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[silkjade-archived]

alhaitham x mermaid! reader (3)

⤀ warnings: fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned, reader has hair long enough to be pinned a/n: recommended to read the previous parts first, since this is a direct continuation next ﾉ series masterlist ﾉ bonus (18+) ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

When you first step foot into Sumeru City’s grand bazaar, you're immediately taken aback by the atmosphere. It's too loud, feels too stifling — a far cry from the vast and silent depths of the ocean, or the peaceful serenity of the forest. Even port ormos, had at least a lovely sea breeze. But you've come so far, it'd be a waste not to experience this lively city to its fullest.

“This necklace should only be worn by someone as beautiful as you!”

“Ditch those drab clothes and come see this new fabric from Liyue!”

“I guarantee these sunsettias are sweet like you!”

"Can I buy you a drink tonight?"

It's already a little dizzying to be so far inland, but the way all these humans vie for your attention, on top of the musicians and screaming children in the background… it’s a lot to take in so suddenly. Covering your ears helps a little, but not nearly enough to drown out the cacophony. You don’t even care to react when a strong arm wraps around your waist and leads you away.

Alhaitham guides you towards an isolated corner nearby, shooting a glare at any who dares look your way. He speaks to you in your native tongue; his pronunciation has become near flawless with your help.

“Are you alright?”

Both your head and your heart seem to settle a bit at the familiarity.

"It's a little much is all... just need some time to adjust."

To play it safe, Alhaitham removes his soundproof earpieces, placing them on you instead, and switches it on to the lowest setting. He's no fan of the noise either, but he's used to it; he'll be fine.

"Oh isn't this beautiful? And i'm sure it'll look even better on me!"

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. You're gushing over a hairpin while he stands beside you, arms full carrying assorted jewelry, trinkets large and small, a carpet, and a basketful of zaytum peaches. Mermaids and their vanity and their affinity for pretty things… at least you’re helping the local economy.

However, there’s currently only one issue and it isn’t the mora — it's the merchant who has him blacklisted.

"That'll be two million mora for the hairpin."

Now that he cannot justify. It's well crafted and beautifully embedded with crystal ore, but definitely not worth even half of what dori is asking for; only a fool would pay that price. Underhanded as it may be, he manages to swipe a similar hairpin that peaks out from under the large pile of accessories. Besides, all the times lord sangemah bay has overcharged him on information sales is far from a mere two million mora.

Dinner at Lambad’s is interrupted by a trio of colorfully clad men who seem to be on familiar terms with Alhaitham. You had always read him as more of a loner, and had seemed to be correct in your assumptions until now.

"I have some business to attend to, but I'll be back shortly. In the meantime, these are my... acquaintances. You can trust them."

“Would it kill you to call us your friends?” says the intimidating, purple one.

The blonde one laughs into oblivion when he sees Alhaitham leave with his arms full of your many purchases in tow.

…

“Ah, so you’re a diver. There’s a specific deep sea coral I’ve been dying to study, but it’s been impossible to get a sample. Would you be interested in working together? I'll be sure to compensate you well.”

You agree to Tighnari’s proposal; it would be no trouble as the dragon bone coral he speaks of is easy to find if you know where to look. Across the table, Cyno let's out a chuckle.

“You sea…,” a pause for dramatic effect, “you said ‘sure’ which can also be construed as ‘shore.’ As in, the land along the edge of the sea.”

Kaveh orders a round of firewater shots to drown out the pain of cyno’s terrible sense of humor. Unfortunately, alhaitham returns to find out you’re quite the lightweight.

…

He carries you on his back all the way home, listening to your drunken rambles along the way. You seemed to have had fun with his friends, but there’s a corner of his mind that can’t help but wonder if you now find him boring in comparison.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Wanna know a secret?” you slur, giggling. “I enjoy the time I spend with you the most.”

With that said, you nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck and Alhaitham feels his face heat up all the way to the tips of ears. Mermaids are proud and rarely ever reveal their true feelings, so he counts himself lucky to have heard yours. Your soft breathing tickles his skin. He’s glad you’re asleep now, knowing that you would’ve teased him again otherwise.

Once home, Alhaitham sets you on the living room divan before leaving to prepare the bath. The aforementioned business he had to attend to, was purchasing salt. In bulk. He figured you’d need saltwater to rehydrate, as it’s been a few days since you’ve last been in any water. And a saltwater bath would surely be less of a hassle to deal with than a shriveled up mermaid.

The way your legs meld back into a tail is mesmerizing, especially with how your scales shimmer to life in the water. It quickly sobers you up. He’s about to leave but…

“Not even going to keep me company? I stayed with you all night at the cove you know.”

There it is. Alhaitham turns back around just in time to see the little grin on your face, as you rest your arms along the edge of the tub while your long tail hangs over the other end. He doesn’t know much of mermaid physiology but it’s enough to assume the saltwater, makeshift as it may be, has successfully sobered you up.

“I’m going to bed. You should get some sleep as well.”

“But I’m not tired.”

“I am. Goodnight.” And he leaves. Though eventually, he does return with a stack of books and papers.

“These are old studies I pulled from the Akademiya regarding the dark sea. Since you’ve got the energy, mind fact checking? Just be careful not to get them wet.”

He sets them down on a nearby stool before a splash of water hits him right in the face.

“How about with some compensation then?” he says, pulling out the hairpin he had swiped from dori.

It’s similar to the one you had previously fawned over, though it’s laid with nagadus emerald instead, which he thought suited you much better than plain crystal ore. Unbeknownst to him, you had liked the first because its cyan stones reminded you of those he would toss in the water upon arriving at the cove. However, you adore this one for the way the emerald gems seem to match the very one sitting on his chest. You think you’ll cherish it forever.

“Will you put it on for me?”

His touch is surprisingly gentle, careful not to accidentally tug too hard. Alhaitham’s seen Kaveh put up his hair enough times to replicate a simple style. Easier said than done as it turns out to be less than stellar, sitting slant and loose. At least he tried.

“Well? How does it look?”

Light reflects off the gems in your hair and into the water, casting an iridescent glow that bounces across the room, dancing onto your skin. Anyone could say that even the brightest of jewels dull in the face of your otherworldly beauty. Only he can say that in this moment, in his bathroom, you look more perfect than the moon shining through the window behind you.

“I think it’d look even more flattering if you were reading,” he glances down, “Enigmatic Depths: An Empirical Study of the Ocean and Beyond.”

Another splash of water hits his face.

next ﾉ bonus (18+)

a/n2: If you're already on the taglist, you'll be tagged for any future parts (just lmk if you'd like to be added/removed) ^^ I also kind of want to do an 18+ bonus part in the future, but no taglist for that since I don't want to jumpscare anyone lmao (unless you guys want one idk but have your age in bio pls) Anyways, thank you for reading ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[petri808]

@rikareena Happy Holidays! I was your secret Santa :) Hope you enjoy. @iyfss

“Eh?” Kagome’s head snaps up in confusion looking from the invitation she held to the cousin that handed it to her. “But I’m not of noble class, Kikkyo, I can’t attend a ball at the palace!”

“It’s a masquerade ball,” Kikkyo retorts, “and you look enough like me to hide amongst the guests.”

“But why?”

Kikkyo waves her hand nonchalantly in annoyance. “All you do is work and go home and never have fun. So, go! Drink! Eat! Dance! If you really hate it, stay a couple hours, and leave by midnight, I don’t care. I’m just tired of seeing you look so… so plain.”

“Eh?! But I—”

“Just show up at the courtiers, I’ve already ordered your garments.” Kikkyo starts to walk away, then stops a moment and looks back over her shoulder with a smile, “don’t worry cousin, you’ll thank me one day, I’m sure...”

A month later, finds the twelfth and final new moon of the year blanketing the evening in darkness. The night of the winter ball has arrived and as Kagome steps out from the carriage, she pulls the fur wrap tight around her shoulders. She closes her eyes to the crisp clean air of the snowy night and takes a breath, opening them to see the white mist of warm wispy air. Only a light flurry of powdery snow falls over the arriving guests, with twinkling through the air from the torch lights bouncing off snowflakes. In front, rising tall is the gleaming palace lit up with lanterns to guide them along the stone walkway. She sighs, and steels herself for the night ahead. Oh, why did she succumb to her cousins’ whims?

Every fiber of her being stands on edge, feeling the stares from all around as she slowly makes her way through the large ballroom. Whether it’s all in her mind or not, feeling like a fish out of water is an understatement, for Kagome is unused to the world of aristocracy. Her parents are well-to-do merchants but hold no title, whereas Kikkyo’s branch of the family had married into the noble class. Just because Kagome’s mother had schooled her in education and manners, it didn’t help her to feel any easier in such a high-class environment. 

She takes a deep breath. ‘Breathe, just breathe Kagome and mingle for a couple hours.’ That should be enough to make Kikkyo happy. Then, her mission complete, slip away back into the snowy night. She picks up a glass of wine with a courteous smile to the wait staff, then makes her way towards the balcony.

The ballroom is brightly lit and decorated in festive winter flora. Each column wrapped with green woven fabric, interlaced with red winter berry branches and white Pieris bell blooms. In the arched entry ways leading to the balcony, white sashes are draped in two, half-moons with a large bough of pine and holly juxtaposed by tiny white or red berries hanging between them. In one corner, a band plays lively instrumentals to regale the dance floor, while along a wall are tables covered in sweet and savory delicacies. Spirits fuel the boisterous crowd, beautifully dressed, they laugh with merriment, hidden behind gilded masks.

The dress Kikkyo commissioned for her is a gorgeous full length ball gown of soft white satin, with a sweetheart corset bust, and hourglass waistline before flowing freely to the floor. It is trimmed in silver patterns that resemble snowflakes along with inlaid blue gems all to attract the gaze of a suitor and lead their eyes to the prize. The accoutrements compliment the dress perfectly. A masquerade mask of azure blue with silver filigree, elbow length gloves, white satin heels, and a white fur shoulder wrap for warmth. To finish the look, Kagome’s raven hair is done half pinned up in curled tendrils and half cascading waves down her back. The hairpins have the same blue gems of her dress which sparkle when the light hits it just right. Kagome certainly looks the part of a courtier.

As she sips her wine quietly, Kagome can’t help but feel a sense of sadness while watching the partygoers enjoying themselves. All these beautiful clothes and accoutrements, the refined and polished world of the nobility. Who wouldn’t wish to just once be treated like a princess? It looks like a lot of fun… but there is the worry that someone will realize she doesn’t belong. What is Kikkyo thinking making her come here? Kagome sighs aloud, maybe one dance wouldn’t hurt…

“It hurts to see a beauty so melancholy. Perhaps I may lighten your mood?” The deep voice whispers behind Kagome’s ear sending a shiver down her spine.

Kagome turns to the voice to find a handsome male with long flowing black hair and dark eyes piercing through a golden mask. She quickly looks away to hide the instant warmth on her cheeks. “Please do not worry about me kind sir, I will be okay.”

The man gently turns her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes lower in a heated gaze with a grin that makes her heart flutter. “Nonsense, my lady, as prince my pride would never allow me to ignore someone in distress.”

Her eyes flash wide in the revelation. She never saw his human side before! “Prince Inuyasha?!” Kagome immediately bows her head and averts her eyes. “Y-Your highness, I am just a lowly courtier. I do not deserve such attention.” 

“A beauty such as you are always worthy of my attention.” He forces her to look at him again. “And besides, it is only fitting we follow tradition.”

“Tradition?” her head tilting slightly in confusion. 

With grin widening, Inuyasha points above their heads to the decorations. “Mistletoe.” He has been watching her from across the room since she arrived, curious of the raven-haired beauty he’s never seen before. So, when he saw where she stopped to watch the festivities, it was the perfect opportunity… to pounce. 

Kagome’s eyes flash wide. Mistletoe! Why hadn’t she noticed earlier?! Is he serious?! The prince… kissing… She swore she could feel even more eyes boring into her from around them. “Y-Your highness, truly I am not worthy—”

“I beg to differ.” Inuyasha swiftly covets Kagome’s lips before she can retort, with one hand cradling her head and the other gently holding her waist. Such soft lips… He lingers the kiss as he takes in the light floral fragrance of her hair and natural scent of her body… even without his preternatural abilities it’s an arousing scent that quickly take him by surprise. Who is this woman?! And why hasn’t he met her before?   

She squeaks from the sudden action, but whatever concern Kagome held, melted the instant Inuyasha’s lips stole hers. This is her first kiss! So, gentle… and the warmth of his body so close... ‘I can feel his heartbeat…’ His strong hands holding her steady… Her heart flutters wildly as a wave of heat flushes over body, building the longer the kiss lingers. It feels like being hit with a magical spell! Wait! No, no! She must not fall under his spell! 

Kagome quickly breaks the kiss and pulls away. “Your highness, I-I need to go. I’m sorry!” She steps back to rush for the exit, but he grabs her arm.

A shocked and panicked look flashes onto Inuyasha’s face. “Wait! What do you mean leave?!” He grips her wrist. “You can’t—”

But Kagome manages to wriggle free from his grasp when her glove slips off. She runs for the exit, leaving the stunned prince behind to the fading clicking sounds of heels and tears building and blurring her vision. As she runs from the palace, all the sounds…The light of the party fading away into darkness the farther she goes. Why does her heart hurt so much! They’d never even met before, and yet Inuyasha’s mere presence mesmerized her. A hanyo’s energy is so much stronger than she’s known. But yes, this is for the best. Kagome steels herself further into the darkness of the night. She can’t risk her identity being found out!   

By this point, the ballroom has fallen silent except for the murmuring of the guests filling the air. It must have been a shock to all in attendance to see anyone dare to shun the prince, for any woman would kill to be in Kagome’s position. 

“What the fuck are ya’ll staring at!” Inuyasha growls at the crowd who quickly evade his glare. “Anyone know who that woman is?!” But all he receives are shaking heads, no. “Fuck!” He stomps out of the room, heading in the direction she has gone. 

When he gets outside, Inuyasha realizes she’s nowhere to be found. Damn his human night! He can’t track her scent! He looks down at the blue glove clutched tightly in his hand. It is all he has of the mystery woman, but hopefully it will be enough to track her down. “Fuck!” He grits his teeth and stomps back to his bedroom. The faster this night ends, the quicker the chase begins!

Fearing the prince or soldiers have given chase, Kagome reluctantly cuts through a forested area that lay between the palace and her home on the other side of the city. With no moon to provide any light, it’s like walking through a treacherous gauntlet. Bushes and branches tear at her gown while dirt stains it’s hem. The heels on her feet are useless against a forest floor of rocks and leaf litter hiding its pitfalls. But all she can do is trudge forward clutching the fur wrap tightly against the cold winter air. 

‘Stupid mistletoe! Stupid prince! Damn you Kikkyo for making me do this! Thank you, yeah, bullshit!’ The blinding tears trickle down Kagome’s cheeks, mixing with the freezing wind to burn icy hot against her skin. Too many emotions stir within her. Anger at her cousin for putting her in this predicament, and fear of getting into trouble by the court. What punishment will she receive for talking back to the prince? But also… sadness. This is the first time she’s ever felt such a twinge in her heart. Is this what love at first sight feels like? A moment, even just a second where time stopped and all she could feel was the burn of his lips against her own… Now it’s all over. 

It takes Kagome three hours to reach her home and thankfully her parents are already asleep. She sneaks in, quickly shedding the formal wear and bundling it into a sack. Such a sad ending for a beautiful gown, but she can’t let anyone see it and be recognized. ‘Hopefully Kikkyo doesn’t ask me about it…’

News travels quickly, and by the next morning the gossip around town is already in full swing. As Kagome leaves for her work at the local school, she overhears some customers in their store talking about the runaway guest at the winter ball and how the prince didn’t return from chasing after the woman. They also mention that no one seems to know who the mystery woman could be. Does that mean she’s in the clear? Kagome lets out a sigh as she reaches the school and puts on a brave face. The children are sure to make her smile and send away her troubled heart. 

But while Kagome may think she’s eluded trouble, at the palace, the prince is nowhere near giving up. At the crack of dawn, he orders his advisor Miroku along with a servant named Shippo to visit every courtier in the area. But by midday, half of the courtiers have been checked with no luck. In frustration, Inuyasha meets them at the city’s main square to regroup. 

“Do we really need to check the rest?” Miroku whines, “because I don’t remember any of those houses having a dark-haired female in the family.”

“Maybe it’s a visiting cousin,” Inuyasha interjects. “That is common when we hold such gatherings, ‘cause I’m not giving up.”

“Perhaps we could show the glove to couturiers in the area,” Shippo suggests. “Someone may remember it.”

“That’s actually a good idea—” Inuyasha’s voice cuts off as something catches the princes attention. “There!” He points, shouts, and takes off in a sprint, quickly followed by a surprised Miroku and Shippo. It’s a dark-haired woman with similar hair!

When Inuyasha reaches the woman, he grabs her shoulder to stop her from walking, then spins her around. “It’s— not…”

“What the— wait, prince Inuyasha?” Kikkyo’s eyes flash wide in shock. 

Inuyasha quickly lets the woman go, his eyes going from bright to lifeless in an instant. “S-Sorry, forgive me I thought you resemble someone.”

“It’s okay, but is something wrong your highness,” Kikkyo questions. 

“You look like the woman who ran away last night from the winter ball…” Inuyasha’s nose picks up on something. “You even smell a bit like her.”

“Oh! I heard about that— wait, she looks like me…” Kikkyo’s voice petters out when the realization hits. 

At that point, Miroku holds out the glove. “Do you recognize this?”

“Yes... I believe I know who you are looking for. Is she in trouble?” Kikkyo questions hesitantly, praying that her cousin won’t be in trouble.

“You do?!” Inuyasha blurts out. “But no, no, I just want to find her!” He clasps her hands excitedly, golden eyes shining, begging. “Please I lik— S-She’s not in trouble, so please tell me where I can find her!”

The Higurashi’s store is on the opposite side of the city area from where they’re standing. So, Inuyasha dismisses Shippo and Miroku to return to palace while he follows Kikkyo. As they walk, Kikkyo explains why her cousin was at the party and apologizes profusely for the misunderstanding and trouble caused. 

When they walk into the store, Inuyasha’s ears perk up as the gloves familiar scent fills his olfactory senses. “I can smell her…”

“Huh?” Kikkyo is about to question him when her aunt comes to the front after hearing them come in.

“Oh, Kikkyo, what brings you here— and your highness!” Mrs. Higurashi bows. “What brings you to our little store?”

“Aunty, is Kagome here? We’re looking for her.”

“Eh? Well,” Mrs. Higurashi gestures towards the east, “she’s working at the school over on sakura lane. Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Kikkyo waves her hands to allay her aunt’s concerns. “We just need to talk to her.” She starts ushering Inuyasha away. “Thank you, aunty, we’ll find her there.”

It doesn’t take long for the prince and Kikkyo to make their way to the school. When they arrive, Kagome is outside in a small courtyard playing with the children, so they move to a spot where she cannot see them. Inuyasha could feel his chest tighten and heart flutter at the scene before him. The sun’s rays reflecting off Kagomes raven-hair… her beautiful smile as she laughs along to the children’s antics… Not only is this woman gorgeous, but the warmth radiating from her stirs a feeling in Inuyasha he’s never felt— Kagome’s motherly instincts are on full display and certainly not lost on the prince.    

Inuyasha’s head lowers, his eyes glazing over in thought with a small smile creeping over his face. “I no longer require your assistance, Ms. Kikkyo. You may leave.” He directs in a soft but firm tone.

“As you wish, your highness.” But before Kikkyo leaves, she advises the prince. “Please wait until school is over so the children are not affected. Their classes end in a couple hours.”

“I understand and thank you.”  

Why does time seem to slow down when you are waiting for something? After watching Kagome for a little longer, Inuyasha returned to the palace to make a few arrangements. There is no way he’s letting her get away again! 

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Kagome waves to the parent and child as they walk away. She wipes at her brow. “That’s the last one,” time to go home for the day. 

After locking up the building, Kagome goes out through the gate, pausing to secure the hasp. But she’s so focused on her task, she fails to realize she’s no longer alone. When she turns around, she immediately flinches when her eyes land on a chest?… wait it can’t—

Eyes widening in shock, Kagome quickly bows, “Your highness! I’m sorry I did not see you there. I-Is there something I can assist you with?”

Inuyasha lifts her chin as a grin takes over his face. “Why yes there is!” He pulls out the glove from his pocket as he speaks. “Excuse me, but I’m looking for the owner of this glove.” Taking an obvious whiff of the glove, “and your scent seems to match it perfectly.”

If only she were still wearing the mask because Kagome’s face flushes brightly, giving her answer away so she covers her face with her hands. “I-I— please! I know I shouldn’t have been there, and I’m sorry for running away!”

Inuyasha gently peels away Kagome’s hands, forcing her to look at him. “You’ve got a lot of guts to have disobeyed me Ms. Higurashi, and that demands punishment.”

Her shoulders drop lower as her vision clouds over with tears. Kagome’s voice cracks. “Please have mercy.” 

“Your punishment is…” 

At that moment, a royal carriage pulls up beside the pair. Kagome closes her eyes, she knew it, it’s off to the dungeon…

“… to become my bride.”

“Eh?” Kagome’s eyes pop open. Did she hear that correctly? “Bride?” She blinks in wide-eyed confusion. “Did you say bride?!”

Inuyasha smiles, caressing Kagome’s cheek as he speaks. “I said bride. You caught my interest that night and today you captured my heart as I watched you with the children in your care.”

“I-I don’t understand, your highness, I am not from nobility. Don’t you have to marry from a higher class? I’m not suitable…”

“The choice is mine, and I choose you.” Inuyasha steps back, taking Kagome’s hand, and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “Do you accept?”  

A stray tear trickles down Kagome’s cheek as she stares at Inuyasha’s face. Time slows around her, and she feels like she’s under a spell again. ‘Is this really happening?’ Her heart flutters wildly, body heating up under the prince’s golden gaze. ‘Should I accept? He seems earnest, but it’s hard to believe… don’t these things only happen in fairytales?’ Kagome sucks in a breath. “Why… your highness, tell me why me?”

“Why not you?” He teases back lightly while thumbing away the drying tear trail. “You’re a beautiful woman Ms. Higurashi, breath taking to look at so of course I would take interest. And I must admit you’re running away only spurred my instincts to chase you. But when I watched you today playing with the children, your affection for them, and their affection for you—. His eyes glaze over as if seeing a vision in his mind. “It was like seeing the future… our future.” Inuyasha kneels still clasping her hands causing Kagome’s breathing to hitch. As she gazes down at him, he smiles softly. “I knew then and there you’re the only one I want to spend my life with.” 

“Prince…” tears well up in Kagome’s eyes from the happiness blooming within her soul. How could she refuse such sweet sentiment? Maybe fairytales exist after all. She squeezes his hand with a smile. “I accept.”

Inuyasha stands and wipes away the few happy tears from her cheek. He then takes something out of his pocket and holds it above their heads with a grin smoothly morphing onto his lips. “Shall we continue where we left off?” 

As Kagome looks at the mistletoe hanging over her head, to the man holding it, she can’t help but laugh. Oh, this man! “Well,” she pulls him down by his collar, “it is tradition…”

[andrewpcannon]

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[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Hilarie Burton

full name: Rosalie Blythe Seaford

nickname(s) / goes by: Ro

pronouns & gender: Cis woman, she/her

sexuality: Bisexual 

birth date: July 16, 1984.

birth place: Merrock, ME

arrival to merrock: Born and raised in Merrock

housing: Rural countryside

occupation: Owner of The Garden

work place: The Garden

family: N/A

relationship status: Single

PERSONALITY

Rosalie is a kind of wild that couldn’t have come from her straitlaced father and worrisome mother. Lively, colorful, and never bothered to put the pool cover over her sharp edges, Rosalie's the friend to keep you on her toes and hug you in the down moments. She loves fierce and thrives in the company of others; she is the Mom Friend™️, dependable and down to earth, approachable and compassionate. She's messy to a fault, with an unyielding stubbornness and often abrasive way about her whenever the hairpin trigger of her emotions feels the slightest bit of pressure. She'll either detach herself into self-isolation or erupt with little care for the aftermath. There is a certain weight to her that lingers, and while it takes a lot to damper her spirits, it comes with the notion that her tenacity isn't the same as it once was.

WRITTEN BY: Grace (she/her), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: car accident, death of a child, hospital mentions, depression, mentions of drug and alcohol usage.

The eldest daughter born to Robert and Marissa Seaford, and, by all accounts, another tick in the box on their checklist of dreams: love, success, stability, family, even if it weren't to occur in that particular order. Rosalie entered the world shortly after her parents' graduation from high school, her mother attempting to hold the four walls together as Rosalie careened through while her father practiced law, following in the footsteps of the family that bled old money as far as small-town Maine was concerned. Despite her begging for siblings, the house suddenly felt too full for comfort by Rosalie's standard. Too big for any room that she walked into, too small when shoved under the bar of expectations, and not nearly as good at throwing the pool cover over her sharp edges as the rest of her family — Rosalie was not the perfect rolemodel her parents would have preferred her be. She was not the ideal Seaford heir, but rather first in line to be the prodigal son.

Smart as a whip and only slightly stoned upon her graduation from high school, Rosalie tried branching out beyond the reach of the small town she lived in the shadow of, whirling into the great beyond for some great adventure. The world was supposed to feel bigger than her hometown, and she didn't want the things her parents prescribed — she contemplated being a flight attendant or visiting all seven wonders of the world, but instead she tried to settle and be content. She declared a major in business and before the ink had a chance to dry, she wound up in love, living on her boyfriend’s couch, and pregnant at nineteen. If this was supposed to be her grand journey, she'd take it. She gave birth to a daughter, Winona, and promptly forgot everything about making her parents proud or succeeding in life. Winnie was her greatest love, her greatest treasure.

Winnie would also be her greatest sorrow. All the safety precautions in the world couldn't have prevented the wintry accident that left Rosalie in the hospital, unable to sleep, and her daughter floors above her on a morgue table. Time froze and Rosalie was stuck free falling. Forever in limbo, unable to grip onto something, constantly waiting for her body to smack into the pavement but the feeling never coming, and the weight in her heart never going away. Winnie's death was Rosalie's death, too, except she’d been left to roam the earth and try to reconnect her spirit with her body. The constant irritation of her raw wound became a lash of anger and pain and utter defeat; she left her partner in a raw-faced flurry of tears that didn't know how to stop, and she went back to the only place on the map that seemed to still exist.

The prodigal son returned after not much time away, and the only thing she was sorry about was that her leaving didn't work out. She bought a dilapidated house out in the countryside and threw her grief into the remodeling process. The tactile work gave her a reprieve of sorts, and before long, Rosalie found herself flipping homes in the outskirts of Merrock in between her online classes and bartending gigs. She'd renovate kitchens for friends and attend group therapy, trying to lose herself in the monotony of life to dampen the sting of her pain. The years moved by at a glacial pace, melting slowly but leaving a great evidentiary trail in their wake. Rosalie fell in love just to nurse her wounds with a bottle of homemade wine, her grey hairs grew in sooner than she'd have liked, and she learned to be okay with where she was at amidst the constant remodels, coming into ownership of The Garden, and the cautionary tale of contentment still lingering over her head like a storm cloud.

[communityforklift]

Before and After: Upcycling projects using salvaged materials from the reuse warehouse

From residential to small business, indoor to outdoor and patios in between, salvaged materials find all sorts of created reuses in the hands of Community Forklift Fans. Read our blog for some creative ideas!

What a fantastic use for the Treincarnation live edge lumber available here at our reuse warehouse! The dining table features a slab of cherry wood, salvaged hairpin legs, and butterfly joints. Thanks for putting these reclaimed materials to fabulous reuse! Photos by @brokenwoodworking (Instagram) What a fantastic job done, refurbishing this bench! A Forklift Fan cut down a big oak joist from…

[dailyanneofgreengables]

Chapter 1: Mrs. Rachel Lynde is Surprised (part 2)

Accordingly after tea Mrs. Rachel set out; she had not far to go; the big, rambling, orchard-embowered house where the Cuthberts lived was a scant quarter of a mile up the road from Lynde’s Hollow. To be sure, the long lane made it a good deal further. Matthew Cuthbert’s father, as shy and silent as his son after him, had got as far away as he possibly could from his fellow men without actually retreating into the woods when he founded his homestead. Green Gables was built at the furthest edge of his cleared land and there it was to this day, barely visible from the main road along which all the other Avonlea houses were so sociably situated. Mrs. Rachel Lynde did not call living in such a place living at all.

“It’s just staying, that’s what,” she said as she stepped along the deep-rutted, grassy lane bordered with wild rose bushes. “It’s no wonder Matthew and Marilla are both a little odd, living away back here by themselves. Trees aren’t much company, though dear knows if they were there’d be enough of them. I’d ruther look at people. To be sure, they seem contented enough; but then, I suppose, they’re used to it. A body can get used to anything, even to being hanged, as the Irishman said.”

With this Mrs. Rachel stepped out of the lane into the backyard of Green Gables. Very green and neat and precise was that yard, set about on one side with great patriarchal willows and the other with prim Lombardies. Not a stray stick nor stone was to be seen, for Mrs. Rachel would have seen it if there had been. Privately she was of the opinion that Marilla Cuthbert swept that yard over as often as she swept her house. One could have eaten a meal off the ground without over-brimming the proverbial peck of dirt.

Mrs. Rachel rapped smartly at the kitchen door and stepped in when bidden to do so. The kitchen at Green Gables was a cheerful apartment—or would have been cheerful if it had not been so painfully clean as to give it something of the appearance of an unused parlor. Its windows looked east and west; through the west one, looking out on the back yard, came a flood of mellow June sunlight; but the east one, whence you got a glimpse of the bloom white cherry-trees in the left orchard and nodding, slender birches down in the hollow by the brook, was greened over by a tangle of vines. Here sat Marilla Cuthbert, when she sat at all, always slightly distrustful of sunshine, which seemed to her too dancing and irresponsible a thing for a world which was meant to be taken seriously; and here she sat now, knitting, and the table behind her was laid for supper.

Mrs. Rachel, before she had fairly closed the door, had taken a mental note of everything that was on that table. There were three plates laid, so that Marilla must be expecting some one home with Matthew to tea; but the dishes were everyday dishes and there was only crab-apple preserves and one kind of cake, so that the expected company could not be any particular company. Yet what of Matthew’s white collar and the sorrel mare? Mrs. Rachel was getting fairly dizzy with this unusual mystery about quiet, unmysterious Green Gables.

“Good evening, Rachel,” Marilla said briskly. “This is a real fine evening, isn’t it? Won’t you sit down? How are all your folks?”

Something that for lack of any other name might be called friendship existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs. Rachel, in spite of—or perhaps because of—their dissimilarity.

Marilla was a tall, thin woman, with angles and without curves; her dark hair showed some gray streaks and was always twisted up in a hard little knot behind with two wire hairpins stuck aggressively through it. She looked like a woman of narrow experience and rigid conscience, which she was; but there was a saving something about her mouth which, if it had been ever so slightly developed, might have been considered indicative of a sense of humor.

“We’re all pretty well,” said Mrs. Rachel. “I was kind of afraid you weren’t, though, when I saw Matthew starting off today. I thought maybe he was going to the doctor’s.”

Marilla’s lips twitched understandingly. She had expected Mrs. Rachel up; she had known that the sight of Matthew jaunting off so unaccountably would be too much for her neighbor’s curiosity.

“Oh, no, I’m quite well although I had a bad headache yesterday,” she said. “Matthew went to Bright River. We’re getting a little boy from an orphan asylum in Nova Scotia and he’s coming on the train tonight.”

If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a kangaroo from Australia Mrs. Rachel could not have been more astonished. She was actually stricken dumb for five seconds. It was unsupposable that Marilla was making fun of her, but Mrs. Rachel was almost forced to suppose it.

“Are you in earnest, Marilla?” she demanded when voice returned to her.

“Yes, of course,” said Marilla, as if getting boys from orphan asylums in Nova Scotia were part of the usual spring work on any well-regulated Avonlea farm instead of being an unheard of innovation.

Mrs. Rachel felt that she had received a severe mental jolt. She thought in exclamation points. A boy! Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert of all people adopting a boy! From an orphan asylum! Well, the world was certainly turning upside down! She would be surprised at nothing after this! Nothing!

“What on earth put such a notion into your head?” she demanded disapprovingly.

This had been done without her advice being asked, and must perforce be disapproved.

“Well, we’ve been thinking about it for some time—all winter in fact,” returned Marilla. “Mrs. Alexander Spencer was up here one day before Christmas and she said she was going to get a little girl from the asylum over in Hopeton in the spring. Her cousin lives there and Mrs. Spencer has visited here and knows all about it. So Matthew and I have talked it over off and on ever since. We thought we’d get a boy. Matthew is getting up in years, you know—he’s sixty—and he isn’t so spry as he once was. His heart troubles him a good deal. And you know how desperate hard it’s got to be to get hired help. There’s never anybody to be had but those stupid, half-grown little French boys; and as soon as you do get one broke into your ways and taught something he’s up and off to the lobster canneries or the States. At first Matthew suggested getting a Home boy. But I said ‘no’ flat to that. ‘They may be all right—I’m not saying they’re not—but no London street Arabs for me,’ I said. ‘Give me a native born at least. There’ll be a risk, no matter who we get. But I’ll feel easier in my mind and sleep sounder at nights if we get a born Canadian.’ So in the end we decided to ask Mrs. Spencer to pick us out one when she went over to get her little girl. We heard last week she was going, so we sent her word by Richard Spencer’s folks at Carmody to bring us a smart, likely boy of about ten or eleven. We decided that would be the best age—old enough to be of some use in doing chores right off and young enough to be trained up proper. We mean to give him a good home and schooling. We had a telegram from Mrs. Alexander Spencer today—the mail-man brought it from the station—saying they were coming on the five-thirty train tonight. So Matthew went to Bright River to meet him. Mrs. Spencer will drop him off there. Of course she goes on to White Sands station herself.”

Mrs. Rachel prided herself on always speaking her mind; she proceeded to speak it now, having adjusted her mental attitude to this amazing piece of news.

“Well, Marilla, I’ll just tell you plain that I think you’re doing a mighty foolish thing—a risky thing, that’s what. You don’t know what you’re getting. You’re bringing a strange child into your house and home and you don’t know a single thing about him nor what his disposition is like nor what sort of parents he had nor how he’s likely to turn out. Why, it was only last week I read in the paper how a man and his wife up west of the Island took a boy out of an orphan asylum and he set fire to the house at night—set it on purpose, Marilla—and nearly burnt them to a crisp in their beds. And I know another case where an adopted boy used to suck the eggs—they couldn’t break him of it. If you had asked my advice in the matter—which you didn’t do, Marilla—I’d have said for mercy’s sake not to think of such a thing, that’s what.”

This Job’s comforting seemed neither to offend nor to alarm Marilla. She knitted steadily on.

“I don’t deny there’s something in what you say, Rachel. I’ve had some qualms myself. But Matthew was terrible set on it. I could see that, so I gave in. It’s so seldom Matthew sets his mind on anything that when he does I always feel it’s my duty to give in. And as for the risk, there’s risks in pretty near everything a body does in this world. There’s risks in people’s having children of their own if it comes to that—they don’t always turn out well. And then Nova Scotia is right close to the Island. It isn’t as if we were getting him from England or the States. He can’t be much different from ourselves.”

“Well, I hope it will turn out all right,” said Mrs. Rachel in a tone that plainly indicated her painful doubts. “Only don’t say I didn’t warn you if he burns Green Gables down or puts strychnine in the well—I heard of a case over in New Brunswick where an orphan asylum child did that and the whole family died in fearful agonies. Only, it was a girl in that instance.”

“Well, we’re not getting a girl,” said Marilla, as if poisoning wells were a purely feminine accomplishment and not to be dreaded in the case of a boy. “I’d never dream of taking a girl to bring up. I wonder at Mrs. Alexander Spencer for doing it. But there, she wouldn’t shrink from adopting a whole orphan asylum if she took it into her head.”

Mrs. Rachel would have liked to stay until Matthew came home with his imported orphan. But reflecting that it would be a good two hours at least before his arrival she concluded to go up the road to Robert Bell’s and tell the news. It would certainly make a sensation second to none, and Mrs. Rachel dearly loved to make a sensation. So she took herself away, somewhat to Marilla’s relief, for the latter felt her doubts and fears reviving under the influence of Mrs. Rachel’s pessimism.

“Well, of all things that ever were or will be!” ejaculated Mrs. Rachel when she was safely out in the lane. “It does really seem as if I must be dreaming. Well, I’m sorry for that poor young one and no mistake. Matthew and Marilla don’t know anything about children and they’ll expect him to be wiser and steadier that his own grandfather, if so be’s he ever had a grandfather, which is doubtful. It seems uncanny to think of a child at Green Gables somehow; there’s never been one there, for Matthew and Marilla were grown up when the new house was built—if they ever were children, which is hard to believe when one looks at them. I wouldn’t be in that orphan’s shoes for anything. My, but I pity him, that’s what.”

So said Mrs. Rachel to the wild rose bushes out of the fulness of her heart; but if she could have seen the child who was waiting patiently at the Bright River station at that very moment her pity would have been still deeper and more profound.

[peachbear88]

Tale as Old as Time

A/N: Yes, it's basically Beauty and the Beast. I LOVE DISNEY MOVIES OKAY?

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

You shiver on the cold stone of the jail cell, wrapping your cloak tighter around you. How did you end up in the jail cell? A series of long, unfortunate events.

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

The door to your shabby home swings close as you prance down the cobble streets, book in hand.

"Little town,"

"It's a quiet village."

"Every day,"

"Like the one before."

"Little town,"

"Full of little people,"

"Waking up to say."

Windows are flung upon as the townspeople peer down at you.

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour."

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour!

"Bonjour."

A man with a long white apron proffers a tray of fresh, steaming buns towards you and you snatch one, nodding your thanks.

"There goes the baker with his tray like always,"

"The same old bread and rolls to sell."

He opens his mouth to protest but thinks better of it.

"Every morning just the same,"

"Since the morning that we came,"

"To this poor provincial town."

A man approaches you, tipping his hat.

"Good morning Y/N." You smile at his kind, pudgy face.

"Good morning Monsieur Hogan. Have you lost something?"

"Well, I believe I have. Problem is I can't remember what." He scratches his chin. "Oh well. I'm sure it'll turn up somewhere." His eyes float down to the book clutched in your hand. "Where you off to?"

"To return this book to Monsieur T'Challa. It's about 2 lovers in fair Verona." He snorts.

"Sounds boring."

You shrug and continue down the stone path towards the small town library.

"Look there she goes, that girl is strange no question."

A small band of boys watch you as you walk down the street.

"Dazed and distracted can't you tell?"

"Never part of any crowd,"

"'Cause her head's stuck on some cloud."

"No denying she's a funny girl that Y/N.”

The marketplace is bustling as usual as you slip through the many stalls. The familiar buzz of conversation fills your ears.

"Bonjour, good day, how is your family?"

"Bonjour, good day, how is your wife?"

"I need, 6 eggs."

"That's too expensive."

You sigh, spinning around.

"There must be more than this provincial life!"

You fling the door of the library open to find your second favorite person in the world, T'Challa, dusting the shelves.

"Ah, if it isn't the only bookworm in town! Where did you run off to this week?" He waves the duster at you, making you cough.

"Two cities in Northern Italy. I didn't want to come back. D'you have any new books?" You inquire, leaning over the small collection piled in the corner.

"I'm afraid not," He sighs. "But you may read any of the old ones you'd like."

You pick out your personal favorite.

"Your library makes our small corner of the world feel big." T’Challa smiles.

"Bon voyage!" He shouts as you close the door behind yourself.

"Look there she goes, that girl is so peculiar,"

"I wonder if she's feeling well." A scholar mused as you passed.

"With a dreamy far-off look,"

"And her nose stuck in a book."

"What a puzzle to the rest of us is Y/N."

You hop onto the stone wall of the well, still reading the book, nearly stepping on the hands of the laundresses cleaning on the edge of the well.

"Oh, isn't this amazing?" You twirl around on the stone wall, earning many disgruntled looks from the laundresses. "It's my favorite part because, you'll see." You hop off the stone wall, continuing down the path back to your home. "Here's where she meets Prince Charming, but she won't discover that it's him, till chapter 3."

"Now it's no wonder that her nickname is Beauty,"

"Her looks have got no parallel."

A disgruntled mother says, her fair daughters standing behind her, glaring daggers at you.

"But behind that fair facade,"

"I'm afraid she's rather odd."

"Very different from the rest of us,"

"She's nothing like the rest of us,"

"Yes, different from the rest of is Y/N!"

Peering through his golden telescope at you, Steve Rogers sighs from atop his handsome horse.

"Look at her Sam. My future wife." He hands Sam the telescope who accepts it rather reluctantly. "Belle is the most beautiful girl in the village. Makes her the best." He whispers confidentially, waggling his eyebrows. Sam cringes.

"But she's so... well-read. And you're so..." He looks Steve up and down. "Athletically-inclined." Steve waves him off, setting his horse at a healthy trot towards the town.

"Yes, ever since the war, I felt like I've been missing something. She's the only girl that has ever given me that sense of..."

"Je ne sais quoi?" Sam proffers. Steve scoffs, entering the village.

"I don't know what that means."

"Right from the moment when I met her, saw her,"

"I said she's gorgeous and I fell."

"Here is town there's only she,"

"Who is beautiful as me."

"So I'm making plans to woo and marry Y/N."

The fair girls from before swoon as Steve walks by, who only has eyes for you.

"Look there he goes,"

"Isn't he dreamy?"

"Monsieur Rogers!"

"Oh he's so cute!"

"Be still my heart,"

"I'm hardly breathing,"

"He's such a tall, dark, strong and handsome brute!"

They shriek in disgust as Steve hops off his horse, splattering them with mud. Sam hops off his horse as well.

"It's never going to happen ladies." He whispers as they whimper in distress.

"Bonjour!"

"Pardon!" Steve attempts to push through the crowds to get to you.

"Good day!"

"Mais oui!"

"You call this bacon?"

"What lovely flowers!"

"Some cheese, ten yards, one pound-"

"Please let me through!" He grabs a bouquet of flowers from a nearby stall.

"This bread."

"Those fish!"

"It's stale!"

"They smell."

"Madame's mistaken!"

"Well maybe so-"

You burst through the masses of people, twirling as you reach your home.

"There must be more than this provincial life!"

Steve slicks back his hair, approaching you at a smart pace.

"Just watch, I'm going to make Y/N my wife!"

The town resumes their unashamed staring at you.

"Look there she goes the girl is strange but special,"

"A most peculiar mademoiselle!"

"It's a pity and a sin,"

"She doesn't quite fit in."

"'Cause she really is a funny girl,"

"A beauty but a funny girl,"

"She really is a funny girl,"

"That Y/N."

The townsfolk resume their normal quarrel and haggling as you slip through the flimsy gate and through your cabbage patch. Steve follows.

"Y/N!" You turn to find Steve flashing you what he thinks is a dashing smile. You recoil in disgust, instantly speeding up your pace, hoping to get inside before he can get to you. A flood of hope grips you as your hand wraps around the door handle but a strong arm grips your other wrist and you deflate.

Sighing, you turn to face Steve.

"Yes Monsieur Rogers?" He flashes a greasy smile your way and shoves the flowers into your face.

"For your dinner table! May I join you tonight?"

At least he has the manners to ask, you think.

"Not tonight, no." He deflates slightly.

"Oh. Busy?" You wince, prying his fingers off your wrist.

"Not exactly."

"Oh. Then why not-" You cut him off.

"Listen, I really have to go. Books to read, places to explore, people to ignore." You open the door, sliding in and closing it before he can follow you. "Good bye."

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

You sigh with relief, taking a moment to catch your breath before continuing further into your home. A drawing pinned to the drawing board catches your eye. A charcoal sketch of you. Well, baby you to be exact. A smile graces your lips as you tear your eyes away from the sketch and to your father, Tony Stark. He hums a small tune as he tinkers with an elegant music box.

"How does a moment last forever?"

"How can a story never die?"

"It is love we must hold onto,"

"Never easy, but we try."

"Sometimes our happiness is captured,"

"Somehow our time and place stand still."

"Love lives on inside our hearts,"

"And always will."

You wrap your arms around him and he smiles.

"Hello papa."

"Hello Y/N. D'you think you could pass me the-" You roll your eyes, handing him the tool before he finishes his sentence. "-tweezers- Oh. Thank you." He pulls a broken cog from the music box. "And now, something long and thin-" You pull the hairpin from your hair and hand it to him. He glances at it and a smirk grows on his face. "No, no, not quite-" He glances at the machine again. "Actually, yes, exactly."

With a final prod, the music box comes to life once again. The two of you share a small smile before he shoves it into his leather satchel and hauls it outside. You follow him, watching as he loads it into a rickety wooden cart along with a few other items. Your horse, Elm scuffs the cobbled pathways with his hooves, eager to get a move on.

"Well, I'm off to the market dear. Anything you'd like me to get for you?" You smile, leaning against the horse as Tony swings his leg over the horse to straddle it.

"A rose." He scoffs, tipping his hat down to you.

"You ask for that every year!"

"And you bring it ever year." You retort and he smiles, giving you a quick peck on the forehead.

"Very well. A rose you shall receive. I'll see you in a few days!" With a flick of his wrists, Elm starts off at a trot and Tony waves goodbye one more time.

"Be careful," You whisper as he disappears from your sight. With a sigh, you return to the house.

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

You throw your dirty clothes into a barrel, adding some soap rinds into the mix before carrying it to the town well and rigging it to a horse which marches around the well. You smile proudly at your handy work. Self sufficient laundry machine.

Leaning against the wooden support beam with a sigh, you pull out your book and start reading. A small voice next to you grabs your attention.

"What are you doing?" You smile at her.

"Laundry. Come, come!" You pat the spot next to you encouragingly. Tentatively, she sits next to you and you hand her the book.

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

The pastor storms towards you and the little girl.

"Teaching another girl to read? Isn't one enough?" He sneers. You glare back at him, snapping your book closed indignantly.

"Nothing wrong with wanting to know more."

"We've got to do something about this." His wife mutters.

Before you can comprehend the meaning of her words, a man pulls your barrel of clothes out of the well and throws them to the ground, spilling the contents everywhere. You fall to your knees, scrambling to pick up the clothes as others laugh at you.

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

"Wow. You are so beautiful. No wonder everyone wants to marry you. So dashing." Steve whispers seductively, flexing in front of the mirror. Sam clears his throat causing Steve to jump. "What do you want Sam?"

"A certain damsel in distress awaits you." He quirks an eyebrow, gesturing with his head to where you crouch, gathering your sopping wet garments. He turns back to the mirror, slicking his hair back.

"It's hero time. I'm not done with you yet." He winks at the mirror before rushing to you. Sam leans into the frame of the mirror.

"Me neither."

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

From the corner of your eye, you spot Steve approaching rapidly. Gathering the last of your clothes, you scurry away.

"Ah Y/N!" You groan at your luck. "I heard you got in trouble with the pastor. S'all right. He never liked me anyways."

You groan in frustration.

"I was just teaching a child to read!" He smirks, sliding closer. You step back.

"The only children you should be concerning yourself with are..." He gestures between the two of you. You arch an eyebrow. "Your own!" You scoff, slipping through the gate and into the cabbage patch. He jumps over the flimsy gate and stomps towards you, squashing at least 4 cabbages. You watch him with barely disguised disgust.

"Look, you know what happens to girls when their fathers die? They end up like poor Agatha, forced to beg for scraps!" He points at Agatha, a rather kind but unlucky woman.

"Well, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it." You reply coldly.

"Look, let me make it simpler for your tiny female brain." He growls. You arch an eyebrow at his choice of words. "Marry me and you will never have to deal with that." You scoff.

"Marry you? I'd rather marry a rock." You slam the door in his face. He sighs, rubbing his face with a calloused hand. Dejected, he walks back to where Sam stands. You glare at him from where you stand on the balcony.

"Can you imagine, me, the wife of that boorish, brainless..."

"Madame Rogers,"

"Can't you just see it?"

"Madame Rogers,"

"His little wife."

You groan in disgust.

"No sir, not me,"

"I guarantee it,"

"I want much more than this provincial life!"

You sprint towards the green hills a good distance from the walls of the village.

"I want adventure in the great wide somewhere,"

"I want it more than I can tell."

"And for once it might be grand,"

"To have someone understand,"

"I want so much more than they've got planned..."

You sigh, running a grime covered hand through your hair before returning to your home.

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

You're pulling the ripe cabbages from the ground when it all comes crashing down.

A panicked whine comes from beside you. Your head shoots up to find Elm, pawing at the gate nervously.

"Elm? Where is papa?" Elm rears back, clearly skittish. "Take me to him!

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

You arrive at a monstrous looking castle, stone gargoyles with vicious fangs guarding the doors. You gulp, brandishing a large stick. The door handle is cool to the touch, sending shivers down your spine. You enter to find a well lit entrance hall, adorned with brilliant paintings and sculptures, although in the dark, they appear much more menacing.

With a gulp, you continue on, bringing the massive stick a little closer.

"Look Doctor Strange! A girl!" A voice whispers from the shadows.

"Yes I know it's a girl! I can see." A second, older voice snaps.

You whirl around but all you see is a flash of misty blue. Squaring your shoulders, you prepare yourself to investigate the blue wisps when a rough cough sounds out from above.

"Papa!" You race up the winding stairs into a much more sinister looking tower. Laying there on the cold stone floor is your father, his face pale and body shaking with each cough. The cold sunlight illuminates his face and he jumps up, grabbing the metal bars of his cell.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" You shake out of stupor, smacking the iron bars in a futile attempt to free him.

"I'm here to rescue you." Fear floods his features.

"No! You must get out of here! I'm old and my days are numbered. But you, you're young and you have so much to live for. Go, get out of here before she comes back!" You scrunch your face.

"She?" Massive footsteps echo from further up the stairwell. You raise the stick in front of you. A tall shadow appears on the stone walls of the tower. You gulp, inching forward but the figure stays in the shadows.

"You should not have come," A heavily accented voice rings out and your throat dries up.

"I had to. He's my father. Please, let him go." You call back but the figure scoffs.

"Your father is a thief!"

"Liar!" You cry.

"He stole a rose."

"I asked for that rose!"

An idea forms in your head and you slowly lower the stick. "Wait. What if you let him go and I take his place?"

"No! She means forever!" Your eyes widen.

"You monster! A life sentence for a rose?"

The woman laughs humorlessly.

"I was given a life sentence when I was little. Do you think I deserved it? You may call me a monster but trust me, I've been called much worse." You sigh, the gears in your brain whirring.

"Can I at least have a moment to say goodbye to my father?" The voice grunts and the shadow recedes. "Are you so cruel you won't even allow a daughter to kiss her father goodbye?" The figure pauses but slowly comes back down and into the light. Your throat dries up at the sight.

A beautiful girl in a blood red cape with auburn hair that burned in the torchlight, you felt your ears flush bright red. With a flick of her fingers, a red mist surrounds them and the metal gate swings open.

Your eyes grow wide at the display.

Magic.

You don't have time to think about it however as a strong set of arms wrap around you.

"Y/N!"

"Papa!" The two of you embrace as you discreetly waddle around so that his back is to the cell door.

"Y/N, listen to me. You have so much to live for. I lost your mother already and I can not lose you too. Live your life! Forget about me." He whispers into your hair and you feel a tear slip down your cheek.

"I will never forget you Papa. And don't worry. I will find a way out of here." His eyes widen before you push him through the threshold of the cell and slam the door behind him. He stumbles, falling onto his back, betrayal clear in his eyes.

"Y/N!" The woman stares at you for a moment, disbelief glimmering in her eyes before it disappears.

"You fool." She spits. Your father watches you with wide, horrified eyes. The woman grabs him roughly and drags him down the stairwell, his screams echoing off the walls.

"Papa! Don't hurt him!" A sob escapes your throat as you curl into a ball, wrapping your cloak further around yourself to preserve the warmth.

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

You sigh, shivering as a cool gust of wind hits your back.

'Forever damned to freeze in a cell. Some adventurous life this is' You think to yourself as sleep claims you.

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

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @olsensnpm @peabrain112

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: soon you’ll aim up at the sky and I’ll watch you float away Summary: Anakin was by no means falling in any of his classes. No, the issue was that Anakin wasn’t as good as he wanted to be and Obi-Wan did not have the time to read up on Check’chualik’s theory of ‘four-dimensional mathematics within a suspended room of an aircraft’. Or, Obi-Wan doesn't do space math but his Padawan does. AN: New part of my light fix-it AU! Written for @thenegoteator.

There were no words to describe how proud Obi-Wan was of Anakin. His apprentice was growing in leaps and bounds, going from being at the bottom of his classes to rising to the very top within just a few months. His determination and ambition were Anakin’s greatest assets. He trained harder than anyone else Obi-Wan knew – besides himself, maybe, but Obi-Wan was also still in the process of switching fighting styles, so he felt like he deserved to be pushing himself to the edge.

Obi-Wan just also, kind of, hated the fact that Anakin’s final exams aligned so well with his own.

He didn’t mind it too much concerning Anakin’s language classes. Those were easy enough to handle. Anakin resented the various High Standard dialects of any given language and had chosen to study the many trader languages spread across the galaxy. His Ryl was better than Obi-Wan’s own, but he took that good-naturedly and let Anakin run circles around him, reciting Ryl chants. It was Anakin’s third language or so – Obi-Wan didn’t know in what order Anakin had learned which language, but Anakin didn’t seem to be too sure about it either.

He had just said that he used to speak it nearly daily on Tatooine and that had settled it. If Anakin didn’t change his language track, he would probably not end up doing many of the diplomacy missions Obi-Wan usually elected to take, but he didn’t mind that either. Anakin was more well suited for the open skies than pompous dining halls.

Anakin’s literature classes were a bit more of a disaster. He was not particularly fond of interpreting texts. Obi-Wan always enjoyed those lessons most, thinking that engaging in such an exchange with authors of the past was the highest form of evaluating the thoughts of an inaccessible period. Anakin preferred biting conversations with his Master or his friends, the kind of quick wit needed for verbal sparring. While some of Anakin’s replies were not the smoothest yet, the words being more appropriate in Huttese as the boy claimed, he was doing well. He was on his way to becoming a suitable companion for tedious negotiations that made somebody to trade snarky comments in the privacy of their rooms with a necessity.

Galactic history was also about as alright as it could be. Anakin was more interested in the Order’s history than that of the Republic, but those usually went hand in hand, so Anakin could get invested enough in a given topic.

Anakin was by no means falling in any of his classes.

No, the issue was that Anakin wasn’t as good as he wanted to be and Obi-Wan did not have the time to read up on Check’chualik’s theory of ‘four-dimensional mathematics within a suspended room of an aircraft’.

Anakin had said that sentence and a bunch of other very important sounding words while biting his lips in frustration, looking like he was going to start crying in anger any second. Anakin hardly cried, his eyes not even hazing over. Obi-Wan had seen him shed tears maybe once or twice since Anakin had become his apprentice. Anakin called tears a waste and while that was certainly not a mentality Obi-Wan wanted Anakin to keep, he hadn’t quite had the chance yet to address that topic in a meaningful way.

So, instead, he was looking at Anakin’s math paper, sighing.

It really wasn’t like Obi-Wan was going to get any of this. He knew he wouldn’t because he had never taken the elective Theoretical Mathematics of Hyperspace Travel. Obi-Wan took all the courses necessary to get his piloting license and not invested any extra hours into it, especially not within his mathematics track.

Obi-Wan also knew that these kinds of electives were more for senior Padawans and not a pre-teen, but Anakin was also intensely more familiar with ships and droids than most Padawans. Obi-Wan had already given up on attempting to make any sense of Anakin’s level of knowledge when it was all over the place.

Rubbing his eyes, Obi-Wan reached for his tea, enjoying the sweet taste of it. One glance at the chrono told him that Anakin would be back from classes soon. Obi-Wan had meant to read over his paper as a distraction from his own, but, evidently, that hadn’t turned out.

Neither Anakin’s theoretical maths paper nor Obi-Wan’s thesis on the inhumane implications of the Yavin code in light of the end of the New Sith Wars was going to get written or corrected this afternoon.

Obi-Wan felt just a little like dropping his head on the table and taking the day off. Though, perhaps, that really wasn’t such a bad idea. A break from this would maybe clear his head and Anakin…

Anakin would not be happy. He would work himself up because of his frustrations and then Obi-Wan would have to deal with a Padawan too stressed to calm down, which, depending on how his day had gone, would not end so well.

Obi-Wan deliberated whether he should just decide for the both of them that they’d take the day off, but eventually decided against it. Anakin reacted better to all situations if he was given a choice. Knowing that Anakin would be home in ten minutes, Obi-Wan cleared up their living room table and got lunch out of the oven. He had felt like baking today – okay, no, that was a bold-faced lie. He just needed another distraction from his paper and cooking had seemed like a good enough choice – and not like eating in the mess hall.

By the time he had laid the table, the door to their rooms opened and Anakin rushed inside, still full of energy after a morning filled with lessons.

“Obi-Waaaaan, I’m hungry. This smells nice, what’s for lunch?”

Anakin threw his arms around Obi-Wan’s middle, becoming liquid and relying on Obi-Wan to hold him up from beneath his arms.

“I made lasagna,” Obi-Wan said and carried Anakin over to his chair. “Yes, with that cheese you like.”

Anakin’s face lit up and he fist-bumped the air. “Yes!”

Dinner was a loud affair, something Obi-Wan had yet to get used to. Eating with Qui-Gon was always silent while the snack pauses were used for heated debates. Anakin worked exactly the other way round. He wasn’t one for eating quietly or slowly. He told Obi-Wan about his classes, what they had gotten up to, and, of course, the topic of his paper came up.

“Have you finished looking through it?” Anakin asked with big eyes.

Here it was, the moment of truth.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied honestly. “I tried to, but the topic of your paper is nothing I’m really informed on. I checked your grammar but not your calculations.”

“Oh.” Anakin’s face immediately fell. “But I need this paper to be right and I can’t quite figure it out and I don’t want to fail!”

Anakin’s outbursts, when expected, were a lot easier to handle.

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, “which is why I thought of two things. One.” He held up his index finger. “The two of us need a break from these papers. I know yours is due soon, but you are smart and one day of not working on it will do you good, so I’d suggest taking the day off. Two, I’m pretty sure there’s a Jedi Master, who can look over this and help you out, coming home tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Anakin blinked. “Who?”

“Master Plo Koon. He’s an excellent pilot and I think you would have a lot of fun talking to him. He’s a Kel Dor.”

“Oh, I know him!” Anakin interrupted, looking a little star-struck.

Obi-Wan hadn’t expected that reaction. “You do?”

“Yeah! He’s in the crèche lots because he brought a Youngling there around the same time I arrived at the temple. Her name’s Ahsoka. She’s gonna be badass someday.”

Anakin enjoyed spending time in the crèche and going by the way he talked, Obi-Wan assumed that little Ahsoka was one of the more talkative kids there with no hesitation about challenging Anakin to a fight. Obi-Wan smiled. “And you know that how?”

“She bit me once,” Anakin replied and nodded as if that explained everything.

He then swallowed the last piece of his meal, not elaborating any further.

This was… nice. Obi-wan had honestly expected this conversation to be more chaotic. Perhaps that said more about his own mental state than it said anything about Anakin’s.

“And what are we gonna do today then?” Anakin asked. “If we’re not working on papers.”

“Hmm.” Obi-Wan made a show out of pondering when he had already decided to let Anakin pick a while ago. “Well, where do you want to go?”

There was only one possible reply to that answer.

“Can we go to the markets again?” Anakin said immediately. “We’re running out of sunbeetles and we can visit Dak’lana and maybe get you a new hairpin too?”

Obi-Wan had to smile at Anakin’s genuine excitement. Few things were as comforting as seeing your Padawan happy.

Except, maybe, finishing your thesis.

“That is a wonderful idea,” Obi-Wan told him and watched happily as Anakin ran off to get everything ready for their trip.

Time to wash up and spend money on food and jewelry.

[threadofdestiny]

Magnolia (Bakugou x f!Reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad 

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know :)

Taglist: @bakugous-mamas​, @bnhastories​, @brittkimm​, @ ellieitstimetosleep

Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Turn of events

For a moment, (Y/N) watched her personal maid through the reflective surface of her mirror, while she tried to force herself to relax her tense shoulders. She hardly noticed how Mina gradually pinned a part of her hair into an elaborate hairstyle, to prepare her mistress for tonight's festivity. With glazed eyes, the young lady let her gaze slid downward to look at the oblong box on her dressing table. A silver hairpin adorned with dark green and rose-colored gemstones rested on the silk cushion of the oil-finished wooden box, sparkling promisingly in the flickering candlelight. The hue of the stones reminded her of the kimono she had worn during her performance at the imperial court. Even the floral pattern of the main piece resembled the flowering magnolia blossoms she had worn in her hair that day. The attention to detail was so shockingly accurate that it made (Y/N) shiver when she had first looked down at the piece of jewelry.

It had been the first time she had stood so obviously in public. Her introduction to society had lasted only a few moments, and yet her future husband had been able to notice so many specific details of her attire. The thought that Bakugou had been there, standing in the crowd as she strode towards the emperor, made the fine hairs on her upper arm stand on end. Goosebumps littered her soft skin, sending anxious shivers down her spine. How perceptive did a person have to be if such small details had stuck in his mind?

"Would you like to wear the hairpin tonight, Miss (Y/N)?", Mina asked curiously, after she stepped away from her mistress to follow her gaze towards the pretty jewelry. Caught off guard, the youngest Midoriya looked up, as she thought about how to answer the question her bright natured maid had phrased eagerly.

Was it too daring to wear that piece of jewelry right away? Or would Bakugou be offended if she didn't wear it tonight? Every decision she made could cause her to sink or rise in his esteem. The uncertainty stirred her eerily. It wasn't even clear if he would really attend today's festivity, and yet (Y/N) couldn't help but to anticipate that he would.

With fluttering eyelids, the youngest Midoriya took a deep breath before finally making a hesitant decision: "...Y-yes... However... do me a favor and lay out a warming kimono in the appropriate color scheme to go with it. The festivities will drag on until late after sunset and I don't want to catch a cold.", she answered nervously, before she lost herself again in her agitated thoughts.

Bakugou was like a parasite that had taken up residence in her mind and it was so incredibly frustrating that they had exchanged less than five sentences with each other until now. Every single gesture, every single word of his she had thought up to the smallest detail. Inwardly pleading that she would find some mannerisms in his behavior to fuel her hope that may had passed her mind beforehand. All she knew was that he was a stubborn and brooding man. Hardly a friendly word had he uttered in her presence until now. His posture seemed entirely dismissive and his vermilion eyes calculating and temperamental, while his reputation makes her tremble with fear at night when she was alone.

And yet, the youngest Midoriya caught herself wishing that she had a chance to learn more about her future husband. That he would also attend the festival tonight. Even if she would only be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him. She wanted, no, she had to know what kind of person she would marry soon, in order to preserve her own salvation.

Despite the fact that (Y/N) hardly knew Bakugou, he was able to confuse her beyond measure. How did someone manage to appear so distant and brusque and yet be so attentive and prepossessing at the same time? Was she that blinded by the wish that there could be more behind their future union than duty to their country? That she had already caught his eyes before the emperor had ordered their engagement? Was it naive to hope that he concealed someone behind his cold-blooded facade she could learn to love someday? That he hid a man behind his cruel mask that was capable to love her as well? But what else could she have done if she wanted to hope for a better, love filled future?

Her destiny was already sealed. She did not have the power to change it. However, it would have done no good to condemn her future, even if her unpredictable fate instilled her with immense fear. (Y/N) didn't want to give up that easily. Even if the stars seemed to stand at a bad constellation, when it regards her future. All she could think about was her fiancé, hoping that she could have a chance for a good life by his side.

.

.

.

Even though (Y/N) had hoped to at least catch a single glimpse of Bakugou Katsuki, now that her wish had been granted, the young shogun felt even more unattainable. Like two identical magnetic poles pointing towards one another, they repelled each other, both shifting into groups that seemed reluctant to connect. It was not that he explicitly avoided her and her brother. It was just that the young shogun hadn't really moved from his spot at the edge of the celebration to even approach her or Izuku, since the emperor had officially proclaimed her brother as his heir at the beginning of the evening.

Since then, every noble had seized their chance to win Izuku over in some way or another. They had tried to get on her brothers good side, buttered him up now that it was clear that he would be taking the throne in the future. All except for Bakugou. The disinterest he showed made her feel insecure, even if she could guess that he was not a person who liked to occupy himself with groveling courtier's. It made her question her thoughts she had while she had prepared herself for the evening. That maybe he just wasn't interested in dealing with her and her family in general.

For hours, the young debutante had caught herself looking steadily for the blond man, asking herself what she was doing wrong or if he truly would want to get to know her. She had inwardly prayed that he would join them for a moment, but Bakugou remained grimly in one of the more secluded corners near the entrance that led deeper into the more private parts of the imperial gardens, while other nobles flocked around the newly announced heir of the imperial throne.

Together with his companion Kirishima, and surprisingly at times the easygoing noble, Kaminari Denki, he had spent his time with light conversations, while he drove away other approaching persons with gloomy looks. It was strange to observe the stoic man interacting with two such lively individuals, but apparently both noblemen felt comfortable enough to even laugh in the young shogun's presence. This picture which simply did not want to be reconciled with his bad reputation, surprised (Y/N) and made her wish all the more to find out more details about this man.

But of course, contrary to her wishes, the youngest Midoriya had to spent the entire evening obediently following her brother, like the well groomed lady she was. It would not be proper to run off without an escort, especially if she had to represent herself at her best, while Izuku was too busy filling the role of the guest of honor for the evening.

The head of her family had been strangely distant after the negotiations with Bakugou, which only fueled (Y/N)'s insecurity's all the more. While he normally didn't neglect his duties as her guardian, he seemed to be distracted by his own thoughts more often than usual. He was more inattentive than typically. In addition, all the noblemen seemed to distract him even more during the festivities. So much so that he didn't even notice how one of his former fellow pupils had repeatedly approached her in an unpleasant manner.

A few other lords from his years as novices, had engaged Izuku after some time in a deeper conversation as Mineta approaches grew bolder with each attempt. Spurred on by her brother's inattention, Lord Mineta had at some point begun to occasionally brush the fabric of her robe almost as if by accident. He did not seem to notice that his advances were unpleasant to the youngest Midoriya. No matter how much she tried to retreat discreetly, he followed her almost instantly.

Swallowing, (Y/N) dodged the obnoxious heavyset man's gaze as she felt a few stray fingers brush against her wrist. Seeking help, the young debutante looked to her brother, but she was crestfallen to find that he had turned away from her, not sensing his sisters distress. Even his interlocutors also appeared not to notice the man's intrusive gestures, while they were too busy reminiscing old adventures they had endured together.

"You are truly beautiful. I hope my parents are able to put in a good word for me. Maybe they can negotiate an union between us." Mineta spoke in a nasal tone of voice, while he again discreetly tried to step a little closer to her. Surprised, (Y/N)'s eyes widened when she heard the man's statement. Did he missed that the youngest Midoriya was already promised to another man? Or did he not fear the wrath of her fiance?

Wanting to correct the emerging misunderstanding, (Y/N) discreetly shook her head, before starting to speak in a soft manner:"... M-My Lord...M-My apologies... but-", (Y/N) began, struggling for words, as she unobtrusively tried to gain distance between the man and herself without drawing any inappropriate attention to them. She broke off her sentence when she felt several eyes resting on her figure, for fear that these received a false image of the situation. Her fingers clutched at the crystal glass of her refreshment as she continued to stubbornly gaze at the floor, thinking hardly how she should form an appropriate sentence without causing a scene. She felt left alone and helpless, but what was she supposed to do in such a situation without causing a commotion? She was a unmarried woman surrounded by powerful men who did not like to see a lady rebel.

What would her fiancé say if she misbehaved? Defending herself was out of the question in public. She couldn't just kick Mineta in the shins, even if she wanted to. Her behavior could damage her family's reputation.

Due to the fact that (Y/N) was looking for a way out, she did not notice how Mineta tried to approach her again: "You really do smell dreamy!", Mineta's unpleasant voice rang out against her ear as he leaned in to her once more. Wincing, she gasped in disgust, while she abruptly jerked back. Her fingers lost their grip on her drink for a tiny moment as she recoiled, causing the entire contents to spill onto her own garments. The clink of the glass falling on the ground beneath her feet finally made Izuku and his conversation partners turn towards her in confusion, but at that moment she wished she could have sank into the ground rather than be the center of attention. Embarrassed and close to tears the youngest Midoriya took another step back while looking at the damage on her kimono. All at once the pressure of the last few days became impossible to bear, while she looked down at herself, starting to tremble.

"(Y/N), are you alright?," she heard her brother's concerned voice rang out. Instead of being glad that he was finally paying attention to her again, his words seemed to her like the last straw that broke the camel's back, because, no, nothing was alright. But who cared that a young unmarried girl began to realize that the pressures of society weighed far heavier than she had expected, even after she had worked so hard on herself. No one had prepared her for the emotional chaos that would await her once she was introduced to society. Who would have thought that emotions and rational thinking could mess her up so badly? Moreover, she had grown up so stupidly sheltered that all of a sudden everything felt so incredibly overwhelming.

With trembling lips, (Y/N) briefly glanced once at Mineta before looking at her brother and finally shaking her head barely visible. At that moment, the situation just became too much for her. She was afraid that if she continued to stay in that place, she would burst into tears in front of their company. Taking a step back, she mustered up her courage to speak: "E-excuse me, please. I'll go clean my kimono!", she breathed with as much decorum as she could muster before instinctively turning on her heel all at once and ultimately disappearing briskly into the crowd. Had she not been so upset, she probably would have registered that she had run past an enraged Bakugou just a few feet from her point of origin, who was stomping furiously toward the small group. The youngest Midoriya was so agitated, however, that everything around her began to blur behind a veil of tears. Without thinking about the potential consequences, she fled as inconspicuously as possible to the more secluded area of the gardens to retreat behind the high hedges.

.

.

.

With a clean handkerchief, (Y/N) tried to pat the tears away from her wet cheeks after she had rubbed the stain from the expensive fabric of her attire. She was incredibly disappointed in herself. The whole situation had been so incredibly overwhelming, but she should have tried to keep calm and yet she had not been able to stand it any longer. Now she was alone, sitting on the stone facade of an ornate fountain in a secluded part of the imperial gardens, completely frustrated with her own behavior. The tall hedges that surrounded her, swallowed most of the sounds coming from the celebration. Trying to let the soft splashing of the small fountain calm her senses somewhat, she breathed in the fresh evening air, while the small lights on the surface of the water provided enough light to keep her from sitting there completely in darkness. Sinking into self-pity, the young girl sobbed out once again.

Suddenly a crack which seemed to come from a breaking twig disturbed the silence behind her. Startled, (Y/N) wheeled around, shocked to realize how much darker this place was compared to the festival area illuminated by the lanterns. Nonetheless, she recognized how a man unknown to her slowly stepped into the clearing. An uncomfortable shiver ran down her spine as she rose from her seated position, pressing her handkerchief against her quivering chest.

"Ah, honored Miss Midoriya, what a delightful coincidence to have found you! Your brother is already beside himself with worry!", he greeted her in an emphatically friendly manner as he moved ever so slightly closer towards her. In the shadows of the clearing, his features were a little harder to make out. For a moment she might have thought the man could have been Izuku himself based on his hairstyle, but his face was one she had never seen before. Dark eyes, which were framed by equally dark hair, looked at her insistently, as the man slowly but steadily approached her.

"Excuse me, but I don't remember us being introduced, My Lord.", breathed the youngest Midoriya. Protectively, (Y/N) pressed her bent forearms against her throbbing chest as she thought in alarm about how to escape this situation as quickly as possible. Despite his friendly posture, the man frightened her. The thought that she, an unmarried, betrothed lady, could be discovered alone with another man in a place like this caused panic to spread through her body. She could be accused of immorality if she was found here. That could clearly damage her brother's reputation, as the new heir to the throne. Not to mention, she was troubled by the thought of how Bakugou would react when he heard of this situation. Would he direct his anger at her entire family when he learned of this matter?

"Ahh, forgive me. My name is Shindo Yo. I am a good acquaintance of your brother!", he replied while he indicated a friendly bow. His smile spread across his face as he tilted his head to the side to keep her in view. He was an acquaintance of Izuku? Then why had she never heard of his name before? Normally, her brother was someone who was very talkative when it came to describing people he had already had the pleasure of meeting.

Swallowing, (Y/N) nodded cautiously before trying to discreetly circle the young man, without getting closer to him. "I see... T-Thank you for pointing out that he was looking for me then. I should return to him as soon as possible, my lord!", she breathed affirmatively, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Before the young Midoriya could scurry past him, however, calloused fingers had closed around her wrist all at once. Gasping, the young debutante jerked her head around to look up at the man in panic. Without (Y/N) being able to react in time, Shindo pulled her towards him with a jerk, so that the impact against his muscular body caused a brief dizziness in her head.

"Ahh, I'm sorry, young miss. But I'm afraid I won't be able to let you go just like that. I mean... how surprising it would be to find an unmarried girl alone in the arms of a man in the back of the imperial gardens. How... unheard of! And that too from the future princess. Who would have thought that? I wonder what your fiancé will say when he hears about this? It is said that he and the crown prince are not necessarily favorably disposed towards each other! I wonder what could trigger such a situation between them?"

"No! Let me go, please!"

Sheer panic caused (Y/N)'s body to release a huge amount of adrenaline all at once. Immediately, it awakened the flight reflex in the young debutante, so she desperately began to fight back against the stronger man, punching him with her free hand while trying to tear her other arm away from him. Cursing, Shindo tried to grab her wildly flailing arms, but before he could do so, the youngest Midoriya instinctively grabbed the hairpin her fiancé had given her two days ago. Without paying attention to her hairstyle, she tore the piece of jewelry out of her hair, only to ram the two long pointed teeth of silver metal into her attacker's shoulder. With a cry of pain, Shindo disengaged from her as he staggered back disoriented. Dark blood dripped from her improvised weapon as she held it protectively in front of her. Gasping, (Y/N) tried to widen the distance she had gained between them by backing a few steps away from him, but in doing so she had failed to notice the bump in the turf, which is why, she tripped over her own hem and fell to the ground with a frightened cry.

Full of terror, she realized that Shindo now had the chance to grab her again, but that moment was never to come.

It was only a few seconds later that (Y/N) had registered that Bakugou Katsuki himself had rushed past her to ragefully give her adversary a right hook. The blow seemed to hit Shindo so hard that he almost instantly fell to the ground unconscious.

"Miss Midoriya, are you hurt?", a warm, masculine voice rang out beside her, causing her to instantly startle in panic. Instinctively, she raised her bloodied hairpin in front of her body to defend herself if necessary. However, when she recognized the face of the red-haired companion of the Shogun, (Y/N) immediately relaxed. Instantly, the young debutante shook her head and tremblingly grasped Kirishima's hand, which he had extended to her in offering to help her up. Her body shook like leafs in the wind barely able to keep her to stand upright, but nevertheless, she immediately turned around to look for the person who had come to her rescue. Bakugou bent with clenched fists down towards the man lying on the ground to strike him again, but (Y/N)'s pleading voice made him pause for a moment.

"B-Bakugou-sama!", the young Miss Midoriya gasped in panic as she broke away from his red-haired companion as quickly as possible. Immediately, the blond man spun around, breathing heavily as he returned the frightened girl's gaze. Analyzing, he looked at the stage in which his fiancée was. Her hair had been partially torn out of her hairstyle, while bloodstains adorned the white fur that her maid had previously draped around her shoulders to protect her from the evening chill. Bakugou's whole body radiated a tremendous anger when he saw how frightened she seemed, but as he watched her approach him faithfully, his muscles relaxed instantly. At that moment she forgot all the terrible rumors about her future husband, glad that he had come to her rescue. Seeking safety, the youngest Midoriya extended her fingers to reach into the Shogun's kimono sleeve as her gaze swung timidly to the unconscious Shindo.

"I defended myself. I-I didn't know any other way to help myself. I am sorry.", she whispered in a shaky voice. Bakugou allowed the young girl to claw at his arm. With deep breaths, he studied her expression searchingly. After a moment he shook his head in a dismissive manner before answering her statement:"You did the right thing.", he grumbled, before looking back down at Shindo. Immediately, (Y/N) followed his gaze while she tried to suppress an upcoming shiver that ran down her spine. "Is... he dead?", she asked frightened, when she saw that the man on the ground was not moving at all. It was too dark to make out any injuries, but she knew that he must be bleeding profusely from his shoulder. Snorting, Bakugou shook his head, while his shoulders stiffened again a little. "Not yet!", he growled as he made moves to approach Shindo again. His free hand reached out to grasp the handle of his katana, but (Y/N)'s fingers dug deeper into the fabric of his sleeve as she stepped closer towards her fiance.

"Your Grace. We should get out of here before someone discovers us. Your reputation could ge-" "What do I care about my reputation?", interrupted Bakugou angrily as he spun back around to face her. Overwhelmed, the young girl looked up at him as she searched for a new approach. Shindo had attacked her. He deserved to be punished, but (Y/N) did not want to witness him losing his head because of that. Tears still glistened in the girl's eyes, but no more flowed down her cheeks as she finally began again:"I-I can't be seen here either. That would also damage Izuku's and my reputation!", (Y/N) pressed out uncertainly.

Immediately, realization spread across the blond man's features before he began to curse in annoyance. "Then what are you waiting for? Get the hell moving out of here!", he blustered angrily as he began to push her out of the clearing. "Dunce Face, go find Deku and discreetly explain to him what had happened. I'll take his sister away in the meantime!", he ordered Kaminari, who surprisingly stood a few feet behind Kirishima, nodding dutifully. As he left the clearing, he threw (Y/N) an encouraging smile as he passed her, but he did not hesitate further to carry out his order. "Kirishima! I want you to take care of him! Find out what exactly was going on here!", the Shogun growled in the direction of his other companion, while he gestured towards Shindo with a nod of his head. A serious expression spread across Kirishima's face before he nodded obediently as well.

With her head bowed in shame, the youngest Midoriya left the dark clearing accompanied by the blond shogun, but instead of heading back in the direction of the festival, he led her in the opposite direction. "Going into a secluded part of the garden alone by yourself was reckless, girl! You should be glad that Kirishima had seen you disappear in here! Something more terrible could have happened to you otherwise!", dispraised Bakugou as he dragged her along behind him. Stumbling, (Y/N) moved in the direction she was being pulled, while trying to sort out her appearance as best she could.

"I know!", (Y/N) replied dejectedly.

"That rotten bastard deliberately followed you! You shouldn't have moved away from your good for nothing brother under any circumstances. As a fucking Midoriya, you have a huge target on your back, you hear me? Your brother is going to be the next damn emperor! So you have to be more careful, brat!", added Bakugou angrily as they scurried past the tall rose hedges.

"I... I know.", the youngest Midoriya whispered again. His choice of words hurt the young girl, but she tried not to burst into tears again.

"If you wouldn't have just put up with everything beforehand and just directly told that damn pervert at the party to keep his fucking mitts off of you, it wouldn't have had to come to this in the first place!", the young shogun continued to chide her darkly, giving all of his frustration an outlet. However, the young Midoriya was also still running partly on the increased adrenaline release, which is why she finally looked up to give Bakugou with a pained expression on her damp face. Had she not been so upset, it certainly would have surprised her that he had even noticed the situation at the party. After all, he hadn't seemed like he wanted to give her any attention in the first place. But at that moment, all she could feel was how all of her frustration wanted to burst out of her.

"Yes, I know!", she replied in a sharp voice before taking a deep breath. "I know it now, that going into that part of the garden was incredibly reckless, and I regret it too. But please. Please, don't judge me for trying to ignore Lord Mineta's advances. It was not my place to covet. Causing a commotion in public would have only caused more problems. I didn't want to disgrace you and my brother. Believe me, if it had been up to me, I would have loved to fight back.", (Y/N) blurted out before she could catch herself. Trembling, she pressed her hairpin to her chest, no longer thinking about the fact that the blood sticking to it could stain her clothes even more.

Abruptly, Bakugou spun around after he registered the young debutante's words to glower down at her, snorting with rage. Jaw tightened, he gritted his teeth as he bent down dangerously slow over her smaller frame. "Listen, girl! I will not allow my future wife to be molested by anyone. I order you to fight back, damn you! Do you understand?", growled Bakugou firmly, while his hand tightened around her trembling wrist. Despite the pressure, however, he seemed careful not to hurt her unnecessarily, but this was the least thing that occupied (Y/N)'s mind at the moment.

Shaking her head disbelievingly, she tried to form words of refutation: "But... Y-Your Grace-", the youngest Midoriya began to stutter, eyes widening in shock as she gazed speechlessly into her fiancé's vermilion eyes, unable to form a decent sentence. "I don't expect you to directly ram your jewelry into everyone's shoulder, but use your fucking voice and put people in their place. That perverted little rat wouldn't have dared to approach you if you told him that you were my fucking fiance!", hissed Bakugou angrily as he unconsciously pulled her closer to him.

Silence spread between the mismatched couple after Bakugou's last words. For a brief moment, they looked at each other in silence with rapidly moving chests, until all at once an appreciative grin settled on the mans full lips. This expression literally took the remaining wind out of (Y/N's) sails. How could he seem so amused all of a sudden when he had been furious not even a moment ago?

Before (Y/N) could ask where his change of heart came from, the Shogun once again interrupted the silence between them:"While I had not given you the hairpin with that intention, I cannot deny that I was impressed that you had used it to your advantage.", the young shogun remarked with an amused look as he pointed to her improvised weapon. Speechless, the debutante looked down before an uncomfortable heat shot up her cheeks. Forgetting that he had chided  her just a few seconds ago, (Y/N) lifted her shoulders in shame. "I am sorry!", whispered the young girl, but Bakugou only shook his head, before he indicated to follow him again.

"Don't be. Now Come. I'll take you home.", the shogun ordered a bit softer than before. Clenching her jaw, (Y/N) nodded surrenderingly before walking briskly after her stoic fiance.  

[andrewpcannon]

Live Edge Table (Custom sizes available for Bars, Countertops, Mantles)

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[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

-----

The next day, Marinette woke up in her bed, still dressed. By the time her father brought her into her room, she was already asleep. The emotions finally caught up with her somewhere along the way. Remembering the end of the evening, her eyes immediately latched onto her finger, but the ring was not there. A mere second before a panic attack, she looked at the bedside table, where both the box and the ring rested. She let out a breath. She didn’t lose it. 

“Morning cupcake,” a voice startled her. “Are you okay?” Her father was looking through the repealed doors. 

“Yeah… Did yesterday really happen?”

“We are still at Wayne Manor and I seem to remember to have put the ring on the night table.” 

“I can’t believe he actually proposed!” Marinette jumped off the bed and started to pace around with a dreamy look on her face. “I mean I know we are married, but it was still so romantic! And in front of so many people! Oh, Papa! I’m so happy!” She fell back onto her bed. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, cupcake. Remember that your Maman and I will always be here for you.” His smile took a sadder shade. “I know you’re almost a grown-up with a job and all, but to us you will always be the same little girl that I used to fit in the palm of my hand.” 

“Don’t worry Papa. I won’t forget you and Maman.”

“Good. Now let’s go open the presents! Race you!” He ran out of her room and toward the big tree in the hall. Mari giggled at her father’s antics before following him; the ring shining on her finger. 

In the back, Tikki floated with a big smile on her face. Her chosen finally had a chance for some happiness. If only that ruddy alley cat did not run away with the miraculous. She could still feel Nooroo and Duusu active. She could wait one more day before telling Marinette though. The girl deserved a peaceful Christmas.

---------

By the time Marinette arrived by the tree, most of the people were already gathered. Dick was seated in a large armchair next to a pile of gifts. He was dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit, complete with a fake beard. The only reason she recognized him was because of his voice.

“Now that everyone’s here, who wants…” He started, but someone interrupted. 

“Before that, I need to apologize.” Johnathan Kent turned toward Marinette. “Yesterday, after you left, I made some unsavory accusations about you, for which I want to deeply apologize.” Just for a second, his eyes jumped toward Sabine. The girl noted that her mother was glaring at the older man. “I’m a simple man and this… secret world you all live in is strange for me. Please, accept my sincere apology.” 

“Oh… No problem Mr. Kent. To be honest I’m still getting used to it all myself.” She smiled at him. Marinette was not that oblivious not to guess what kind of accusations the older man had made. 

“With that out of the way, I think we can get started. Maybe let’s begin with the youngest?” Dick said, trying to imitate how the real Santa Claus would sound. Marinette would admit that he was close.

“Me! Me!” Mar’i started floating in the air until Jon pulled her gently to the ground. He really got into the ‘older brother’ role. 

“Yes, you, sweetheart.” 

Mar’i received several gifts from the pile. Marinette was surprised to see one from her family. Inside were several baked goods from their bakery. She didn’t remember her parents packing any, but maybe they made them here.

“Me next!” Jon was giddy. His pile of gifts was slightly smaller, but there was a box of sweets there too. 

After that, it was Marinette’s turn. She received probably even more than Mar’i. There were also gifts from her Nona, grandfather, uncle Wang, one without a name tag that she was pretty sure came from aunt Sandra, a giant box from Chloe, and a small one that she had no idea who sent her. It was wrapped with a paper with black cats that would look better somewhere around Halloween, but she was too distracted to question it. Damian was busy arguing with Jon about whether he would get the Kryptonite knuckle dusters or not. 

She started with the largest box that Chloé sent her. Inside, there was a giant chest filled to the brim with detective novels and a letter that she chose to read when she was alone. Next was the gift from her uncle, which turned out to be an intricately decorated stone bowl for mixing ingredients. 

Her grandfather got her a beautiful rolling pin made half from cherry wood and half from solidified resin. The resin was in dark green color that reminded her of Damian’s eyes. But Roland had no idea about that, did he…?

Many gifts were some nice fabrics, a gift card to Gabriel, which she was tempted to burn as soon as she got it, but out of politeness just put it back into the box for now. Finally, the gift from aunt Sandra contained a set of beautiful daggers, a Katana, and a hairpin that had a space to pour poison inside. 

Her parents gave her a new rope dart, this time with a sharp end that she could use in combat. The line it was attached to was made from titanium-carbon alloy that would be able to withstand point-pressure of at least two tonnes. The weapon itself was practical instead of good-looking. The blade was thick, looking a bit like a diamond. The edges were sharp and the tip very pointy. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in a red cord for a more comfortable grip. Mari thanked them both before pocketing the weapon into her bag for now. She would probably fashion a better place for it.

Finally, only one box remained. The mysterious cats. Mari was about to open it when Jon noted it and leaped at her. The bow came undone the moment he covered the small box with his body. Everyone waited, watching carefully what was going on.

Nothing happened.

“Tt. Kent? Mind explaining to us why you decided to smash my Angel’s gift?” Damian glared at him.

“Um… I might have accidentally scanned it. You don’t want to see what’s inside. I definitely don’t want to see what’s inside ever again,” he shuddered. 

“Show me,” Sabine demanded. She picked up the squashed box and opened the top before closing it. A small lighter made its way into her hand and before anyone knew better, it was aflame. Seeing people staring at her, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It was a terrible prank.” She wrapped the now-charred remains and some vaguely straight shape into the torn paper. 

“What was this Maman?”

“A very distasteful prank.”

Marinette looked at the shape in her mother’s hand and her blood suddenly ran cold. It was shaped like a knife. The knife.

“No… He knows?! He can’t know!” She panicked, but Damian quickly pulled her closer to him, immediately soothing her some. 

“No, Sweetie. That bastard thought he would appease you by offering a painting of a stabbed Ladybug.” Sabine’s expression was heralding God’s wrath.

Jason growled. “He is sick.”

Next to him, Tim muttered so that only Stephanie could hear him. “You gave B. a crowbar on your first Christmas back…” Superman heard it too, judging from his reaction. 

“So what now?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be coming back beyond ‘appearing’ at the airport when your class is scheduled to leave. I still can’t believe how incompetent your teacher must be to force you to travel with them.”

“I know it might sound stupid, but I think you will be safest in Gotham City.” Lois offered. 

Mari nodded sharply before cuddling into Damian. “Don’t worry, Angel. I will protect you.” He reassured her while hugging her close to his heart.

“I can protect myself.” She huffed but didn’t reject his hug. 

“That I don’t doubt.”

“There is a good chance he won’t be able to reach you in Gotham anyway. He is just one kid, which will make crossing the border much harder for him.” Stephanie pointed. 

“He has his daddy’s money. That will probably be enough.”

“Let’s hope not. I will send the warning to the border control that he might be trying to enter the country, but that’s the best I can do.” 

“Meanwhile I will go check if my guns are working…” Jason tried to leave, only for Tim to grab the back of his jacket and pull him back into place.

“There is no point worrying for now. Let’s just enjoy Christmas.” Sabine nodded for everyone to return to gifts. When no one was looking at her, she pulled Jon to the side and placed the knife paper on the stone floor. They didn’t speak, not to start another drama, but the boy understood. A short heat-vision later the knife was no more than a piece of smoking paper and molten steel.

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

A blonde boy walked toward the terminal. He was dressed in a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a dark gray vest. He also sported a black necktie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. His hair was combed back, adding to the impeccable look. The green eyes swept over the guards as they observed him closely. He presented the passport.

He noted that it took them longer than it should. His eyes fell on the wanted poster next to the guards. 

“I’m not my idiotic cousin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah… Um…” The guard that was speaking to him was clearly confused. 

“Really? Ugh! That idiot decided to play supervillain and suddenly I have to suffer for it! I am not Adrien Agreste.” He ruffled through his bag, not caring that several guards almost drew their weapons. He finally pulled out a magazine with him and Adrien standing side by side, modeling for Gabriel. When side by side, the difference in their styles was even more pronounced.

“Apologies, mister. You must understand thought…” The man started to back-track.

“Yeah yeah. Spare the prostrating.” He dismissed the guard and walked past the checkpoint. Once he was out of the hearing range, he grinned. “It’s not you that I want to see on the floor…” He whispered omniously. 

-----------

Marinette and Sabine arrived through a portal five minutes from the airport, with ten minutes to spare before class was scheduled to meet. The two did not carry any luggage so they would get past the customs much faster. An upside to having all your things brought through a magical portal the day before. 

The airport was buzzing with activity. Marinette and her mother quickly got past the checkpoint and met with Chloé, who awaited them eagerly. 

“Dupain-Cheng! How was Christmas with the Waynes?” She asked in a hushed voice, so the class didn’t hear her. 

“Well…” Mari grinned before showing the blonde her ring.

“What? Now that’s what I call a good Christmas gift.” 

“How did you like the belt?” Marinette asked. In response, Chloé showed her that she was already wearing it. It was white with some golden glitter around the elegant buckle. There was a barely visible MDC logo etched on the buckle. The designer worked on it for some time before repurposing it as a Christmas gift. She had to cut on the glitter decorations, but in the end, the more minimalistic design appealed to Chloé. 

Sabine watched the two girls talk. A year ago, the woman wouldn’t believe her eyes if Marinette and Chloé acted this friendly. Now though, they were cute. 

“Did you get my gift?” The blonde asked impatiently.

“Um… Yes. The books are great.” 

“What was under the books!” The girl whispered, hoping to avoid Sabine’s watchful eye and ear.

“What?” Marinette looked surprised and Chloé had to resist the urge to facepalm. 

“Honestly Dupain-Cheng! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And then the mood was broken when the rest of the class found them. 

“Good morning Marinette.” Madame Bustier greeted the girl. “Sabine.” 

The older woman did not return the greeting. “It’s Madame Cheng. We are here in the role of chaperones.” She almost seethes. “Let’s keep at least the illusion of professionalism.”

“Um… right. Moving on kids!” The slightly embarrassed teacher declared. 

“She is just as bad as Maribrat,” Alya muttered to Lila when she thought Sabine couldn’t hear her. The glare she received in response made it clear she made a mistake in her judgment.

After they got to the plane, people started to whisper when Chloé and Marinette didn’t join them in the economy class where they had their tickets. Instead, the two left for the first class. 

“Why aren’t they joining us!?”

“Because Chloé’s father paid for hers and I can afford mine.” Marinette normally would be against such blatant flaunting of wealth, but she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it a bit into them that she earned the luxury. 

“She probably…” Kim suddenly lost his ability to speak when he was met eye-to-eye with Sabine Cheng. 

“Think carefully about what you want to say next.” 

He could almost see the flames of hell burning brightly behind her. “Um… she probably earned it?”

“Good boy.” 

“While I agree that Marinette earned it,” Caline started speaking and Sabine, Chloé, and the girl in question all had to resist the urge to groan, sensing there was more to that sentence. “I think it would be preferable if the girls joined the class for the duration of the flight. It would serve to strengthen the bonds between kids.” 

“And how exactly do you plan on fitting them when all the places in this place are bought out. Not to mention the price difference. Or maybe you thought money was not a problem?” Sabine asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Before Caline could answer, Lila decided to open her mouth. “Maybe Madame Bustier and you, madame could switch places with them. We know how hard our teacher worked and a bit of relaxation and comfort would do her good. You too could probably relax a bit from all the hard work in that Bakery.” 

Immediately after that, everyone started to agree and try to convince the chaperones to leave them alone. Sabine was about to protest when Caline spoke up. “Well, I think it would be acceptable, provided the girls agree.” She sent both a glare. 

Sabine’s blood boiled. She wasn’t sure if any normal girl would actually have the strength to stand up to a teacher in that position. Only the fact that Marinette looked completely unbothered stopped her from reacting. 

“Of course they won’t agree! They are too selfish!” Alya shouted. 

Some of the people on the plane started to stare at the group, with many gazes falling on Marinette and Chloé. 

The blonde scoffed, but her best friend grinned. “Sure.” She pulled her ticket and handed her to the teacher. “But we’re blocking the flight, so let’s move.”

Chloé handed hers to Sabine, smiling politely at the woman. “Marinette suspected this would end like that.” She whispered before taking a seat next to Dupain-Cheng. Both girls pulled out old-fashioned dictaphones and started recording what was going on with the class. Then Chloé gave Mari one of her detective novels and they started reading. 

Sabine shook her head. Her little girl had a plan and she would trust her. And after seeing Lila in action, she now had some idea how that liar worked. The way she manipulated people’s opinion reminded her in some ways of the assassin training she underwent. 

-----

The plane was already half-way to Gotham. Sabine did her best to ignore Caliné’s rambling about Marinette, switching between praising her and making her into the heart of all the problems with the class. If she didn’t know better, Sabine would think that the teacher had some sort of mental disorder. Beyond simple stupidity that is. 

Out of the blue, Caliné stopped rambling and Sabine saw her asleep, snoring lightly. 

“A strong sedative. It should give us at least an hour of peace.” A calm voice spoke from behind her. 

“Sandra.” Sabine greeted her sister politely, but without the usual cheerfulness. “Clever of you to choose here of all places to meet me. Don’t think that it will let you escape my wrath. You left that girl on the mercy of a monster.” 

“Cassandra was… I did regret what I did, but I couldn’t risk trying to reclaim her. Not until I was sure she could defend herself.” Sandra said, allowing emotions to enter her voice. Sabine could tell she was genuinely saddened by the situation. 

“You could’ve brought her to me. I would raise her along Marinette without a second thought. And you know that nobody would dare to come after me.” The older turned in her seat to glare at her sister. Two men at her side were both also sleeping, each with a small wound on their neck. They had complete privacy. 

“I… I’m sorry. By the time I managed to find her again, I… I was ashamed. I admit that it pained me to see what Cain did to her. But I couldn’t…”

“We will talk about it when I can scream at you properly.” Sabine cut her off. “For now I want to know what is so important you decided to show up personally, risking my wrath.”

“The boy has allies.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but they are influential enough to shield him from many of my contacts.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you tried. As opposed to with your daughter.”

“I deserve it…” Sandra lowered her head. 

“Yes, you do.” Sabine huffed. 

“If I find the kid…” 

“He sent Mari the knife he stabbed Ladybug with. I have no idea how he got his sticky hands on it…” 

“You still have the bag, right?”

“Already waiting for me in Gotham.”

“I will try digging some more, but I’m getting blocked at each turn.”

“Meanwhile I will keep both our girls safe.”

“I got the picture of Talia by the way.” Lady Shiva allowed a smile to ghost her face. “I carry it framed and put it by my bed. She got a few copies too.” 

“Good. That might remind her not to trifle with us.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Sabine was still angry and it showed. She would give her sister a piece of her mind when the time came. 

-----------

A figure stood cloaked in shadows. The small screen showed a series of images. 

“Poison Ivy; Bane; Penguin; Riddler; Mr. Freeze; Two-Face; Scarecrow; Clayface; Falcone; Harley Quinn; Killer Croc; Joker…” 

“The previous Hawkmoth was a fool.” Another figure spoke from the shadows. Their voice was neither feminine nor masculine. “He stuck to a moral high ground, giving powers to untrained kids. Then again, he was fighting kids.” 

A small, butterfly-like creature floated in the air. “But that is precisely what the Butterfly Miraculous is supposed to do! Its powers will work best with the common people.” 

“Interesting.” The main figure grinned. “So my father wasn’t such a fool after all.” He laughed when another image appeared on the screen. “And I see that my trap is already working.”

Duusuu had to hide from fear. This was not the kind boy they knew. What could’ve happened to Chat Noir, the great kind Chat Noir that made him into… this.

-------

Masterlist // Next

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[blackholeofprocrastination]

20, for arthur x lyanna :)

KISS PROMPTS ( ˘ ³˘)♥

#20: a kiss on a scar Arthur x Lyanna

They have lingered in Lys too long.

The last of Lyanna’s jewelry was sold two moons ago. A single hairpin studded with small onyx stones.

Pretty but not much, by the merchant’s assessment. 

Arthur had begrudgingly taken the man’s price. It was enough to pay their debt to the midwife. To fill their bellies a few times over. But it was not enough for passage away from this place. For that, Arthur must find his own way.

All around him men shout and hiss. His Valyrian is clumsy, but he understands them well enough, when an apple core is tossed at his head. He dodges it, letting it fall on the red-stained dirt below.

Once, he lived by vows. Served his prince. Now, his blade provides entertainment for foul men with too much coin. Arthur does not care, so long as some of that coin makes it into his purse.

Wine and wagers are passed around, as men curse him and praise him.

He does not heed them. He only watches patiently as his opponent, a rather brutish looking Ghiscari, closes in.

The Ghiscari swings wide, his flail as ineffective as an apple core tossed from the crowd.

Arthur grins, the split skin at his lip pulling too tight.

There is a horrible part of him, deep down, that knows it is not just coin that brings him here.

He is often so wrong-footed in this new life he must lead across the Narrow Sea, but here, with a blade in his hand, he is himself. (Or at least some glimmer of himself)

There is a thrill in victory. It happens more often than not. Even without Dawn in his hand, Arthur is formidable.

The Ghiscari does not miss his mark a second time, the flail striking Arthur painfully on the shoulder.

Arthur bears against it and with an elegant arc of his blade, he cuts the Ghiscari at the back of the legs.

The man roars as he falls to his knees, quieting only when the pommel of Arthur’s sword meets the back of his head.

Arthur cannot tell if din surrounding him is made up of boos or cheers. It matters not. He shall have his winnings either way.

It is late when he make his way home.

His shoulder is bloodied and aches and there will be new bruises on his face by morning, but he is too drunk with his victory to mind. It sets his blood buzzing, restless and wound tight.

He needs another fight. A fight or…

He turns onto their street and catches a glimpse of lilac eyes peering out from the doorway of the neighboring pillow house.

Arthur can already smell the perfume that spills out from the establishment. He draws closer and a bedslave with silver hair smiles for him.

The pillow house shares a wall with the tiny room they rent, two coppers every sennight. When he lies beside Lyanna at night, he can hear whores at their trade through the thin plaster that separates them. It makes his skin feel too tight. His blood too hot.

Sometimes, it sends him back out into the night. Back to the fighting pits where his blood is put to better service.

He could turn back now. It’s not too late.

Instead he enters their lodgings, barring the door behind him.

The babe is asleep on the single bed they share. It is too much to hope that his mother might be there too.

“It’s late.”

Lyanna is by the dying fire, standing over a dented kettle.

“Sit,” she orders, kicking out their only chair from the rough-hewn table.

Arthur obeys, watching as she dishes out his supper with a clumsy hand that borders on petulant.

He sets the coin he’s earned on the table. A conciliatory offering.

“Did you win?” She asks as he toes off his boots.

“Some.”

He does not know if that answer pleases Lyanna, but there is a touch less tartness to her when she sets a dish in front of him.

Just as his birth has ill prepared him for this life, so has Lyanna’s. She is a lady. A princess. Not a kitchen maid.

Most days, the best her stew has to recommend for itself is that it is warm. Tonight, it is so late not even that is true. There is a film of grease over top, and onions and broth have grown tepid.

Arthur makes no comment, heartily soaking hard brown bread into it and ripping off chunks in greedy bites.

He reaches for the winecup she sets at his place, and cries out when it pulls at his injured shoulder.

“You’re hurt,” she is looking at him properly for the first time since he walked in through the door.

“It’s nothing.”

Lyanna scowls.

“Off,” she commands, pulling at the hem of his jerkin.

Once, he might have balked at such a thing, to sit stripped to the waist in front of a lady, but there is no place for shyness between them. Not anymore.

He removes his jerkin and then tugs his shirt free of his breeches and pulls it up overhead. He winces when the cloth peels away from where it’s become sticky from the pulpy mess of his shoulder.

He hears Lyanna hisses through her teeth when she sees the wound, fingers gingerly touching where the bruising already feels bone deep.

She makes quick work of it. Fetching the bucket of water they use for washing and an old cloth.

Her touch stings. Arthur welcomes it. It distracts him from feel of Lyanna’s breath on his skin, her skirts brushing too close against his legs.

“I’m sorry,” he says as she finishes, knotting a bandage around him tight. “For making you worry.”

Lyanna hums, her hands drifting lower on his chest, pressing over where a bruise from his last fight has yet to heal.

She bends down and kisses his shoulder. It’s the same motherly way he’s seen her soothe Jon’s tears with a kiss, and yet…

“Come to bed,” she bids, with a second kiss to a scar on his cheek.

That night, it is not the lingering edge from fighting in the pits nor the sound of the whores through the wall that keeps Arthur from sleep.

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