maps that the two of you could use. If you just-" a quick and solid backhanded strike from the teen set the man toppling into the table and chairs behind them. The sudden strike made the room go silent once again as all eyes were glued onto the teen. Nonchalantly did he stand up and turn to the others,

           "All of you have fallen so far that you've become kishin. If that wasn't pathetic enough you hang around a witch to try and thwart off any misters that try and get close. I will admit it, that you were clever enough to snatch people from multiple surrounding areas to keep the academy off your trail. That was pretty smart." The rest of the patrons all got up glaring at the teen murderous intent obviously, but he stood unphased. Sighing, he pulled down his hood to show his brown skin and short black hair. Then he held his hand out and the girl placed her hand in it delicately,

"So let Xion and I take care of your twisted ways. And those twisted souls." they watched as the girl turned to light. Then in his hand, the light bent and formed into the shape of a large sword that he gave one swing before he planted it into the ground. As the form settled in the light faded they gawked at the blade before them. The sword itself was rather thick and looked heavy but the crisp black of the steel gave it a haunting drawing effect that mixed with the white etched into it would make you wonder. But what made it all the more deadly was that from the base and running up half the blade were the teeth of a chain saw. With a twist of the handle did the chains rev up sending a shiver down their spines. With smirk did the teen look to them all  with the eyes of a hunter,

"Time to reap." A few minutes later the teen sat on a table sword slung on his shoulder and a bored look on his face as he glanced around at the wrecked pub and several red kishin souls floating around him. He sighed as he flexed his shoulders getting out any last tightness,

“That couldn’t even have been considered a warmup.” he groaned,

"Yeah we did kind of destroy them." a feminine voice spoke. The weapon lit up again and it bounced out of his hand to the ground as it formed back into the girl from earlier. Her hood was down this time showing her fairer skin and her black hair that fell down to her upper back. Her dark eyes gleamed at the teen,

"But at least we got all their souls. Let's divide them up Jay!" she said as she went to go collect them. Jay smiled gently and shook his head,

"Just King will do and I thought you were done with this whole sharing souls thing. You're definitely not afraid to eat them even. Hell, you've even got a few witches souls in ya." he responded. A ting of pink popped up on her cheeks at the mention as she gave him a slight glare,

"I-I have but we've done this for so long it'd feel weird if we didn't. Besides you've consumed just as many souls as I have with no after-effects! I swear I think you were a weapon in a past life." she responded as she continued to gather them. That fact was still something he wondered about. He was able to consume souls and he would always be fine afterward. He even felt stronger with each kishin soul he consumed. And it was a major boost if it were a witches soul,

“But speaking of witches. We still need a direction to find ours don’t we?” he asked standing up. Xion thought on it briefly,

“We still do don’t we?” He nodded as he walked towards the bar,

"Yeah, and I think someone here could help us." in a flash did he yank up the barkeep who had been hiding. King smiled darkly at the sweating man, "You'll going to help us find her aren't ya?" he asked. The barkeep nodded quickly,

"Yes, yes I will just don't kill me!" he cried. Satisfied King eased up on the man,

"Good now out with it so we can be on our way." he demanded as he let the man go. Now free the barkeep did his best to straighten up his appearance,

"Right. The witch. She stays just north of here in the deeper part of the forest. It's at the location of were those suicide cases have happened over the years. You'll know because the energy that the place gives off is horrible. It'll drive you mad." he answered. King looked to Xion who had the souls and just shrugged. He then turned back to the keep,

“Are you saying that she’s been the cause of some of the suicides?” he asked. The barkeep nodded pitifully,

“Yes with how much negative energy she gives off most normal people can’t handle it. And the rumors and stories added on to it her powers have only grown. She’s practically untouchable in this place.” he admitted. King pondered on this for a moment,

"Hmm either way she needs to be taken down one way or another. Suicidal energy or not her soul will be ours tonight. Xion you ready to head out?" his attention went back to his partner and she had been quietly dinning into her share of the souls with a satisfied smile on her face. When she finally finished she patted her stomach and a cute little burp escaped her causing her blush slightly then giggled completely in her own world,

"Thanks for the meal." she quietly said to herself. The moment she was done she was met with Kings flat stare,

“W-What?” she stammered. He rolled his eyes as he moved over to her,

"I asked if you were ready to head out but now I see that you are." he replied. Xion chuckled bashfully,

"Uh yeah, I am. But you still need to eat your share. I know you're probably hungry." she answered back. He was about to reply but a quiet rumble came from his stomach. It easily silenced any argument he might have put up. Sighing he sat down across from her as she slid his share. Without wasting a moment he picked up one and bit down onto much like you would an apple. And unsurprisingly they had little to no taste but the way it felt going down was more than enough to satisfy. As he sat there and ate his fill the barkeep watched him with wide eyes,

'He really does eat souls? But he's a mister? They shouldn't be able to consume them.' it was in this moment he took in the appearance of the two coming to haunting realization. And the moment he did his fear of them grew,

"Y-Your that young witch hunter aren't you?" Both King and Xion looked over to him, "Yeah it's you! A white 'X' on your coat and silver chain with a crown at the end and your weapon is a greatsword with a revving chain. It's definitely you." he exclaimed. King looked back to Xion and again she gave a shrug,

"Yeah, I am a pal. Which is why I'm here to kill that witch now if you don't mind I kinda eating here." he replied and went back to his meal. As Xion watched him eat with a smile did the barkeep pass out from who it was that was in his bar.

 ***

It was dark out not in the dense forest but the moon's light was keeping a bit of the world a glow. But a flashlight does help as well, for King and Xion trudged through the forest heading to their target. It was early night when they left the bar and it was well into it by how long they've walked. But with each step, King felt they were getting closer. Stepping over another log he shined his light around again to try and keep track of what they've passed. A second light behind him came up next as Xion kept pace while taking in the wilderness. The chirping bugs and the lively animals made her wonder how such a place could have such a horrible rumor over it,

"Hey, Jay why do you think this place has such an intense title as the 'Suicidal Forest' anyway? And I mean besides the witch being here." she asked. King moved over a leaf as he continued,

"I told you to call me King and second I don't know. When people come here to end things constantly then it'll grow a name like that. This place is so big and dense I can see why someone would see it as a place to end it. Besides I'm sure this witch has a bigger hand in those suicides than we think." he replied. Xion nodded as she kept on looking,

"Yeah, you're probably right. Also, why do you still refuse to go by your real name and by that nickname? I think your real name is far cuter." she said a bit giddy,

“Because of what we do. We hunt witches and all they know about me is some vague description and my name, King. If they all knew my full name was Jay Walker then it'd be a lot easier for them to find us.” he responded. She nodded again knowing he was right,

“But still even when it’s just the two of us you still want to go by King.” she whined. King smirked and shook his head,

"It's just a precaution in case anyone is listening. Who knows maybe someday I'll go by my real name. But until then it's King." he joked. Xion gave the cutest pout but he wasn't looking back to notice. They fell back into silence as they pressed on. They seemed to grow around them as they got deeper and deeper into the forest and with the progression did the air seem to change around them. Xion felt a slight chill course through her that wasn't there before. If that wasn't unsettling enough she no longer heard the sounds of nature anymore. The only sounds being their footsteps as they pressed on,

“Hey King do you think we're in the area?” she asked. She didn’t get a response besides King stopping in front of her suddenly. She almost ran into him,

"Why did you stop?" she fumed at him. When she got no response she looked to see he was staring intensely at something. Following his line a sight, her stomach dropped at the site. A noose was hanging from a tree in front of them. He said nothing as he eyed the rope able to see dark stains on it,

“Yeah I think we're getting close.” he responded evenly as he walked away from the tree. Xion gave the noose one last look and quickly followed behind him.

From that point forward the forest felt completely different. Even if you weren't a meister or weapon then you'd feel the force of it pushing down onto you. It felt like it was trying to drag down your thoughts and mindset and was gradually choking out your will. Your will to live. And as they continued it was getting worse with each step and they both could understand how this place had so many deaths attached to it. But this only fueled their desire to take down the witch that's been inhabiting this place. As the two continued on then noticed a large opening ahead of them with the moon's light shining. They turned off their lights as they made it to the clearing. They both gazed up to see that smiling moon looking down on them,

“On a different night that’d moon get a chuckle out of me.” Xion said absentmindedly. King didn’t respond as he was scanning the area. And even though he couldn’t see out into the darkness he could feel the presence of someone or something sinister,

“Xion get ready. We’re not alone.”  she tensed up at that and she began to look around them as well. Everything was silent as the two sat and waited. And then out of darkness taking slow and methodical steps did the witch finally show herself,

“Xion!” with a nod did she turn into her weapon form. Landing into his hand did King rest her on his shoulder ready,

"So you must be the witch of this forest?" he questioned. The woman before him wore a simple black partly shredded dress and no shoes. Her brown hair went down in cascades and while he knew that some looked as they would from shows this one, in particular, looked rather young no older than her older thirties he guessed and was rather attractive. Her crimson eyes easily bore down onto him as she seemed to look through him. It was definitely nerve-wracking. A gentle smile graced her lips as she stopped at the edge of the clearing,

“Now... now there’s no need to call me such a name, little meister. I’m sure there are many other things you can call me.” She cooed to him. He didn’t react to the attempt on him and was eyeing her wearily,

"No, I think I'll stick to witch thank you. Tell me are you the one who's been using this forest to draw in people to their deaths?" he questioned. The laugh that rang out from her seemed to echo all throughout the area around. As if the forest itself was laughing with her,

"I'll admit the negative energy this forest gives off because of those stories does benefit me greatly. It draws in those foolish enough to try and find remains of those who have passed and give me more than enough souls to do with as I please. Even toying with a few of them makes it sweeter when I get my prize. As you can see it's done well on my complexion. I make 200 look good." she said as she flaunted her features. Xion gasped,

"See's 200 years old?" she exclaimed as her reflection could be seen in the blade,

"Well if she's using human souls then yeah." he replied as his grip grew just a bit tighter on the handle,

‘Age aside why can't it see it yet? Is she keeping it hidden from me?’ he pondered. The witch looked to him with hunger behind her eyes,

“I hope you both won’t mind if I take both of your souls as well? Claiming the life of the witch hunter would definitely raise my ranking in the council. And put me one step closer to taking what is mine.” King smirked,

“Let me guess you want to become the queen don’t you?” the witch smiled devilishly at that,

"Oh yes, I would. I'd finally have the position I deserve and be able to rule over those other fools. Epically that arrogant snake." King felt Xion's soul vibrate from that last line,

“Easy. We’ll deal with her later. For now-’ he swung the blade so it was pointed to her, “Witch of the forest. We're going to take your soul!” he declared. She smirked at that as he felt her magic rise,

"You're more than welcome to-" she paused as she gave him a sideways glance, "Witch of the Forest? Do-do you not know my name?" she questioned. Everything still as King stood there just staring ahead blankly as a small bead of sweat trailed down his face. Xion sighed from within the blade,

           “I told you we should’ve done more research on her before jumping in.” she complained. King chuckled embarrassed,

           “Well you know how I can get when it comes to slaying witches.” he replied. The witch just stared blankly at him for a long few moments she ticked with rage,

           “My name is Silva! The witch ‘Silva’ is the one whos going to kill you two!” she screamed as she threw her arms forwards. King felt her magic puls through the ground as he jumped up before vines popped up from the ground,

'So she controls the forest around her.' he thought as he slashed away at the nearing vines. Silva held her hand open as a ball of magic formed. She waited until he neared the ground before she launched the attack at high speeds. He saw it coming and instead of blocking with Xion King jumped over and forward to close the gap on her. Revving up the blade he was prepared to slice into her but a set of vines shot up to protect her. He gritted his teeth as he tried to grind through the thin vines but it felt like he was trying to cut through steel. With a flick of her hand did the vine slap him away, but as he was pushed back did they shot out from the ground and wrap around his ankle. Then with ease did it repeatedly slam him into the ground before launching him into a tree knocking the wind out of him. When he hit the ground King grimaced as he got to one knee using Xion as support,

           “Damn she’s tough. But why can’t I see her damn soul yet?” he complained. Xion's reflection looked worriedly at him,

           “Are you ok?” she asked. With a huff did he get back to his feet breathing a bit heavier,

"Yeah, I'll be good. But I think we might need to turn up the heat to cut through those vines of hers. I get the feeling she's just playing around with us." he replied as he glared at Silva's who's smug face was looking back at him. Xion nodded as she looked to the witch,

"Do you want me to go into my other form?" she asked. King shook his head,

           “Nah don’t want to burn down the forest. Heating up your blade should work fine. Now let's get serious.” he plunged Xion into the ground as he began to rev her up again. Then with a smirk did he speak a simple few words,

"Soul-protect off." and with that did Silva see his true souls power and she though she didn't show it she was rather impressed,

           “For a child to not only know how to do soul protection but to be hiding such a powerful soul to boot, you really are the witch hunter. But that is a witches technique. Tell me how did you learn to use spells like us?” she questioned. King only smirked as Xion's blade began to heat up,

"Sorry can't let my few secrets out now can I?" he taunted. She merely shrugged,

"It doesn't matter. I'll find out after I take your soul." with a snap of her fingers did a cage of vines enclose around King. Yet he stood confident as she pulled Xion out of the ground. Just as the vines were about to close in on him with a circular swing of the blade did he burn and cut through them with ease. His taunting expression didn't leave as he placed Xion onto his shoulder,

           “You were saying?” But he got no response as Silva was hunched over in pain. Both of them looked at her confused,

"Why is she in pain? We didn't even touch her?" Xion questioned. King wanted to say he knew but he was just as confused as her,

'Why did it harm her? It's not like her souls attached to-' he paused as his eyes widened. He looked to the night sky and it was then he finally noticed it. It was a little hard to tell at first but now that he was focusing he could make out the purple lining of a soul. And this one stretched across far beyond what he can see. It gave him a shiver as he finally realized,

"Her soul it encompasses this entire section of the forest." he finally responded. Xion looked shocked,

"This entire section of forest? No wonder those guys from earlier said she's practically untouchable." she commented. Silva breathed in to ease herself as she gave them both a death glare,

           “You two are more of a pest than I thought. I guess playing with you is over!” as she shouted they felt the forest react to that given by the literal air vibrating. Not soon after did they hear a loud creaking noise,

"King above you!" Xion's shout drew his attention to behind him were a tree was swinging down its branch to attack him. He dipped out the way of the attack but another tree came to swing down on him forcing him to jump up to dodge. But as he hit the air he got bombarded by small sharp leaves that cut into King. But he slashed Xion's heated blade again to burn them away. The act caused slight pain to Silva again but she wasn't letting up her assault as she rose her hand up at him. The vines shot up at him again as he landed and he wasn't quick enough to cut them so he tried to jump back. But a swinging tree branch hit him from behind sending him back down. Yet the moment he did the vines wrapped around him arms and legs dragging and pinning him to ground. He tried to get out of their grip but it was too tight for him to move as they were pulling him down.

Silva licked her lips in satisfaction and she raised her hand again to form a fist. Behind her, the forest shifted to form a giant fist made out of rocks and dirt while being held together with vines. King watched as the fist raised high behind her and then in one motion did it come crashing down on top of him. She left the rocks full weight on him for a few moments before lifting it up and suspending him up by the vines. She giggled as his body lay limp before her,

           “My, my all that bark but no bite. I wonder how some of my sisters had trouble defeating you.” she placed her hand under his chin to move his face for her to see. His eyes were closed and he had blood trailing from the side of his mouth. She only giggled more,

"You are cute when you aren't sprouting nonsense. Now before I finish you off how about I take that weapon from you first." she went to go and retrieve it but when she saw his grip on it was as tight as ever she looked confused,

"You really shouldn't underestimate me." her eyes widened as she looked back to see him slowly raising his head with a confident smirk. With a swing of Xion did he force Silva back in panic as she narrowly avoided the heated blade. When she moved back the vines loosened and he quickly freed himself. Once free King took a moment to ease as he felt the surge of healing,

           “I thought you were dead for a second back there.” Xion said through the blade. He smirked and rolled his neck,

           “Now you know it takes more than that to take me down. Especially if you're with me.” replied. She blushed a bit from his words but nodded,

"Yeah, we are a team after all."  

           “Damn right. And as a team how about we finish this fight? She’s becoming annoying.” he replied and gripped the blade with both hands. Xion looked on with determination,

           “Yeah let's!” Silva watched in disbelief as their souls were being to resonate with the other,

           “No there going to-”

"LET'S GO! SOUL RESONANCE!" King and Xion shouted in unison as they felt the sparking of their souls resonating until they combined. With a unified scream did Xion's blade glow red as the rest of it opened up to show the rest of the teeth of the chain. Then in one rev, it ignited with its clashing teeth and the red glow grew as it extended the length of the blade. Even though Silva was a bit away from them she could feel the hate resonating from the weapon and a sweat droplet rolled down her face. King placed Xion's empowered blade onto his shoulder as he gave Silva a cocky smile. That ticked her off,

"Don't get cocky with me you brat!" she shouted as she sent a barrage of vines towards him. He smirked and gripped Xion with both hands. He held her to the side, the teeth pointed outwards and with a smile, he charged straight at the witch. The vines came at him as fast as before but from his resonance with Xion, he was more than able to keep up with the speed. He dodged the first set that came in for him and sliced the next set with ease. Silva felt the pain and tried to send in the trees to stop him. But even with their massive swings did he dodge them. He was just a last sprint away and once he saw his range he moved in for the kill. With one final swing did he tore through whatever defenses she threw up with ablaze. And with her defenses being burned before her she was left open as he cut clean through her. With an anguished last scream did she dissipate until she compacted into a pulsing red soul.  

           The moment she died the forest around them seemed to settle back to what it used to be. Well at least it didn’t feel as dense with that despair as before and even the animals seemed to come back. King eased as Xion went out of her weapon form to stand next to him. She smiled at him as she patted his back,

"Great job as usual partner!" she exclaimed. He smirked and nodded,

           “Right back at ya partner. Though I might have slacked off a bit back there.” he replied. She shook her head,

"I think you did fine. Now on to the soul! Who's it this time?" she asked as she went to retrieve it. King wiped the blood from his mouth before shrugging,

           “I think it’s all yours this time.” Xion held the witches soul in her hands and she felt her mouth water,

           “A-Are you sure you don’t want this one?” she politely asked. He chuckled as he walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder,

"I'm sure. Besides I doubt you could hold back and longer so it's all yours." no sooner as she got the confirmation did she dig into the soul with gusto. He was surprised to see it was gone in mere moments as she ended her feast with a satisfied sigh,

           “Thanks for the meal.” she silently prayed. Done she looked to him with a smile, “I’m all set! So where to next?” she asked. King motioned for her to him and the two began to make their way back out the forest,

"Well, I've been thinking for a while. I think it's finally time I take you up on your request." he said. It took her a moment to think about what he meant but then her eyes lit up with excitement,

           “You mean to enroll at the DWMA! But I thought you didn’t think we'd need to go there since we’ve done fine on our own?” she asked. He sighed,

"Yeah your right I do still think that but going there could have some benefits for us. One being able to do research for witches to hit would be quicker and second I think you'd benefit from going to the place and learning more. It's never a bad thing to learn more on kishin." He responded. Xion giggled,

           “I think you mean for both of us to learn more about them. But I think your right. Being at a school-based around hunting witches would make our hunts faster. But I think it'll be a good place for us to finally have a home base. Being on the road constantly is kinda draining." she admitted,

"Yeah, I agree with you there. Having a stable and constant home would be beneficial plus Death City is as secure a place for meisters as any. Plus it's full of meisters and weapons." Xion beamed at the thought of getting to meet other weapons and meisters. It made her giddy,

"Oh, I can't wait to meet so many different students attending there! Well, we'll be students as well when we attend. Do you know how we'll be able to enroll?" she asked. King shrugged,

"I'm sure I can figure something out. Probably talk to Death himself and get something worked out." he responded. That only made Xion more hyped for the future,

           “Alright! Let's head straight there Jay!” she exclaimed. He chuckled at her excitement,

“It’s King and sadly we got another place to head to before that.” she pouted at hearing that,

“What? Where do we have to go first?” she asked,

“Venice. I heard some rumors a while back about some demon sword thing. I want to see if it’s true or not and if it needs to be dealt with.” he responded. Xion sighed but nodded,

"Yeah, that does sound more important. Alright then lets head to Venice immediately! We got no time to waste." she replied excitedly as she picked up her pace. King chuckled again as he picked his pace to keep up and leave this forest behind them.

[elizabethemerald]

Video Date for Toby, Claire and Jim

Long distance relationships can be hard, but there’s nothing cuter than a video date with your two boyfriends! Especially after a long week of hiking in the wilderness with a bunch of trolls!

The motel smelled a little musty, like it hadn't been cleaned properly in to long, but compared to the caves, mines and old barns they had been staying in for the past week it was heaven. Not to mention the complete lack of troll smell.

Claire had showered as soon as she got the keys to room. She only barely remembered to open the back window so Jim could climb in. If the hotel manager wondered why a 16 year old was renting a room for just the day he didn't mention it after her credit card cleared.

When she was finished washing a week's worth of grime off she emerged in a towel. She was unsurprised to see Jim lounging on the bed in a loose sweat suit. They smiled at each other for just a second, before she nodded towards the bathroom.

"Showers all yours!"

"Yes!" Jim hopped off the bed and bounded into the bathroom. She smiled at the door for a second. Jim had always been clean for a boy and his transformation seemed to increased that. He would bathe in every stream and trickle they came across on their journey.

Finally she pulled her thoughts away from her boyfriend and focused on the room. First she let her mind expand as she magically checked the room. Nothing in the room alerted her senses. It was clear, no spying devices, magical or mundane. She mentally reprimanded herself, she needed to remember to check for cameras before Jim entered the room.

It was Ms. Nomura who had found the first camera. The cheap motels they stayed at on occasion unfortunately had some sleazy clientele. Nomura was well experienced with that sort of sleaze and taught them what to look out for. Fortunately that first camera had been recording, not broadcasting. Since then Claire had started checking every room they stayed in.

Once she sure that she could do magic unobserved she let some small waves of purple fire flow from her fingertips. The fire filled the room, but wasn't powerful enough to burn the furnishings. It did kill any mites or bugs or germs that might be in the mattress. Jim said he didn't really notice the bugs with his stone skin but Claire definitely did.

Once she was done and the waves of purple fire retreated back to her hands the room actually smelled clean. She smiled and felt comfortable enough to get dressed into her pajamas. She stretched for a second then got back to work.

She tightly closed the heavy curtains. Day was breaking outside and she didn't want Jim to be hurt by a stray sunbeam. Next she got out her laptop and plugged it in. She turned it on even though she knew Toby wouldn't be awake for a little while yet.

Once that was done she set to cleaning and repairing her equipment. Jim had armor that was formed of Daylight, completely clean each time he summoned it. Claire wasn't so lucky. She didn't hike in her full armor any more, yet every piece seemed to be covered in muck. Plus she had her regular camping gear to maintain. Thank God her father had been so prepared when he had helped her pack.

Some things she cleaned and repaired with her magic. Some things needed elbow grease to be cleaned or a more fine touch to repair. She laughed quietly to herself while she worked. She was learning a whole host of skills she hadn't expected to. Claire took her time finishing her tasks. Jim could be in the shower for hours if he wanted. As long as the hot water lasted he would stay in.

Claire had just finished the last of her work and settled on the bed with the computer on her lap when Jim finally emerged from the bathroom. A massive cloud of steam poured into the room as he opened the door. She bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling as he stood there running a hand through his mane. He was wearing just a pair of loose fitting sweats that sagged down his hips. She knew she was blushing like mad. Jim looked like a statue of an old greek hero, the water running in rivulets down his abs, his horns shining in the dim light of the motel room.

Before she could say anything Jim ended the moment by shaking himself like a dog. She shrieked and covered her laptop as water sprayed everywhere.

“Jim!” She cried. “Do you have any idea how hard it would be for me to get another laptop out here on the road?”

He looked guilty for a short moment then smiled apologetically. “My hair is so thick it never dries if I don’t get the water out.”

She sighed at his little puppy dog look, he was still cute, even as a half troll. “Come here. And careful with your horns!”

Jim grabbed his pillow from his bag and carefully laid down on the bed next to her. She had reinforced the pillow with her magic so he would stop tearing them with his horns. Once he was comfortable she ran her hand over his chest. More purple flames poured from her hand. Again it wasn’t hot enough to burn him, or even feel uncomfortable but it was enough to quickly dry his hair. It looked almost comically poofy now.

“Why don’t you do that with your hair?” He gestured to the wet patch on her pillow.

“Are you kidding me? My hair would be impossibly frizzy if I tried that.” She smiled and ran her hands through his hair. It was much thicker now after his transformation. Sometimes he was self conscious about his hair, but this was one change she didn’t mind. He had a soft rumble in his chest as she continued combing his hair with her fingers.

“Any word from Toby yet?” He asked.

“Not yet but it’s Saturday and only eight back in Arcadia. He might be sleeping in.”

While they waited Claire logged into her bank account. The credit card she had used had actually been Blinky’s idea. Who could have guessed that traveling across the entire country on foot would have been expensive? The card had been a hassle to set up and get but it was completely worth the effort. Her parents had the login info and so did Jim’s mom, and Toby’s Nana, and Mr. Strickler and a few of the other teachers from their high school. Any of them could pay off the balance so the burden didn’t fall on any one person. Then she could buy clothes, or food or this hotel room without having to worry.

The only remaining balance was the hotel room. Someone had paid the balance from the previous week already. She was so thankful Blinky had thought to do this.

Suddenly an icon flashed on the desktop. Jim sat up straight when he saw it. Claire quickly closed out of everything else, then answered the call. After a few seconds of struggle Toby’s smiling face appeared. Claire and Jim crowded together to make sure they were both on camera.

"How's the picture coming through?" Toby asked. "That new kid, Krel, one of the weirdo geniuses, gave me this thing that helps boost the signal."

"You're coming through perfectly Tobes!" Jim said. Claire was using a touch of her magic to boost the signal on their end and whatever Toby was using on his was working as well.

"TP, you look tired! Are you getting enough sleep?" Claire asked him.

"Oh you two know what trollhunting is like. Never a moment's rest." He said waving away their concern. "What about you two? Claire is that a new cut on your cheek? And Jim there's one on your chest as well!"

Jim growled, a terrifying sound in the confined space. It must have sounded awful to Toby considering the way he recoiled from his computer. Claire's hand rose unconsciously to her cheek. It was little more than a cut now. She doubted it would scar, her magic healing was pretty amazing.

Jim's would scar though. His body was so strange. It didn't respond to Claire's healing magic and the molten metal the trolls used for their wounds often seemed to make things worse. Fortunately while he wore his armor his body healed on his own but he still bore scars. Some going as far back to when he first faced Bular.

"If the wizard would only listen to me!" Claire flinched as he spoke. His claws unsheathed and his fangs were bared. Across the room the amulet glowed, its gears whirring to life. She quickly put a hand on his arm.

"Babe we talked about this! We just want a relaxing date with our boyfriend, remember?" He took some deep breathes through his nose his eyes clamped shut. Claire turned back to the screen. "I'll call you later Toby and explain, but can we make this be a fun date just the three of us?"

"Of-of course!" He stuttered out, then immediately fell silent. Claire struggled for something to say as well. Jim was still focusing on reigning in his anger.

"Where's Darci? I thought she said she wanted to join in on these calls now." She finally said.

"She's on a date with Mary and Shannon. You two might not know this but Mary came out as a lesbian! Apparently all the guys she said she was seeing were to trick her parents."

"Oh good for them!" Claire noticed that Jim's ears flicked as he listened to them talk. His breathing was returning to normal. But the amulet was still flashing across the room. "That sounds so fun. I'll have to call Mary later and get all the details!"

"Yeah I don't even know all the details. Those two have been hanging out with Eli, Steve and those two new kids. Playing some kind of nerd game."

"Toby you are a nerd. Also at some point you can't keep calling them the new kids!"

"Listen Eli told me about the game, it's way more nerdy than even I can stand. And they will be the new kids until any newer kids come along."

Jim had finally relaxed enough for the amulet to quiet. Now he was following the conversation with interest.

"So Darci is on a date with Mary," he said. "Mary is dating Shannon. What about you, Tobes?" Toby only looked confused so Jim clarified. "Have you gone on any other dates with anyone else?"

Toby's bafflement only grew. "Why would I be going on any dates with anyone else? I go out with Darci as often as I can and I have these video dates with you two. Who else would I go on dates with?"

"Well there's always Eli?" Claire suggested.

"Or you could find out if Steve is bi? Or maybe Krel? Or some of the girls in class?" Jim said.  

Toby just laughed at that. "Why would I want to date them? I'm already dating everyone I've ever loved!"

"That's so sweet Tobes!" Jim smiled warmly at the camera. Claire could see Toby was blushing a little.

"What about you two?" He asked. "Any, uh, cute trolls?"

Claire slapped her hand on the camera while she gagged and retched dramatically.

"Age difference Toby! All of the trolls are centuries older than we are. Gross!"

“What about Ms. Nomura?” Toby wheezed in between laughs. “You said she was good looking,  right Jim?”

Jim laughed at that. “One she’s just as old as the other trolls, and Two I’m pretty sure she would stab me for even thinking about it!”

“Besides she’s definitely gay.” Claire said dismissively.

“Didn’t her and Draal have a thing?” Toby asked.

“I haven’t asked her and value my life too much to ever try. But if you had heard the way she talks about Barbara you’d know she was gay.”

“Wait, what?!” Jim shouted. “Why does every changeling who tried to kill me want to date my mom?”

“I don’t think date is quite what she had in mind.” Claire knew she had a slight blush. The pink changeling had been explicit in her thoughts about Jim’s mom. Jim clamped his hands over his long ears.

“No details no details!” He shouted. Toby was laughing so hard he was almost rolling off his bed. He kept slipping out of frame as he laughed. Claire couldn’t help but laugh as well. Even though she wasn’t saying anything Jim was humming loudly to himself with his hands still over his ears. Her smile turned fond as she stared at him. Here he was, shirtless, hair poofing out, covering his ears and singing off key. He was so handsome.

“Are you two done talking about my mom’s love life?” Jim asked, finally taking his hands off his ears. Claire was about to keep ribbing him, but Toby interrupted.

“Oh we are done messing with you Jim!” Then he gave a wicked smile. “It’s Claire’s turn!”

“Go ahead and take your best shot!” She said, her voice ringing with confidence. “Neither of you have anything on me!”

Jim seemed to agree with her if his face was any indication. He looked like he was trying to think of anything to sass her with. To her surprise Toby looked as confident as she felt. His smile widened at her look.

“Is that so Fair Clare?” He steepled his fingers like he was super villain in a movie. Claire felt her smile slip a little. “Jim my love? Would you mind flexing for me?”

Jim seemed confused but didn’t have any problems with showing off. Claire tried not to look, but her eyes betrayed her. Her blush crept higher up her cheeks. Toby started talking like a narrator.

“Is it his muscles that so attract the young lady’s eyes to her beloved’s form? Or is it his stone skin? His mighty horns and long claws? His eyes that glow or his fangs that rend?”

Claire knew she was blushing scarlet. Jim saw and realized what Toby was saying. He stopped posing for a second. Then ran his hands through his mane, allowing his talons to come unsheathed as he did so. He leaned close to her, she felt the air move as he took in her scent, saw his eyes start to glow. She shivered as he nuzzled her neck, one of his tusks caressing her skin. She felt a spark of her magic jump between her and Jim. A spark that Jim felt and Toby saw.

Claire shrieked and covered her face with her hands before pulling her head mostly into her shirt. “You two are awful I can’t believe you!”

“Maybe I should ask Merlin for a troll form of my own!” Toby said. “I could get a big set of curly horns. Even bigger than Jim’s horns. And I could have orange eyes that glow!”

Jim took over the narrative. “Oh Toby once you have a troll form you and I can spar!” He leaned over to Claire as she kept hiding her face. “Could you imagine the two of us wrestling? We wouldn’t want to ruin our clothes so we could wrestle in just some sweatpants. Our muscles straining against each other.”

A static charge built up in the room making her hair stand on end. Claire pulled her face out of her shirt enough to see Toby open his mouth to continue ribbing her and see him stopped by a hand motion from Jim. She fought to control her magic and pulled her head the rest of the way out of her shirt.

“You two are just rude! I love my boyfriends! Is that such a crime?” Her cheeks were still burning, but her magic calmed down enough that her hair returned to its normal state.

They all laughed loud and long together. Claire and Jim laid back and relaxed, enjoying the friendly atmosphere with the people they loved most. Eventually Jim fell asleep while Claire and Toby talked. She swore he only slept when they were all together on these video dates.

The conversation lagged as Claire started to doze off as well. Finally Toby bid her farewell. Jim roused for a few minutes to say goodbye, and to tell Toby he loved him, before quickly falling right back asleep. When Toby was gone, Claire shut down her computer and let her eyes fall shut, listening to the breathing of her one of her boyfriends. She smiled. Boyfriends. This is exactly what she needed.

[lilydeerwrites]

A Muggle Studies Moment: 2

The Gryffindor Common Room was buzzing with quiet activity as groups of students chatted softly over notes and books. It was that time of the year when exams were imminent. Lily and Remus were surrounded by books and papers. A floating teapot steamed as both students absently sipped tea. Remus had charmed it to stay warm and refill their cups as needed. Lily filed that knowledge away for later experimentation. They had started out on a sofa, but their notes and books began to spread out to the point that it became necessary to move down to the floor. Now, Peter was sprawled out behind them, occasionally asking for help with his Charms work.

The arrival of James and Sirius was heralded by the sound of running feet and laughter. When they entered the Common Room, several pairs of eyes gazed at them reproachfully.

“Oi, Padfoot ... why is it so quiet in here?” James whispered urgently.

Sirius shrugged. “Exams, I guess?”

“Exams?” James glanced at Remus, Lily, and Peter. “Exams. Yeah. I suppose I should probably ... do that.”

Sirius let himself flop inelegantly to the ground beside Remus, causing some of his notes to flutter. His teacup rattled indignantly.

Just when he was about to be annoyed, Sirius burrowed close, hugging his knee so awkwardly he had to chuckle instead. He gave the shaggy hair a gentle pat.

James looked as though he would very much like to do the same to Lily, but fortunately for him, thought better of it and sat beside Peter on the couch.

“Shove over a bit, would you, Pete? I suppose I should do a bit of review. Accio my Charms book!”

James’ book came hurtling down from the dorm in a manner very similar to its owner.

“What were you two off doing anyway?” Peter asked

James shrugged. “A bit of research. For Muggle Studies,” he said, a little too nonchalantly.

Lily cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “What sort of horrible Muggle-Magical hybrid did you two unleash? I haven’t forgotten when you charmed the outdated, terribly stereotypical Muggle outfits to have a walkabout.”

Sirius rolled onto his back, his proud smile at the memory so genuine it actually made Lily want to give him a pat on the head as well. Remus might be the werewolf, but sometimes, she thought privately, his boyfriend was positively canine.

“Those clothes were so stodgy. Like all of the Muggles are going about dressed like that! I know Muggle fashion and all I had to do was pay a bit of attention,” he said.

Lily nodded her agreement. Sirius could make a band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a blazer look like he should be on a runway. Not that she would tell him that. His head was already big enough. He looked adoringly up at Remus, who blushed and let his arm rest across the other boy’s chest.

Instead, she said, “You do know that most Muggles don’t go about dressed like David Bowie and Freddie Mercury, right?”

Still grinning at the memory of stodgy old Muggle clothes having a stroll and then a waltz around the classroom, Sirius replied, “Only the cool ones.”

“Pads, your arse is on my Charms book. That can’t be comfortable,” Remus raised an eyebrow, then rolled his eyes. “Unless of course you’re actively trying to get me to reach for it. Attention hog.”

Sirius, who was once again wearing Remus’ oversized rust-colored jumper sighed happily. “I love how well you know me.”

Ever since Remus had given him the sweater when he had been hurt, Sirius found reason after reason to wear it. Remus had complained that when he wore the jumper it made him look shabby, but somehow made Sirius look artfully disheveled.

Her attention drifted to James, whose eyes flickered studiously across the pages of his Charms book. He hadn’t asked her out once since the incident around the holidays, and she was annoyed that this bothered her. Maybe he was embarrassed that she had seen him so upset? Sirius had been much worse off, and he didn’t seem awkward about it. If anything, he had started spending more time with her, gotten to know her, told her she was pretty, and thanked her a few dozen times for aiding in his rescue. Remus explained later that Sirius liked positive attention so much himself that he could go a bit overboard when he was trying to make someone feel good about themselves. She hadn’t minded.

She sighed, shut the book, and stretched her arms. “I need a moment. My brains are turning to mush.” She leaned back against the sofa, eyes closed, and felt the back of her head brush James’ knee. He tensed, but didn’t pull away.

Hmmm. Interesting. She decided to file the information away. Maybe he was over her? Embarrassed? Under orders from his friends to behave like a human being? If she asked the other Marauders, they would certainly tell James that she had asked, but maybe that wouldn’t be so bad?

She felt a wad of paper hit her face, then another. She opened her eyes to see the papery bird-creature Marlene had accidentally transfigured Lily’s essay into earlier in the year. The awful thing had been flapping about the Common Room ever since, letting out its mysteriously-appearing paper droppings at will. She had long since rewritten and turned in the essay, but the fact that she had not been able to stop the essay-bird was infuriating.

Peter had seen what happened, and he chortled gleefully. “That thing’s just had a dump on your forehead, Evans! I thought you and Marlene stopped it weeks ago.”

Lily sat up, glaring at the flappy, papery thing. “We put it in a bin, but it escaped. Marls dumped water on it yesterday, but it’s made a full recovery since. She swears she doesn’t know what went wrong to make it this way.”

Stirring his tea thoughtfully, Remus asked, “In some cultures, it’s good luck for a bird to have a poo on you.”

Lily raised an eyebrow at him and he hastily changed his direction. ”Have you asked McGonagall? I’d imagine she could stop the little pest.”

James laughed. “Can you imagine if she went after it in cat form? I’d pay to see that!”

Sirius was looking way too thoughtful, as though he was trying to engineer exactly how to have that happen. She envisioned his brain looking like a Rube Goldberg design on the inside. “Minnie could do it, that’s for sure.”

“The point is that it was my essay and I want to figure it out,” she said firmly. “It’s not hurting anyone. It’s just occasionally annoying. Rather like you lot, these days,” she said, her tone more affectionate than critical.

She stretched again, then pulled her book back into her lap. “What were you two up to earlier? What type of research were you doing?”

James turned a bit pink. “Nothing important. Not a prank, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

“Sirius?” Lily asked. “Anything you wish to tell me?”

He turned as pink as James. “Ah, well, you see ...”

James crossed his arms, scowling.  “Traitor.”

“Look at her eyes, James! She’s giving me those sad baby animal eyes. You know I’m powerless here,” Sirius rationalized.

James glanced up at Lily and nodded. “Fine, then.”

“So ... James and I, we got rather ... interested in that episode of Muggle tell-o-vision we watched in class.”

She frowned. “The one with the doctors? The medical soap opera?”

“That’s the one. You see, I like a good story, and so does old Prongsy. When we were first years, Moony used to read out loud sometimes, just in the dorm, you know? Hard to sleep sometimes when you’re little and off alone the first time, right?”

Peter snorted. “First years? Moony still reads him to sleep sometimes - “

“Anyway, the point is that me and James, we got really sort of invested in knowing whether or not the surgery was successful.”

“What?” Lily watched them both, confused.

“Like, did Mr. Morris die? Did he live? How did his wife take it? Did he ever find out his son wasn’t really his? Did his brother find out? You can’t just show a bloke one chapter and not ever let him see the rest of the book!”

Sirius sounded so indignant she was torn between wanting to laugh out loud and hug him.

James took over. “I hate unresolved story lines. So, we sneaked into the lab to see if the Prof had more of it on the - the tape, was it? Are they tapes? Because I thought tapes were the new records?”

Looking thoroughly scandalized, Sirius protested, “Nothing will ever replace vinyl, Prongs. It’s not right.”

She laughed and caught Remus’ eye. His smile lit up his face, she suspected as much by the admission of story time as by their insatiable desire to find out how the unfortunate Mr. Morris had fared.

Trust serialized Muggle television drama to ensnare the minds of the most ridiculously curious members of Gryffindor House.

“Did you find it?” She asked.

They exchanged glances. “No ... but we did knock over the entire tell-o-vision catalog. We tried to put it right, but Filch was on the move, and we had to bolt,” Sirius explained.

“The films - those are the round ones, right? They were rolling about, and we had to go out the window and climb up to avoid being caught,” James finished.

Surprising even herself, Lily laughed out loud at their tale. The Muggle artifacts in the lab were just that - artifacts. Most of them were so old they were from her parents’ time rather than the current decade.

“First of all, it’s absolutely adorable that you’re so interested. Especially since shows like that are mostly watched by Muggle housewives with awfully boring lives. Secondly, my mum and my sister watch that soap opera, I believe. I can inquire over the summer and send you an owl, if you like.”

The hopefulness in their eyes was so ridiculous that Peter and Remus burst into guffaws as well.

Helplessly, Remus managed, “We’ve always said James was a bit mumsy. When his Quidditch kids get hurt, when one of us needs him - aww, don’t blush, Prongs. It’s actually very sweet. I mean it.”

James shook his head, joining in the laughter. “An owl would be great, Lily. We’ll both be at my place this year, so ... two birds one stone? Er ... okay, bad taste there, Potter. No killing, then.”

Lily smiled as sweetly as she could. “There’s only one bird on my kill list, and it’s the one that was formerly my essay.” She gestured with two fingers from her eyes and pointed at the roosting paper bird. “I’ve got my eyes on you!”

Sirius squinted at it from his position on the floor. “What if - no, it couldn’t ...”

“What?” She asked. “What if what?”

Hesitantly, he continued. “What if ... when it, well ... shits, it’s actually editing your essay? Have you unwrapped any of the droppings?”

She made a face. “No, I have not unwrapped the droppings. Ugh!”

James stood, bowed before her, and went to pick up some of the little balls of paper. He gave a small cry of disgust. “Why is it ... moist? Padfoot, help!”

“Can’t. ‘m comfortable. If I get up, I’ll die.”

“Drama, much?” Remus asked, dryly.

“Drama always,” Sirius sighed happily, hugging Remus’ knee even tighter.

James pushed on, peeling back the mushy paper bits, making a face the whole time.

With a monumental effort and a long sigh, Sirius pushed himself upright. “It doesn’t eat, mate. It can’t be that bad. You’ve spat parchment loogies twice that size and somehow didn’t get poisoned,” he said, taking a little paper ball into his hand as well. “Christ, it’s mushy! That’s quite distasteful.”

At that point, Peter joined in, picking an old one off of the end table next to the sofa. “You’re right, Pads. It’s ... damp.”

Remus sighed heavily. “As I’m out of synonyms for the word wet, I suppose this is up to me.”

He pulled out his wand, levitated the paper ball, and then cast a drying charm on it. “Remember? We’re magical?” He asked, sarcastically.

Remus unwrapped the now-dry ball of paper and read aloud, “Remove third paragraph, take the fourth sentence and use it as a thesis statement. Rework.”

“Well!” Lily fumed.

Sirius did the same and read his, “Must pare down. Far too long-winded.”

Peter read, “Too wordy. Please summarize Paragraph twenty.”

“Really!” She growled.

James looked at his, looked back up at Lily, and thought better of it, stuffing the paper ball into his pocket. “Um ... Lily? Were you and Marls partnered on this essay, by chance?”

“Yes, why?” She asked, expectantly.

She was finding herself most distracted by the way he rubbed at his arm when he was nervous. When had she noticed that he did that?

“Because,” he said, a little reluctantly. “I think she may have pranked you but good. There is no way this is accidental magic or a mistake. It’s bloody brilliant!”

“If Marlene did this, we’re missing out on a potentially amazing pranking resource! Where is she, anyway? Haven’t seen her all day.” Sirius stood on a chair, trying to gently scoop the paper bird into his hand. It flapped indignantly to a higher perch.

Moments later, all four Marauders were after the bird, shouting, laughing, and levitating furniture and one another. Remus tried an Accio on it, but it didn’t work.

James let out a low whistle. “Merlin, she’s good! What did you do to piss her off, anyway?”

Lily thought, but couldn’t come up with anything. She winced at the sight of Sirius, being levitated by Peter toward the overhead lamps.

“Steady on, Pete! Don’t drop me, mate!” He called as he reached for the essay-bird. His hands were about to close around it, when the door opened to admit Minerva McGonagall.

“It’s a bit noisier than usual in here. Is anything wr - “ She stopped, taking in the sight of Sirius mid-air, James on a chair, and Remus on the floor, still guarding their notes and books, and his floating teapot. “Mr. Black! You come right down here this moment! Mr. Pettigrew, put him down. Gently!” Admonished the Gryffindor Head of House.

When Sirius was safely on the floor, she asked calmly, “Could someone explain the wild rumpus I could hear through the wall in my study?”

Sirius grinned at her. “I knew you cared, Minnie.”

McGonagall ignored him, but there was no fire in her glare.

Lily and James started at the same time, “Well, Professor,” “You see, Professor, I - “

The essay-bird took its opportunity to swoop free of Sirius’ grasp, and dump a wet little paper ball on McGonagall’s head. Without a single moment of hesitation, she transformed into a cat, leapt into the air, and caught it in her teeth, giving it a little shake for good measure.

All of the students stared, but the Marauders and Lily were momentarily speechless. Professor McGonagall transformed quickly back into herself, removed the paper bird from her mouth quite daintily, and tucked it into the pocket of her robe.

“Was that the trouble, then?” She asked.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” Lily answered. “It - it used to be my old Charms essay. I had to rewrite, after, well ...” She gestured to the pocket area of the professor’s robe.

“An excellent essay you turned in, Miss Evans. It will be curious to have a look at the old one, if I can get it to unspell itself without destroying it.” She glanced around the room to where James and Sirius were still a bit star-struck from her heroic feline actions. “If everything is well, I shall return to my grading?”

Satisfied that her students were safe and much quieter, she left.

“Merlin,” James breathed. “That was brilliant!”

“It was like a prophecy. I wished for it, and it happened! Did someone slip me a luck potion or what?” Sirius exclaimed. “She just ... transformed ... already in the air and took it down, like a little tabby tiger for the kill!”

It took a few minutes for the excitement to die down, but as Lily returned to studying and drinking tea with Remus, she cast another surreptitious glance at James. Huh. Not hideous, a bit mumsy, and loves a good story. Who knew?

[thequeensfan1117]

The Greatest Star (Draft 1)

Fandom: Glee Summary: When Kurt ‘lands’ the role of Officer Krupke in West Side Story, he’s surprised to receive a better opportunity. Characters: Kurt Hummel, OC Note: This is an incomplete draft. I plan on re-writing this from the ground up.

Drew had decided not to audition for the school musical when he found out it would be West Side Story. Nothing against Stephen Sondheim, but it was a downgrade from Romeo and Juliet. Well, Maria surviving could be an improvement to some, but he just saw it as a more depressing ending.

Besides, if Jules’s Phantom audition went well, he had to be in the front row for her opening night.

Anyway, just because he wasn’t auditioning didn’t mean he couldn’t sneak in before the process began and watch. It was a way more entertaining hour than History, and who knows? Maybe a kid would actually blow him away.

However, he knew that Coach Beiste and Ms. Pillsbury were in charge of direction. And if they caught him cutting, he’d get a one-way ticket to Figgins’s office. Not fun.

Some of them were quite bland. Sure, some of the girls auditioning for Maria sounded pretty enough, but the prospective Tonys were all flat. and the auditions for minor roles were just as boring (well, except for Mike Chang’s rendition of “Cool”). Just as he was about to sneak back out, he spotted Kurt Hummel from the glee club.

Drew rolled his eyes when Hummel announced that he was also auditioning for Tony and bit his lip when he heard the song choice. It didn’t matter if you were gay or straight. A guy singing a Barbra Streisand song was just ridiculous.

But then… Hummel started singing.

Sure, Drew had heard much better voices. Growing up in a family of theater freaks came with those perks. That didn’t matter. Hummel was on his own level of brilliance. If the “judges” watching the performance didn’t pick him to play Tony, he would be compelled to ask them what they were smoking right now.

Just as he was sure Hummel had no more tricks up his sleeve, the other boy pulled out a pair of sai swords. As he started twirling them, Drew felt his jaw drop and had to hold onto something to keep himself from clapping his hands like a madman. That maneuver just raised the audition up by about 20 points.

It was official. Kurt Hummel was the best candidate for the role of Tony. If only Drew were able to influence the decision.

—

A few days later, the cast list was up. Drew was so curious, he felt that he would burst into flames if he didn’t look at the harmless sheet of paper.

He had an okay feeling. He didn’t know Hummel. The two hadn’t passed each other at all, but was that necessary to know when a star shone?

Okay, that sounds weird. Like I’m in love with a dude I never even talked to.

But Jules got to play one of the Christines in Phantom, and he was rooting for her and Hummel equally. So, that was a good sign, he guessed.

He shook his head and walked over. The kids in the crowd had no way of knowing that he didn’t actually audition, so they put up minimal resistance. He made it to the front and looked for Hummel’s name.

When he found it, he was suddenly overcome with vicarious outrage.

Hummel was cast, all right… as Officer Krupke.

And one of the most generic kids who’d auditioned got the part of Tony alongside Rachel Berry’s Maria.

Drew took a deep breath and pushed his way past the crowd again. He couldn’t believe that someone with a voice that could land numerous Tony awards didn’t get to to sing one line in the musical.

When he got to the bathroom, his temper was still flaring. Splashing his face didn’t help.

But why do I care so much?

That’s it. He needed to talk to someone. He yanked on his dark blond ponytail with one hand and dialed his sister’s number with the other. He heard three rings on the other line before she answered.

“Drew? You’re not outside, are you?”

She sounded tired and slightly annoyed.

“Nah, I’m still at McKinley.”

He took a deep breath.

“So what’s up?” she asked.

He told her about Hummel’s awesome audition. Even though Jules didn’t get to hear that voice, she knew that he wasn’t a liar.

“And then they give him a bit part. I dunno why, but I’m pissed.”

She was silent for a bit.

“So… when ya bringing him home to meet Mom and Dad?” she asked slyly.

“Julia! It’s not like that.”

Time to change the subject.

“How’s Phantom going?”

“Not great. We still don’t have the managers cast, and our Raoul broke his leg today. But other than that, the blocking was solid and the costumes are looking good.”

“Oy, you’re so arrogant sometimes. Of course your Christine dresses are amazing,” he drawled with an exaggerated hand limp that Jules couldn’t see.

“Shut up. So, if your new crush is so amazing, why don’t you try to get him to come down here and try out?”

Drew groaned.

“Not gay, Jules.”

“Yeah, you just screw girls. Doesn’t mean you’re not bi. Especially since his singing practically made you pop a boner.”

He ignored that.

“Anyway, you might be onto something. Problem is, I’ve never said one word to him. How do I come up to him without sounding like a creepy-ass stalker?”

“Dunno. But… can you pwease try for me?”

Her baby talk was bearable without the accompanying puppy-dog pout, but he still rolled his eyes.

“Fine. But no promises.”

With that, he hung up. This was gonna be a challenge.

—

Kurt sighed as he walked to his locker. He’d really hoped he had a shot at playing Tony. Well… maybe he should have expected to get a small role after hearing the comments Artie, Ms. Pillsbury, and Coach Beiste made after his first audition. But he thought that proving his worth as a male lead would change their minds, not get him laughed out of the auditorium.

Maybe Coach Beiste was right. Maybe he was too feminine to play Tony after all.

What he didn’t expect, however, was Artie’s choice to go ahead and cast Blaine as Tony. Sure, his boyfriend had sung ‘Something’s Coming’ – a Tony song – but he’d also specified that he wanted a minor role. Had Artie forgotten that part of Blaine’s audition?

To his credit, Blaine had been just about to go to Ms. Pillsbury’s office and tell her that he couldn’t play Tony. But Kurt had stopped him. He couldn’t take away the chance for Blaine to shine after his boyfriend had transferred out of Dalton!

Unfortunately for Kurt, that meant he would be playing Officer Krupke.

Speaking of Blaine, he’d been acting strangely all day. Kurt’s first assumption was that he still felt guilty over ‘stealing’ Tony away from him. He was always quick to reassure him that that wasn’t the case. A role in a school musical was not something to fight over.

But then Kurt noticed the boy. In fact,he and Blaine had ended up near him on more than one occasion.

He was quite good-looking, with dark blond hair long enough to necessitate a low ponytail and piercing green eyes. His skin was slightly tanned, and he wore shirts that emphasized his broad shoulders. Kurt guessed that despite his appearance, this boy was a junior.

Blaine had never looked away from him, even when Kurt did. This made the reasoning for his sudden change in demeanor painfully clear.

Kurt could only hope that Blaine had the decency to confess his attraction towards the other boy before acting on it.

Thanks to Kurt’s free period, he had the time to get ready for the next few classes and think his situation over. What was he going to do for his application now? He had hoped that placing all of his hopes on just NYADA and West Side Story would be enough. And while the school year had just begun, he didn’t want to waste too much time thinking up an impromptu Plan B.

His thoughts were interrupted by a pink piece of paper falling out of his locker the moment he opened it. The first thing he noticed was that the little square was folded several times, and haphazardly at that, before it was shoved into the locker. After a few moments of wondering just who was responsible for this, he carefully unfolded the paper and skimmed through its contents.

It was a flyer for a local production of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera. Even though it would be directed by a high school rivaling McKinley, students from all over Lima were able to go ahead and audition.

Is this a joke?

Kurt steadied his breath and waited for his heart to start beating again. Sure, the kids of McKinley were cruel enough to vote him for Prom Queen last year, but how would they know about this? The flyer in his hands was the first and only one he had seen.

Kurt nodded and made a mental note of the address before tucking the flyer into a folder in his locker.

He’d go after school and see what happened.

—

The auditions were apparently being held in a community theater. Due to the building’s size, Kurt was nearly tempted to get back in his car, peel out of the driveway, and head home.

There were likely lots of kids auditioning. What if they were all much better than him? What if the director saw him as a ‘lady’ as well?

No, he thought to himself. Can’t be negative just yet.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before walking inside the building.

The door to the auditorium was open, so he could hear music and yelled instructions from the front. Kurt guessed that whoever was already cast was in the middle of rehearsing the Masquerade number. He deliberated on whether to make his presence known now or wait for the rehearsal to finish.

“Excuse me?”

He turned his head to the left. A girl who looked about his age walked up to him.

“Are you here to audition?” she asked.

Kurt nodded.

“Yes, I am. But I wanted to ask you something first. I’m from William McKinley High School. Would I be able to audition?”

The girl nodded.

“Yes. Our flyer says we’re taking everyone from Lima, or at least it should.”

She pulled a blue sheet of paper off a nearby chair and inspected it.

“Okay, so it does,” she said.

“I was just making sure that no one from McKinley was pulling my leg,” Kurt replied before clearing his throat.

“So, what roles are open?”

“Well, we need the two managers – Andre and Firmin – , an ensemble cast member for the mock operas, Piangi, and Raoul.”

Kurt knew that he was already getting his hopes up, but that didn’t matter. All of the roles she listed sang at one point or another in the show. And Raoul de Chagny…

Tony may have been too ‘masculine’ for him, but Raoul wasn’t.

“Are you interested in a particular role?” the girl asked while messing with her blonde bun.

“Raoul, I guess.”

She suddenly slapped her forehead and then extended the same hand.

“I’m Julia… uh, Bowman. I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself.”

Kurt chuckled as he took her hand.

“Kurt Hummel.”

Julia’s face seemed to light up when he said his name. It was strange, but maybe that was a good sign.

“So let me get some sheet music. Are you familiar with Les Mis?”

He nodded.

“I’ve been singing the score since the second grade, actually.”

With that, Julia ran off. Kurt went to one of the empty chairs and sat down. Was he really about to audition here and now? What if someone at McKinley found out and it got to Jacob Ben Israel?

How would Rachel react to this if she ever found out? Would she cut off their friendship over something so… ridiculous?

After a few minutes of pondering, Kurt noticed Julia returning with another girl their age and a man he assumed was a teacher. Each of the three had sheet music in their hands, and the man handed Kurt a copy when they reached him.

“Kurt, this is Kate Vasquez,” Julia said. “She and I are splitting Christine, so we’ll both be here with Mr. White.”

Kate smiled slightly and held out a hand for him to shake.

“All right, the three of you will be singing ‘A Heart Full of Love’ from Les Miserables as the audition piece,” Mr. White said.

“Do you need a few minutes to get ready?” Kate asked.

Kurt smiled at her and nodded once.

[rmjagonshi]

The Prince and the Streetrat

For the writing prompt from @princeasimdiya12 with her suggestion of Mullet Stan Alladdin Au set in Agrabah. I may have gone a bit over my initial word count estimate. Hence why it took longer than expected. So....sorry?

Gen (no ships), family friendly and all that. 

The Market was unusually busy today. It was off season for much of the local harvests and the trade caravans were coming in by the dozens. Some were even from places he didn’t recognize; their garb and wares colorful and exotic. The number of horses in the public stables was now rivalling the number of camels. The street cleaners and stable hands were running to keep up with the increased workload. The guards were out in full force, but even they were having trouble keeping up with the petty crime occurring sometimes right in front of them.

With all the tradesman distracted and the large crowds, it was the perfect time to gather stock for the week. It had been so long since he was able to get enough food for more than a day. In fact, the last time the market was this busy, the kingdom celebrated the prince’s coming of age ceremony; the day the son of the emperor became a man and could now take his position as ruler of Agrabah. Furtive movement to his left caught his eye; a fisherman was tossing out some rejected pieces of the fish he was butchering. If he was quick or charming enough, he could probably get the fish heads, tails and spines. Not the best, but still meat, and meat was rare for a streetrat.  

The kids and he were going to have themselves a proper feast. With the crowds, he might even be able to pickpocket a few of the richer folk, might be able to get Mable a new dress, or at least the fabric to make one. He was good with a needle and thread, but he had never actually made clothes before. The boy was getting taller, too. He would need to conserve fabric to accommodate the two growing children in his care.

Silently, he swung down from the awning he was perch atop, shuffling across the decorative eves and dropping down to the dusty ground in a narrow alley. He checked to make sure the handholds he had carved into the wooden supports were spaced closed enough to make for a quick climb; he’d left his bag up top, it did no good to have all his ill-gotten gains with him if he was ever caught. He’d grab a few things here and there and make a trip back to deposit it. If anything happened, Mason knew where the drop bag was and knew when to collect it. Smart kid, not quite strong enough to make it on his own, but the boy was young still, he had time.

On the ground he had to be careful. Being a streetrat had more than its fair share of disadvantages. Wearing the same clothes everyday made him easy to spot by the local tradesman; he was hoping there were enough newcomers to allow him to lose himself in the throng. He glanced briefly down at his worn clothes. The color of his leggings reminded him of sour milk, the patches doing nothing to remedy the terrible dye choice, and his open vest was a royal blue, almost purple. He loved it, but it was an unusual color and drew too much attention. He would have to be quick.

Three hours passed before he chose to call it a day. He had gotten those fish heads and tails by flirting with the fishmonger’s daughter and trading away a kiss. The poor girl was a bit slow and had one perpetually lazy eye, but she wasn't too bad looking. He might just visit her again. He was able to swipe a bag of millet to make into flat bread, a full basket of dates (that he topped with rejected ones), a full watermelon, couple of eggplants, a pouch of mystery spice he pocketed without thinking, and a full goat leg, already drained. He’d even been able to lift a leather band to pull his horridly long hair back. Mable told him it made him look dashing; he thought she was crazy, but he never cut it knowing he would disappoint her.  

He had a few close calls with the guards; they tailed him for a street or two before he ducked into an alley and shimmied up the side of a residential building and onto the roof. The stall owners gave him no trouble. The newcomers were duped by his dazzling smile and charming personality and he delighted in swiping things out from under them. Local tradesmen were more warry, but waiting for the moment they were distracted by other customers made easy work. He heard from gossip that the prince was being officially crowned heir in a week’s time, and that the celebration would end in a grand ball where he would choose a bride from the neighboring kingdoms. Heck, if it meant he and his family could eat this well, the prince could marry a new girl every week.  

He was tempted to head back down and try picking a few pockets. He had been eyeing the stall, run by a scary old woman he was sure was a witch, all day. She had fabric in all types and colors. Finely woven silk as thin as a flower petal, thick canvas rolls perfect for sleeping mats, and wool spun so fine and clean that he didn’t recognize it as wool. He’s sure the old woman noticed him, he got lost staring at the pale pink wool spool he wanted to get for Mable. The witch had eyed him crossly, her angular face and long nose adding to her menacing appearance.

He was tempted, he was, but the risk was almost not worth it. Stealing food was one thing, you spent a day or two in the dungeons. Stealing money meant losing a hand. But he couldn’t get the fabric any other way. He could just try stealing something from some hanging laundry, but he’d done that last time and poor Mabel was forced to tie it in place until she grew into it.

Alright. Just once. He’d have to really pick his target. Someone who obviously had a lot and wouldn’t miss a small amount. It didn’t take long. A foreigner with large white hair, pale skin and strange pale blue garb strutted through the crowd below, a large coin purse dangling from his waist. He smirked and tracked the foreigner from the rooftops, He dropped down to the street and made his way into the throng of people, maneuvering his way to the snooty foreigner. He found his chance when the man stopped to chide a stall owner over their quality of fruit, claiming that his homeland had much better produce. It was hardy a challenge to lift the bag and disappear in the crowd and up another wooden scaffolding. He could hear the man screaming that someone had stolen his money, but he was already a street over and making his way down to the fabric stall.

He tucked the bag in his vest and lowly approached the old woman, trying his best to act casual. “Back again, I see. Come to try and rob me like you’ve robbed the others?” Her eyes bore into his sole. Her voice was high and screechy and wrapped around him like a miasma. He stood, transfixed, and fought the urge to run. Had she seen him? Did she know him? He had never seen her before. Maybe she was a witch.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward, “I don’t understand what you mean. I am simply interested in the pick fabric you have. It seems of low quality, seems scratchy, but it’s the right color. How much ya chargin’ for it?” He fingered the fabric and tried to look as disdainful as the man he had pickpocketed. But the woman saw through his ruse. She grabbed his wrist and yanked him forwards over the small wooden counter.

“Far more than you can afford, Streetrat!” Her breath stank worse than his, and he couldn’t bathe regularly. He tried pulling back but she held firm. He fumbled with the purse and the coins spilled out onto the counter. “I can pay, witch! Let go!” He struggled against her iron grip, feeling the blood pulse in his veins, faster and faster.

“Stolen coins are worthless to me Stan! You shall get what you deserve! Guards! Thief!”

He pulled harder, he didn’t care about the stupid fabric anymore! This witch knew his name! Knew he had stolen the money! He needed to leave, get his family’s food and get home. NOW!

A six-fingered hand materialized in the space between him and the woman. A gentle voice filled his ear as a second warm hand settled on his shoulder. “Now, now. That won’t be necessary.”

The witch released his wrist at once, attention now focused on the newcomer. Stan pulled his wrist to his chest and rubbed at the skin. It felt like a she had burned him; the skin was red and tight and looked swollen. He turned to the newcomer and was faced with something uncanny. It was like looking into a reflection. The man’s face was his own, maybe a bit slimmer. Same square jaw, same overly large nose, same high forehead.

“His man was simply trying to purchase something from you. No need for accusations. Now, what was it that you wanted to buy?” The man’s face was soft and open as he turned to face Stan. Stan was disconcerted with the familiarities between them. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. But the stranger had saved him, so he owed the man some courtesy.

“Just some of the pink wool. A yard or so. Probably two ta be safe.” Stan’s voice was strained. He was having trouble bringing out his classic charm. He was unnerved and he just wanted to get out of here.

“Perfect. How much for two yards of the pink fabric, miss?” The stranger smiled at the witch, nose only slightly wrinkling at the woman’s breath. It was like this stranger had drawn all the charm from Stan for himself. Stan decided he didn’t like him. He was dressed well, too well. A businessman, or even a council member. The sand colored robe the stranger wore was made of fine thread, tightly woven together. This man was exceedingly wealthy, despite his deformity. Though, if Stan was being honest, the extra finger was kind of fascinating, in a weird and morbid sort of way.

“Sixty coins. It’s the finest I have save for the silk.” The woman’s screech was painful to the ears and made Stan flinch. Sixty Coins! That was insane! No trader worth their salt would charge sixty coins for wool. He didn’t even know if the white-haired man he had stolen from had that much. He hastily began counting the coins, making small piles of five to keep track. Even though he had more money at his fingertips than he had ever had before, he was still woefully short of the price necessary to get Mabel a new dress. She was grossly overcharging. He swore under his breath.

Stan’s posture slumped. He didn’t even have enough to buy one yard. His eyes skirted the dusty street in hopes that he might have dropped a coin or ten. Nothing. He heard a clink of coins on the counter and watched in stunned silence as the stranger counted out sixty coins with ease and tucked away the purse that still held far more.

“That should cover the cost, yes?” The man pushed the pile of coins to the woman. She scooped them up and let them fall into a pocket sewn into the front of her robe before pulling out a pair of shears and a leather strip to measure with.

“You don’t…have to…” Stan stuttered. He really didn’t want to take charity from this man. He didn’t like owing favors to people, especially people he didn’t know yet. Bu the man was insistent.

“Nonsense. It’s quite alright.” There was that gleaming smile again. Teeth clean and face smooth, this man was very wealthy indeed. It might be in Stan’s best interest to befriend this stranger. It might prove lucrative.

The witch pressed two yards of cloth wrapped in burlap into the stranger’s hands and he accepted it graciously. The stranger nodded to him and started to hand the bundle to Stan when the sounds of the guards carried over the crowd. The stranger glanced over his shoulder, flipped his hood up quickly and tugged Stan by the hand and into the masses.

This stranger was on the run from the law, huh? Ok, maybe he was starting to like him. He left the stolen purse on the witch’s counter.

Stan took over leading and made his way back to the alley he started from. The stranger was still hanging onto the burlap bag and seemed to have no intent to hand it over.

“By the way, I never got your name.”

“Stan. Yours?”

My name is S… is Ford. You can call me Ford.”

Stan raised his eye at the obvious cover, but instead took Ford’s hand, gave it a quick shake and let go. “Well, nice meeting you. Thanks for helping. It’s yours now, so I’ll be goin’.” He didn’t wait for Ford to leave before starting his way up the building to the roof where his drop bag was.

“You going to hurry up? You’re slow.” Stan heard a chuckle below him and nearly lost his grip whirling his head around to see that Ford as climbing up after him. He heard guard voices close by and understood. Once he reached the top, he turned back around and helped Ford climb onto the roof. He made no mention of the extra finger.    

Stan flashed Ford a knowing grin when the man peered over the edge of the roof to check on the guards. Anyone on the run from the law was a friend of his. Well, not everyone, but heck, he couldn’t exactly judge. They waited a few minutes, watching the busy street below as the evening encroached upon the desert kingdom. The wind swept over the two men, catching at Stan’s long hair that had come loose from the leather band and pulling Ford’s hood down around his collar. They hadn’t said much to one another, but Stan was surprisingly comfortable with the company. But it was getting late, and the kids would be getting worried if he didn’t make it back soon.  

The man pulled a crooked face when Stan pulled out the bag of goods and threw it over his shoulder. “I aided a lowly criminal? I should have let that woman call the guards.” However, Ford’s actions belied his actions when he tied the burlap wrap around his torso and made to follow Stan.

Stan snorted. “Hey, man’s gotta eat. I’d work if I could, but no one’ll give me a job.” It wasn't exactly a lie; he had never been offered a job, but he also had never tried to get one. He had lived his life on the streets, most of it alone. He mother had left one night to gather food just as he was doing, and never came back. It was another reason he wanted to make sure he made it back tonight; the kids didn’t deserve that.

“That much food for one person? I’m not letting you out of my sight. What did you need this fabric for, anyway? Reselling? Smuggling? I think that purse was stolen. You know, you people are the reason why the economy is failing.”

Stan rolled his eyes. The guy kept talking, but be he was still not making any moved to call the guards or arrest him. He placed a plank of wood over the gap between buildings; he wasn't going to play acrobat carrying this much food. And he didn’t think that the smart guy could make the same leaps of faith he made on a daily basis.  

“You commin’?” He didn’t wait for an answer and made his way across the alley. He heard Ford follow hi snot long after.

They weaved in and out of rooftops and shimmied down the sides of buildings, over rubble and into the oldest part of town. They walked and climbed for nearly an hour; they passed by street urchins and beggars trying to carve out a living in the collapsing streets the populace had abandoned. Ford felt disquiet following this criminal. He was greeted by many people, beggars and children alike. Stan paused a few times and handed out food from his sack to those who looked sick. They watched Ford closely, but gave him wide berth. As much as he was uncomfortable, Stanford realized that he was in no danger walking through these streets as long as he was with this…with Stan.

They snaked through a maze of ramshackle alleys until they reached an open square of what used to be an academy. Stan lead him through a collapsed stairwell, dodging fallen wooden support beams and brushing aside cloth hung to give privacy. Stan held his hand and guided him over a few weak areas that shifted under his weight.      

He heard voices ahead, two distinct ones. They sounded young. The whispers rang out and bounced off the stone walls. Stanford heard a sound that he might have attributed to a chicken being strangled. He heard Stan sight ahead of him and mutter something under his breath.

“It’s fine, kid, it’s just me. We’ve got a guest. He’s safe. I brought dinner.” They mounted the last few steps and came to a landing that may have been a central gathering area for students once upon a time. The walls were decorated with tattered fabric and ancient parchment covered in paint and drawings likely created by a child. There were mats on the floor mad of palm fibers and a few toys made of broken pieces of wood, metal, and bits of string. Pieces of wood and stone were pushed together into some semblance of furniture, a stack of chipped bowls, flat pieces of pottery used as plates and wooden utensils sat on the sill of a window that had been boarded up. Piles of cloth sat in a corner beside a wash bucket beside a hole in the floor. A curtain was tacked onto the wall to act as a privacy barrier.    

When Stanford saw the two children run up to the streetrat Stan, all the anger at seeing this man take so much from hard working men and women dissipated. This man was just trying to feed his family the only way he could. He felt shame at putting so much value on such a small thing as a yard of wool. The children were frantic over Stan, asking him if he was alright, if he had gotten caught, what took so long, who Ford was, and what was in the bag, was it all food? Ford could tell these children were hungry; they weren’t starving, least not the way the children they passed on the street earlier were starving, but they were still likely going without meals more times than not. They were thin and gangly, and likely older than they looked. Stanford placed their ages somewhere between twelve or fourteen. He placed Stan at around twenty, closer to Stanford’s own age. If this was the criminal classes in the city, then his father was being purposefully blind to the social problems in his kingdom.    

“For the girl?” Stanford asked, pulling the burlap sling off his shoulder and lifting out the pink fabric. The little girl, nearly a woman, squealed in delight and rushed over to him; stranger or no, the prospect of something pretty was too alluring. She carefully fingered the cloth slowly, like she couldn’t believe it was real.

“Stan, did you steal this?” She asked quietly, eyes flicking up to Stanford, unsure of what she could say in front of him.

“You know that can get you into more trouble, right? Food is one thing, but anything that really has value will get the guards on your tail faster than you could blink.” The boy was more warry of Stanford and hung back to help Stan unpack the assortment of food he had swindled and stolen.    

“Thank this guy, Ford, right?” Stanford nodded once. “He was the one who paid for it. Wasn’t cheap either. That woman was inflating the price ‘cause the prince is throwing some kinda party.” Ford felt himself freeze at Stan’s mention of the celebrations in his honor. He had been trying to escape the city and do some investigating in the desert when he came across Stan and the saleswoman. He had no interest in the feasts or the parading around and showing off for the foreign officials.    

Warm brown eyes looked up at him with glee and adoration, with maybe a hint of shyness. Her eyes catching just a hint of the light peeking through the gap in the ragged tapestry covering the giant hole in the wall. He couldn’t help but smile at her, something about her just filled his chest with warmth and affection. He knelt down and set the fabric in her hands like a prized treasure.

“Here you are, m’lady.” A faint blush rose to her cheeks, but she took the compliment in stride.

“Why thank you good sir. And my, what charming manners you have.” He smiled at her with ease and she smiled back with equal intensity. They shared a quiet giggle between them and exchanged names. He complimented her on such a pretty name and told her that the name Mabel meant someone who is kind and lovable. She blushed and giggled again.

Ford caught Stan and the boy rolling their eyes and putting together a fire to cook the goat leg and make a decent stew with the vegetables. Ford stood to help, but Stan waved him off. A tug on his robe brought his attention back to Mabel.

“Do you want to see some of the designs I came up with for this?” She held up the pink fabric and looked into Ford’s eyes with hope. He could tell she didn’t have much chance for company other than Stan and the boy, and she was having a hard time saying no to her. Her enthusiasm and cheerfulness was infections.

“Sure. What did you have in mind? Something modest or more flashy?” Her eyes sparkled at his answer. She took him by the hand and lead him over to her little corner. “I had a few designs in mind, actually. You look like you might know a thing or two about fashion what with the jewelry and the quality of your clothes. You can tell me what might be in style.” Ford let out a nervous laugh, he had forgotten about the earrings and gold pendant he wore. He was surprised no one had tried to mug him. But if all the thieves were like this tiny family, well, jewels were the least of their concern.      

Stanford did not expect to find himself in the company of the lowest class of people in his kingdom when he left home. He did not expect to help a poor man purchase a gift for his daughter and find him a criminal by necessity. He did not expect to share in their ill-gotten feast and spend the evening telling stories of wild escapades surviving on the streets and hair-raising adventures overheard from tavern goers. Stanford had few stories he could tell that wouldn’t give away his identity, but he could at least tell them about learning how to ride a camel when he was younger and how he now lived in perpetual fear of them even though he was required to ride them for ‘work’. He also told them of all the strange and mystical things that existed in the desert and even pulled out a leather-bound journal he was working on to catalogue all that he found. They boy, Mason, was fascinated by the pictures, but was ashamed to admit that he, nor his sister, could read all that well. Books were nigh on impossible to come by without money, even in a defunct academy.

“Hey, by the way, I noticed that you and Stan kinda look alike.” Mason had said, trying to hide his face behind Ford’s journal; he was looking at the sketches Ford had done of the spiraling pits of quicksand Ford had come across in his explorations.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, you two kinda do look alike. What if you’re long lost brothers?” Mable said in delight, rushing over to Ford and mapping out his features with her fingertips.

“Mable, stop, you’re embarrassing yourself.” Mason sounded more like he was the one embarrassed, and Mable stuck her tongue out in response, but did stop and return to her seat. “She is right, though. You two could be brothers.” Stan waved them off and dug out the watermelon for dessert.    

The large hole in the wall was really just a missing wall covered with a variety of cloth tacked to the wall on either side. It provided a beautiful ambient light and an amazing view of the sun setting behind the palace. Stanford tried to show enthusiasm, but the reminder of his future only seemed to suck the joy out of him.

When the children had gone to sleep, bellies full and heads equally full of stories and prospects for food tomorrow, Stanford found himself sitting in comfortable silence with the strange man he never expected to meet. He was reluctant to leave, and only did so long after the sun had set and Stan sat dozing against the frame the wall-sized window made. He stuck to the rooftops instead of the streets to find his way back, climbing over the palace wall with the aid of a perfectly concealed rope he had hidden earlier that day. He gathered some old things in a pile before he fell asleep that night, dreaming of pink dresses, narrow streets, and goat stew.  

Stanford made it a habit to venture back to that abandoned landing on the old part of town everyday leading up to the crowning ceremony and subsequent bridal choosing. He fully admitted he was avoiding it; not because he disliked women, far from, but he was in no hurry to marry a stranger just to satisfy his father’s need to be a grandfather. Besides, the mysteries of the desert still eluded his grasp and he had so much yet to learn before he settled down. His liaisons to the abandoned part of town was eating into the time he could be spending searching out answers. But he found he didn’t mind.  

He brought food, and books, and old toys for the children and brought companionship for his new friend. He and Stan would sit for hours and just talk about anything that happened to catch their interest. Stan was uneducated, but he was wicked smart about how to read people, how to avoid trouble and how to de-escalate conflict. The few times Stanford thought to bring up politics and law, Stan was quick to comment on what laws seemed to work and which ones only provided loopholes for the corrupt to exploit the lower masses.

While neither one ever discussed it since the first night, Mason’s comment that they looked alike still resonated in the prince’s mind. He often found himself staring at his reflection and analyzing his features, comparing them to his companion’s, and to his father’s. One night, he finally built up the courage to ask his father about the possibility of illegitimate heirs. He found his opportunity when his father began discussing his new duties as crowned heir. This was his chance.

“Father, I’ve been going over the old laws, and, while I know that I don’t have any siblings, I wonder what would happen if I did? How would that change the crown order? I read something that if the siblings were close in age, a high council vote would choose the heir, is that true?”

His father paused, letting his fort drop to his plate before looking his son in the eye. Or, maybe, the emperor always had a thin black cloth tied around his eyes for reasons unknown to Stanford. He had learned as a young boy to never ask. Filbrick was a hard man, and an even harder emperor. He desired physical wealth above all else and felt that any man could earn his way to wealth through hard and honest work. He cared little for knowledge unless it brought him more wealth and status with the neighboring kingdoms. Stan, and the children, was just the type of person his father wanted to drive out from the city. Stanford could feel the seconds pass like hours waiting for his father to speak.

“Yeah, it’s true. And I don’t know if you have any siblings. I never kept track of the number of of servants I bedded. Come to think of it, there was one girl that came forward about twenty years ago. Claimed she had borne a son from me. I recognized her, but she was a liar and a thief, so she was ejected from the palace. I never found out if her claims were true.” Filbrick resumed his meal, indicating the conversation was over.

“I…I have a brother?” Stanford refused to let it go. The possibility, the chance that he had a sibling, that he may very well have met his sibling, was too much of a pull to back down.

“I don’t know, nor care. If he’s as much of a liar and a thief as that woman, then he’s likely one of the surge draining the lifeblood from this city.” Filbrick was angry and bristled at Stanford’s insistence to continue the topic. His face smoothed a bit as he remembered the mystery woman. “Shame too, I liked her, she was feisty and didn’t kowtow to my every command.”

But Stanford had stopped listening. He had all the information he needed. Stan had told him of his mother, how she had found the academy building and kept him there as a child, of how she never came back. He told Ford about the stories she used to tell him of working in the palace, of how the halls were painted with gold and flowers and the kitchen was always stocked. She told him about the gardens and fountains and how kind and just the emperor was, if a bit misguided. Stan had told Ford he had seen firsthand what the laws of the kingdom did to people, what people turned to to protect themselves. He didn’t hate the emperor, but Stan felt that their ruler did not understand the plight of the underclass, did not know that hardship of going without and being forced to steal.

Stanford left that night after his last meal. He was supposed to be preparing for the ceremony tomorrow, but this was far too important. He dressed hurriedly and made sure to inform his room attendant that he would not need anything else that night. When the young girl (she was extraordinarily pretty, and unusually intelligent, he may have to bend the laws a bit when it came to marriage) had left, he escaped through the servant’s passage and over the palace wall.

After a week of traveling the rooftops and allies, he was familiar with the route to the old academy and the residents along the way knew him enough to leave him be. He wanted to help them, but he could do only one thing at a time, and after his crowning ceremony, he could intact proper change. But, for now, he just needed to find Stan and the kids. He dropped down from the roof to the deserted square and entered the academy. He could hear voices above and the crackling of a fire. He was just in time for dinner. Shame he had already eaten. He had grown to love the simple stew Stan made – he always made sure to bring gifts or ingredients to cover his portion, he wasn't completely devoid of logic.

He heard the voices stop as he mounted the stairs. A poor imitation of a chicken echoed off the walls and he returned his own, more recognizable call. “’Bout time! Was wondering when you’d come. Thought maybe you’d finally gotten lost.” Stanford chuckled at Stan’s thinly disguised worry. He saw Mason pick up the book Ford had given him, eager to impress the man with how quickly he was learning to read. But they all froze when he mounted the last stair into their tiny home.      

He stepped out of the shadows and removed his robe, letting the light catch his regal garb and reflect back a prism of colors in the tiny room he thought of as ore a home than his own. Stan’s eyes were blown wide, hair loose and piece of moldy bread left forgotten on the pottery piece he used as a plate. Stan recognized him now, or his clothes, at least. He worn this to all his public appearances, which is why he chose it for tonight. The children recognized him too, he was sure of it when Mason stopped in his tracks to greet Stanford. Mable clutched the doll he had given her and stared.

Stanford dropped the robe and crossed the room in a few quick paces. He stopped in front of the man he had come to think of as his best friend, one he hoped would now become his family.

“Stan,” He felt tears well up in his eyes as his took Stan by the shoulders and felt a smile split his face in two. “I have something wonderous to tell you.” Stan blinked and swallowed once, uncomprehending the sight before him.

He could hear the children whispering frantically back and forth. He caught only a few words. He embraced the man before him. The man that looked so much like him, the man that he had come to care so much for. The children he had come to love dearly in such a short period of time. He felt Stan slowly return the embrace, still stunned and visibly shaken. The words escaped Stanford’s mouth before he could stop them.  

“My brother.”  

[ionchef]

King of Anything - An Escaflowne Fanfiction

A/N: The other day, I re-discovered Sarah Bareilles' King of Anything and it prompted this one-shot to form in my head. Now, granted, that song is more about a guy with correctile dysfunction aka mansplaining syndrome but it's not about that. It's specifically one line in the song that inspired this story. Well, just go with it.

If you're on Insta and are curious how I imagined Merle, go you to 'angelganev' and look for a pretty recent drawing of a super adorable pink-haired girl with two buns.

This is meant to be light-hearted entertainment. Don't take it too seriously.

[Edit 09/16/18: Couldn't have been more wrong about this being a one-shot. I have decided to pick up this story again and am in the process of creating an outline. Stay tuned!]

I'm just playing in Shoji Kawamori's sandbox again, making zero coin off this story.

King of Anything

Act 1, Chapter 1:

In which Van opens a door and Hitomi drops something.

It was dumb. Dumb and boring. Dumb because the physicians were still, after a whole damn week, refusing to allow him to leave his bed, and boring because of, well, being stuck in said bed without any sort of entertainment whatsoever. It was a just cause for slow but gradual declivity into insanity. He had been told numerous times that he still needed rest and even though hotly contested by himself, there was absolutely no debate about it.

Van Slanzar de Fanel, heir to the throne of Fanelia and soon-to-be-crowned king was, until further notice, strictly ordered to rest. To say that he was miffed about it would have been an understatement. If he had to swallow so much as another drop of the bitter, medicated tea they brought twice a day, he would most definitely hurl. If he had to taste it even one more time, he couldn't be held responsible for what he was going to do.

Oh how gladly he'd instead fight that bloody dragon again. All the dragons in Fanelia, no scratch that- all of Gaea, actually- just to get his hands on a freshly brewed, delicious cup of hot, steaming coffee. The lack of caffeine was another, very undesirable, side effect of the bedrest they still had him on. Not even his younger sister, Merle, could be convinced to smuggle a cup out of the kitchens for him, and she would pretty darn well do nearly anything for him under normal circumstances.

At present, said younger sister was still in her usual post on the floor next to his bed, holding onto his hand and napping with her head resting on the mattress, legs curled up by her side. Pink hair, which she liked to carry in two small buns on top of her head had become disheveled from moving around and was beginning to spill onto the crisp, white sheets near their arms.

Of course, Van had told her already days ago that spending every waking hour with him was not necessary. As it was, however, they were the only two remaining members of the royal family so her protectiveness towards him was not entirely unfounded and it wasn't like he wouldn't act in a very similar way if the roles were reversed.

Funny, Van thought now as he stared at the fresco on the ceiling above his large four-poster. Funny how Fanelia's capital was protected by tall, metal walls topped with electric fences to keep out the land dragons native to the kingdom but when it came to traditions, they had no qualms whatsoever about sticking the last male heir of their royal family into an ancient, primitive armor and pushing him out the gates, armed with nothing but a sword and a shield. Not to forget, that was after his brother had already failed at the rite of dragon-slaying years ago.

When Merle finally woke from her early afternoon nap by his side, she stretched and fixed her hair before popping some gum into her mouth. She loved gum and even though the governesses who were supposed to educate her in proper behavior and etiquette befitting a princess kept taking it from her at every possible chance, she always somehow had a piece in her mouth again mere minutes later. It was pretty likely that she had a secret cache somewhere in her room. Clever. Van could really learn something from her in those regards.

"Van, I think it's time for your tea again soon." She announced while getting to her feet, smoothing the wrinkles out of her favorite yellow sundress in the process. "I'll go grab a snack from the kitchens and bring you a cup myself."

Van's eyes widened at her words but he said, "sure. Thanks, Merle," while one of his eyes involuntarily gave a nervous twitch. There was no use in arguing about it. His health was her top priority and it had made her unsympathetic to any and all of his complaints about the foul-tasting brew.

Over my dead body! Was what Van actually thought after the ornate door clicked shut behind his sister. In the blink of an eye, he was out of his bed and across the room, stripping off his black, silk pajama shirt with a few quick movements on the way. He winced a bit when his right arm protested. Ah yes, the injury. The very reason for his much abhorred, mandated bedrest and sole justification for why they were still keeping him quasi-locked up in his own, royal chambers.

Van had managed to slay the dragon but not before the beast, in return, had wounded him with the sharp, bony protrusion at the end of its tail. In hindsight, he had been lucky to get away with only a deep gash on his sword arm considering the beast could have roasted him to a crisp in a matter of seconds. Sure, it hurt but he seriously doubted that a flesh wound warranted anything more than three days of bed rest. They had stitched it together pretty well, after all.

What he really, really needed right now was a good cup of coffee to satisfy the craving and lift his spirits after lulling about and vegetating in the same spot for days. Enough was enough. He needed to get out of here. Only for an hour or two at least, before he'd lose his mind completely.

Luckily, there was a pair of ordinary denim pants way in the back of his closet, behind the suits with the royal crest and the scratchy embroidery around the tight collars he usually wore when going about his duties. No, going out by himself and enjoying some much-needed freedom would only be possible incognito. Luckily, the pants still fit and comfortably so, although he couldn't remember when he even had the chance to last wear them.

Probably sometime before Balgus insisted on upping the sword training to make sure Van wouldn't suffer the same fate as the oldest Fanel offspring. The combat training had eaten up a good chunk of his free time. It was fine, though. Really. He never complained about it. If anything had happened to him during the rite of dragon slaying, all the uncomfortable responsibilities would have fallen upon Merle. Not a royal by birth, his adopted sister would have had to marry some foreign aristocrat to be able to even stake a claim to the throne and Van just couldn't leave her to such a fate. He didn't consider himself particularly fit to rule even now but at least he had received some formal instruction alongside Folken since their father had passed years ago.

Van hastily picked a button down shirt from the endless pile of fresh laundry and yanked the sleeve up his sword arm where the thick bandage was, rolling up the cuffs to just under his elbows after hastily closing the small buttons, only haphazardly tucking it into his pants after. Wait, what was he doing? He didn't have to do this. This was incognito prince Van. He tugged the, now slightly wrinkled shirt, back out of his pants and let the hem hang comfortably loose.

Unfortunately, the royal wardrobe almost exclusively offered a wide array of polished dress shoes. A pair of soft, brown loafers meant for traveling in the summer was the least fancy thing he could find. Perfect, and who needed socks anyway.

When looking into the large full-length mirror, Van noticed that his hair was in a state of complete disarray from the restless tossing and turning he had been doing in bed all day. How convenient. It looked a far cry from the usual, slicked back style which had become his signature look over the past years. A faint smile formed on Van's lips when combing his hand through the mess to drag some of it across his forehead and cover more of the dark skin and trademark garnet eyes he could easily be recognized by.

Drat. This was indeed a dead giveaway. Looking around… Ah-ha! The royal wardrober's least favorite pair of sunglasses just so happened to be Van's favorite. He usually sported them during sword lessons in the relentlessly hot Fanelian afternoon sun and that was pretty much the only reason they had not yet mysteriously disappeared from his wardrobe. The lenses were mirrored, framed by a thin, metallic wire and would completely hide his eyes from anyone. Dressed like, perhaps, a preppy-looking university student, he would be able to roam the streets freely. Just so long as he got out of here before Merle was back, of course.

This was, without a doubt, the worst day in Hitomi Kanzaki's life. Not only had she been soaked from head to toe by a surprise rain shower this morning, torn a lace on her favorite pair of sneakers, and walked in on her two roommates making out with each other in their apartment living room. No, she had also just dumped a whole, fresh carafe of coffee onto the floor behind the counter of the little coffee shop she worked in. It was a good thing there weren't any customers in here at the moment. This was still a slow time of day what with it being a bit after lunch but too early for people to stop in for a pick-me-up on the way home from work.

Perhaps, if she had known that it was about to get even worse, she wouldn't even have left her bed this morning.

Of course, right then, while she was still kneeling on the floor to take care of the mess, the bell on the door chimed behind her to indicate that somebody had entered. Hitomi plastered a fake smile on her face. "Hey! Welcome! I'm sorry I had a small mishap. Will be right with you." She announced while scrambling to her feet from her kneeling position on the floor and gingerly dropping a handful of glass shards into a nearby trashcan.

The tall guy who was passing through the doorway at first appeared to be unusually nervous for a customer. He was checking first left, then right over his shoulder to perhaps see if he was being followed. Then, seemingly more relaxed, he casually sauntered up to the counter where Hitomi was still standing in a puddle of lukewarm coffee, the soles of her sneakers squeaking as she shifted her weight.

"Afternoon. I'll have a cup of coffee. A very large cup of coffee. Black." The man said upon arriving at the counter. Hitomi eyed the dark-skinned stranger more closely before replying.

His clothing was a bit disheveled, the slightly too elegant dress shirt wrinkled at the hem, and his face accessorized with a pair of mirrored shades which completely hid his eyes. He didn't seem to be planning on taking them off like anybody else would have by now.

An ebony mess of hair covered his head and fell across his forehead in charming disarray. He could be handsome, but it was hard to tell without seeing his eyes.

"Sorry, I just dropped the carafe a few minutes ago and need to clean up this mess before I can get a new one from the storage room in the back." Hitomi apologized, visibly a bit annoyed at her own clumsiness. "If you don't mind waiting a little, I'd be happy to make fresh coffee."

The guy scratched the back of his head while turning his head again to look through the large glass windows on either side of the door through which he had just entered while saying, "sure no problem."

Hitomi nodded and crouched down on the floor again to pick up some more of the many glass shards that littered the immediate area. Before she could proceed, however, the guy had come halfway around the counter. What in the world was he doing?

Van saw an unmistakable hue of scarlet pass by the storefront. A royal guard. Damn, they were fast. Surely, his sister had alerted them immediately after she had returned to his room and found him missing. With nowhere else to hide, he quickly stepped around the counter to where the young woman was kneeling to shield himself from view. "Let me help you with that," Van mumbled and moved to reach for a piece of glass near him.

"Wait what are you doing? Don't cut yourself!" Hitomi exclaimed in alarm. It most definitely wouldn't do to have a customer get injured while picking up broken glass.

Hitomi's hand shot out and grabbed the dark-haired guy's arm. Her fingers wrapped around it firmly, pulling him away from the glass and catching him slightly off guard with her reaction. His head moved up and the lenses of his glasses reflected Hitomi's own face back at her. "I don't want you to hurt yourself." She said a bit annoyed but meaning well.

She was pretty. No make-up, short hair, and with a few freckles across her nose from being out in the sun.

"Fine then. Do it all yourself…and let go because that hurts!" The stranger replied, clearly irritated, and winced a bit while readjusting himself and attempting to get back up.

Hitomi's eyes widened when she released his arm. "By the gods…did…did I do that?" She uttered in horror upon seeing that where her hand had been only a moment ago, a scarlet splotch was beginning to bloom on the white fabric of his shirt.

"How in the…was there glass?" She stuttered before scrambling to her feet too, the mess completely forgotten while she checked her hand back and front to see if a stray shard had caught itself on there without her noticing.

"Oh dear. I'm so very sorry. I don't know how that happened! Please let me take care of that." She said with a horrified expression on her face, motioning towards the guy's arm which he was cradling a bit protectively by the elbow. "Your coffee is obviously going to be on the house," she said for a lack of anything else.

Van couldn't help but be a bit amused despite the accident. The young woman, probably around his age, had not the slightest idea who he was even though the news about his injury had spread like a wildfire. When she took his hand, he noticed that it was much smaller than his and soft, not calloused from holding a sword nearly every day over the last five years or so.

He was used to being treated with respect and a sort of standoffish care by the staff, never ever being dragged around. Certainly not ever being dragged around the counter of a tiny coffee shop and maneuvered into a worn, wooden chair next to a square table by the wall.

"Wait here. I'll get some first aid supplies," the woman said while she hurried towards the back, skidding a bit through the spilled coffee near the back counter on the way. She was athletic looking, dressed in tight khaki shorts and a green polo shirt under the short, brown apron that was wrapped around her waist.

When she came back, she was holding a white plastic box with a red cross on the lid. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I'm in nursing school. I just work here to make a bit of money on the side." She said while depositing the container on the table.

"Really, I'm so sorry I don't even know how that happened." Hitomi stammered again, looking at her hand as if to check again whether she had perhaps spontaneously sprouted a pair of sharp talons without her own knowledge.

Van didn't have the nerve to reply. What was he supposed to say without giving himself away? He was currently also busy staring at her face again. As flustered as the young woman with the short, honey blonde hair was, she was becoming prettier by the minute. Maybe it wasn't just her looks but also her naturally endearing demeanor. He didn't really protest either when she investigated the sleeve of his no longer completely white dress shirt.

No cuts or holes were to be seen, of course. A bit bewildered, Hitomi scrutinized him, her face so close to his that Van was afraid she would see right through the lenses of his mirrored shades. "I can't get to your upper arm. Would you mind just taking it off?"

Van only stared at her while his eyebrows traveled far above the metallic rim of his shades. Was she serious?

"I see shirtless male patients during my rotations all the time. It's not a big deal." Hitomi assured him, the professional through and through.

Quite serious, so it seemed.

Fine then, Van thought, slowly becoming extremely curious and also a bit uncomfortable due to the freshly leaking wound. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea after all to at least have it wrapped up. Walking down the street with a bloody arm would most certainly draw a whole lot of unwanted attention.

He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt a bit, the stinging pain in his injured arm making his fingers slightly clumsy. "Here, let me help with that," the woman immediately offered when she saw that he was getting nowhere. Her hands gently pushed away his and deftly undid the button row in mere seconds. If it hadn't been for his naturally dark complexion, the faint tint of red on Van's cheeks would have been blatantly evident. It wasn't every day that a woman undressed him.

Okay, maybe she shouldn't have so vigorously insisted on helping because this, this was most definitely a first. Normally, Hitomi's professional attitude surpassed any and all awkward situations but the slightly arrogant guy with the ebony hair, the sunglasses he still didn't feel the need to remove, and the wrinkly, bloody shirt looked quite a lot more built, no…let's call it 'healthy'…than the average guys who normally came by the teaching clinic to get free urgent care. This wasn't even a guy. This, most definitely, was a man.

A man who was quite a sight to behold. Hitomi realized that not only had his face a dark taint, his skin was dark, no, bronze all over, making it ostensible that he was a native Fanelian, much unlike her who had moved here from Northern Asturia a few years ago.

His dark skin spanned across a slim, well-muscled stomach, a broad, equally toned chest and nicely shaped shoulders and arms. Hitomi gulped and only somewhat regained her composure when the man carefully peeled the blood-soaked sleeve down an already bandaged upper arm. The bandage, of course, was soaked too.

It seemed like a fairly serious injury and this finally caused Hitomi to snap out of it and back into professional nursing mode. "Good grief, where did you get that injury?"

The dark stranger froze in his movements for a second before answering. "Don't worry about it."

His evasive reply rubbed Hitomi the wrong way but she decided not to question him any further for the moment. Getting his arm cleaned and wrapped up was more important right now.

Van was relieved by her reaction but then winced when she removed the dripping bandage. Her hands were quick and careful but the sticky fabric pulled uncomfortably on the wound, making Van hiss and squirm in his seat, the injured arm jerking away by reflex.

"Hold still you're only making it worse." She admonished him, pushing down on his shoulder to prevent his arm from moving out of her grasp again. The royal physicians, as dedicated as they were, usually apologized profusely at any small sign of discomfort from him when changing the bandages. Not her, though. How irritating and refreshing at the same time.

"Looks like a few stitches have come loose." She said full of concern. "Obviously I can't fix them with what I've got here but it's small enough for me to use a taping technique that will hold that part of the wound together. It's likely going to scar a bit more at this point, seeing as how the healing process already started…around a week ago, I'd judge?"

A pretty darn precise estimate. An estimate that would have maybe given him away anywhere else but this woman was clearly not one to follow the news very closely.

"I don't care," Van replied finally. He really didn't. It wasn't like many people would see it anyway, what with him being stuck wearing these awful formal suit jackets all the time. By Escaflowne's scaly hide, one of his first orders would be to completely re-design any and all of these damn suits. For the past years, Van and his sister had still been bound to the etiquette and traditions set in place by the long line of royals before them but things were about to change drastically.

"Okay then," the woman replied and began rummaging through the box to retrieve a bottle of antiseptic. When she began to clean the bloody gash, a crease appeared between her eyebrows. "How on Gaea did you even do this?" She couldn't help but inquire again. "The edges are all jagged and torn. Not something you'd get from anything I can think of except...," she shook her head now, the thought being too silly to finish.

"Except from what?" Van couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Except from…being outside the walls, fighting a wild beast." Hitomi exhaled audibly after saying it. "…but that's madness. Who would be idiotic enough to go out there?"

Who indeed? Van had to wholeheartedly agree with that last part, albeit quietly so and in his head.

This man dressed in a once crisp button-down shirt certainly didn't seem like the kind who would willingly head out for an adventure beyond the walls and make it back alive to tell the tale. Then again, he did look fairly strong, Hitomi couldn't help but be reminded of that fact as her eyes wandered back across his exposed upper body again.

Nope. This was not the time for wandering thoughts. Most definitely not.

"I'm going to need you to push down on the dressing for a moment while I look for something." The blonde woman instructed him while already beginning to rummage around the box for more materials with one hand, while still applying pressure to the wound with the other.

Van wordlessly and obediently complied. It was truly something to behold. The temperamental prince of Fanelia normally did not like to follow anything that sounded like an order, especially not by the physicians, and if, then not without making his extreme displeasure known.

He numbly reached around with his hand and placed it on the woman's smaller one which was pressed onto his upper arm, compressing the wound with a piece of thick gauze. His larger hand had firmly trapped hers in place. As a response, her face immediately flushed a charming shade of red and they stared at each other for the duration of several heartbeats.

"N…n…no I mean…I need my hand." She stuttered charmingly.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry." Van replied equally flustered and let her retrieve the appendage from his hold.

She quickly claimed it while averting her face to go through the box again instead. "My name is Hitomi, by the way."

"Hi-to-mi." Van tested out her name slowly. It definitely was foreign. She likely hailed from one of the other kingdoms.

Her name sounded very different when he said it and it somehow had a nice ring to it. The thought made Hitomi's heart beat oddly fast for a moment.

"What's yours?" She asked the man to distract herself from the feeling.

Shit. "Uh…never mind that." Van replied evasively. It had come out a bit more rude than he had intended.

Hitomi pursed her lips a bit at the answer. She had just begun to think that maybe he wasn't as arrogant after all but clearly, she was mistaken.

"Suit yourself," Hitomi replied as she finally found what she had been looking for. What a weirdo. Undoubtedly good-looking but definitely weird. It would be best to get him out of here asap after making sure that wound was taken care of properly.

Hitomi unboxed the flex tape and cut a few strips off the roll while a strange silence lingered between them. The dark-haired stranger pulled a bit of a grimace again when she asked him to remove his hand and began to tape the top edge of the long gash. He groaned in response to the intense discomfort.

It obviously hurt and no wonder, the wound was deep. Any sane person would be resting, taking it easy instead of wandering around, buying coffee. Hitomi's eyes darted to the man's face right next to hers. He was watching her intently, probably to make sure she wasn't going to botch him.

She finished stretching the last piece of tape across and smoothed it down as gently as possible. Van's face tensed once again. "Just making sure it's sticking well to the skin. I stretched it pretty good so the elasticity of the tape trying to revert it back to its original length will be pulling the wound together.

"Ok, great." Was all Van managed to say when he regarded her big eyes from behind the privacy of his shades. They were green, he now noticed. Her eyes. So green. At that moment, those green eyes flickered over to the side, distracted by something she saw outside. Van quickly turned his head to follow her gaze.

Damn. A royal security guard was right outside again, scanning the immediate area for any trace of him.

Van panicked. What if they saw him? Would they recognize him despite the hair and the sunglasses? In a desperate moment of sheer lunacy, he reached for Hitomi's shoulder and pulled her around to the other side, effectively shielding himself from view.

Hitomi shrieked a bit when he grabbed her with gentle but deliberate force and moved her. In her still slightly bent-over position, she lost her balance and nearly stumbled over her own feet but Van caught her around the waist so that she landed on his lap instead.

Arms flailing briefly, Hitomi supported herself on the next best thing she could reach- a muscular shoulder and a solid portion of pectoral. If she hadn't been so shocked, she would have immediately scrambled back to her feet but the guy had his one arm wrapped tightly around her waist while the other rested on her bare thigh, halfway under the short apron.

Color and heat tinted Hitomi's cheeks once more when she noticed how close their faces were again. So close she could feel his breath brush across her face and feel the warmth radiating off his broad chest. What in the world was happening? Why was she not getting up right now?

Van gulped when he felt her slender form against his. She was clearly some kind of athlete, he decided when his hand on her bare thigh felt lean muscle there. This was most definitely more than he had bargained for. His eyes briefly darted back to the window on the side, taking note of the security guard who was now all too close to the storefront, attempting to look inside past the cursive writing that decorated a good part of the window with the coffee shop's name.

That's when the usually dignified but stubborn prince of Fanelia panicked even more. For a lack of time to come up with a smart plan and to save his hide from being found, he unwrapped his good arm from Hitomi's waist, reached around the back of her head and pulled it across the short distance between them.

Without much warning at all, poor Hitomi found her lips crushed against those of the man whose lap she was presently still trapped on.

Hitomi's grip on his shoulder and chest immediately tightened, her fingers digging into the muscle mass in either location. Van's eyes rolled back to the window nervously while his lips were locked with hers. The royal guard was turning his head away, seemingly embarrassed at having caught two lovers in an intimate moment.

He left only a moment later, but Van's lips didn't seem to want to detach themselves from the woman's silky, soft counterparts. Relaxing a bit, his eyes slipped half closed, matching hers. This was exhilarating and just probably the most scandalous thing he had ever done.

Van couldn't resist and carefully moved his lips against hers, eliciting a small, muted noise from the woman who seemed to be resurfacing from her state of stupefaction. Just as fast as it had begun, it was over. A bit delayed, she finally recoiled in complete and utter shock and scrambled off Van's lap. His hands fell away, although a bit reluctantly, in the process.

"What on Gaea do you think you are doing?!" She exclaimed in a much more high-pitched voice than before, touching her lips with the tips of her fingers before using the same hand to slap him so hard across his left cheek that the stupid sunglasses finally fell off his face and bounced onto the floor. "You can't just do that!" She yelled angrily while taking another step away. "Who made you king of anything?!"

Van's head was still turned to the side from the force of her quite mighty whack. Hitomi stood across from him, panting a bit from anger and confusion while her hands were balled into tight fists. He slowly rose from the chair and retrieved his beloved shades which had landed not too far away. Straightening himself, a single chuckle filled with dark mirth escaped his mouth.

He just couldn't help it right now. "My father." Van finally replied with a single, raised eyebrow as his garnet eyes caught her angry, green ones.

That's when it hit Hitomi. The man's dark, native look, his wound which seemed to have been inflicted by a wild animal from beyond the wall, his reluctance when it came to tell her his name, and then those uncanny, garnet red eyes. Of course. She had heard about it last week on the news but not really paid attention all that closely. The council of advisors had finally decided to send the youngest, male heir of the royal family beyond the walls to complete the rite of dragon slaying. He had returned successfully but sporting a pretty gruesome wound.

Prince Van de Fanel undoubtedly looked a lot different than on a TV screen or in newspaper pictures. His hair was normally always impeccably styled, combed to the side or slicked back while dressed in expensive, tailored suits featuring the Fanelian crest and fancy embroidery.

It indeed was the worst day in Hitomi Kanzaki's life. Not only had she been soaked from head to toe by a surprise rain shower this morning, torn a lace on her favorite pair of sneakers, walked in on her two roommates making out with each other in their apartment living room, and dumped a whole, fresh carafe of coffee onto the floor behind the counter of the little coffee shop she worked in. She had also slapped the heir to the throne of Fanelia. Quite hard.

Hitomi felt hot, then cold, then hot again for a whole array of reasons. Embarrassment, confusion, but most of all, anger. She gritted her teeth. "You!" She hissed, eyes glinting with agitation. "…you…..," she continued with a slightly different expression on her face, brows twitching and a finger pointing at Van across the distance as if she wanted to impale him with it.

Van could nearly see the gears in her head turning. "You?" Van supplied dryly while Hitomi was still processing the events.

She sucked in a deep, calm breath and repeated. "Y…you…your majesty...my…my most sincere apologies." She finally finished but crossed her arms in front of her chest defiantly, averting her gaze and then added more quietly, "I had no idea."

Her reaction then was somehow a bit disappointing but understandable given the circumstances. Van continued to be amused nonetheless.

He sighed and took a step closer to her, completely ignoring the fact that he was still shirtless in this establishment with very large windows. What she had settled on saying was betraying what she felt on the inside. Of course, she had every right to be angry after he had forced himself upon her out of the blue. Future king or not, such a behavior was unacceptable and it was only due to a momentary lapse in judgment that he had allowed himself to act in such a despicable way.

"No," he finally sighed a bit regretfully. "It's me who should apologize. Please forgive me. I was…only trying to escape the palace to spend an hour by myself. I've spent every day since returning from beyond the wall in my bed, being treated like some gravely wounded invalid. Next week, I'm supposed to be shouldering the burdens of an entire country…and all I wanted was a cup of coffee."

Why was he suddenly saying all those things, trying to justify himself in front of this woman? Why was he pouring his heart out to her? What nonsense was he blabbering? She finally looked back at him again with an expression he hadn't expected from her. Pity.

This time it was him who almost recoiled in shock when Hitomi's gentle hand reached out for him. With a feather-light touch, she grazed his offended cheek, about to reply when her words were cut short.

The small bell above the door chimed violently as it opened. Only one individual Van knew could open a door with such panache. "Lord Van." His sword master's deep voice boomed across the small room.

Van's shoulders slumped when Hitomi's hand immediately pulled away from his face. She latched the other one onto it and began to knead them awkwardly.

"You have had the whole palace going wild for the past hour. Everybody is looking for you." Balgus said in a calm but tense voice. His intimidating appearance doubtlessly was the reason for Hitomi's new, fearful facial expression.

Van rubbed the bridge of his nose before replying. " I know. Please give everybody my apologies."

It took a bit of convincing to ease Balgus' mind and Van had a feeling that the man was making it difficult on purpose to make up for the troubles he had caused with his disappearance. No, Hitomi had certainly not harmed him. She had merely taken care of his wound after he had carelessly overexerted himself while out and about. It had been solely his fault for putting a strain on it which had caused some of the stitches to loosen.

A month later, king Van Slanzar de Fanel rested his forehead against the heavy doors of his chamber. Finally a moment of peace on this otherwise busy afternoon. It was as if everybody had done a complete 180 on him in the weeks following his coronation. Nobody lectured him anymore but instead offered council with bowed heads, seemingly bending to his every wish. It was fake, frustrating, and fodder for fury deep inside. Then he remembered something.

A small smile tugged on his lips when that particular thought came to mind. His fingers were still wrapped around the door handle of his chambers but before re-opening it and slipping out, the king hurried over to his dresser to find his favorite shades while raking a hand through his hair in an attempt to mess it up as well as possible. Somebody still owed him a coffee…

Tbc...

_________________________

If you liked this, wander on over to FFN where I have published some more Escaflowne fanfiction.

[charliebattinson]

BEST FRIENDS? | Best Friend! Shawn [BP] Part 1 | Shawn Mendes

A/N: Hello! I’m splitting this thing into two parts because it was so long haha. I just had so many ideas!! Honestly i’m such a sucker for the “best friends to lovers” trope it may be cliche as hell but it’s my fave. Part 2 has more of a storyline to it just in bullet point form! Also wanna thank @siennarossi, @innocent-before-mendes and @i-keep-craving-craving for advice and for helping me out! Hope you enjoy! Feedback is appreciated! Have a lovely day! ♡♡♡

☆ Read Part 2 here ☆

You moved to pickering when you were a kid and met Shawn when you were 4

He was your neighbor

Bedrooms facing each other

You always thought how stupid he looked trying to climb the tree that was impossible to climb at his age

Since you were new to town when you went to school you knew nobody

Playtime came and you saw shawn by the sandbox playing by himself

You walk to him and asked if you can play together

He was so shy "okay" red cheeks and all

Everything just hit off after that

You guys were attached to the hip

Walking to school holding hands or seating beside each other on the school bus

Some girls from school wanted to play with you and you were so happy to make more friends that you brought shawn with you but the girls said they don't play with boys

"But shawn goes with me wherever i go"

"I guess you can't play with us"

You ditch them for Shawn

“I’ll play your barbie dolls with you y/n”

Wouldn't it be cute to imagine when your parents open the door and look down to see kid shawn in his squeaky voice “Good afternoon Ms. y/l/n! Is y/n there?"

You guys loved watching barney together and singing the theme song

Role playing power rangers and pretending to be fighting each other

Till that one time you accidentally punched Shawn in the face and his nose bled

You always attend each other’s birthday parties and you always need each other by your side before blowing your birthday cake

You play husband wife sometimes

“y/n when were older im going to marry you”

“why shawn” “cause you’re my best friend”

Riding bikes together

Getting boo boos and helping each other out with the wound

“Here’s a bandaid Shawn it’s the barbie one”

Eating ice cream by the front porch

PLAYGROUND PLAYDATES

Giggling to each other while your both on the swings

Sometimes when there’s only one swing left Shawn would offer it to you and he’d start pushing your swing

Lots and lots of videos of you two when you were kids

Halloween time is always a fun time for the both of you because you guys to get to do matching costumes

One year would be you as Mario and Shawn as Luigi with the matching mustaches

“Hey how come you get to be Mario?” “Because I’m cooler Shawn”

another time would be Kim possible and Ron stoppable

another time as Spongebob and Patrick

then ferris and cameron from ferris bueller’s day off but no one ever really got who you were dressing up as that year

and that one time in school where you thought everyone was going to be wearing halloween costumes turns out only and shawn did

Horror movie marathons every halloween

You remember the time Shawn screamed like a girl

“Y/N please don’ tell anyone”

When its Christmas you would go out and make the weirdest looking snowman, snow angels, drinking hot cocoa, baking cookies for santa and opening presents while trying to stay up late and wait for Santa Claus to come out

“My father is the actual santa claus??” “You’re so dumb Shawn”

School plays together!!! Like little mermaid where you played a fish and shawn played a lobster

One of your school plays was also King Arthur

You were a local villager and shawn was the village idiot

Coloring coloring books together

Going to camp together during the summer

11 year old Shawn would be sporting braces and you would make fun of him when he got it

“HAHAHAHAHAHA LOOK AT YOUR METAL MOUTH”

“shawn close your mouth you’re blinding me”

You were a little bit taller than him at that age

You guys would constantly call each other names the kiddish kind

“TOE LICKER” “BUTT SNIFFER” “ONION BREATHE”

He would freak out when he sees your bra laying on the bed

But would also be there for you when you start to panic when you finally get your period

“you aren’t going to die y/n. please your making me scared what if you die, i’m gonna be all alone”

shawn gets so scared when you say a bad word by accident

“Y/n you know we’re not supposed to be saying bad words or we’ll go to hell”

You’re both appalled by kissing when your parents do it or when you’re watching a movie

“EWWWWWWWWWWW” “YUUCK”

“COOTIES EW”

“okay class! go and pick a partner”

🌚 🌝

Your whole family knows Shawn. Shawn’s whole family knows you

Uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents. THEY ALL KNOW SHAWN.

Your family is so familiar to having Shawn around the house so when he’s not there they ask “where’s Shawn?”

High school rolls in and you’re both invited to your first ever high school party

“Y/n do I wear a tux to these parties?” “Idiot”

He ended up wearing Capri shorts and his Birkenstocks

“Please tell me you aren’t wearing socks with your birkenstocks” “well…”

You play 7 minutes in heaven and shawn goes in with a girl

When he goes out, the girl looks so weirded out by shawn

“Well..what happened?”

“She was leaning for a kiss and I got nervous I just screamed at her”

you try alcohol for the first time together in your room; you raided wine in your parents collection

you both spit it out right after

“POISON!!!”

16 year old you is wondering how tall Shawn got over the summer because you have to tilt your head up to look at him

He’s also gotten cuter over the summer no more braces and thank god he stopped wearing those birkenstocks

he’s still wearing those baggy khaki pants

The insults have upgraded

“You stupid lanky dickhead” “fuck you y/n”

You both swear like sailors now

You’re by your lockers and he just salsa dances and sing songs  “look who got an A on chemistry byotch”

You’re both each other’s first kiss you rather have it be your best friend than be it someone else who won’t matter in a couple of years

Also for practice because Shawn ’s been pinning over some chick named Stephanie the whole freshman year

“Come on y/n so you can tell me if I suck or not”

He sucked

“YOU KISSED ME LIKE IM A CPR DUMMY”

Sleepovers at each other’s houses

passing notes in between classes, shawn wanting to play tic tac toe

Doing homework together

Copying each other’s homework

“Pssst shawn what’s the answer to no. 5?”

“I was gonna ask you that!”

“fuck”

Shawn going up your window late at night because he’s tall enough to finally climb the tree

but also the idiot tried doing a stunt and ended up bringing down one of your pipes down with him

you guys would meet each other by the window to say good night

sometimes when he knows you feel bad he would stare at your window and write down a note saying “are you okay?” or “feel better”

You attended junior prom together

“Look at you Shawn looking so fancy in that tux”

You see Shawn’s cheeks redden “thanks y/n you look pretty”

You try to pin his boutonnière and he keeps joking around that you pricked his skin

Till you actually pricked his skin cause he was moving around too much “idiot”

Ditched after a while cause it was getting boring, you both just headed out to the local diner and ordered milkshakes

For senior prom, you had to find a date because Shawn asked someone else; you were a little sad because you’re just used to you and Shawn doing everything together

Watching the schools football games together by the bleachers

They made shawn the school mascot

“it is a sauna inside here and i can’t fucking see anything”

always going together to high school parties

fist bumping to levels by avicii (beacause it was a bop at that time tbh)

asking each others approval when you find someone hot

constructing each other’s sentences before hitting send to your crush

there’s a girl that likes shawn and she’s very confident and flirting around with him and shawn just mumbles trying to talk to her “yeah ugh no yeah totally but ugh yeah no”

You’re just watching him trying your hardest not to laugh

“pathetic”

Giving each other tips on making a move

“I watched that movie hitch and they said that if a girl lingers by the front door it means she wants you to kiss her”

“Shawn you gotta stop screaming at a girl when they try to go near you”

You tell each other who you lost your virginity to and judging so hard

“WHY BECKY?” “Sleeping simon are you serious?”

Also being each other’s person to look for support and comfort whenver you’re feeling down

Shawn would get your favorite ice cream and listen to you on your bed cuddled up to him”

“Hey shawn i got your favorite muffins. Please tell me what’s wrong with you”

Shawn would tell you to leave him alone under the covers and you would just go under the covers

Being lab partners

Shawn making you laugh when he does an impersonation of professor fink with his lab coat and goggles

“Well according to my calculations..”

GRADUATION DAY

You would be cheering for each other when you both get on stage

“LETS GO Y/N LETS GO!!!”

“THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND RIGHT THERE”

Shawn would just blast “SCHOOLS OUT FOR SUMMER” on his jeep on your way to your graduation party

He wore a fucking vest and a casual tie with converse to the party

“A vest shawn? Really?”

”yolo y/n yolo”

Booze is present and you both have had a bit too much

You see Shawn standing up on the table dancing to Daft Punk’s One More Time

You push Shawn into the pool but he’s quick to grab you leaving both of you underwater

Going to the park after and riding the swings just like when you were kids

Figuring out what colleges to apply to

both of you just staring at your acceptance letters

“Open yours first” “No! You open yours first”

“FINE I’LL READ YOURS, YOU READ MINE”

Jumping because you both got in

Luckily you both wanted to go to the same college with just different courses so the long distance friendship is off the books

You’re headed off to college to fix your dorm rooms

Shawn would be in such a school spirit he’s already wearing the college hat and hoodie

Shawn just starts playing “everybody lets go” song from dora the explorer in the car

“Here we go...”

☆ Read part 2 here ☆

[crowkingwrites]

War Creatures (Ch.17)

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Summary:  In a crossover of the Nine Realms and Westeros, you find yourself in the dawn of a rebellion. Odin, Lord of Pyke, has made alliances with your family, House Grover of Highgarden. Your father’s army will join Odin’s army to overthrow the King and take the Iron Throne. There is just one cost to this alliance.You must marry the dark, young prince Loki.In a world where Kings do as they wish, where war is an oncoming storm, and peace is nothing but a dream, you are lost but brave. Loki is more powerful than he seems, and love will grow from the flames of war.

Words: 2416

Taglist: @white-chocolate-mocha-fan

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108748/chapters/29052837

“Within A fortnight!” shouted Lord Wilfig across the dining hall. “My son and his new bride shall be joined in marriage! Ah, sweet, young love.” He looked at us. Walder’ grin had a piece of meat stuck in it, and I politely tried to smile. Fandral cringed at my facial reaction, and tried to lighten the mood for the both of us.

“Think of it this way,” he began. “Less than two weeks till they’re all gone.” He was right. Loki’s plan had put Fandral and me at the frontlines. Each day passed and we grew more and more annoyed with the drunken dwarves.

The Lord Mother, Lady Wewatta, planned every detail of the wedding, down to the seating arrangements. I was a part of these plans as much as a baker was a part of a naval army. Not to say that she was cruel or mean. Lady Wewatta was very excited about her son’s upcoming nuptials, and even more excited that it was to Lady Cerissa, a very pretty, human noble.

“And you shall wear a handmade dress, my dear,” she said proudly. “I’ll have them work day and night for you.” I nodded my head, but in a way, I felt bad for her. When you have a husband and a son who are nothing but awful, how do you cope? I wondered how she felt about King Malekith.

After another fitting which lasted three hours, I took a refreshing walk about the castle. The Eyrie was no maze. Visitors in Highgarden would often complain to me how lost they would get in the halls and corridors. Maybe it was where I grew up, or maybe because dwarves were simpler, but the Eyrie’s layout was not hard to figure out.

My room was among the other guest rooms in the castle. The floor above me had our hosts’ rooms. Lord Wilfig’s room was the biggest in the castle, but the least defended. It seemed Lord Wilfig thought he could defend himself and if any enemy were to come to his door, he would want them to face him first.

Walder’s room was much similar to his father’s. He did have guards protecting his door, but they seemed lethargic and bored standing there. In the floors below all of the bedrooms were obviously the throne room, dining hall, lord’s talking chambers, etc. One thing that caught my eye was the Moon Door.

As I walked into the throne room again, I noticed more of the grandeur of it all. Lord Wilfig’s ancestors loved luxury, art, but most of all, looking intimidating to their enemies. Hence, the Moon Door. The perfectly round door was a long way down to hard rocks, spikes, and the cold, unforgiving earth.

I bent down over the wall to see scattered bodies. Most of them were decayed, but I spied an elf, quite a few dwarves, but most curious, a frost giant. My father told me how savage they were. Their cold, hard northern laws made every man held accountable for their wrongdoings. Sometimes I didn’t know what was colder: frost giants or their traditional ways.

“Lady Cerissa!” I heard behind me. It almost startled me into falling through the Moon Door. I turned to see Walder with a few of his friends. Loki was not far behind. It seemed he was watching him.

“Good afternoon, Walder,” I greeted as politely as I could. A smile made its way onto my face, my eyes looked alert and gave all of their attention to the dwarf in front of me.

“How’s my bride-to-be?” Walder leaned forward to give me a kiss on the lips. The Black Mountain Knight stepped in between us to stop him. I secretly smiled at my protector, but as I glanced over to Walder, he was clearly unhappy. “Move, you cunt.”

Loki turned around to face Walder. I could almost feel the fire coming from his eyes to Walder. Walder stood his ground this time. His friends were armed.

“I wish to kiss my betrothed,” he stated. His friends were ready to attack. Quickly, I stepped in between my silent knight and Walder. I put my hands up and kissed Walder on the cheek. His skin was uneven, but I let the kiss linger for a moment. As my lips left his cheek, I could feel heat rise to his cheeks.

“There,’ I smiled at him. “Better?” My warm smile cooled his temper. I watched Walder’s friends lower their weapons, and Walder’s smile fade into a sense of awe. His eyes grew wide and they dilated. I turned to Loki to see what he thought of my acting.

Loki’s green eyes seethed at the scene before him. His fists were clenched. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he was jealous. I shook my head. No, that was a silly thought.

:Loki’s POV:

Why were my muscles tensed up? Why I did feel the need to eliminate this excuse of a mortal being? I watched his anger fade and genuine joy and awe replace it. Lia turned to me and she knew. She could see underneath my armor. She saw my rage.

What was I doing? I couldn’t be like this. I turned and walked away from the whole situation. I heard Lia say some excuse to get herself away from Walder, and she followed me in pursuit.

This was ridiculous. The rush of anger carried my feet further away from that oddly-shaped pig-nosed hideous thing. Why? Why was I feeling this way? There was no rational reason why I should feel this angry.

“Loki!” I heard in a lowered voice.

Oh. Oh that’s why. Oh no.

“Loki,” Lia said to me, grabbing my full attention. She wore purple every day since we’ve been here. She looked lovely in purple. Then again, she’d look lovely in any color I put her in. I shook my head. I can’t have these thoughts.

“Yes?” I snapped out of it.

“What happened back there?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were acting weird,” she pointed out to me. No, she’s onto me. She knows.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lia,” I turned and led her away from the hallway. Somewhere we couldn’t be heard. I turned into a small room off to the side. It was filled with queer knick knacks and scrolls.

“Are you alright?” she asked me, looking around our surroundings. What could I tell her? That I felt jealous of the dwarf? No, that’s silly. She would think I’m petty.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“You don’t look like it, take off your helmet,” her eyes searched mine. I followed her orders. My hair fell loose behind me.

“Better?” I asked her. Lia’s arms crossed. Why must she be so difficult?

“What’s wrong? Please tell me. Did I do something wrong? Why did you go off like that?” Her eyebrows knitted at me. She thinks this is her fault.

“No, it’s not you, Lia,” I tried to remedy it. “I just feel sick.”

“Do you need to lie down? You work yourself too hard sometimes—

“It’s fine, Lia,” I interrupted her. I looked at her in her fancy dress and her hair tied back like a northerner. Her e/c eyes looked into mine, and I could feel my heart sinking. We were friends. I couldn’t break our friendship over a heated moment.

Suddenly, the door opened to our private conversation. Fandral smiled at us both. “Found you.”

“What?” I asked him. “What could you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Fandral shrugged. “It’s not like we’re about to invade or anything. Personally, you two hiding in this closet seems like a great idea to win this rebellion.” Lia smacked Fandral in his upper arm, and I fell in love with her a little bit more.

“What is it, dear cousin?” the poison from her voice could have killed Fandral. I could not hide my wicked smile any longer. This was going to be good. Fandral rubbed his arm.

“Our troops are ready,” his voice lowered. “We could strike tonight.”

“We should strike tonight,” I confirmed. “Do you have the gift?”

“The gift?” Lia asked. I smiled wickedly again.

Lord Wilfig was a drunken old fool, but few could say that to his face. He liked to consider himself a connoisseur of ales, wines, and other spirits. He could taste the difference between an arbor red made in Westeros and an arbor red actually made in Dorne.

I kept quiet under the helmet as Fandral presented the gift to him. “Ten barrels of our finest, my Lord! I wish nothing but to truly celebrate this impending union!” Fandral’s smile sold it all. Lord Wilfig clapped his hands, his pint at the ready.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Get those barrels open!” he cried out, and the whole hall celebrated. Dwarves poured themselves the gifted ale and gulped it down with smiles on their faces.

I stood behind Lia, and I watched Walder very closely as he was already on his second pint of the ale. His behavior wasn’t sloppy or crude yet, but the thought of him even touching her again didn’t please me one bit. This would be over soon.

Lia did very well. She and others knew not to touch the gifted ale. Lia didn’t ask me why, but I could see how curious she was. Her eyes watched Walder gulp the ale down so quickly. I wondered if she could figure it out herself.

“Lord Flement!” Lord Wilfig shouted at Fandral. “What do you call this? It’s smooth. It’s delicious!” Fandral took one quick glance at me, and answered Lord Wilfig.

“It’s from our mountains. We brewed it with something special. We call it the Night Ale,” I heard a small gasp from Lia. There it is. She figured it out. She looked to the dwarves with their heavy eyes and sluggish movement. Several of them had left the hall already. Others had fallen asleep where they sat.

“The Night Ale?” Lord Wilfig repeated. “What a lovely name.” He clinked glasses with Fandral and drank the rest of the ale.

“Do you like it?” Fandral asked. “Would you like some more?” Fandral kept Lord Wilfig’s attention while his people sang drunken songs and became sleepier by the minute. I escorted Lia to her bedchambers on the higher floors.

Once we were away from everyone and the halls were quiet, Lia turned to me. “Loki! That’s genius! Did you see them? They’re all falling asleep!”

“I didn’t think it would work so fast,” I confessed to her. “But we have to wait to strike. Not until everyone is in a deep sleep.” Lia helped me hide my weapons and armor in her chambers. The dwarf maidens knew not touch things that were not theirs. I changed into my true armor.

I felt powerful in gold and green. My cape cascaded behind me. The golden armored plates and my horns were not polished, but I felt proud of them. They have been through battle. That’s when I saw Lia.

She covered her eyes so she couldn’t see me change, but she was peeking through her fingers. Her eyes were gazing at me as if she was admiring me. No, that’s a silly thought. She wouldn’t be looking at me like that. Would she?

“Lia, I can see you peeking,” I boldly said. Lia gasped and turned away from me quickly. She was admiring me. I felt a smile quietly grow on my face. “Do you like it then?”

“Like what?” I heard her say. I wanted to chuckle at her misfortune. Her hands were still covering her now-red face. She made herself look so small. I walked over to her and touched her shoulders. She jumped.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I apologized. “I only thought—

Fandral came into the room again. “We’re almost ready, my lord.” Elise followed behind him and grabbed Lia. Elise started to wrap Lia in a heavy blanket and pulled her away from me.

“Your timing is perfect again, Fandral,” my sarcastic voice dripped onto the floor. “Thank you, really. Thank you so much.”

“I told you I wouldn’t disappoint you,” Fandral winked. I turned to Lia and Elise. Lia was wrapped sitting on the bed so far away from my touch.

“You are to stay here, do you understand?” I warned her. “You’re not running off on me again.”

“I won’t.” she answered in a quiet voice.

“Promise me.”

“I swear I will stay here,” Lia’s voice carried her anxiety with her words. She was nervous again. I found myself walking to her before I could even realize. My fingers felt her soft hair, her face warming up to my touch.

“Cecelia,” I brought myself to her level. “I don’t want to lose you. Please swear to not run away from this room. I need you to stay here. I promised your father—

“I don’t need a speech,” she interrupted me. “I swear to not leave. You have my word.” She brought her lips to my cheek, and I felt the same warmth as Walder did. Now I understood why he was in awe. She smelled like roses and honey. She was not as warm as the sun, but she was something better. I felt a pull to her, but I stood up. I had to.

“Thank you, Cecelia,” I said and I turned to leave. I would return to her, and I would return with an entire castle that would be ours. Ours alone.

:Lia’s POV:

I watched Loki walk away from me, and it hurt. The door closed behind them both, and Elise locked the room from the inside.

“It’s happening. We’re going through another battle,” she sighed.

“We’ll be alright in here. The Eyrie is a stronghold. These rooms are meant to protect the inhabitants,” I told her.

“Yes, but what good will that do for them?” Elise asked me. The dwarves were nasty and heavy fighters. They played unfairly. I shifted in my bed, and I felt something heavy and hard.

Oh no.

I quickly got off my bed and pushed my sheets around. Elise looked at me confused.

“What are you doing?” she asked me. Under my sheets, it laid there. Oh no. I picked it up with both hands to show Elise my concern.

“He left it,” I showed the sword to Elise. “Loki left his sword. He’s not armed.”

[marmaladiva]

By Any Other Name | 01

Pairings: Taegi, Taekook (more to be added)

Genre: Fantasy!au Harem!au Eventual smut, angst, probably fluff.

Summary: In the city of Alysia there is no one more cherished than the crown prince, and no higher station to hold than to be a flower in his garden. 

Warnings: (not for a while but) dom/sub, collars, abusive behavior, rape

part 1 part 2

Being the son of a fish breeder was only a little bit as dull as it sounded. There were no great journeys or adventures destined for Jungkook's life as there might’ve been if he had been the son of a trader or a mercenary. Surely, even a lumberjack’s son might meet wonder and adventure as he journeyed deep into the country's forests. But Jungkook’s family was not poor either, which left him room to enjoy the city he lived in. Alysia was a large and bustling place full of traders and other visitors. Every day was greeted with a new set of faces or a new language being shared between friends. Yet Alysia never felt aloof or strange. The locals always found time to meet with their neighbors, to enquire over a family's health or their children's schooling. To have the title of an Alysian meant you belonged to a family, and a visitor to Alysia was your friend. Anyone who visited the city would vouch it was not only a hub of fine goods, but of cheer and hospitality.

 What truly made the city shine though was the watch of its ruler. How closely he cared for his country was shown in the cleanliness of the country's streets, in the beauty of the buildings and gardens throughout the area, and in the contentment of his subjects. The royal line was no less family than the poorest servant, and Alysia was their home.

 So, Jungkook would never dare say his life as a citizen of Alysia was an unhappy one. He had good teachers and pleasant friends. His parents were kind to him and gave him whatever they could.

 It was only a little dull.

This was the thought that continued to cross his mind as he gazed at the glittering fish circling the tanks throughout his parents shop. They were gorgeous specimens his parents had spent careful months caring for to bring out the unique shine and color of each fish’s scales. They cost a pretty penny, but customers were not scarce. Folks from the surroundings countries came quite often to purchase fish for their gardens and homes; the same customers who visited the neighboring shop for local flowers, or the aromatic shop down the lane full of bewitching perfumes and colognes. After all, Alysia’s chief industry was of beauty, and the wealthy of the world are attached to such fine goods as Alysia had to offer.

 Around this time the shop should be busiest. A swath of well dressed customers perusing the aisles of the modest shop, with Jungkook standing by attentively, ready to answer any questions or queries. He knew all the answers, after all, he had been doing this long enough to know any answer without a doubt. And customers would ask many, many questions. Questions about the fish, and questions about Jungkook.

 There would always be at least one person on the days he ran the shop ready to approach him. Young women and men would approach him and ask his name, his age, his hobbies. Graying fathers and mothers asked after him, joking about bringing their children for him to marry. Sometimes foreigners from far, far away would ask if he might also be for sale. They told him his dark hair was desirable, his polite manner respectable, and that his bright smile lit up the dimly lit store. They compared him to the fish he watched over, exotic and mysterious. Jungkook would just gaze at the fish in their tanks, swimming in the same circles day after day.

 Jungkook preferred questions about the fish.

 But today the shop was empty. Oddly empty. They had only had one or two customers all day, leaving the store silent and cold, and Jungkook bored. On a warm, sunny day like this, the shop should be bustling with visitors.

 The shop should never have been as empty as it was the day the Flower visited.

 The shop was so quiet, it was only right that he should be surprised when the door rang with the entrance of a new customer, and even more so when the man who walked in was someone of such obvious influence.

 His hair was dark and rich as onyx but laid light and soft as a spring breeze. His stern expression did nothing to lessen the sleekness of his features; the narrow eyes and sharp edges of his face given a certain gentleness by soft lips and cheeks. The simple clothes he wore emphasized his slight figure. A loose white top draped softly round him added to the grace of his movements, while the rich jewelry and simple collar he was adorned with made it clear who it was he belonged to.

  Jungkook tried not to stare, he really did. But the man’s commanding presence drew Jungkook’s eyes towards him, and he simply couldn’t look away. It wasn’t long before the man’s eyes fell on Jungkook’s in turn, a slight smile gracing his lips.

 “You're the son of this shop's owner, yes?”

 It was a simple question, one he’d answered many times, but this time, Jungkook found himself lost for the answer.

 “I... uh...yes?” Jungkook could tell he was blushing. His face only grew hotter with the embarrassment of being so strongly affected by the presence of this customer.

 The gorgeous man’s smile thinned, his eyes narrowing. A chill ran down Jungkook’s spine at the sly, foxlike expression. As the visitor moved closer to the counter the sweet fragrance of flowers wafted over him.

 “You don’t have to be so nervous, you know. This can’t be your first time seeing a Flower, can it? The King has bought his fish from this store for quite a while.”

 “No of- of course living in our city I’ve seen Flowers before. I hope you will forgive my staring, your grace.”

 The man chuckled softly, and somehow even that was overwhelmingly beautiful.

 “No offense taken. And you have no need to be so formal either. It’s not as if I’m royalty.”

 Though the Flower's words were meant well, they only furthered Jungkook’s embarrassment, and he felt unable to look his customer in the eyes any longer than he had to.

 “Anyway, to business.” The Flower turned and walked over to the tank closest to the counter. With his back turned, Jungkook had a moment to breathe.

 “Unfortunately, one of the fish in the royal gardens has died, so I’m here to purchase a replacement. I would’ve sent another servant to order the usual breed, but I was requested by the Prince to choose one personally. Apparently the fish in question was his favorite, and he wished to have a special one picked out. He said, specifically, that it should be a fish ‘overflowing with love’.”

 The Flower’s thin fingers traced the glass of a tank filled with gold tinted fish as he spoke absentmindedly of his errand. He sighed as he reached the end of the tank, letting his hand drop to his side.

  “Whatever that means.”

 Jungkook could no longer see the Flower’s face, but his voice was filled with the fondness his words were lacking. When he turned back to look at Jungkook again, his sly smile had shifted to a gentler expression.

 Jungkook swallowed nervously as the Flower seemed to examine him. It was a couple seconds before he spoke.

 “Tell me, which fish here is your favorite?”

 “You’re, uh, standing in front of her, actually”

 The Flower turned back to the tank with renewed interest.

 “The black and gold one?”

 As the conversation shifted to the fish, Jungkook became more comfortable. “Yes…. Most of our customers sail here from the country across the sea, Villam. Apparently, in that country, to own a black animal is to bring poor luck to your family, so she hasn’t sold. I’ve grown to like her quite a bit. She’s really very pretty.”

 He couldn’t help but smile himself as he talked about the animal.

 “I call her Carrot, because it’s her favorite snack, and because of the gold scales.”

 “Why would you give a product a name before your customer?” the Flower inquired softly, almost whispering. When Jungkook looked back to the Flower, he expected the sly smile from before, but he was met with cold, dark eyes. “You have given her a name, and yet you would sell her?”

 “I….” Jungkook breathed out, the atmosphere in the store suddenly taut. “W-well, it just sort of happened.” He began to play with his hair nervously, searching for the right words within the jumble of possible responses. “When a fish stays with us for a while, they seem like they want names. So, it just sort of… slips out?”

 Jungkook felt, under the Flower’s gaze, that his excuse was overwhelmingly silly. He hated that he could never give this customer a good answer, when all the questions had been the simplest he’d been asked in a while. All Jungkook could do was keep grasping for the response that would make the Flower stop staring at him like he was under trial.

 “Our foreign customers do not follow the naming custom, and our local customers seem to feel stronger ownership of the fish if they rename them rather then fill in an empty title. Since, well...they have taken something.”

 The man’s expression soured further as he explained. Jungkook couldn’t help but feel he’d done something very, very wrong to cause a Flower to look that way.

 “I fear, despite that the Prince would probably approve of….”Carrot” greatly, I cannot bring myself to buy a creature with its own name. I do hope there are other fish here you have yet to name?”

 “Y-yes! These over here…”

 Jungkook showed the Flower around the store, explaining about the various fish, their needs and the appeal of each. Gradually, the mood of the room lightened as the Flower took increasing interest in each.

 “So what you’re saying is that this fish will change color if you feed it different foods?”

 “Yes, this one is pink because we’ve fed it shrimp. This one has the same golden color as honey. If you find them in the wild, they’re generally a dull green and grey because they will simply eat anything in the water, plants or other fish. But treat them right, and they'll become quite beautiful.”

 “How strange.” The Flower pondered, admiring the fish. “Really, very strange….”

 Jungkook wondered why the Flower would look so fondly at something he found so odd.

 “Please, deliver one of the color changing ones to the palace tomorrow.”

 It was a relief to be done helping the Flower. Jungkook knew their shop served the King. His father wouldn’t stop boasting of it, after all. But, as such, it was his father who usually spoke with the King’s servants. Jungkook had no idea being responsible for such a task would be so stressful. Every time he thought he could relax, the sight of the Flower and that dark black collar was all it took to remind him of who it was he was in the presence of.

 Pleasantries were exchanged as the Flower paid for the pet. The usual “Thank you”’s and “nice day”’s. But as the Flower moved to open the shop door, he turned back to face Jungkook.

 “What’s your name?”

 “Jungkook. My name is Jungkook, sir.”

 The Flower’s expression deepened again into the sly fox smile from earlier.

 “And I am Prince’s Rose,” he returned, bowing slightly.

 “Send your father my regards.”

 The store was quiet again for a long time after the Flower left. A couple customers came and went. Questions were asked, and answers were given. Fish swam in the same mindless circles. Hours passed before it was time for Jungkook to clean and close the shop for the night. But Jungkook could not feel calm, even when he laid down to sleep. For all throughout the day, and even lying in bed far from the fish and the store, Jungkook could still smell that same soft fragrance the Flower had carried.

 The sickeningly sweet smell of roses.

[deadmantalking117]

MEL

In my mid 30's I really started getting sick. All the time. So very sick. Up until now I was mostly ok. For the past 10 years since my diagnosis I was doing fine. But I had that Sword of Damocles hanging over my head. I had been told that I would die before I got to be 40. And there's 40.. right over there! And for the first time.. I'm really sick.. a lot. Deaths coming for me. So I did what you're supposed to do. When I got sick.. I had my Dr admit me into the hospital... that's where you go to die.. right? Some episodes were a few days.. some a few weeks. But they were many. Being fed thru a tube. IV tubes everywhere.. so many needles.. Part if my routine was walking the halls. To help recover.. it's very important to keep moving. The more you can force yourself to get up and move.. the faster you recover. It's pure Newtonian physics.. a body at rest stays at rest.. a body in motion stays in motion.. so get moving. Keep moving. Walking the halls is an ordeal. You need to bundle up all your tubes and IV's.. unplug the pumps. (They're battery backed up) and make sure you dont get tangled up and fall. But I put on my monster feet slippers and headed on out. Usually twice per day.. I would try to get 10 laps around the ward. Most times I barely noticed other people.. I'm in astonishing amounts of pain.. and focused on making the next lap. But I could see other rooms.. with other people. As I passed by one of these.. a little shell of a girl.. laying on her bed was being smacked on the back by nurses.. they had to do this several times a day to break up the phlegm in her lungs.. so she wouldn't drown. I had noticed her before.. another frequent flyer like me. This time she gave me a little smile and a weak wave. She's seen my laps.. and had started counting me. One day as I'm passing.. she called out.. "that's 6!" I stuck my head in to say a quick hello. And my entire life changed. Mel was a little waif of a girl. She was fighting a couple horrible diseases that were wasting her tiny little body.. she was terminal.. but hanging on hard.. at 19 years old.. she looked 10.. she was so frail she couldn't get out of bed... ever. I was 36-37 and facing my own mortality. But this girl never had any real life. At 19 .. She's never had a boyfriend.. or any friend.. She's been in hospital beds her entire life. Nurses were her only human contact, besides her parents. But they had to work to support their dying daughter.. so they couldn't be there a lot. I made it my mission to visit her as often as I could get out my own bed. Most days.. as I did my laps. I'd stick my head in the door.. say hi.. ask how she was doing.. always a weak little smile.. "still here" she'd joke. Thats 4! Or 5! As I hobbled past. One day when I stopped by she asked me if I wanted to come over tonight and watch a movie with her.. as a permanent guest.. she got a good t.v. and a vcr.. her mom would bring her movies. "So if you are bored and wanna come by my mom will bring me any movie I want". I have an amazing wife and family. My times in the hospital were made easier by their visits and support. I was never lonely. But this sweet dying wisp of a girl.. only had mom and dad.. and they were killing themselves working to keep her alive as long as they could. So. Movie night! I bundled up my tubes.. put on my monster feet slippers.. and headed over around 8. See.. the thing in hospitals is.. time is meaningless. 2 am.. just the same as 5pm. But mom left at 8 each night.. so she's free! Our first movie was a Ray Liotta comedy/drama called Article 99. If you wanna see a story about veterans care.. its great. A must watch. We gabbed throughout the film. Each making jokes about the movie.. or our actual lives. Or whatever.. I was stunned by how cheerful and funny she was. How could someone this ravaged be so upbeat? I remember when I left that first night.. I had this overpowering urge to give her a hug or something.. but that's impossible. She can't be touched ! The nurses had told me was written in stone.. she was so prone to infection that you had be sterilized before any contact. They had to undergo a whole routine just to treat her! The only reason I could sit with her was because we were already in the same environment.. and I didn't have anything contagious. I recall the time where I was in for a flare up. But I was also having sinus issues.. so her room was a no fly zone. When I could get up and walk.. I had to stand well back from her door and kinda yell in to her room. But she'd always have something to tell me. On days when I was too sick to get up from my bed.. we'd pass messages back and forth through the nurses.."she wants to know when you're coming by for movie night.. and what do want her mom to bring?" Tell her.." maybe tomorrow night.. ever seen Star Wars?" Things like that. Most days.. I was way too sick to get up. But I made a special effort to at least do a couple laps.. so I could say hi. She'd always update me with her "labs" her blood count.. oxygen levels.. what new drug they were going with now.. there was always a new drug. Basically let me know she still alive. I'd tell her about the family.. "Kat says hi.. she'll see you on her next visit" "kids are doing ok" things like that. This was over a time period of about 6 or 8 months..I was literally sick all the time. Most days.. I'd get up.. vomit uncontrollably for a while.. have an astonishingly painful bowel movement or 6. Try to get on with my day. Over and over I'd go back to the hospital.. 3 or 4 days usually.. couple weeks sometimes... one particular stretch of 35 days being fed thru a tube stands out. I was not a happy camper. But here was this dying girl.. who almost never got to go home. And she's better than me. It bothered her that she was happy I was sick... but it was cool that we could hang out. I remember when she confessed this.. she had a small whisper of a voice.. because of the years of damage from tubes and drains. She talked kinda like a deaf person talks. But very quietly.. a husky whisper. I can hear her even to this day.. 25 years later. Picture her laying in her bed.. She looked a bit like the actress Kate Micucci. Just a smaller wasted version. One day the nurse tells me that Mel is wanting me to stop by and visit.. she's doing really good. She also told me.. "You know she dresses up for you?" She would have the nurse comb her hair.. she even had her pretty nightgown set aside to wear when I was in the house. She had 3 or 4 different nightgowns to wear so she wouldn't always have to wear hospital gowns. But one was her favorite.. apparently she only wore it when I was there. Our total time together over this 6 or 8 month time span.. maybe a few hours total. 5 minutes here ... 10 minutes there.. it always had to be me that visited.. and I was in no shape.. and as soon as I could get up.. I was gone. We had a few movie nights. I did make her watch Star Wars.. she said she liked it.. but I remember that we always talked thru the movies.. so I don't think she even really watched it. She made me feel better.. first by motivating me to get up and walk.. but mostly by her relentlessly cheerful attitude. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you.. she was barely alive.. 19 years old.. but looked like a 10 year old who been hit by a bus. Yet there she lay.. smiling all the while. In her prettiest nightgown. One Sunday afternoon theres a knock on my door.. Kat was out shopping and I was sick on the couch watching the kiddies. I open it and there's 2 older people standing there.. GREAT.. church people.. I'm so not up for this.. I'm sick. But they weren't church people.. they were Mel's parents. MEL DIED YESTERDAY. They had gotten my address from one of the nurses.. she knew that I'd want to know. They told me how greatful they were to me. Mel loved me.. she talked about me all the time.. her mom told me she had the biggest crush on me.. if course I knew it.. but I'm choking back tears while these people I've never met tell me I was literally the only friend she ever had. She'd been born sick and wasn't expected to make it to puberty. But she stayed around for almost 20 years. Mom tells me that her numbers were always up when I was in the hospital. About how her friend Steve was back in and we're going watch such and such movie maybe tomorrow aftetnoon. About how they'd always wanted to meet me.. but she didn't want them to embarrass her in front of her friend! Dad was a butcher.. he offered to make my whole family a barbeque.. they wanted to do something for me. I was too sick to eat anything then.. but got their number and promised to call when I was up and around. I never did. Not long after Mel died. I quit going to the hospital. It wasn't her death.. it was a bunch of reasons.. mostly I felt like something had to change. But I'll tell you that story another time. Before they left my doorway.. I asked the one question I never even thought to ask Mel. I knew what diseases she had..I can't recall what they were.. some long medical thing that doesn't really do the disease justice.. like toxohistiplasmosis leukasemia. It's just a bunch of letters slapped together to try to explain the death of a beautiful young woman. Who gives a shit what you call it. I asked them.. " what is Mel short for anyways? I never asked her. Was it Melody? Or Melony?" Her name was Melissa I was her only friend for a very short period of time. And she absolutely changed my life. Her parents are likely long gone.. they appeared to be in their 60s back then.. they had no other children. Kathleen and I are probably the only people who know this person even exsisted.. even if only for brief moment in time. But she did exsist.. And she helped shape the course of my life.. simply because of who she was. She did exsist.. and I was her friend.