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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

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a little unconventional (part one)

[foster au]

this is set in America because i don't know how Romania works

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rapture rising

“Alcina, my beloved sister, are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Alcina shot a glare over her shoulder at her toddling younger brother, who she was making carry in several boxes full of various items into one of the many rooms in her mansion. This one wasn’t one of the bedrooms, but rather a temporary storage room for all the things she had recently bought. She was going to have everything set up for the children to choose from when they eventually arrived. Just thinking about them getting to pick out their bedsheets and paint for their new rooms made a smile come to her lips, excitement rushing through her like dozens of butterflies flying for the first time.

…And then her idiot brother bumped into the doorframe and caused an avalanche of boxes to come down on top of him.

“Be careful!” Alcina barked, whirling around to him. She bent down to start picking the boxes up. “You’re lucky there was nothing fragile in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Heisenberg grunted, rubbing his head.

“And to answer your questions, dearest brother, yes, this is all very necessary,” Alcina said. “I need this to be perfect for them. This may be the first time those little girls get a real home.”

“Inflating your ego, aren’t you?”

Alcina stepped on his foot.

“I have the paints.” Moreau, Alcina’s other brother, shuffled inside, holding several cans of paint on his arms. If they were hurting him, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased with himself for being so useful.

“Thank you, Sal,” Alcina said. She took the cans from him and placed them against the wall. “Yellow, green, red, blue, pink, purple… Do you think that’s enough? What if they want, like, a mauve room?”

“Mauve?” Heisenberg echoed as he was crow hopping on one foot, still recovering from being stomped on.

“It’s a shade of purple,” Moreau supplied.

“I know what mauve is, asshole,” Heisenberg hissed. “I was just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, what if they want a lighter-colored room?” Alcina said. “This purple is dark. Should I go buy more?”

“You could mix white into the paint?” Moreau suggested.

Alcina thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I could do that. Good idea.”

“Who wants a mauve bedroom, anyway?” Heisenberg muttered.

“Alcina!” A fourth voice echoed throughout the house, and Alcina’s sister entered the room. Donna looked uncharacteristically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was clutching something in her hands. “Alcina, I have finished them!”

“When did you get here?” Heisenberg looked at her.

“Just now,” Donna said. “It doesn’t matter. Look!”

A beautiful doll was presented to Alcina. It was hand-stitched and dressed with great care. All the little details, down to the freckles and shiny eyes, were incredibly-made, and Alcina couldn’t help but pick it up tentatively, as though she were afraid of accidentally destroying it.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Donna beamed. “I have also made stuffed animals and toy clothes for them. An entire wardrobe, in fact. Many selections.”

“Damn,” Heisenberg looked impressed. “Toys dress better than I do.”

“We know,” the other three said in sync, eyeing his ratty trenchcoat and old cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing everywhere.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Heisenberg barked like one of his dogs.

“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Alcina shrugged daintily. She looked back at Donna and smiled. “Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate your support. I appreciate all of your support. Even yours, Karl.”

“Sure, sure…” Heisenberg said, though Alcina didn’t miss the glint of fondness in his eyes.

“This is so exciting,” Donna said. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Alcina. Do you remember when we were all adopted by Mother?”

Heisenberg snorted. “I remember being kidnapped as a child and held for ransom, and then being one of the abduction victims to be actually found alive, only to discover that my parents had been killed while trying to get me back, to which I was then thrown into a home with you three.”

Donna winced. “Not…quite what I had in mind.”

“And you say ‘you three’ like we weren’t your best friends growing up,” Moreau pointed out idly, not looking at Heisenberg as he was helping unload some of the boxes. That one in particular held a wide selection of different bed sheets, ranging from leopard print to floral to plain blue.

Heisenberg raised his nose and huffed. “Well. Still.”

Alcina shook her head with a warm smile.

She vividly remembered life with her adoptive mother, Miranda, and her three other siblings. She was reborn from ash and flame after her old family estate burned down to the ground, smoldering the life she used to have and taking her parents with it. Yes, she could still smell the smoke, taste the embers on her tongue, even now, thirty-five years later. She was so small back then, only nine years old when the fire started, and she watched her home crumble to pieces right before her teary eyes. She thought it was over, that she had nothing, that she was going to be alone forever without her mother and father, but then a woman in a black cowl whisked her up into tender arms and took her under her wing as though she were the chicken to a nurturing mother bird.

She was the first of Miranda’s ragtag rascal children with harsh upbringings. For two years, it was just the both of them, reading books and watching movies in a beautiful countryside manor that quickly became her new home. Though the wounds had still been raw, the burns were very fresh, Miranda filled the void in her heart that her parents’ death left behind, extinguishing that eternal fire of survivor guilt and mourning.

And then the others came along.

At the time, Alcina had been rather indignant at the idea of having siblings. She was an only child with her birth family and she preferred to stay an only child with her new one, too, but she never voiced this opinion to Miranda. She grinned and bore it, even if it meant losing the attention of her mother.

Though, they didn’t end up being that bad…

The first of the “intruders” as she used to call them was Salvatore Moreau, a boy her age, though three months younger, and with a story similar to her own. He had been in a car crash after his drunken father got into a pretty nasty collision. The engine caught fire and it wasn’t long until the rest of the car followed. Moreau was trapped in the inferno, but managed to get out, running towards a nearby lake to extinguish the flames that were trying to make him its newest pyre. Unfortunately, the event left him badly burned, the scar still lingering all these years later, and nobody wanted to take in such a “disfigured child.” Miranda, however, stepped up to the challenge and fostered the boy, eventually adopting him fully later on.

Alcina was, admittedly, rather uneased by her new brother’s appearance at first, but she quickly got accustomed to him, even protective. There were several moments in school where she verbally (and sometimes even physically) pummeled any kids who dared to make fun of him, drilling into the bullies that he was not to be messed with while she was around. Some of her best retributions were when she threatened to leak unwarranted dick pics to the entire school, as it wasn’t uncommon for horny teenage boys to try to get into her pants, and that always shut them up quickly, especially when she loudly proclaimed details on their pathetic excuse for a penis, like the size and shape.

She and Moreau grew close rather quickly, much quicker than Miranda had been expecting. They both enjoyed more mellow things, like reading books and going on walks through the forest. Moreau was the sole reason she passed any English assignments done on Shakespearean literature, as he actually knew how to discern the confusing text, while she had to reread the same page over and over again to simply get a loose grasp on the grammar. He enjoyed cheesy romcoms, birdwatching, and swimming, the last of which he had a strong affinity for because of how the lake beside the car wreck very well could have been the only reason he survived. Now, he owned that very lake and made it into a popular fishing and boating destination for locals and tourists alike.

The second to arrive was Donna Beneviento, when Alcina and Moreau were both twelve. She was a full five years younger than the two of them and didn’t talk very often, at least for a good chunk of the first year she was there. She was put into the foster program after her parents commit suicide, leaving her with nothing but anxiety, trauma-induced selective muteness, and a doll named Angie.

It took time, but Donna eventually started opening up. First to Miranda, and then to Alcina and Moreau. Alcina strongly remembered a time when her little sister came to her room during a thunderstorm, lips quivering, tears glistening in her eyes, Angie clutched in a vice from her thin arms. She didn’t say anything, just stared from the doorway, whimpering and shivering.

“Alright,” Alcina had sighed. She flipped open her comforter, welcoming Donna. “Come on.”

Donna had brightened and skittered into the bed, snuggling right up against Alcina’s side. Alcina didn’t mind and resumed the book she had been reading before--Animal Farm, she believed. Donna pointed at the pages and then looked up at her curiously.

“Oh, this?” Alcina had said. “It’s called Animal Farm. It’s about these talking farm animals overthrowing their farmer to gain freedom, only to then be ruled by a communist pig.”

Donna blinked. “What’s a communist?”

“Well, you see…”

Her late-night explanation was certainly aided by the fact that they were in the middle of the Cold War at the time.

Overtime, Donna slowly grew out of her shell. Though she was still soft-spoken and reserved, she was also very kind-hearted and incredibly creative, which she showed through paintings, arts and crafts, and doll making. She would make dolls out of anything she could find--wood, thread, clay--so it made sense when she eventually became a toymaker once she grew up.

Finally, there was Karl Heisenberg when Alcina and Moreau were thirteen and Donna was eight. Right from the start, he was a loud, spitfire ten-year-old that broke the serene silence that used to hang over Miranda’s estate. He caused a great amount of mischief and mayhem, though Alcina would later discover it was to hide the fact that he was deeply traumatized by what exactly had happened to make him a foster child.

Even now, so many years later, Alcina still didn’t know the full story. Miranda said it wasn’t her tale to share and Heisenberg simply didn’t like talking about it very much. But from what she did know, Heisenberg used to belong to an incredibly wealthy business owner that ruled over their company with an iron fist. Due to the harshness his parents inflicted on their employees, it caused the workers to revolt against the abuse. A certain group took this way too far and kidnapped Heisenberg, holding him for ransom so they could get better treatment and pay at their work. Something ended up happening during the time between Heisenberg being held hostage and his parents paying up, and it left his mother and father in a way that he could never bring himself to explain. She only got snippets of the brutality of their deaths through brief moments when he would come to after vicious nightmares, one of which she actually stepped in to stop when she heard him struggling one night.

“Their heads, Alci,” Heisenberg had gasped, clawing manically for a desperate grasp on her arms, his body jerking and spasming in terror as his nightmare was still releasing his small, twelve-year-old body. “Their heads-- their brains were--” And then he stopped and keeled into her chest, sobbing in a way Alcina had never seen him do before in the two years he was living with her before that moment. Despite her occasional vex towards the boy, he was still her little brother and she was still his big sister, so she had wrapped her arms around him and held him close while he trembled and cried.

She never did find out what Heisenberg meant by “their heads,” but she had a hunch. Still, she never asked.

Nowadays, Heisenberg ran his own factory, where he treated his employees the way his parents should have treated theirs, learning from their mistakes. He also fostered all different kinds of dog breeds until they found their forever homes and rescued the more ‘vicious’ ones, like pit bulls and rottweilers, all of which he treated like royalty.

A freakishly tall girl, a burned boy, a selective mute, and a dog lover… They certainly weren’t the epitome of the stereotypical nuclear family, but they were family through and through, if not by blood, then by bloodshed.

“Do you guys remember the time Karl tried to clean the dishwasher with Kool-Aid?” Donna reminisced with a giggle.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Heisenberg said.

“Absolutely not,” Donna grinned at him.

“I still don’t know how you came to the conclusion that that would work,” Alcina shook her head.

Heisenberg threw his arms up into the air. “John said it did!”

“John also tried to steal a school urinal.”

“Also, you’re supposed to take all of the dishes out before you try to clean it with Kool-Aid,” Moreau spoke up. “You left all of the pots and plates and silverware in it.”

“And he didn’t even put it in the right spot!” Alcina joined, cackling. “You’re supposed to put the powder in the detergent dispenser. Karl, you just poured it out all over the dishes!”

“It wasn’t even the right powder,” Donna put in. “You’re supposed to strictly use unsweetened lemonade only. You used tropical punch!”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all burst into laughter, while Heisenberg crossed his arms and glared at them.

“John never specified any of that!” he blustered.

“Never trust John, dear,” Alcina tittered.

“Well, it happened!” Heisenberg said. “It’s over! What other boxes do you need to move!”

More laughter.

“I’m serious! I’ll get the boxes! Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy tortoiseshell cat lazily strolling into the room with them. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, run over again, and then put back together by a blind surgeon, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the four siblings, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to one of the empty boxes, which it jumped into and made itself comfortable inside.

“It’s a cat,” Donna said as if it should have been obvious, earning a snort from Moreau and then a glare from Heisenberg.

“It’s not funny,” Moreau said quickly after Heisenberg glared at him, too, but it was obvious Heisenberg’s leer was all in good fun.

“No, no. Tom from Tom and Jerry is a cat,” Heisenberg said. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out,” Donna said breezily.

Another bout of laughter, this time with Heisenberg included.

“Okay, okay, you got me there,” Heisenberg said.

“Must you insist on reacting the same way every single time you see Tea Cake?” Alcina finally spoke up through the playful bickering. She crouched down next to the cat and stroked its back, which caused it to purr in content.

“It’s my trademark,” Heisenberg said with a shrug. “That old woman is still alive?”

“And kicking,” Alcina smiled fondly at her pet.

Tea Cake had been with her for a long fourteen years, witnessing more than a few existential crises and drunken concerts put on to chase off her lurking PTSD. That cat came during the worst part of her life, and Alcina owed everything to that little beast. She learned how to laugh and smile and genuinely feel again, not hide behind the facade that she was a strong, powerful woman who could take on everything and come out without a scratch.

And, yes, Alcina had known- still knew, that she had Miranda and her siblings, but sometimes they were not enough, not back then, not when she was filled with so much shame and self-hatred and disgust. Animals were different in a way people couldn’t be. Animals didn’t lie, they didn’t judge or think about how messed up you were in their heads. They didn’t share your secrets or give you false hope. They just--be there. They listened and lent their presence and, sometimes, that was all that was needed, and some people didn’t seem to understand that.

Tea Cake’s fur had dried more of Alcina’s tears than anyone else ever had because she never let them fall in front of others. Tea Cake didn’t get upset when Alcina touched her; she didn’t understand the concept of emotional trauma and sexual harassment and body image issues. She just cared, even if she didn’t quite get it.

Alcina would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.

Yes, she remembered that fateful night… The wind in her shaggy hair she hadn’t washed in days, the moonglow on her ashen skin, the tears burning in her eyes--all of it was so clear, even now. She remembered how horribly, hopelessly depressed she had been and how she drove out to a field with a note on the dashboard and a gun in the passenger seat.

At the time, nothing had helped her. Her antidepressants weren’t working, going out only made her feel unsafe, and her family’s presence no longer brought her comfort and happiness, rather guilt and shame. The only thing that ever helped was when she drowned herself in the alcohol she made for a living, drinking away her despair and trauma until her body tingled and the phantom hands went away. She was surprised her liver never exploded inside of her during those awful few months.

She had sat in her car for a while, leaning her head on the steering wheel and wallowing in silence and darkness. Then, she got out, made sure the note was visible, and grabbed the gun.

She considered calling or texting her mother and siblings, but that would make it hurt worse. It was better to leave them with their last memories of her than to have this sudden news of a goodbye that they wouldn’t be able to stop.

She placed the pistol’s barrel in her mouth and rested her finger on the trigger. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like some movies or books say it did, and she was quite thankful for it. She didn’t want to relive the agony she had been put through that led her up to that point. She just shut her eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through her brain…

Then, there was a rustling from the grass nearby.

Alcina hesitated. The metallic taste of the gun left her tongue and she looked in the direction of the noise.

“Hello?” she had called out in her best possible not-about-to-kill-herself voice.

A tiny meow answered her.

“Your roadkill wants you,” Heisenberg’s voice cut through the daze that had momentarily descended upon Alcina’s mind.

Blinking, Alcina realized that Tea Cake was gnawing on her finger and meowing. She smiled.

“It’s probably dinner time,” Alcina said. She stood up straight. “Come on, children. I have news to share.”

Curious, her three younger siblings followed her out of the room and to her kitchen, Tea Cake padding after them eagerly. Her house was a beautiful creation of the finest wood and the most luxurious stonework. Top-of-the-line appliances filled the space and every little detail, down to the hanging droplets on the chandelier and the grooves in the staircase railing, were customized to her preference. 6 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 17,182 square feet, 14.99 acres filled by lush vineyards, and $5,500,000 later, and you had the Dimitrescu Estate.

And it was a barren prison.

It had always been there, ever since she moved in: that lingering loneliness that seemed to shroud every hallway. She had so much space, but nobody to fill it. Nobody except herself, Tea Cake, and her maids, of course. Lying awake one night, thinking about this issue as she often did, a solution had finally come to her.

After pouring some wet food into Tea Cake’s food bowl, Alcina grabbed a bottle of sweet butter wine out of her wine fridge and poured a glass for herself and each of her siblings, all of which were staring at her curiously. After taking a long sip, she finally began: “As you all know, I have plans to foster a child. And I greatly appreciate all of the support you three have provided me up until now.”

“Is this an award ceremony or something?” Heisenberg joked light-heartedly. “Can I have the award for most boxes carried? I think I deserve that one.”

“You mean most boxes dropped?” Donna giggled, earning her a playful poke in the side.

“No, it is not an award ceremony,” Alcina glared at Heisenberg without any fire in her gaze. She opened up a drawer in the stainless kitchen island they were gathered around. “Though, this may very well be an award…” She pulled out a blue folder packed full of papers and set it on the marble countertop, grinning brightly. “I just wanted to let you all know first that my training is done. I’ve completed all the classes.” Her heart swelled in her heart as she spoke her next words: “I’m a foster mom now.”

All at once, her younger siblings lit up brighter than the sun’s supernova, throwing their arms up into the air and letting out a celebratory shout. Donna and Moreau even raced around the island to hug Alcina, which she returned with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Alcina!” Donna said, squeezing her with surprising strength. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Moreau agreed.

“Sal, are you crying?”

“No!” Moreau yelped, then sniffled. “I just have something in my eye, that’s all.”

“You mean tears?” Heisenberg teased. He then looked at Alcina. “That’s amazing, Alcina. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.”

“Aww,” Alcina crooned. “Is my little brother going soft?”

Heisenberg instantly steeled himself. “Me? No way! I was just saying what you would want to hear.”

Still being embraced on either side by her other brother and sister, Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know your placement yet?” Donna asked, looking up at Alcina as though she were a child again.

“Placements,” Alcina corrected. She couldn’t help but grin again as she spoke of her future children. “Two. I’m getting two little girls.”

“Aww!” Donna and Moreau both cooed.

Heisenberg was nodding. “Girls. Yes. I can do girls.” He looked up at Alcina. “I’m getting them a puppy.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

“I’m getting them a puppy,” Heisenberg said again, and it was clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Alcina chuckled. “Alright. A puppy it is.”

Donna and Moreau began to join in on plans for being the greatest aunt and uncle, with Moreau saying that they needed to come to his lake for a swim and Donna listing off all the toys she would make for them. Alcina listened to them with a fond smile, happy to have such a supportive family. This was exactly what her daughters were going to need.

Daughters.

Just thinking about that word made her heart flutter in her chest. Her grin turned giddy. She was going to be a mother soon.

As she sipped from her wine glass, she thought about her placements. She had gotten the call four days ago and was scheduled to meet the little ones in the next two weeks. She could still hear her caseworker’s words in her ears during the conversation as she recalled it to her siblings.

“The first is named Daniela,” Duke had said. He was a studious, patient man with a warm smile and hands like chipmunk paws, keen on helping Alcina ever since she started her training to become a foster parent six months ago. “She’s a little girl and eleven years old. Her parents have, unfortunately, recently died due to a car crash. Her living relatives are unfit to take care of her, so she’s been placed into the foster system. Right now, she’s staying with her aunt and uncle, but she cannot be kept there much longer because of, ah…jealousy issues with their actual child.

The second is named Cassandra. Another girl, this one twelve years old. She’s been in the foster program ever since she was a baby when she was given up, as she was born from a teenager who couldn’t take care of her. She’s had…quite a few foster homes, all of which had given her up to someone else due to…issues. I understand if you don’t want to take this child. She’s been known to cause problems in her houses and pick fights. There is-- woo, that’s a lot of complaints… There are some notes on her left by her former families and-- Goddamn. They’re writing of her like she’s a monster or something…”

“Of course, I couldn’t turn down either of them,” Alcina concluded her retelling. “Especially the second one. Cassandra. The poor thing sounds like she needs a good home.”

“You’re so sweet, Alci,” Donna said, smiling at her.

“Think you can handle it?” Heisenberg asked. “I’m not doubting your abilities, but from what you said about the kid… Well, she just sounds difficult.”

“You were difficult,” Alcina said, grinning at him. “And everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

Her youngest brother’s concern didn’t diminish. “Yes, but… I don’t want anything to happen to you or my niece.”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all cooed. Heisenberg huffed.

“Oh, shut it! I have a heart!”

“You do,” Alcina’s smile lightened slightly. “But don’t worry: everything will be okay. I can do this. I need to do this. Those two little girls need a mother.”

Heisenberg considered her for a moment, then nodded. He smiled at her. “You’ve got a good heart, Alcina,” he said. “If you ever need any help, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Donna joined in.

“Me three!” Moreau piped up.

Alcina laughed. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me. Now…” She raised her glass. “Let’s drink before we have to cut back because there will be children around!”

Her siblings laughed and mimicked her gesture.

Alcina couldn’t wait.

#foster au #resident evil au #resident evil fanfic #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #mother miranda #dimitrescu daughters #a little unconventional

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oogaboogasphincter · 3 years

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The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?”

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being.

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.”

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.”

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies.

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.”

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you.

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study.

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced.

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left.

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts.

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt.

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out.

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.”

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester.

💘taglist: @pascalpanic, @mellowswriting

#agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #kingsman: the golden circle #study smut #studying smut

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lost-in-the-80s · 4 years

Text

Bloodletting part II - Prologue

Words: 1,820k

Summary: Guns n Roses are already known for being dangerous, but how dangerous would they be if they were vampires? Would it be a wiseful decision to fall for one of them?

A/N: Next week the x reader part will start! I’m making a playlist inspired by this (sorry, I just couldn’t hold myself sjdhs). I’ll be posting one part every Tuesday. Also, from now and on, tag list will be at the end of the fic :)

Some initial information: this series will take place in 2020, but without the pandemic. If you already read part 1 (which was posted last year) please ignore any pairs that the boys have had (Slash’s case), here they are all single.

Moodboards | Part I | Part III

Los Angeles, 2016.

“What the fuck died in here?” Izzy asked as he entered Axl’s victorian house in Los Angeles.

It was night outside and all the curtains were closed, putting the entire house in complete darkness. If Izzy wasn’t a vampire, he surely wouldn’t be able to see anything.

The smell of blood and something decomposing had caught his nostrils as soon as he opened the door, making him cover his nose with his hand.

“I did.” Axl’s hoarse voice came from upstairs, he wasn’t yelling, he knew his friend could hear even his breath from the floor below.

Izzy rolled his eyes, starting to climb the stairs. “Yeah, but it was almost a thousand years ago.”

Reaching the second floor, Axl was sitting on the floor, a bottle of Scotch Whisky in his hands as his shirtless figure looked at his friend.

“Shit, when was the last time you took shower?” Izzy wrinkled his nose in disgust.

The redhead shrugged. “Am fuckin tired, Iz.”

“Don’t tell me you’re in that I Hate Myself phase again.” The brunette started walking through the corridors, going in the direction of the decomposing smell that had gotten stronger.

“I fucking do! I hate what I am.”

“It’s useless to hate yourself, we already talked about it.” He stopped in front of a door, the smell was definitely coming from behind it.

“And what am I supposed to do, Isbell?”

Izzy opened the door, covering his nose one more time when he saw the dead body of a girl inside, she didn’t look older than 25 and was dead for at least a couple of hours now. A human would never be able to smell her though.

“Axl, if I know you well, and I like to think I do, this happens every time you’re alone.”

“I’m always alone, Isbell.”

“I told you to go to New York with me last year.” He closed the door, moving closer to the redhead.

“I’m not going to fucking New York.”

“And what are you going to do then? Kill yourself? You know that it’s impossible.”

“Believe me, I know.”

Izzy frowned, squatting down in front of him, a circular bruise on his chest indicated that he had shot himself there, not so long ago.

He shook his head. “When did you do it?”

“Last night.”

“How did it feel?”

“I passed out. Woke up a few minutes later and it fucking hurt, I had to take the fucking bullet out of it. Wasn’t nice.”

“At least it’s almost healed.”

“I’m fucking tired of not feeling anything. Not even this fucking whisky can make me drunk anymore.” He threw the bottle on the other side of the corridor, its glass hitting the wall and breaking in many pieces.

Izzy rubbed his forehead. “That’s it! Pack your stuff, you’re going to New York with me.”

“I’m not fucking daeing that.” He got up, entering his office and getting a cigarette in his wooden box.

“You’re becoming reckless. There’s a body in your house and at some point, someone will miss the girl. It’s not 1720 anymore, they have cameras everywhere now, it’s a matter of days until they find you.”

Axl looked at him, but didn’t say anything.

Izzy removed his blazer, placing it on a chair in front of the desk and removing his tie. “I’m gonna take care of the body, be ready when I’m back.”

---

The flight to New York was quiet, Axl was too proud to thank his friend for helping him and Izzy was in his own world, enjoying the silence in the first class while drinking some gin.

Arriving in the city around midday, they were quite a sight. Izzy in a suit with a long and expensive grey coat over it, matched with his black sunglasses and grey-black hat, while Axl wore a pair of black ripped jeans and a leather jacket, also wearing black sunglasses.

It was winter in New York, as they walked towards the uber who would drive them to Izzy’s new house in the city. A three-floor gothic construction from the XIX century, which he had sent some pictures to Axl via letters, since Axl refused to have a cell phone.

“What the fuck are you doing in New York after all?”

“Business, Axl.”

He knew that Izzy had business in many places, he always knew what to do with his money, no wonders why he was the richest vampire he knew. But the fact that Izzy changed Amsterdam for New York was still something he couldn’t justify.

“And why moving here?”

“There are some cool people around.”

“Since when dae ya care about who’s around?”

“I do feel lonely sometimes too, Axl.”

And then silence was spread in the car again.

After almost an hour, they stopped in front of a huge house, its walls were in exposed brick and the garden in front had some trees that had lost their leaves with the cold weather.

Exiting the car, Izzy stopped on the sidewalk, getting a cigarette from his pack and offering one to Axl, which he silently thanked. He lighted both cigarettes before speaking up:

“There will be some people inside, I want you to be cordial to them.”

Axl scoffed. “And since when ah umnae cordial?” He passed through Izzy, stopping in front of the front door while waiting for the brunette.

Izzy rolled his eyes, but opened the door. The house was in the same way as when he left, the smell of old books and wooden, mixed with a little alcoholic scent, along with a small hint of blood coming from the freezers in the basement.

“Hello, Izzy.” A blonde guy, smaller than them, approached the two of them, he was coming from the kitchen and there was a huge smile on his face. “You must be Axl.”

Axl looked him up and down, scanning his figure. He wore blue jeans and a red bomber jacket.

He can’t be older than 20, Axl thought to himself.

“Ya, I am.” He passed through the blonde, looking at every piece of the house. “Where’s my room, Izzy?”

“Hello, Steven.” Izzy chose to ignore the redhead, moving towards the fireplace room.

“How was your trip?”

“It was good, Steven. Thanks for asking.”

“Is he English like you and Slash? He sounds different.”

Axl averted his eyes to the blonde, with a mortal glare. “Ah umnae fucking English. I’m Scottish!”

“Oh, sorry! Well, but you are all British, so it’s almost the same thing right?” He smiled, trying to start a conversation.

“Izzy, what is this bampot talking about?” Axl started to move towards Steven, but Izzy stopped him.

“Control yourself.” He gave Axl a stern look before taking a long breath.

“You must be Axl. Nice jacket.” Another blonde showed up, he had a pack of chips in his hands and he entered the room. He was taller than the rest of them and looked like he was 21 or 22. He wore black jeans and a denim jacket on top of a grey sweater.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Duff.” He pointed to himself before throwing himself on the couch.

“The guy in the library is Slash, he’s English too.” Izzy pointed towards the library, to which Axl only nodded in understanding. “Come, I’ll show you your room.”

Picking up his suitcase, Axl followed him up the stairs, lots of old pictures of Izzy and his friends were on display on the wall, and Axl almost smiled when he saw a picture of the two of them together.

Izzy stopped at the end of the corridor, opening a door on his right side. Inside the room, the walls were in a cream color and the furniture, the floor was in the darkest shade of wood Izzy could’ve found. There was a huge bed with white sheets and a white big bathroom, with a big mirror inside. The room’s windows gave Axl a view of the front yard and the street.

“Good enough for you?” Izzy asked.

“Ya.” He placed his suitcase on the floor and sat at the edge of the bed, watching as Izzy sat on the white armchair in front of the windows.

“Why did you go after me, Iz?”

Izzy took a deep breath, inhaling the last of his smoke. “I had a dream.” He exhaled the smoke. “You were in a lake and you were drowning, and you didn’t seem to make a move to get out of there.” He paused for a second. “I thought something was wrong with you.”

Axl nodded, staying in silence for a while before speaking up again. “And who are these people?”

“I met Slash on the plane to here, we were sitting next to each other, and we obviously knew what we were. He turned out to be a nice guy, but he had nowhere to stay here, I told him he could stay with me for a while.”

“And what about the other two?”

“Duff’s the owner of a bar, not too far from here, he’s cool, introduced me to some nice music. He used to live in the apartment on top of it, but it needed some reforms, and he’s staying here ever since the reform started.”

“And when will the reform be over?”

“They finished it about 3 months ago.”

“Why is he still here then?”

“Because we’re friends, just like Steven, who’s a friend of Duff’s, he was here all the time, and then I simply decided to tell him to stay permanently.”

“Since when do you care about friends?”

“I know that you’re in a terrible mood, and that the idea of living with other people is strange for you after so many years living alone. But the thing is: we all want the same thing Axl.”

“And what’s that?”

“A family.”

Axl stared into his eyes.

“It’s the only thing we can’t have, and even though we are very different, we are a family, or a clan, or whatever. We miss having people who care for us around, and we miss the feeling of belonging to something. You’ll understand it, not today, but you will some time, and then you’ll be thankful for having these people around you.”

Izzy got up, leaving the room and closing the door behind him, leaving Axl to think about his words.

---

Turns out that Izzy was right. In the first weeks, Axl would stay on his own, only joining during their daily meal and not saying a word. But after a while, he started to loosen up. He and Duff got really along, and he made Axl see the good part of Steven's and Slash’s personality.

And now, after four years living together and being this so-called clan, they learned how to coexist with each other and ended up becoming close friends, or even brothers, Steven dared to say. And in their own weird way, they became a family.

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @bigdaddylars @dynamitebabe @tuffduff @mitchgrassified @gamsbeans @hooloovooblue @normatural @axlsbabygirl @mudkicker @dazeduchess @izzysjujuhounds @pinkpatiencecreepers @smokeandmirrorz

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#harley writes #bloodletting #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses as vampires #gnr #axl rose #axl rose fanfic #Izzy Stradlin #izzy stradlin fanfic #duff mckagan #duff mckagan fanfic #slash #slash fanfic #steven adler #steven adler fanfic #classic rock #classic rock imagine

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one-piece-musings · 3 years

Text

A Ghost Ship and Cards (O.C. Bravo D. Rocks)

The Captain cringed as they ripped through her raven locks. An eye closing as she pulled away from the hot combs that grazed past her face. Six pairs of hands worked rapidly to the specifications of the captain preparing her for the grand entrance. If she had learned anything upon the seas it was to make her first impression loud and unforgettable. Bravo D. Rocks was willing to play an entire life's bet on one moment.

Hours later she knelt in front of a mirror as her hair was pulled up and pinned into place with golden hair pins now silky straight. Carefully, the woman leaned forward to pick the cherry rose lipstick pallet from the floor carefully lining her lips the same as they had done her eyes now shadowed in deep reds. Red hues glared from under those long black lashes and bravo could not help but smile anticipating her moment of glory.

She wasn't so much focused on creating a name as she was the reaction given when the old ship pulled into the port. She burst into laughter at the thought of fear upon their faces. The women around her worked rapidly to lay layers of silk pinning them into place carefully before repeating with the fifth layer of kimono. It was to signify her status as self designated royalty and a style she felt complimented her personality.

When they finished the door swung open and a small girl rushed in with spoken riddles bringing a growl from Xebec. Rouge hues shifted to meet the other in scolding before the words left her lips.

"Captain, The invitation was located and we are in route to the pirate festival. I do caution you in bringing THIS ship into port. There will be many who despise these sails and jolly roger and they may take their vengeance out on you alone. I worry for a twenty year old ship that was set..."

Before the woman could finish Bravo had hurled a brush at her popping her in the forehead before the fool could finish her statement.

.ೃ࿐"Don't you ever doubt my fathers ship! FUCK THEM AND THEIR OPINION'S and so long as you are in my presence don't you ever, ever, doubt my capabilities so long as you call me your Captain. No need to threaten me with a good time either, you already stuck gold!".ೃ࿐

Bravo explained as the woman rubbed her now bruised forehead in silence. The sweet smile to follow such a soft spoken voice fell back into place as bravo resumed her preparations. Though the words were spoken she held no offense because what they were going to do was going to bring a lot of attention. Her end game was to try and shake the world and capture all the shiny treasures that fell out. In order to advance and become notorious she would have to give up their best advantage.

.ೃ࿐"I intend to find Roger, I have some grievances to address so we simply must go. Don't you understand? There is no better way to make our presence known than to appear at a festival uninvited!".ೃ࿐

Bowing the other approached in silence to simply hand her the invitation to the festival quickly scurrying away much to the Captains delight. She preferred it this way. Fear and worry could move even the meekest of men and women. She desired to see the raw power promised to her by the crew in every waking day. They had sworn to avenge the name that had suddenly fallen to the grievances of others. Such a petty thing!

They were pirates and the world was ran by the cruel hand dealt by the sea. Whoever assumed that their adventures would be fair was a fool deserving of death by her hand. Bravo didn't really care of the things of the past and had no intentions of ruling anything at all. She just wanted to swim in the glory but wasn't concerned enough to chase the last island. Instead she would address what was before her and the fact they didn't know she existed was even more nerve racking and infuriating. Her father had not claimed her in any sense probably for her protection.

As nightfall fell, the Captain made her way down the old halls listening to the creaking of wood under her feet. Her laughter echoing out as layers of pinks, purples, and reds trailed behind her. The sandals she wore she was careful not to make a sound with as she stepped her hips swaying with each carefully placed step. Through etiquettes, Bravo was taught to move in grace as if floating. Her heart pounded as they inched closer to their destination. She knew this could go one of two ways and even if things did get a bit rough she'd surprise them by showing them that a feared ghost ship could also fly and fight with a vengeance. She had secrets to revel and was determined to keep the name alive if only for her own purpose. When the doors pulled open she glided past with stoic features. The image of the festival and ships reflected from her red pupils and Bravo found herself holding her breath.

The lights reflected into the heavens in invitation and the celebration could be heard even from far out. It was then suggested that they take a moment to gather their nerves with drinks before going ashore. Bravo could not help but nod in agreement her vices sounding rather lovely at the moment, for even she was nervous in the least. Bravo calmly waited for a red pillow to be placed on deck and let out a nervous sigh before quickly clamping her mouth shut to withhold any stupid comments.

Kneeling slowly she let out a much needed breath reaching out with freshly manicured hands to grip the sake bowl. Moments later she set casually an elegant bared leg propped in front of her as she lifted the bowl bringing it back only to lick her lips in approval.

.ೃ࿐"Hic!....pause.......Hic!".ೃ࿐

The woman chirped quickly covering her mouth with a blush quickly glancing about to see if any would call her on being drunk. It was then her second in command lifted the red top layer of silk to tie in place over her Kimono signifying her status. Bravo had never been big on hats instead she often decorated herself in gold and jewels and at times often wore a crown.

This was her revenge to be had and she intended to lay out any who stood in her path with grace and precision. Alcohol actually amplified her capabilities and she was known for being fully capable when under the influence. A drunken sage if you will, when tested with the kiss of alcohol. Her family set about her on deck and enjoyed their drinks in in celebration of her order to raise their revised Jolly roger.

The new black sails danced in the night breeze as the original white rocks sails dangled behind them blowing gracefully in the wind. The only one to be tied into place was the darkened red sail of her late father.

The ghost ship like appearance had much to her amusement spooked most in whom she encountered. The colors of the wood were also darkened for elegance and appearance. The ship by her design was renamed the Grim Reaper only because the girl at the time could not come up with nothing better her crew had actually agreed to.

She understood the wind so well and was the first to hang some of her newest sails sideways to assist in speed and navigation. The idea was spawned when she under drunken influence was seeking ways to speed up their approach. The Black Widow Pirates were unheard of and much like her design was often purposely confused for her fathers sails.

When the moment came and she knew they were within range she then gave the order for the cannons to be exposed and all armory to be on standby. She hoped she wouldn't need them but was certain of one thing and that was that pirate responses were often unpredictable.

.ೃ࿐"Don't worry, This ship was salvaged and built strong I assure you she still has a bit of fight in her. She is supposed to appear as if she sails in the land of the dead let's bring a chill to the festival. Its a wonderful effect and to be even more bold. Pull down the top sail and drop my father's sail in front of mine to prove my resolve.".ೃ࿐

As the order was given silence echoed out and the drunk princess turned quickly pulling her fan from her sash. Before her hand lifted to expand it her crew had disappeared to do exactly as she ordered. The whispers amused her so she gave no cares lifting her bowl to her lips to sip happily.

"She must have a death wish! She is certain to get us all killed."

Bravo spat her drink out onto the wooden planks whirling about in a hiss to address the subject at hand.

.ೃ࿐"If you are so cowardly as to doubt my plans then you are free to leap into the sea before I rise.".ೃ࿐

She said every word her voice smoothing out the serious tone decorating each word in promise. She gave no other comments as they dropped the sail satisficed in their resolve. Had she been her father the deck would probably be lined with the dead though none of the original Rocks pirates would have doubted. If anything they would have complained that the ship was not approaching fast enough.

This was about the treasures of the world and the thrill of installing a ghostly memory into the minds of others. Until now they were able to sail freely because none who survived were taken seriously in their claim of being attacked by the Rocks Pirates. It was the perfect cloak much like hiding in plain sight. Bravo cast no cares only because she had already seen the face of the world in her own transformation. Her will was built strong if only to protect her heart. A caged and locked away thing hidden behind greed and revenge.

She took her temper out on the world and her sails supposedly did not exist. Bravo would sink marine ships on sight to ensure none carried back a message of their true identity. She at the time needed the time to build and grow, to hone in on her haki and center the abilities of her fruit, Kūki kūki no Mi. The fan in her hand she used to direct attacks and control the element with ease compensating for range.

Bravo rose to her feet when the shore came close enough to view the Captain noting many of the sails she had seen in childhood. Sharp eyes glared out as the jolly roger she sought was not present. Softly cursing the Captain let out a disappointed sigh turning to face her crew shaking her head to tell them that Roger was not present upon the island.

Casting a quick shrug, the woman whirled back lifting the fan her thumb and index spreading the decorated fan out with a pop. The red ribbons dangling behind it danced in the breeze she kept circling them to slow their approach to almost a creep. Bravo sucked in a breath to take advantage of the mist that lingered over the seashore.

Slowly she lifted another arm to pull back her sleeve keeping her stoic posture black strands dancing about her as she prepared herself.

Bravo gave a long strike through the air drawing the mist on the wings of air to give them a bit of cover should she need to react quickly. As they sailed closer she quickly closed her fan tucking it within her sleeve alongside her other hand to patiently await their arrival.

She would watch their response to size up any and all opposition without a display of power. She believed that moving in silence was key in order to draw assumptions. She ordered her crew not to breath a word to add to the eerie approach. The creaking of the was ship able to be heard as they slowly pulled into port. The Fog slowly settled on board the ship and moved with them as they approached dispersing across the ground once they anchored.

#BravoDRocks #tagging from: one-piece-musings #one-piece-musings #one piece rp #originalcharacter #here goes nothing and now when I am supposed to do replies find myself creating entirely new muses thank god for multi muse #@chronicparagon #pinnedbybones

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vln-vibes · 4 years

Text

Unwanted, Unreliable, Unstoppable

Yeah so this thing is crazy long so I’m dividing it into three parts. Anyways this is very self indulgent but I hope you like the content.

Summary: They were tired, they were so so tired. This fight has been going on long enough, this war was getting harder and harder to fight as the years went on but no one ever helped; Not the citizens of Paris, not the French government and certainly not the Justice League. But what is they received help from a man that was practically a myth himself; the Batman. Is this exactly what the Miraculous Team needs or will this lead to their falling from grace?

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“I’m so tired of this!” Ladybug scratched at her head feverishly. Currently she was standing at the second most top of the Eiffel Tower with her team: Chat Noir, Ryuuko and Viperion.

“I know m’lady” Chat sighed, letting his cheerful mask take a break as he stood next to her, leaning into the railings.

“Those— Those assholes that call themselves the Justice League just keep ignoring us; it's like they just don’t give a shit about us” Viperion rolled his eyes. They had tried, time and time again, to get help from older, more experienced heroes with their situation in Paris; they were fucking teenagers thrust into an adult’s war. One they didn’t even care for anymore.

“They don’t care for Paris… Why should we?” Ryuuko spoke up, cold fury clear in her eyes. “If they cannot find the need to handle the Paris situation themselves then why must we be the ones to? No one even appreciates out efforts, its like they just want us to have everything handled”

It was true.

At first the Parisians praised the Dynamic Duo, Ladybug and Chat Noir, for stepping up and saving the city from the terrifying Akumas they had no way of handling. They even got the heroes to help out with things not in their jurisdiction; suddenly any crime, as minor or major as it could get, required their attention, any fire could not be handled by the fire department alone, schools needed the heroes to make guest appearances, they were wanted in television interviews, everyone needed to know everything about them. It was fine, for a while, they didn’t mind helping out.

Then Heroes’ Day happened.

Suddenly they were pathetic.

If they were supposed to be so strong then how come other heroes had to come to help? It had never occurred to them that they were chosen by Ladybug and Chat Noir, all they knew was that the duo was not as strong as they once believed.

After all it was just one criminal,

How hard could it be?

Sometimes, Ladybug wishes, she had just let Alya keep the stupid earrings. She was sure the girl would have taken them immediately at the time but, given her brashness and temperamental nature, she would have already lost to Hawkmoth.

Plus she didn’t blame the small kwami or even Master Fu all that much: She resented the man but still respected him very much and knew he went through the same thing as she did at an even younger age with absolutely no way out. She was aware that if she truly wanted to all she could do was just give the earrings to someone else or even hand them over. But Ladybug was stubborn and the earrings were her’s now, just like the ring was Chat’s, the choker was Ryuuko’s and the bangle was Viperion’s.

That didn’t mean this battle was theirs to fight.

“... Why don’t we leave?” Viperion asked, disturbing their silence. The trio looked at him curiously, as though he broke an unspoken rule.

“Why would we?” Ladybug responded, knowing fully well that Viperion didn’t tend to speak up unless he was certain of his words.

“Because they’re running us dry, this city is killing us” Viperion raised his voice, aware that they could already, “Adrien and Kagami are living shitty home lives with abusive assholes that want to call themselves parents. Mari, you’re being burdened with too much responsibility by that bitch Bustier and that class full of sheep! I hate seeing you all kill yourselves for people that will never appreciate it because they think they’re above it!”

At the end of his rant Viperion’s eyes were nearly glowing, his breathing a bit more rough than normal, looking away from his teammates knowing he stepped too far. “Sorry, but I don’t want my friends to die on me when I can do something to stop it”

Ryuuko, Chat Noir and Ladybug understood where he was coming from but it was like a slap on the face, a reminder of what civilian life was like for them. Ryuuko could feel the sting coming from her leg, where mother had hit with her shinai after failing to be in proper form. Chat Noir still felt the ache of having to do photoshoots all day and then staying up at night to have to do his make-up work; not that his father cared with his disregard of child labor laws. Ladybug still had some redness from bruises Alya had caused by tripping her on her way to class.

“... Okay so these are the sad gang hours” the group turned back seeing Roter Fochs land, Roi Singe and Pegasus landing behind them. The Parisians were really only aware of ‘The Core Four’ as they’d rather have some aces up their sleeves; not that the three were ready to confront the Parisian backlash just yet. They didn’t want to deal with anymore bullshit than they had to in their civilian lives.

“Is everything alright? Or is it just Life™?” Roi Singe asked, leaning onto his bo-staff next to Viperion.

“It takes 60 euroes to go to therapy but no money to say it just be like that sometimes” Roter Fochs shrugged, much to the dismay of Viperion, Roi Singe and Pegasus.

“Can you please stop joking about your mental health” Pegasus found himself groaning. A small hovering screen appeared next to him, a cowboy hat firmly attached to the top with an antenna sticking out.

“Yes studies show that LGBT youth have a higher percentage to suffer from depression, some even to the point that they𑁋”

“Thanks for the concern CowBot but, really, I’m fine; let me have my fun” Roter softly tapped the little robot. It was nice having people, well sentient beings, still concerned with his well being.

Suddenly the group tensed, their artificial ears and enhanced senses picking up a light clink, the sound of something quickly winding up followed. Two male figures landed in front of them, quickly surrounded by the Parisians. The taller one of the two quipped:

“Well aren’t you a merry bunch”

“Who are you and why are you here?” Chat Noir kept an icy cold edge to his voice, emulating how his father would talk to employees that weren’t Natalie.

“They’re not Akumas, no magic radiating off of them” Ladybug analyzed, looking closely at the duo but she couldn’t recognize them at all. The male that had spoken had a lean and relatively tall body, he couldn’t be more than four years older than her team, so around his late teens early twenties. He had long raven hair, his bangs framing his face perfectly, even in the moonlight she could tell he had a pale complexion though the black domino mask he sported helped hide most of it and his eyes. His uniform wasn’t one she recognized from any superhero from the League; black kevlar, if she had to guess, made up nearly the entirety of his suit, from his boots, pants and even gauntlets, heck she wouldn’t be surprised if his cape was bulletproof. One of the only things to bring color was his crimson chest piece, with two belts across it holding up a golden bird symbol, the same one on his canary utility belt.

“Tt, we just came here to talk” the smaller male scoffed, his posture not looking any more tense or relaxed, just attentive. His build was also lean like his taller partner though she could tell his body would be able to build more muscles with his broader shoulders. She assumed they were around the same age, his jawline defined but not to the same extent an adult’s would be. His hair seemed almost darker than that of his partner’s and was slicked back though maintaining most of its volume, a naturally tan skin was found beneath a green domino mask, much like his companion’s. His uniform was definitely more colorful, almost as if he was meant to garner attention(and boy wasn’t that concerning); black seemed to be the main color in his suit with the outer cape, pants and sleeves being that color, ruby red tunic that went beyond his belt with dandelion accents on its edges and a golden R over his heart, pine boots and gauntlets matching the shade of his mask with dandelion yellow covering the inside of his cape and hood as well as his own utility belt.

She had no clue who they were.

“And why should we trust you?”

“Because we don’t like the Justice League any more than you do”

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One Week Ago

“Hey B, we found something interesting while reading the League’s data” Barbara Gordon’s voice echoed in the BatCave. Currently she and Tim were doing the weekly check-in on the League, something those heroes never seemed to notice. Not that they were surprised.

“What did you find?” Bruce asked, telling Duke and Damian to take a break from combat training while he did.

“There’s an alarming amount of distress calls from France, specifically Paris, that the League has been either ignoring or not receiving” Tim showed him the graph of all the history, going back at least three years closer. It was small at first, once every two months at the beginning, once a month when the second year began, every two weeks bordering on weekly near the end of it, by the start of the third it was daily until some time three months ago they just stopped.

Well wasn’t that cause for concern?

“Can we get any audio of the calls?” Bruce’s detective side coming up as Barbara was able to bring up a few that hadn’t been automatically deleted by the Justice League’s system. The first one was the very first from three years ago, a video call.

“Uh hello!” the girl on the video said awkwardly, clearly nervous but determined to get her message out, “My name is Ladybug”

Her costume looked like it was simply made by spandex, a rather plain design of red with black spots around, a domino mask with open lenses was the only thing really concealing her identity.

“Paris has a supervillain, his name is Hawkmoth and he feeds off of negative emotions. His power can turn anyone into his enslaved champion and we- my partner and I are the only ones really fighting this. I- I know you’re all really busy saving the world and all that but- but we’re just kids! We have no experience and well, we were hoping you can send someone to help? We’ve only confronted him three times now but well, we were just pushed into this”

Bruce could feel his blood growing cold, she couldn’t have been older than thirteen when this was recorded. He knew no Leaguers went on missions to Paris for the past five years… He told them to play the next video, from two years ago.

“Hello Justice League” Ladybug still wore her simple spandex though now standing tall next to a boy with a black cat leather outfit. Behind them was a girl with a bee themed outfit, a girl with a fox themed outfit and a boy with a turtle theme.

“We just came out of this Heroes Day disaster”

“No thanks to their help” the bee girl snapped before looking away.

“Look, Hawkmoth is getting more and more dangerous. He was able to transform half of Paris into his minions, they took over Paris and nearly won”

“What is it going to take you for you guys to finally help?” the cat boy growled much to the surprise of the others.

“Chat Noir!”

“Oh please we can totally handle Hawkmoth without them; you two should be enough already. With us three helping you, defeating him should be easy, power of teamwork and all that” the fox girl waved off, much to the surprise of the turtle.

“Rena did you seriously not remember what just happened. We were compromised, we nearly let Paris fall. We’re not trained for this, not even LB and Chat, and they’ve been doing this for the past year”

“Whatever”

“What was the last transmission?” Bruce found himself asking as the cave suddenly grew silent, all eyes on the monitor as their last transmission played.

“Why are we even bothering with this?” a new male voice asked, the video was shaky before finally pointing at the Parisian streets. If you could even call what was essentially a river of water, reaching to the top of most rooftops streets anymore. Items were floating about, bodies littered around them.

“They’ll never listen, they never did” another female voice agreed, they assumed it was the girl at the corner of the screen, looking down on the streets in what could be described as pity.

“I know” Ladybug’s voice sighed from behind the camera. “But they should at least see the consequences of their actions”

“If they even bother watching these, I wouldn’t be surprised if they just delete these as soon as we send them” Chat Noir entered the screen, eyes cold and calculating.

“Paris should be thankful that Lucky Charm is able to bring them back” the male with the snake themed outfit shook his head. “This is probably the 1,000 time most of Paris died with an akuma, second with Syren”

“Super lucky” the dragon female rolled her eyes “It’s not even worth trying to save citizens since all they do is cretique us”

“And the officers; Apparently we should be able to deal with city-destroying being and protect the people at the same time while officers just stand behind the lines waiting for us to do both” Chat Noir hissed

“What's done is done. This will be our last call for the Justice League; I hope you’re all happy, knowing that you’ve forced children to grow up and fight in a man’s war. Bug Out”

“There are no records of these videos even being played, or even of these events happening as far as Parisian government records say. But there’s clearly a lot of cover up going on, most of Paris’ emergency broadcasting doesn’t make it out of its borders, heavy encouragement of tourism even though there have been complaints by the people about… akumas?” Tim reported as soon as the video finished playing.

“There’s even records of a city-funded statue being made for Ladybug and Chat Noir yet no indication of where it is or what its for” Barbara continued “This blog keeps coming up, it used to be called the Ladyblog before it switched to Fox Tea. Look at these videos”

The screens were suddenly filled with shots of these Akuma; one that froze the city over, one who controlled the weather, one who began dropping adults from the sky, Syren, Heroes’ Day… All of them had to be handled by scared children.

“These look too real to be edited” Duke said in awe. He was very aware of his children all surrounding the screens, looking at the countless destruction of one of the major cities in the world.

And none of them had ever heard of them or these children who were forced to deal with it.

Ones who seeked out help and were never given the time of day.

“Red Robin, Robin” his two sons standing in attention “I want you to investigate the matter and offer our help; convince them that we’re on their side on not aligned with the League”

“We’re on it, Batman”

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“So you just want us to believe you found out about us and suddenly want to help?” Roter Fochs looked at the duo skeptically.

“We wish to assist you with this whole… situation. No one has heard of Akumas or of Parisian heroes before, we concluded that it may be the government attempting to keep tourism up” the shorter male, Robin, they later learned, spoke up while keeping his hands in the air.

“Though that doesn’t excuse the League, who we know you personally sent distress messages” Red Robin echoed the message “We understand the incompetence of the League better than anyone else. Did you know they never bothered to even open most of those messages?”

Red Robin was surprised by the sudden animalistic growling coming from the group, some of their eyes glowing while others looked disappointed.

Ladybug looked hurt.

“Who do you work for?” Ryuuko asked, curious but not letting her sword lower from its position.

“We’re Robin and Red Robin”

“Like the food chain?”

“.... Yes. Anyway we’re vigilantes sanctioned in Gotham, New Jersey in the United States; we’re both proteges of the Batman” Red Robin held back the need to roll his eyes at the monkey boy’s statement.

“Never heard of him” the French heroes turned to each other, trying to see if the name rang any bells.

“According to the internet the Batman is almost a folklore for Gotham; people claim to see him and his array of birds and bats but none could ever get clear photos” CowBot replied after a quick search.

“If the League never saw our messages then how do you know about them?” Chat Noir stared right at them, as though he’d know they were lying, which he couldn’t but Roter Fochs could and would.

“Because we’re better than the League” Robin said with the same certainty one would say the grass was green.

“Why should we believe you?” Ladybug asked skeptically, if they were so good then why didn’t they handle what the League wouldn’t? Why didn’t they just try to take over the Hawkmoth situation without their input? Why didn’t they just take down the League by themselves?

“You shouldn’t, “ Robin shrugged once more “But we’ll actually help where the League wouldn’t”

Ladybug stole a look from Chat Noir, both turning to Roter Fochs, who shook his head softly indicating the duo wasn’t lying.

“If you really want us to talk then give us the coordinates to meet with the Batman” Ladybug demanded, Robin looked outraged at the implication while Red Robin nodded.

“Alright, but how will you know if we’re lying to you?” he asked curiously, typing something in his communicator, the center of his utility belt, before handing it over to her.

“Trust me, we know when you’re lying plus we’d know when we get there” Viperion smirked, “Also you can stand down now Bunnix, MultiMouse”

The duo were not surprised to see two figures standing behind them, one male with a mouse theme and rope wrapped around his hands, and a petite girl with a bunny theme and a sharp looking umbrella pointing straight at their backs. They were just surprised that they hadn't sensed them before.

“Did you get those coordinates, Pegasus?”

“Yes Ladybug, waiting for your signal”

“Well then birdies, we better hope you weren’t lying or you’ll find Hawkmoth won’t be your biggest problem”

“Voyage!”

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“Why don’t you guys like the League?”

The meeting between the Bats and Team Miraculous had gone much better than any of them had expected; it had certainly helped when they found out one of their own, Agent A as they called him, was once a wielder.

They had both been surprised by the amount of members each team had: The Bats had expected Ladybug, Chat Noir, Ryuuko and Viperion; Roter Fochs, Pegasus, Roi Singe, Bunnix and MultiMouse had been a surprise.

Meanwhile Team Miraculous had only heard of whispers of Batman and many Robins, even a theory on a bat girl of sorts from their brief research; having Batman, Robin (V), Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Signal, Batgirl, Batwoman, and Black Bat not to mention Oracle and Agent A; they had almost thought it was an ambush.

They supposed they each knew how to keep certain secrets tight.

“The Justice League, though still consisting of some of the most powerful people in this Earth, are too high and mighty; none of them really consider the consequences of their actions and are too reliant on their powers to be able to resolve all their problems. None of them have any contingency plans if their enemies find out their weaknesses and exploit them. Not a single member is a ‘normal human’”

He pulled up a hologram in the middle of the meeting table, every person who's worked with Justice League showing up, each showing their array of powers and abilities before showing their membership status.

Batman, Green Arrow, Speedy, Robin, Artemis; Non-Members

Two Green Lanterns, Captain Marvel, Black Canary, Bumblebee, Rocket, the Atom, Blue Beetle (II), Superboy; Reserve members with clearance.

“That does seem pretty discriminatory” Viperion hummed as he thought of the people on the list, those on the Non-member list had no power or enhancement at all while those on the reserve, with the exception of Captain Marvel and Superboy, had powers or suits but the vulnerability of humans.

They weren’t considered strong enough, or maybe even reliable enough.

“We’d probably be considered in the same capacity as a Green Lantern” Pegasus concluded “Take away their ring and their powers go away”

“Which brings us to the next question” Batgirl chimed cheerfully “What is it exactly that you’re facing off against?”

“The Miraculous are ancient artifacts that lend you the powers of certain godlings named Kwami. Kwamis are the essence of concepts and ideas: The Ladybug who represents Luck and Creation, the Black Cat who represents Misfortune and Destruction and Horse who represents Transportation and Innovation are just some examples” Ryuuko explained for them

“Hawkmoth is in possession of the Butterfly Miraculous of Metamorphosis and Desire along with the Peacock of Emotion and Will” Ladybug paused briefly as she saw the look of surprise on Agent A’s face, wondering if she’d feel that way if she found out Tikki was being used for evil in the future. “Both were thought to be missing, possibly destroyed, when the last Master of the Order was able to salvage them from the attack to the Temple of Miracles. He was only a child when the Temple was attacked, thus he was able to escape without being detected by the enemy”

“If I remember correctly,” Chat Noir interrupted “I believe Master Fu said their name was “The Shadows” or I think he said they now go by𑁋”

“The League of Shadows” Nightwing softly added, the air tensing immediately.

“You know of them?” MultiMouse was weary considering the Shadows were very keen on keeping to, well, shadows. That had to mean that the Bats had confronted them.

“Intimately so” Batman growled out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bunnix’s brows furrowed underneath her mask, feeling as though they wouldn’t like the answer.

“The Shadows have been a pain in Gotham’s ass in the past” Batgirl explained before turning to Batman “Especially since the Demon’s Head was interested in having Batman as a Son-in Law, though his daughter is sometimes an ally”

“Batgirl!” Red Robin admonished

“Don’t forget the little demon over here” Red Hood joked, missing the look of shock in the Parisian heroes.

“Or the fact that it sometimes seems like he wants to get on Red Robin’s dick and have his babies”

“Batgirl, Red Hood that’s enough” Batwoman sternly looked at the duo.

“You’re saying Robin is related to the Shadows” the Parisian heroes in the Reserve Team looked at them suspiciously while the Core Four just patiently waited to see what the Bats would say.

“That’s in the past” Nightwing steely stated “He was born into that lifestyle, but his mother let him chose to leave and live a different life”

“We had no choice of who our parents were” Black Bat reinforced, the team taking a mental note that she was once a shadow as well.

“Noted” Chat Noir said cooly “Though you must understand our reluctance when hearing the Shadows; like we said the Shadows destroyed the temple that was meant to safeguard the Miraculous and killed off every Guardian in the process”

“It would be foolish of us to not be on guard when hearing of them being so close to us again” Ryuuko explained “Though we will give the benefit of the doubt”

And so was the beginning of their partnership.

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“You’re all skilled fighters for not having any proper training” Oracle commended, looking at the statistics of the spars they all had, by far the Core Four had the strongest stats but it wasn’t because of the others’ lack of skill.

“Thank you, Oracle” Ryuuko bowed after finishing her match with Robin, an intense sword fight having just finished. If she had truly wanted to she could have ended it by cutting Robin’s katana but she found it both dishonorable and the easy way out considering they were testing skill sets. On the other side of the room was Red Robin and Roi Singe’s fight, bo-staff against bo-staff, being monitored by Black Bat.

“Oh kwami” Ladybug whispered as she and Chat Noir were called for the next match… against Batman and Batwoman.

“This is where we die Noir”

“It’s been an honor m’lady”

The fight had been entertaining, each side coming in with an array of attacks. At first the Bats had played offensive with the Miraculous duo playing defensive, dodging Batarangs and all their little gadgets. The Bats hadn’t expected just how durable the simple looking yo-yo and staff would be or any of its features.

At some point there had been a flash bomb, Chat Noir blocking it from Ladybug and getting temporarily blinded, Batwoman had planned on attacking while he was disoriented however the attack amplified his enhanced hearing, extending his staff and tripping her in the process.

In the end the Bats had won but it had been a close victory considering the Miraculous Team had not bothered to use their special abilities during any of the fights.

As they were taking a breather, resting and getting drinks, Robin spoke up.

“How are you allowing your city to step all over you?” Team Miraculous looked at him briskly before Red Hood, of all people, continued for him.

“We’ve seen the reports and the Parisian news, they’re relying on your team of four, considering they aren’t aware of the others, to be there to solve all their problems”

“It’s okay for your people to put so much trust in you but it's gotten to the point where they expect it of you” Robin concluded.

“I’ve tried telling them” Viperion sighed, facing his group “We really should be leaving Paris to handle their own problems, we’re busy enough in civilian life and akuma fights as it is”

“How do you suppose we do that when we already face scrutiny for not dealing with Akumas fast enough?” Chat Noir asked, his tail flickering behind him.

“You could always stop patrolling in broad daylight if you don’t want to leave the city altogether” Red Robin suggested, “Hiding in the night is easier to avoid any authority or anyone trying to get interviews. Plus this way it's less predictable where you’ll be certain hours of the day”

“He does make a good point” Ladybug said, mostly to herself, before nodding “I think it's a good idea”

“You heard her team,” Chat Noir turned to face the others “All for stopping daylight patrol?”

All of them nodded in agreement, the beginning of a long list of necessary changes in their lives.

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“My father is planning a press conference to talk about his ‘concerns’ with the lack of your appearances” Chloe rolled her eyes. A year ago, after the Heroes’ Day Disaster, she and Carapace had chosen to stand down while Rena was ultimately retired. She’d found out about Adrien when she went for a visit only for him to jump in through the window.

It was awkward between the two of them before they called for Ladybug.

She gave her neutral face of disappointment first before making a plan.

They were all aware that Lila must have been the one to start the disaster, being Volpina was the only explanation, as Ladybug confessed that Lila had a vendetta against her. Chloe also figured she must have been lying, something she had already suspected before, about being in another country considering Hawkmoth’s attacks only stayed in Paris.

Due to Chloe’s secret identity being out in the open they realized Hawkmoth wouldn’t be above targeting her family again. Thus Chloe became Ladybug’s spy.

Meanwhile in civilian life Nino was getting tired of Alya and Lila’s antics, especially the ones against his bros Adrien and Marinette. Well more against Marinette and more sexual harassment/getting together with Adrien. That’s not even touching on their newest content on the blog which was just criticizing the Miraculous Team for all their weaknesses and shortcomings, in the guise of offering “suggestions” on how to get better.

They thought it’d be good to have an inside man, someone who could warn them of anything Lila and Alya might come up to.

They were both the secret members of Team Miraculous.

“Holy shit are you serious?” Nino exclaimed in Chloe’s room. They’d all come in secretly and by different entries to meet up in case certain nosy classmates had spotted them.

“Yep, I may or may not have threatened my father with a lawsuit against his violation of child labor laws and me not receiving my paychecks” Adrien said excitedly.

Chat Noir had made an off-hand comment on how his father had tired him out with a packed work schedule. This resulted in prodding from the mother hen known as Nightwing asking for details which ended in Chat Noir confessing that he works for his father’s company, had been homeschooled most of his life and often had a packed schedule full of extracurriculars, including up to around 12-hour work days sometimes. Turns out with that brief information Oracle informed them that his father was violating child labor laws due to the fact that he had worked more than thirty five hours a week since he was fourteen.

“Holy shit” he’d say in awe at the moment “My father is rich though… who knows if this would even go through with his influence”

“No man is truly above the law” Nightwing had given him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “But… is everything alright in your home life?”

“I- I shouldn’t say anything that reveals my identity… '' the usually chaotic boy said solemnly, his cat ears downcast.

“Chat Noir,” the group turned to Ladybug, the one who’d help introduce her team to the life of masks and magic “Your own safety is much more important than keeping your identity safe. We both know the kind of person your father is… I’d rather you have the best options possible to face this”

“How come you’re so fast to trust us?” Robin asked, surprised but keeping a stern face.

“You do realize that she has the coordinates to this place, right?” Viperion smirked “She’s known who you are for a while and never mentioned anything. We just expect you to return the courtesy”

“That seems about right” Red Robin sighed before taking off his mask, the others of the Bat Clan following suit. Team Miraculous gave Ladybug one last look before dropping their own transformations, some of them looking familiar to the Gothamites.

“Marcus is that you my boy?” Agent A, otherwise known as the family butler, Alfred Pennyworth made his way to MultiMouse who nodded shyly.

“I actually go by Marc now great-uncle Alfred”

“Wait what, Al has siblings?” Stephanie exclaimed, Jason was whispering for Tim to write it down in The Book.

“Yes, an older half-sister” he said with an impeccable raised brow “I would have never thought you’d follow after my footsteps Marc”

“I guess it does run in the family”

“Adrien Agreste! Like son of the fashion mongul Gabriel and late actress Emellie Grande de Venily?!” Stephanie exclaimed as soon as she focused on the blonde teen.

“Yep” was all he could find himself saying, taking comfort in Marinette’s presence next to him.

“Don’t worry Adrien,” the boy looked up to the slightly intimidating looming figure of Bruce Wayne “We’ll help you deal with your father”

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“Boys” Bruce had said as soon as he entered the living room, where the group had devolved into a video game competition. “Remember tomorrow is your monthly therapy session”

“Already?” Damian groaned, his brothers, with the exception of Dick, looking like they would rather not go.

“Timmy isn’t prepared to face his inner demons”

“And it seems Timmy hasn’t slept in some time again, hasn’t he?” Luka teased, continuing to run his hand through Tim’s hair, the boy practically purring in response.

“You have a therapist?” Marinette asked Bruce skeptically.

“We’ve all… gone through things growing up. Alfred made me realize that we were all in need of some help”

“And do you umm… talk about your nightly activities?”

“They’re trustworthy and confidential, yes”

“Do you think you could give me their information?”

That’s how Team Miraculous found themselves on the day after another akuma attack, in a private room within Wayne Tower, each waiting their turn to see the doctor.

“You’ve been through alot Luka” the teen was lying on his back, facing the ceiling as the psychologist who worked with Bruce talked. “Losing what you’ve come to accept as your family, watching your friends die, even though you knew you could change the outcome. Doing it over and over again in order to save the city… It's not something anyone could be expected to handle, let alone a child your age”

“I… I know Dr.Quinzel. But I can’t allow myself to feel guilty over everything or even get overly emotional. If Hawkmoth found out it’d be a disaster, especially because Marinette trusted me with the miraculous… the first for her to assign full time as the Guardian…. I can’t let her down” Luka gave her a lost look, one rarely seen on the charming boy before.

“Keeping all of that inside… It could fester up and explode if you’re not careful Luka”

“So you’re telling me that you are perfectly fine with how your life at home is going, Nathaniel? Even after everything we’ve discussed”

“Look I’ve tried telling my parents they were wrong but they just keep saying I’m confused, not to mention think my art is a joke… and maybe they’re right”

“Those are important parts to who you are. Saying that would be like considering yourself a mistake… Do you feel that way Nathaniel?”

“I…”

“I think I have pretty bad taste in girls, though my friends usually call me a himbo for not really thinking things through. Maybe I should think before acting more?”

“I’ve known I was going to become Bunnix ever since I was fourteen, it was always just a matter of when. So when I was finally called to action I was so excited but… I can’t help but wonder if I’m cut out for this”

“My mother has groomed and taught me to be perfect at all I do. It was something ingrained to me since I was a child; It wasn’t until recently that I learned that is impossible to achieve. Why was mother so pertained to me being it?”

“I know I’m the smart guy but I shouldn’t be expected to have all the answers, especially for my classmates who refuse to look at evidence as it is. Seriously, if I had known they would have taken my comment about how dangerous a napkin can be as pure fact then I would have not said anything that day”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not enough for my grandmother. She’s getting older, she’s starting to forget a lot. I help by telling her things like stories but I’m not sure how long that will last… She’s the only family I have left in Paris, I don’t want to leave my friends or boyfriend behind”

“My father has always been a distant man but ever since my mother… I’m not sure if he even sees me as his son at this point. There are some days I’m treated as nothing more than a trophy boy or a regular employee. I wonder if this would have happened regardless of my mother’s passing”

“I am Ladybug, I am also the last Guardian. But I’m just a teenager! I have a life I want to live outside of Paris… I want to be a designer, start my own brand, find love and have my own family… But Hawkmoth is in the way of all that”

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“Are you sure about this LB?” Nino asked from the terrace of Chloe’s penthouse. They’d been talking strategy when an Akuma attacked, given the chaos displayed by the news via LadyBugOut livestream, they could only assume it was another Volpina attack.

Unfortunately Volpina had a Sentimonster to help, Reality Check. A glorified 3D printer who could temporarily make Volpina’s illusions tangible and real.

It had proven to be a difficult battle, especially since Luka and Adrien had been caught up as civilians and couldn’t help Ryuuko and Ladybug. The others still had to wait for Ladybug to give the signal before they’d consider going out to help in broad daylight lest their hidden cards be revealed too soon.

In the middle of the fight the two heroines had made a strategic retreat, one the Fox Tea blogger did not hesitate to call the coward’s way out. Suddenly the two appeared at Chloe’s along with Roter Fochs. The scarlet hero had taken out two familiar boxes with extremely familiar jewelry inside.

“I’m certain of it” she said with a determined smile, “Besides this could finally get Hawkmoth and maybe even Alya off your backs if I introduce new heroes; Of course your costumes will have to be different, as will your codenames, but I trust that you’ll know what to do”

“Hello my queen!”

“What’s up dude”

Paris was in uproar when they heard of the new heroes; Abeille and Anselm.

Abeille’s costume was much more armored than that of Queen Bee’s; the whole suit had a honey yellow bodysuit with black armor pieces, her chest piece in the shape of a bee’s face, black elbow length gloves with some honey stripes, thigh high black boots with honey kneepads. Her own mask was different from her former as it changed her eyes to royal blue like Pollen’s while being honey colored with black v shaped lines. The golden gauntlets on top of her gloves would be able to send out small shocks, capable of stunning enemies for small intervals at the time, nowhere near as potent as Venom.

Anselm’s own attire was not so different from Carapace; Anselm still kept the hoodie his predecessor did though beneath it is where the differences began. Anselm wore a pine green helmet, yellow tinted goggles on top of his red eyes, with pale thin daffodile lines going from the top to the bottom of his hood. The hoodie and his undersuit was sacramento green, bordering on black, though the majority of the suit was also armored with pine pieces like the hexagonal chest piece, shoulder, thigh, shin, knee and elbow pads. He also had much thicker gauntlets than Abeille’s along with armored gloves and reinforced sneakers.

Of course, Chloe Bourgeois and Nino Lahiffe were quickly off of the suspect list when the two were spotted separately looking for shelter amongst the Akuma attack during Fox Tea’s livestream.

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“So you’re part of the OG Team huh?” Stephanie asked as she gave a once over to the two newcomers.

“Deep undercover missions, you know how they go” Abeille scoffed, her honey blonde hair swaying along with her five black streaks around it.

“What she said. We couldn’t help as Queen Bee and Carapace anymore, compromised identities, so we helped as civilians before covering our tracks and coming back” Anselm tried to keep back Chloe’s prickly personality.

“Like what?” Cass’ appearance startled the two, though both looked like they were about to draw out their weapons.

“Well I get them intel from what’s happening in the mayor’s office that Max and Markov can’t get out from the computers, daddy is a bit of a pushover and squeals pretty easily”

“While I get intel from Fox Tea’s disastrous dude duo. I’m usually among the first to find out about anything their plotting… though I’ve had to drop that. It was getting too much for me to continue being with Alya so we broke up”

“So you kept dating Cesaire just to gather intel? Doesn’t that seem manipulative?” Duke asked from his seat on the monitor, the two Parisians looked at one another before beginning to laugh.

“Not compared to what those two are capable of”

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“Are you sure about this?”

Currently Viperion, Ladybug and Bunnix were on the Gotham rooftops, shadowing the Bats for the night. The three were honored to be trusted with the responsibility but still felt foreign in the much darker environment, literally and metaphorically.

“It’ll be a good experience” Oracle said in their ears, their comms being synced to those of the Bats “And you won’t be alone, I’ll be here and so will your partners”

Right on cue Robin, Red Robin and Black Bat landed on the same rooftop. The plan was for the six to cover the patrol for the night, the others would be getting rest or doing specialty training with their abilities. It was a surprise for the Miraculous gang when it was revealed that Signal and Red Hood would be joining them as fellow trainees. Alfred and Black Canary, a metahuman who often worked together with Green Arrow in Central City, would be in charge of the training while Bruce also oversaw their progress.

Honestly they hadn’t known what surprised them more: the fact that Batman had metas on his team or that he trusted other heroes with the training of his children.

“It should be a regular night; standard mugging, gang fights and possible robberies should be all that happen tonight”

Of course that was not what happened.

As it turned out Riddler had escaped Arkham, no surprise, and had gone too long without his medication. Edward Nygma was usually a pretty tame man, if a little eccentric with his love of riddles and his brilliant mind.

He decided to hold Gotham Grand Terminal hostage.

Ladybug was decidedly trying not to panic as she saw the very obvious bombs spread across different sections of the terminal. There were too many for them to deactivate in less than three minutes and there were probably more hidden around.

“Riddle me this; What is Joan of Arc made of ?” Ladybug and Robin were the first to arrive at the scene, Viperion and Red Robin being the closest to coming as back up. Robin seemed as confused as she felt but decided to really think about it…

This was so stupid.

“Maid of Orleans” the look Robin gave her, like she just made the most foolish decision of her life, was seen spread across the faces of hostages before Riddler began to laugh.

“Why you are correct, little red” he wiped a tear from his eye “Bats would never think of something so punny like that!”

“Yeah well I’ve had a lot of experience with annoying puns”

“What’s colorful, loud and is a mess to clean up?” Ladybug’s eyes widened as he pressed the big red button on the remote control, Robin bringing Ladybug down and shielding her as the hostages began to scream.

BOOM!

“...Confetti cannons” Ladybug muttered, her whole body covered in the colorful paper pieces with glitter in the mix.

That son of a bitch!

It was April 1st.

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“So what is it that we’ll be doing?” Bunnix asked as Black Bat silently leaped through the Gotham rooftops, camouflaging effortlessly with the shadows unlike her because of the white and baby blue costume she had on.

“You two will be checking up on Red Hood’s sector for the night, Crime Alley” Oracle’s voice responded for her.

“Right, so is this just a standard patrol?”

“Something like that”

Bunnix was admittedly a bit nervous about being with Black Bat, Cass didn’t really talk much and was kinda hot. Bunnix had just dutifully shadowed her, staying as quiet as she could even if she did more parkour than necessary, when they stumbled upon a drug deal. Bunnix was about to go down to smack some people around with her umbrella when Black Bat shook her head.

“One of Red Hood’s men, let’s wait to see the deal go through”

Bunnix wasn’t sure what to think as she watched the deal go down. Weren’t they supposed to be the ones to stop this from happening and not helping them? It was a bit confusing and against her moral code…

“We do this to keep the kids out of the involvement” Oracle seemed to read her mind, explaining their reasoning “Before Red Hood decided to get involved with drug trafficking Crime Alley was full of children who would be taken advantage of by dealers; whether it meant getting them addicted or becoming their messengers and delivery boys. He made it very clear to his ‘allies’ that no child from Crime Alley was getting involved in their plans again or else the deals were off. Those who tried going above him… well they’re no longer around to try and take him down”

Still that did not help ease Alix’s worries as the night continued on. Black Bat came to a sudden stop on top of a warehouse, gesturing for Bunnix to follow behind her, and climbing in through a shattered window. Inside were dozens of wooden crates, each with cameras pointed at them and only one with an open lid. Black Bat walked towards the open crate with ease, going inside and taking out three duffle bags from inside. She placed two on her, criss-crossing each other before handing the other one to a reluctant Bunnix.

The tow then headed to a hidden tunnel underneath one of the empty crates, making their way in a closed (?) Gotham sewer. It didn’t smell as disgusting as Alix imagined it would be, musky at best, though she thought that it may be due to the fact that there was no dirty sewage water there. They walked in relative ease, essentially walking for what had to be at least 15 minutes in numerous twists and turns before reaching a ladder. The two got out, Bunnix recognizing it as part of Crime Alley with how run down the area looked.

Black Bat knocked on a rusting steel door, three times, five, once and then a tap with her palm.

The door opened up, a boy no older than 12 being the ones to greet them.

“Where’s R.H?” he questioned, he looked disappointed but not alarmed, clearly he had met Black Bat before.

“Was busy. This is Bunnix, she’s helping for the night” The boy was clearly unimpressed with her but he closed the door and led them down the long hallway. She noticed the few scattered toys along the way, with some open doors showing mountains of writing supplies and even a little library.

What was this place?

“This is Red Hood’s sanctuary for the kids of Crime Alley” Black Bat whispered next to her “Batgirl and Red Hood are usually the ones to come here though all of us have come at some point.” they entered the large room showing children of all ages, some as young as infants and others looking close to early adulthood. They dropped the duffle bags in front of what she thought was the leader of the pack when Red Hood wasn’t around.

They were filled with non-perishable food, wads of money that will probably be used to provide for the group of 30 or even more for the next month, toys, books and some new clothes.

As the children gathered around, each a little dirtier than Alix remembered ever being as a child, lining up to get a new something that Red Hood got for them she couldn’t help but think;

… Maybe things were never so black and white.

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“I know it may seem frightening, even unnerving, to let go of your control but if you keep your powers bottled up it may prove to be disastrous in the future” Black Canary told the group of teens.

“With abilities bestowed to you like those of the Miraculous are left untrained then it may prove to lead to your downfall” Alfred nodded along to Dinah’s words.

“As capable as Ms.Lance and I are, we have realized that we would need further assistance to properly be able to train each of your abilities”

From one of the Batcave’s entrances they could hear the screech of tires before a slick black car parked next to the Batmobile and Hoodcycle.

“Sorry, we’re late” a red headed woman said as she stepped out of the car, her pale freckled skin slowly gaining a green tint to it as she removed her lab coat and glasses, “Selina here thought she could make a quick steal on our way here”

“Oh c’mon Pam, you know you love the rush as much as I do” a tanned woman laughed, twirling around a golden necklace with one of the biggest rubies they had ever seen in its center.

“Now, ladies; Pam-a-lamb has a class of powered kids to teach” they recognized Dr.Quinzel belatedly as she was missing her glasses and uniform. She was now wearing a much more colorful array of clothes with the consistent theme of red,black, and white. Her skin seemed paler than they remembered and her blonde hair had red tips on one side and blue on the other.

“Hey girls” Barbara came down the elevator at the same time as Stephanie and Cass, seemingly cutting their conversation when she saw the newcomers”

“Babs!” Dr.Quinzel exclaimed, making her way to the other girls after giving a quick kiss to the green skinned woman.

“Well you’re right on time Pam” Dinah sighed, cocking her hip before pointing at the newcomers “These are Dr.Pamela Isley otherwise known as the Gotham Rogue Poison Ivy, Selina Kyle a more vigilante type thief Catwoman, and, of course, you know Dr.Harleen Quinzel or as she prefers to go by Harley Quinn”

“Hey kittens” Selina waved at the group “By the way it's been too long since we girls have hung out; how’s about a Birds of Prey raid? You in?”

“Only if Oracle agrees”

“Oh pleasepleasepleaseplease!” Stephanie and Harley’s persistent pleading could be heard immediately afterwards. A polite cough interrupted the chaos.

“As enthusiastic as you ladies are for your plans, may I remind you that we have prior plans to care for first. Namely the training”

“Sorry Alfie” Harley said, chastised, “We’ll get out of your hair. C’mon ladies!”

“...So training?” Marc asked

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“What happened to you?” was the first thing Kim laughed out as the duo stepped into the cave, leaving a trail of confetti and glitter behind. Marinette looked back at her team, unimpressed, in their own state of disarray.

Chloe, Max, Marc and Nathaniel seemed to be nursing their own cases of migraines; most likely having pushed the limits of their own new abilities which relied on mental fortitude. Chloe and Jason’s powers were the most similar to Alfred’s which involved manipulating and projecting thoughts and ideas to the people around them or to specific targets. Nathaniel was developing the power to create illusions that only his target would be allowed to see. Marc could create intangible clones of himself but could still project what they were seeing and hearing to him. Max could teleport objects a few meters away from or towards him.

Kagami, Kim, Adrien and Nino seemed the most physically exhausted. Kagami was beginning to have slight control of fire, wind and water but not yet conjuring it; given her slight burn marks, wet clothes and messy hair Marinette would guess that she still hadn’t fully grasped the manipulation aspect outside of being Ryuuko. Kim’s own face was dirty and slightly bruised and matched that of Adrien’s. Kim had begun to use his chaotic energy to make the wackiest things happen but to have the outcome he wanted while Adrien could suck the luck out of people for small intervals lest he want to have the misfortune backlash cling on him. Nino’s was more tame though he now had to focus on two things since he could now use his energy to both heal and to create a shield that encompased his body like armor.

“Oh god you guys look like messes!” Alix laughed along with Luka, the only two that looked fine as they had a fairly tame patrol with Cass and Tim.

“Next time I see Riddler remind me to throw a glitter bomb” Marinette grumbled as she made her way to the showers.

“Not before I stab him with his stupid cane” Damian growled heading for the male showers.

“So how long till Daminette guys?” Adrien asked

“Definitely before the end of the year” Duke concluded, the others not being sure if he used his power or not.

“I’ll take you up on that. I’ll bet we make more money than with Red Scales” Stephanie laughed.

“Red Scales?” Luka asked curiously before the others yelled out.

“Nothing!”

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“Okay how come no one warned me about that!” Jason yelled as he came out of the Cave’s entrance. The group either gave questioning or amused looks.

“Oh, so you saw that too?” Alix asked, perched from one of the sofa’s armrests.

“You assholes could have given me a heads up” he complained before groaning into a sofa “God, someone get me some bleach”

“What’s Jaybird talking about?” Dick asked, coming in from the kitchen with an array of snacks for the rowdy bunch of teeneagers.

“Oh just Timbers getting some with the big bad snake boi” Stephanie sang, causing Jason to groan and Dick to choke on his own spit.

“More like trying to eat each other’s tongue out” Nathaniel responded in disgust.

“Timmy, no!” were the words the oldest yelled out before heading into the Batcave in record time.

“Anyway,” Stephanie began “It’s time to pay up bitches. Marinette and Cass get the loot”

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“Hmm, so I guess that’s what fresh blood splatters looks like” Chat Noir said in morbid interest.

“Well it's certainly more noticeable than dried blood” Viperion nodded along, watching as Red Robin and Red Hood carried out the interrogation from a one-way mirror. There was a new gang who specialized in child trafficking, most of the kids coming from Crime Alley and therefore not getting reported to the police; luckily they had Red Hood looking out for them.

“Yes, well we are here to see how they carry out their investigation and get used to all the squeamish things” Ladybug gave a calculated look, as though she herself were in there and what she would do to get the information out of the man they captured earlier that night.

“Do you guys think this sort of thing is going too far?” MultiMouse asked curiously, he was beginning to grow a bit uncomfortable with the amount of blood the man had begun to lose.

“I mean this asshole deserves it” Roter Fochs glared “I don’t think it's too much if it means saving all those kids”

“Standing on the edge of what is seen as a hero𑁋”

BANG

“Let’s you see all the things you can’t from the center” Ryuuko watched as the man was forcibly being held back up by Red Robin after Red Hood slammed his face on the interrogation table.

“World is not black and white” Black Bat spoke from next to them “Many shades of gray in between; We are in the gray”

Ko-Fi

244 notes · View notes

muriellive · 3 years

Text

If you, my dear reader, are Russian-speaking, then it will probably be easier for you to read this creation on the site "mangalib" or listen to this video:

youtube

A forgotten village on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Clover - Ankvar, the inhabitants of this village were completely killed during the invasion attempt of the warring kingdom of Diamond. Among its ruins, slowly moving his feet, a tall man of about twenty, wrapped in all black, was waddling about. On his head was a large-brimmed hat with a silvery pattern on the tips, and his face was covered with a torn dark blue mask.

Elbe (and that is what he was called) was looking for a certain magical beast, which, according to rumors, has been raging in the eastern lands of the kingdom for quite some time. Who and why asked him about it is not known, but the man was never interested in the reasons and motives of his customers. "There is money, and okay" - so he thought. Yes, exactly, Elbe was a hunter ... a bounty hunter.

The order this time was very strange: "I have not ordered animals yet ..." - he thought.

But, let's forget about this hunter for a minute and go a little further south ...

Faber is a city on the outskirts, standing at the intersection of trade routes. A young (in fact, not very much, 32 years old is too much) knight magician, straightening a grayish cape with a deer patch, happily blurted out:

- Eh, it was a wonderful day today! - Novakhrono, again running away from his duties, walked around the evening town.

- Look, this is Mr. Julius! Captain of the Gray Deer! - joyful children's voices were heard behind the knight. Responding to their exclamations, the blond turned around, putting on a wide smile on his face, which, it would seem, could banish all sadness and sadness with its one appearance.

- Yeah, kids! Also strive to become knight magicians?

To his rather unintelligent question, the children happily chorus answered "Yeah!"

- Knight mages are cool! - shouted the red-haired boy.

- Cool, huh? - Julius said thoughtfully.

- Yes exactly! When I become a knight-magician, I will be able to fight and attack dangerous opponents with my magic. - the boy rejoiced.

“W-well, this is…” Novachrono tried to explain that the duties of the Knights-Mages are completely different from a simple battle.

“How stupid…” came a high, childish voice, in which, however, there was a certain alarm. The future king of magicians stretched out his neck a little to make out the owner of light brown, tattered hair. Before his eyes appeared a tiny little inch, wrapped in a long scarf and looking towards the children with sad, frightened eyes.

- What ?! - the red-haired boy looked at the girl with an inflated and angry expression on his face. - Nobody asked you, ragamuffin!

- Well, well, don't. - Julius tried to settle the situation. However, here no one even listened to him: everyone sharply turned their gazes to the trembling little girl.

Unfortunately, this attitude was not unusual for her. Yes, it is understandable - the Clovers did not like foreigners, but for a four-year-old child it was very difficult to withstand such pressure.

- I w-wanted ... - the baby began quietly. - …to tell…

- What? - asked Novachrono.

- Knights-magicians, after all, first of all, assistants and only then warriors, right?

It seems to be a simple phrase, but what effect it had on Julius! At that moment, he thought: "really, the mouth of a baby speaks the truth!"

- Shut up, stranger, they didn't give you your word! - the redhead got angry, offended that he was interrupted. To which he immediately received a slap in the face from his mother, and then a reprimand. The woman, quietly apologizing for the bad behavior of her unlucky son, hastened to disperse the kids to their homes.

The captain of the "Gray Deer" shook his head and was about to leave, when he suddenly felt that his clothes were being pulled. He turned around and saw the thumb again. Now, when she stood a little closer, one could make out her, to put it mildly, "unkempt" clothes, disheveled hair and a filthy nose.

- What do you need?

The girl creased the hem of her cloak a little, and then wiggled her hand, indicating that Julius should bend down. Novachrono looked at the baby in bewilderment, but did not object. She began to whisper, barely audible:

- Could you see me off?

The captain of the Gray Deer was even more surprised!

- To carry out? What for?

- Oh, you do not be angry, knight-magician. - answered for the girl standing next to the old woman. - A girl and her brother came here to us, but he is all at work: where he rushes - do not understand! This animal has also been running around here ever since they arrived here ... - the elderly woman crossed herself at last and bowed and left.

"Animal?" - thought to himself the future King of Magicians. "They haven't reported this to the main headquarters ... I suppose we ought to stay here a little longer."

With these thoughts, Novakhrono took the girl by the arm and led her home ...

...

Well, have you already forgotten about him? And he had already managed to get to the village of Faber! Elbe walked a little loosely along the streets, between the wooden-stone buildings only 2-3 floors high. He could not find any signs of an attack: he could not find any scratches, no destruction or breakdowns, which means, most likely, the animal does not come to the village itself. “Perhaps he is whipping up the inhabitants on the outskirts,” Elbe flashed through his head.

- But you have a big village. - the hunter heard someone approaching him!

Without thinking twice, he ducked around the corner and listened. On the road to the outskirts of the village, there were two: a child and an adult man. Elbe recognized the captain of the Gray Deer at once, but he did not care about the girl at all. But this is only for now ...

“What is the strongest among the captains of the orders of the Knight Mages doing here? The task? Really, he also hunts the beast? " - the thug was nervous.

- Well, where is your brother? - asked the magician in a gray cape. - What is his profession?

- A? I dont know…

After these words, Julius became wary. Looks like he was a little worried about the girl.

- How long has he left?

- Hmm ... - she thoughtful ... - About two months already gone.

Novachrono's eyes widened in surprise: he looked at the baby with fear in his heart, realizing that there could be thousands more like her in their kingdom! And she walked with a light gait, full of hopes for the return of her brother ...

Having brought Natsuhi, and that was the name of the girl, to her house, which was half ruined, the man did not leave the village, as he had previously planned, but, on the contrary, decided to stay at a local hotel for a short while. Still, it's not a joke: who knows how many more people may suffer ...

Novachrono woke up not so early: at about nine in the morning, and then, not because he wanted to, but from a sudden noise outside. Without thinking twice, he dressed and with a quick and swift step went to the exit, where an unmeasurable number of fans had already gathered to gawk. Pushing aside the passers-by, Julius hurried into the depths of what was happening, where in the middle of the gazing lay a twenty-year-old boy, dressed in black clothes and with a mask on his face. Elb was badly wounded in the chest. Around him, in a barely noticeable whirlwind, swirled dark roc, particles similar to small birds that make up all the magic in this world. But what's strange is that usually they have only one color - white, the captain of the knights-magicians has never seen any other colors before in his life! Of course, the people around him didn't share the same excitement as he did, because they had too little mana to see these particles.

"Black ... from where?" Julius asked. - "It just can't be!"

“E...ars” Elba's whisper was barely audible, but Novachrono could still make out his words. - That girl ... - after hearing the "Gray Deer" fell into a stupor. The young man passed out and vryatli can wake up soon, but one thing was clear ...!

“N-Natsuhi…” The knight-magician decided to visit the girl in view of recent events. - Why did you and your brother leave your home country?

- A? I don’t know… ”She handed the man a saucer of cookies. He accepted and put it on the table, continuing to listen. - Aniki simply said that it became dangerous there, but why, I still did not understand ... - the baby puffed out her cheeks, lowered her eyes to the floor and raised her hand to her chin, thinking.

- Well, I'll go ... - the girl smiled, taking the rocker standing in the corner, and headed for the door.

- Wait a minute! Julius stopped her. - I will go with you. H-help, otherwise it's hard.

- Yes, not so ... - the fair-haired woman was a little surprised.

- No, no, you're a girl, and girls can't carry heavy things!

"You can't leave her alone ..."

...

- Here! See, I can do it myself! - The girl deftly lifted a bucket of water from the well, "hugging" it with her little hands ...

- Yeah ... - Julius clapped his hands. He tried not to show it, but it was clear that the captain was nervous when the little girl laughs so merrily and carefree, not suspecting anything ...

“Do I need to report this? Or is it better to deal with it quietly? " - the magician reflected. Deciding to write a report, Julius first called his confidant, Marcus, to keep order in the village and paid special attention to protecting Natsuhi. He suspected that it was for her that the mysterious beast was hunting.

...

Elb had been in the hospital for about two weeks. I did not even think to regain consciousness! While he was passed out, images kept popping up in his head: as if a tape had been inserted, but there were clearly gaps in it. But he clearly remembered that very night - the battle was clearly not an easy one ... Ears, more like a cat's, gray eyes and a distorted semi-human silhouette. The hunter has never met such a monster ...

Soryy for such an abrupt narration)

Night. Quiet and calm, starry. However, Novakhrono was in no hurry to surrender to the sweet embrace of Morpheus. He was sitting at a table in a huge luxurious hall, crowned with columns of the Doric order and pondering over the latest events, which had managed to stir up his imagination so well: on the one hand, he was interested to look at a new, hitherto unseen type of magic, on the other, “why exactly Natsuhi? "

This question still haunted him. "What's so special about her?"

Then a white flat image suddenly appeared over his head, which, in bright streams of light, scattered from the middle to the edges, disappearing. It was the magic of Marcus, although he himself, for some reason, was not visible. Usually his communication magic will display an accurate image of himself in a second, but this time it was different, which made Julius tense up! The window slightly trembled and blinked, and then disappeared altogether, after a barely intelligible sound of words came from there. The blond immediately stood up in amazement and, commanding the black-haired boy to get ready and call for reinforcements, instantly went to Cob (Cob Portaport is a spatial magician shown in chapter 113 of the manga and in episode 73 of the anime. He seemed to help Finral with training), so that he could transfer him to the village.

Meanwhile, in the settlement itself, something crazy was happening everywhere: Elb, standing on the main street and holding a barrel of oil in his hands, spilling its contents and setting it on fire! The people around fell into a panic and, shouting and begging for help, ran madly to the outskirts of the village.

- Ha ha! Right! Run, save your pitiful lives!

The fire was arranged by him in order to drive the residents out of this village before the beast, which was already raging in full force in the center, killed everyone. But now a dark silhouette has already burst into the local church! The long, long hair that hid his face hung in strands dirty and slightly scorched from fire. Bright gray eyes darting from side to side and curved limbs with claws. All wounds that would not have inflicted on him instantly healed!

"And how to fight such a monster ?!"

Elb threw the keg at the monster and threw a lighted match. The oil flared up sharply and the fire covered the entire body of the evil spirits, from which it began to wriggle in agony with piercing screams. But even the flame was not able to defeat the monster! It burned, but did not die! The body of this chkdisha completely recovered, even no burns remained.

"This is clearly not a regeneration," Elbe wondered.

Distraught with rage, the monster attacked the hunter, causing both of them to fly a rather long distance. Elb, before landing instantly, purely on reflexes, pulled a small dagger from the sleeve of his uniform and tried to get rid of the attacker by striking a blow. Surprisingly, it worked: when it fell, the monster recoiled from the young man back. Grasping the wound inflicted in the neck, it screamed pitifully!

"Here it is!" - thought the hunter, - "Weak point".

He was already preparing to strike a second blow, crushing! How suddenly I felt that all sounds suddenly disappeared! The flame that had recently destroyed the village went out ... there was a deathly silence. The beast writhed and groaned in pain. Elb just for a second looked away from her to look around, but, concentrating on his goal, he attacked and then the monster suddenly disappeared, and instead of him ...

...

The hunter tried to hit him again with his metal magic, but a steel shield appeared in the stranger's hand in a strange way. Or rather, not quite a shield, rather just a mass of steel. The stranger passed his right hand through the air, quickly sketching some symbols. Suddenly the ground cracked and water burst out from under it in violent streams. It's just that a huge amount of water filled the whole area. Then it felt like the skin was colitis. A bright flash of lightning rippled across the water surface and instantly struck Elb ...

After what time a detachment of "Gray Deer" arrived at the scene of recent events, but neither the monster, nor the fire, nor that strange stranger in the silly mask was gone. And only the wounded bounty hunter lay, unable to get up, in the middle of the empty street, remembering the words: "Save me, brother" ...

#BC #black clover #magi #magi labyrinth of magic #magi kingdom of magic #julius novachrono #natsuhi #marx francois #Youtube

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sopxhiea · 4 years

Text

Enthrall

Alfie Solomons X Reader

| Prompt

“No.” “Yes.” “No.” “Yes.” “Fine. I’ll marry you.”

There was a slow jazz record playing from the corner of the room, it was familiar yet, still hard to point a finger at. The room smelled of daisies, a comforting smell in the middle of the sunny day as the afternoon sun made its way inside the glass windows. There were books all around the room, some of them were put on top of each other on the floor while some acted as support for the many vases around, countless flowers decorating the muzzled room.

She sat in the middle in front of a wooden table, it was an old one she had bought from an antique store downtown. There were many papers scattered around, some with some scribbling on them while the others were cleanly written with no ink stains. Her golden glasses rested on top of her head, their existence long forgotten. She sighed, wetting her lips with her tongue while the room stayed quiet except for the record.

Her assistant, Joseph, was gone for lunch for the day while the man around kept working, noises of barrels and sacks being thrown around filling the space. Alfie got out of his car, his usual black and white attire on show as he moved with his cane towards her. The noises his rings made along with his shoes matched each other in rhythm while Ollie looked for Joseph, soon realising he was long gone while his boss made his way upstairs to greet her.

This had been the routine for quite some time. Alfie would be the one to visit her as she was usually drowning in work and even of she wasn’t, she had her ways to keep herself busy. They had been together for two years, on and off due to their angry nature but the last time they got together, she had sworn on Alfie’s life that she’d leave him for good and he had no intentions of losing her. She touched her earrings, feeling the sensitive skin move with the touch of her fingers as she stared at the page before her.

Being a successful businesswoman in London had proven difficult before as well but lately, she was finding it exceptionally hard to keep up with just how thick some of these man were. She leaned back on her chair, looking up to gain some clearance of her head while she heard the heavy footsteps right behind her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone but there was a blade on her right upper thigh that she wasn’t afraid to throw anytime soon.

The calm expression on her face changed into a beaming one when she saw Alfie with a handful of lilies. She gave him a smile and got up quickly, murmuring a breathy hello while Alfie put the flowers on her desk, walking around the wooden table to hug her while she waited for his embrace. She giggled, almost like a child, while she waited for his touch impatiently.

“’t’s been a long time, dove.” he said lowly, kissing the top of her head while he engulfed her body in a tight hug. She took in his smell of rum and cologne, a warmth spreading through her cheeks as she giggled at his words.

“It’s been a day.” she whispered, the words barely audible as they got muffled in the hug she was giving him, not letting go just yet.

Alfie had missed her terribly even thought it hadn’t been all that long and his need of being around her all time had become terribly unbearable in the last couple of months. They had spent weeks apart when they were on business trips or holidays but Alfie found it hard to not be around her anymore. After some point, his body had started to crave her and his heart would only be at ease when he could hear her small hums as she sang along to a song in her head. He’d dream and vision of her when she wasn’t around to a point where everything, almost everything became about her in his eyes.

She finally let go, looking up at his handsome face as he put down his hat and picked up the flowers instead. Her eyes hung low this time, a hint of disapproval evident on her face while Alfie offered her the flowers with a charming smile. She took them gently from his hands, feeling the cold from his gold rings while she smiled at him, kind but scolding in some sense and took a sniff of the flowers.

She was the real flower in his eyes.

“I told you not to get me anymore flowers, Alf.” she whispered, she loved that he always came with something in his hand like a proper gentlemen but there was no air or space in her working space anymore and her house was flooded with roses.

“You said no to chocolate as well, luv. What the fuck was I supposed to do, right?” he said, chuckles leaving his plump lips by the end of the last line while her hand found his, intertwining her fingers in his much rougher ones while he let her explore the touch.

“That’s because I ended up eating them all too fast..” she said, smiling at the gentlemen before her while eyeing his cane. “..ended up gaining a couple extra pounds.” she shook her head, giggles escaping her lips while she realised why he had the cane today.

They had been extremely active in the last couple of months, finding time and space whenever the occasion occurred. Y/N didn’t mind since her drive was as high as his most of the time but he had gotten notably touchy and desperate for her which she didn’t mind at all. She was visibly younger but Alfie had more energy than anyone she’d ever met when it came to any activity involving them in bed together. They had done it in a party hall, a restaurant and even in an alley once, simply because he was too impatient and hungry for her which had caused him to feel a little more stiff than usual, although the sciatica had seemed to disappear whenever the occasion for sex appeared.

“Aye, I didn’t mind, did I?” he spoke softly, giving her a short lived yet passionate kiss on her lips while the flowers stayed in between them. “You look fucking gorgeous either way.” he whispered against her lips before she leaned in to kiss him one last time, flowers on one hand while the other caressed his cheek softly. His hands rested on her hips and bottom, giving her a couple encouraging squeezes while she felt herself get carried away way too quickly. She wasn’t going to have sex in her own office again.

She quickly broke the kiss, feeling herself linger as he held her close. She mumbled away, an excuse about having to put the flowers in a vase so that they wouldn’t die as fast but Alfie just smiled at her rosy cheeks, loving how stunned she was by her sudden arousal. He sat on one of the sofas in the corner of the room to observe the place and see her clearly when she came in, he wanted to memorise and record every memory in his head so that he could play them in his head that night when he was going to sleep.

Strangely, they didn’t live together. Y/N lived in a big house with many doors and rooms around the suburbs, just enough to keep her away if she was being too lazy for a day. She had maids and assistants to keep things in place. There was a farm and a garden where she lived, she had worked had to earn the place and had every intention of keeping it. Alfie, on the other hand, also lived in a big house but it was located in more of a central place, close to his work and good distance from her house as well but sometimes, it became too lonely.

She usually spent the night at his house although sometimes, the routine changed and it was the other way around. Alfie hadn’t asked her to move in with him and neither did she, the question never rose in between the long conversations they had under the candle light with too much wine in their systems. He watched her come in, with much grace and light as she gave him a soft smile after seeing where he was sitting, putting the vase full of flowers on the floor next to a pile of books, she had no space for anything else.

But the room remained beautiful. Many books and flowers decorated the space, the books were hers and the flowers were his touch to the place. The dusty colors of the pages came alive with the smell, creating a nostalgic place around until someday, her house maid Adah would come and go fussy about how messy she was but that day wasn’t here yet and she made the best of the place while she could.

“How’ve you been, Alfie?” she spoke, her words soft as he enjoyed the sound of her and the sight before him while she cleaned around her room, trying to make space for a new contract document Joseph was bringing around that day.

“Fucking lovely, now.” he said as she sat down next to him, snuggling closer while the warmth radiating off of her body matched his.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, Alf.” she spoke, giggling in between words while Alfie took her smell in. He wished she could be around all the time.

“That hopeless romantic is yours, aye?” he spoke, amused at his own words while she sat up on the sofa, locking eyes with his glistening ones as she chuckled.

“True, that is.” she spoke, shaking her head and walking around again, opening some windows to let air in while Alfie’s eyes never left her figure.

He had somehow won the lottery with her when she agreed to be his one night they were fooling around. Even though it had been a long time coming with stolen glances and needy kisses behind closed doors, he still found it hard to believe that she’d agreed. He’d been way too happy since then, finding many moments of happiness just because she simply was there, with him at a given moment. She’d been his happiness and joy.

“Alfie...” she spoke in a low tone, just enough for him to hear while sorting out the books on the shelves, there were too many of them and she knew Alfie would help her carry them into the car.

“Yes, love.” he spoke this time, with a low smile on his lips while she didn’t glance at him, too busy with the dusty books around.

“You wanna stay at mine today?” she said, starting to hum the melody playing in the background while Alfie’s eyes gained a depth, he was considering something.

It had been a struggle to go back and forth a lot of the time as she lived far away, he woke up one too many nights where he’d want to go see her but it was a little far, he would sleep in the car on the ride there sometimes and it just didn’t work well. He thought, if she would be around all the time, it wouldn’t be such a problem when he needed her, when he needed to see her and just to feel her presence. He had thought about moving in together but the conversation had been discarded.

“I...” he breathed out, a little frustrated because of how impossible she was being about this. “Love, come sit, yeah.” he spoke up, patting the empty space next to where he was sitting on the sofa.

She nodded, leaving the books in a split second and moving to sit next to Alfie. His hands found hers on her lap, caressing as he spoke lowly, careful and with care. “I thought, right, maybe we could just live together at this fucking point.” he spoke, watching her reaction carefully. He watched her blink and cast an impatient look as to say that he should explain furthermore, she needed to hear all of the words before reacting.

“Okay..” she said, looking down where their hands met, his fingers caressing hers slowly.

“This going back and forth thing, yeah, isn’t working much.” he spoke, trying not to swear too much at her as she was already ablaze.

He knew how much she worked, how much she had to work to get the house she did. She cherished the place, the people in it and the memories she’d created. He knew she had spent many days and nights working to be where she was now, he was proud of her for it but he was also fucking tired of moving around so much.

She got up, looking at him in a confused expression before speaking up, she didn’t like what she’d heard. “I...” she said, tables had turned now and she was the one being tongue tied. She took a breath and said what she wanted to say, loud and clear. “Move in with me, then.” she said, offering him half a smile as to say she wasn’t fully convinced by his attitude.

He offered her a hearty chuckle.

“There’s no way, right, I’m fucking moving in with you, doll.” he spoke, getting up so that he was towering above her, she was so much smaller than he was but her gaze was much heavier. ”It’s too fucking far.” he said, raising his voice just a little like she had done when speaking her last words.

She nodded, getting his point but there was no way she was leaving that house. Alfie’s house was beautiful too but it was too central and she loved her house, every part of it. Moving meant that she’d have to deal with so much and she loved him, of course she did, but there was no point in moving somewhere she wasn’t going to feel happy at. She had spent entirely too much when she was trying to make the space look a little more like her ‘home’.

She stood stern, looking up at him. “I’m not moving from my house, Alfie.” she spoke up, feeling his eyes burn hers as they stared at each other. She was a little angry that he had asked, even more so because he was simply pushing it.

They stood like that for a while before Alfie’s eyes glistened. She knew exactly what he was gonna say. He had asked it before but in a very casual manner each time. They weren’t even living together and he wanted to take an even bigger step. She knew she would marry him someday but she also knew that the day was still a little far from where they were standing. She needed to secure herself, reach out to her family and get a list of other things done before she could agree and not because she didn’t love him but because she was scared of all the ways it could go wrong.

She inhaled from her nose before speaking up. “No.” she said, simple and clear while Alfie’s eyes glistened, he was a child.

“Yes.” he said, pushing it even more. He wanted to call her his bride for the longest time and this would also solve the moving problem which worked both ways.

“No.” she said, shaking her head violently, would it be so bad?

“Yes.” he said, nodding with a smile as she stopped shaking her head when Alfie’s hands found their way on the sides of her face, gently caressing her cheeks.

“Fine...” she sighed, realising that it was bound to happen.

“I’ll marry you.”

#alf #alfie imagine #alfie #tom hardy alfie #alfie solomons scenario #Alfie Solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons angst #alfie solomons smut #alfie peaky blinders #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders alfie #peaky blinder imagine #Tom Hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fluff

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (40/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I’ve written a lot of words - it’s actually a ridiculous amount - but some stories worm their way into your heart. This one definitely goes in the top five of that for me. I don’t know if it’s because this was the first story I managed to write after getting some pretty harsh words sent my way or if it was because this story was something I wrote throughout my pregnancy. Did you guys notice how much food was involved? That’s why. Haha. Nevertheless, this is a special one. Thanks for coming along for the ride ⚾️

Thanks to you @resident-of-storybrooke for all of her hard work with me on this one! I’ve kept this epilogue a secret from you as your gift for being a spectacular human being, so I hope you enjoy it ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35| 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40

-/-

“What are you wearing today?” Ruby asks her over the speaker on her phone.

Emma hums in response as she thumbs through the clothes in her closet, passing by sweater after sweater that Killian has organized by color despite her consistently messing up his organizational system for their closet. Miraculously, it always gets fixed, heels going on the shelf and white sweater moving to its section instead of chilling with the red jackets on the other side of the room. She didn’t need a closet this big, not really, but if this is what came attached to the master bedroom in their brownstone, Emma is certainly going to fill it up with clothes and boots and far too many hats.

She’s simply not going to organize them the way that her husband wants her to.

“I’m not sure yet,” Emma tells Ruby while running her hand runs over a black turtleneck sweater that might look good with her plaid skirt and the thigh-high boots that she owns three pairs of now since she wears them so often. It’s not a problem no matter how much Killian says it is as he places them on the shelf. “It’s cold outside, but it’s going to be sunny. Maybe my plaid skirt with the black sweater. What are you wearing?”

“Jeans and a sweater, but it’s not my big day.”

“It’s not my big day either.”

Ruby sighs, and Emma can imagine the exasperated look on her face and the way that Graham is likely sitting on the bed behind her reminding her to be gentle or something similar. He should know better after so many years with Ruby – she’s not gentle when she’s in a teasing mood, and she’s definitely in a teasing mood.

“It is your big day,” Ruby corrects. “Your husband could be retiring from baseball today. That’s a huge fucking deal.”

Emotion lodges itself in Emma’s throat, and if she could swallow it down and get rid of it for the day, she would. Quickly, she turns around to look and make sure Killian isn’t standing in the closet or the bedroom. He’s not, at least that she knows. He could be hiding in that blind spot near the bathroom. He’s got weirdly quiet footsteps, and she can very rarely hear when he’s moving in this house.

“Killian wants to think about it as any other game. He’s told me approximately five hundred times that this isn’t a big deal.”

“And you believe him?”

“Hell no,” Emma scoffs as she unties her robe and hangs it on a hook before pulling the plaid skirt off of its hanger and slipping into it as most as she can without having someone tug the last little bit. It’s got this stupid hook that never does quite right. “He hasn’t slept in days. Like, actual days. I wake up in the middle of the night to find him reading or running his fingers over me or something. Killian doesn’t want to admit it, but baseball is in his bones. He’s never going to be able to fully leave it behind. He just…they’re down three games to none in the ALCS and even if they win tonight, they could lose tomorrow. I don’t – I want him to win tonight, but I think if that happens, he’ll just keep holding onto the hope that it’s not over yet.”

“It’s never over until it’s over.”

“You sound like Killian.”

“I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time with him in the past six years. It was bound to happen at some point.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who was supposed to start picking up his mannerisms, not you.”

“We’re sister wives, baby.”

“Um, no,” Emma laughs as she clasps her bra together behind her back, “we are not sister wives. I love you, but that’s not true.”

“Ah whatever.” Ruby scoffs. “Is the jersey going to go over that sweater well?”

“Yep.”

“The plaid may not mix with the stripes.”

Emma clicks her tongue, a protest on her lips, but then there’s a high-pitched squeal followed by small legs lacking pants running into the closet. It’s not like she can judge. She doesn’t have a shirt on.

“Mommy,” Jace squeals, still giggling and running toward her until he’s slamming right into her calves and wrapping his fingers around her legs while his dark mop of hair brushes up against her thigh. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.” “What, Jace?” she questions with a small laugh before scooping him up and resting him on her hip. She swears that he gets bigger every single day, and it kind of freaks her out. Then again, most things about being a mom to a two-year-old kid are terrifying. But also weirdly rewarding. She’s been reassured by Mary Margaret, Elsa, Ariel, and Anna that it’s normal, but she’s not sure she believes that quite yet. “What’s got you running in here out of breath?”

“Daddy funny,” Jace giggles, and like he was summoned by the laugh (he probably was), Killian walks into the closet with a small smile on his face and the slightest shake of his head.

Handsome as ever.

“Daddy is funny,” Emma agrees, leaning down to press her lips against Jace’s forehead, “but we can’t tell him because his ego might get bigger and then you and I won’t have any room in the house.”

“Ems,” Ruby interjects, “I’m going to let you go so that you can continue to tell lies about Killian being funny.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon. I’m wearing the plaid skirt.”

“It’s not going to go with the stripes,” Ruby says before the line goes dead.

“You’re hysterical, love,” Killian grumbles, walking toward her and placing his hands on her waist. They’re warm and rough, callouses that she’s grown used to scratching up against her skin, and he tugs her zipper up without her asking. He’s going to have to undo it when she puts her sweater on, but it’s sweet that he realized she needed a bit of help. “Where’s your shirt?”

“Where are our son’s pants?”

He arches a brow before waggling them both across his forehead, a smirk stretching across his lips. “Touché, darling. Touché. Jace seemed fit to not stop squirming around so that I could tug his jeans up.”

Jace smiles at her, a toothy grin, and it’s almost not fair how much he looks like Killian. Genetics are not supposed to work this way. There is supposed to be some of her in him. She didn’t carry him in her body for nine plus months for him to not at all be like her.

There’s supposed to be some kind of payback or reward or something.

(Unconditional love or whatever, probably.)

“Baby, did you not let Daddy put on your pants?”

“Nope.”

“Would you let me put on your pants?”

“Nope.”

Emma rolls her eyes and looks up at Killian who simply shrugs his shoulders. “Well, I guess you won’t wear any pants, and I won’t wear a shirt. Daddy will have to go without shoes.”

Killian shrugs. “All in all, I think I’ve gotten the good deal here.”

“You have,” she promises, pressing up on her toes to quickly brush her lips over Killian’s. He needs to leave soon to go to what may be his final practice (she swears that she’s not thinking about it too much), but they were all going to ride over to the stadium together. “I’ll get him dressed, okay? You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Swan, no. You’ve still got to get ready. I’m perfectly capable of dressing him.”

“His lack of pants suggests otherwise.”

Killian opens his mouth to say something, but then his lips are pressing together and he’s reaching forward to run his fingers over Jace’s stomach while his other hand comes to rest on her ass, squeezing enough that she jumps.

“I’ll dress him,” he continues. “We’ve got to have a go at the jeans again. He might want the light wash instead of the dark. The kid is particular.”

“Just like you,” Emma sighs before handing Jace off to Killian. “I’ve only got to curl my hair and then finish getting dressed, okay? It shouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes, and then we can go.”

“There’s no rush, my love. Take your time.”

Killian walks out of the closet talking to Jace, murmuring little nothings that Emma can’t make out but that she’s sure are sweet and funny and probably ridiculous. It makes her heart swell, which isn’t good for how emotional she is today. She told herself that she wouldn’t be sad, that she would believe Killian’s lies about today not being a big deal, but Killian is a liar. Anyone that says today isn’t a big deal is a liar.

She’s a liar.

And she’s standing in the middle of her closet holding her hand against the chain around her neck staring at shelf after shelf of Yankees t-shirts and sweatpants and uniforms. This sport and this team are so intertwined with their lives and nearly everything that they do, and Emma’s not sure how she’s going to function commentating on games where Killian isn’t playing. When she got the promotion, she knew this would happen eventually. It was at the back of her mind, and it was supposed to stay there.

This wasn’t supposed to come so soon.

Killian is only thirty-three, and Emma always thought that they’d have more time.

Dammit. Why is she letting herself spiral like this when she’s supposed to be curling her hair and putting this sweater on and not freaking out?

Taking a deep breath, Emma grabs the black sweater, a pair of socks, and her boots before tugging them all on, taking each task one at a time while she gets ready. It’s fine. It’s simply another day and another baseball game. There’s nothing happening today that’s any different. They’re going to go to the stadium, drop Jace off with Ariel, Killian will go to practice, and Emma will go up to the booth to review her notes and do the pre-game show. Then the game will begin.

It’s all normal and just what they’ve been doing for almost every home game since Jace’s birth.

(Except it’s not normal.)

(She’s going to act like it is.)

When they get to the stadium an hour later, Emma and Jace both fully dressed despite the complications, the hallways are full of people – publicists, players, family members, coaches, vendors. Anyone Emma can think of is flooding the walkways, most of them waving hello and giving Jace high fives that Emma knows Killian will sanitize later simply because he’s a germ freak now, and there’s a particular look in each of their eyes, a tightness in all of the smiles, that make it especially hard for Emma to pretend that today is a normal day.

“Jace Jones,” Ariel yells out when she comes into view. “What’s up, my man?”

“Ariel,” he screeches out, squirming in Killian’s arms until Killian puts him on the ground and he runs toward Ariel. He’s a blur of pinstripes and the number twenty-nine running in a miniature version of Killian’s jersey. Emma’s got her version hidden away in her purse.

“I was always jealous of other guys who got this.”

Emma twists from where she’s standing to look over at Killian as he softly smiles at Ariel and Jace, the crinkles around his eyes much more prominent than they’ve ever been. “What?”

He nods his head before turning to face her as well. Killian puts his hands on her hips, tugging her a little bit closer to him, and she lazily slings her arms around his neck so that she can smile up at him and his stupid blue eyes. Emma talks for a living. She should be able to find a better way to describe how much she loves Killian’s eyes, but that’s not really in the job card for baseball commentators.

Killian’s lips tick up to the right, the crinkles showing up some more, and he can’t seem to decide between looking at her or Jace. “That,” Killian repeats, nodding at Jace. “I used to be damn jealous of all of the guys who got to have their kids watch them play and got to wear their numbers on their backs. He’s not…fuck, Emma. He’s not going to remember that I did this, that I got to be this really cool guy who lived out my dreams and brought joy to a lot of people, and it’s so idiotic – ”

“Hey, hey, no,” she whispers as her hand keeps running through the hair at the nape of his neck and her own eyes fill with water, “don’t go there, twenty-nine. You’ll drive yourself crazy. Jace may not remember seeing you play professional baseball, but he’s going to know that you did. And he’s going to have a million other memories that are going to be so much cooler than this, yeah? Today isn’t an ending, babe. It’s a new beginning.”

Killian sniffles, his jaw still tense, but it softens a little bit when he dips his head down to hers and starts running his lips across Emma’s jaw and down her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that light her entire body on fire and make her cant her hips up into his until Killian has her pressed into a concrete wall. It’s not unusual for them to find a spot to make out in this stadium, not at all, but it’s unusual for them to be this open about it. Their relationship has been a public one without their permission, and they try to keep it as quiet as possible.

Right now, Emma doesn’t care.

Not at all.

Until there’s a whistle and Ariel speaking. “I know you guys are probably going to try for another one of these munchkins during the infamous baseball mating season, but here is really not the place to do it.”

Killian chuckles against Emma’s jaw, his scruff brushing into her skin while his smile is tattooed there, and of all of the things Emma is going to miss, she thinks this might be at the top of the list. She guesses that they’ll simply have to do it at home…or Killian can come visit her at work. They have their options.

“Daddy kisses Mommy a lot,” Jace explains to Ariel in his broken speech, which only makes Killian snicker into her skin even more before he pulls back.

“I bet I can kiss you more than I kiss Mommy,” Killian challenges as he swipes Jace out of Ariel’s arms and peppers kisses across his face and down his arms.

Emma’s heart is never going to function normally again, and their insurance is not going to cover this.

“You guys are ridiculously cute,” Ariel sighs before walking up to Emma and wrapping her up in a hug so that she can whisper in her ear. “It’s all clear for you to come down after the game. Will and Eric are under strict instructions to keep him in the dugout instead of letting him go back to get his PT and hide out away from the field.”

“Thank you, A. You’re the best.”

“Yo, Professor Jones,” Will calls out from down the corridor, and everyone’s eyes glance over toward him. “I know you’ve got that fancy college degree now and could actually be a professor, but you’ve still got to show up to practice.”

“I’m right outside the door to the clubhouse, Scarlet,” Killian yells back.

“Outside isn’t inside, man. I bet Jace knows that, and he’s only two.”

“Give me three minutes, and I’ll be there.”

“Al is going to have your head.”

“He can have it.”

“My boy,” Killian sighs as he brushes Jace’s hair off of his forehead, “will you be good for Ariel so that Mommy and Daddy can go to work?”

“Nope.”

That is undeniably the word of the day.

Sending Killian off to practice and the game is a little bit more difficult than usual. The words are lengthier, the hugs longer and tighter, and the final “good luck” and “I love you” weigh heavier on Emma’s mind as she walks away from the clubhouse and to the elevators so that she can go and do her job.

It’s a hard day, but it is simply a day.

And a ballgame.

-/-

Before Killian’s first pitch, he looks up to her in the commentator’s booth and taps his fist right over his heart.

She does the same thing back before holding her hand to the ring that still rests against her sternum.

“You’ve got this, twenty-nine,” she whispers, not caring that the microphones are going to pick it up.

-/-

The Yankees lose, 3-2, and the loss definitely stings. The season is over, but Killian’s career is also finished, the bookend closing on the mound and his time there.

A beginning, she told him. It’s an ending but also a beginning of him not spending half of the year with a crazy schedule. Her schedule is crazy too, but at least she won’t be traveling with the team anymore.

It’s a new beginning for her too.

Chants of Killian’s name ring out around the stadium, a melody that sends chills down Emma’s spine, and Killian walks around the bases waving. He looks like he both loves and hates it, and Emma chuckles as she waits in the dugout, hidden away from him until he steps back on the mound one final time.

The man she loves is so intertwined with this game and this field, but she knows he’s also so much more than any of this.

He’s everything.

“You ready to go support Daddy, kid?” Emma asks Jace as his little blue eyes look around at all of the noise. He’s not used to this.

“Yes,” he says, and Emma sighs in relief at finally getting that word out of him.

It’s not a long walk, not at all, but it feels that way as she passes by all of Killian’s teammates, past and present, to get to him. When he sees the two of them, he immediately moves toward them. His strides are long, almost quick enough to be a run, and Killian wraps his arms around them so tightly that Jace protests and tries to move. He can’t, though, especially when Killian slams his lips into hers and kisses her deeply enough that every thought that Emma had disappears into the continuing chant of the crowds.

Killian. Killian. Killian.

It’s overwhelming but in the best way, and every thought that Killian has about it is felt in the kiss that leaves her breathless and with barely working limbs.

Falling in love with Killian was like this, overwhelming, unexpected, terrifying, and thrilling all at once, and she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

“Easy tiger,” Emma laughs when Killian finally pulls back, “we’ve got company.”

“Are we talking the kid we just squashed or all of these people?”

“I’m talking Jeff and the camera that’s on our face. I’m supposed to interview you right now.”

The smile that breaks out on his face is beatific, and he kisses her again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Killian grabs onto Jace and pulls him into his arms. “You too, kid. You ready to watch Mommy work? She’s really good at this even if it isn’t her job anymore.”

“She play baseball?”

“Something like that, lad.”

Emma barely remembers the questions that she asks Killian. It’s a blur of laughter and funny questions and maybe one or two actual questions about baseball. It all gets interrupted by Jace’s talking, most of it tired babbling, and then Liam, Elsa, and the rest of Killian’s family coming out onto the field. The stands don’t empty out, the constant buzz of the stadium staying around, but Emma doesn’t bother looking around up there when she’s got so much going on down here.

It’s absolutely everything.

Even more so when Killian takes Jace’s hand and walks him around the bases, the two of them laughing together in the way that they always do whenever they’re together, and Emma is most definitely scouring the internet for those pictures tonight.

But far too soon, the moment is over, reality coming back to everyone, and Killian has to go inside to do his press conference just like so many of his teammates. There are still articles to be written and deadlines to be met, and the world doesn’t resolve around them.

Emma’s world revolves around the two guys wearing the number twenty-nine.

She gets Jace back from Killian when they go inside, and the two of them hide out in the corner of the back of the press room as Killian settles down behind the table and all of the journalists and photographers sit in their seats. It starts mostly with the game, Killian’s stats as well as his team’s. It’s standard, just like any other post-game press.

Until it isn’t.

“You threw a one-hundred-and-one mile per hour pitch out there eighty pitches in. And it was accurate. Why are you hanging up your glove when you have some good years left?”

Emma flinches at the question, but it’s one she knew he would get. It was pretty much inevitable.

Killian’s hand reaches up to rub over his eyes, the blue sparkling against the red rims from where he’s cried and tried to hide out. “Look,” Killian starts while staring down at the baseball cap in front of him, signatures from every single teammate marking it up, “I get that I’m only thirty-three. That’s not old in life, but on occasion, it’s old in sports. The fact that I’ve played this game professionally for twelve years for the same team is a wonderful honor, especially when you consider the issues I’ve had with my shoulder. I think…it feels damn good to be able to throw an accurate strike like that one you mentioned, but it feels better to be able to hold my son without pain. It feels better for me to be able to embrace my wife or keep my arm around her shoulder while we watch a movie. Those are things I might not be able to do if I keep playing and screw my arm up a little bit more.”

Emma adjusts Jace in her arms, careful not to rouse him since he’s probably about five minutes from sleep. The kid has no idea the declaration of love his dad just made for the two of them, all of the declarations he’s been making, and he has no idea just how lucky they are that the sweet man having to talk to strangers about a huge part of his life ending is also the dumbass who thought it would be a good idea to ask her out on television.

It’s a good thing that Killian has learned from his mistakes and that she knows how to forgive.

“So you’re retiring because of your family? Lots of guys play with families.”

Killian rolls his eyes. Emma does too.

“I’m retiring because it’s my time,” Killian corrects with a forced smile on his face. “I love this game and everything that it has given me. I’m never truly going to leave it. I think I’ll likely take a few years off, maybe spend a hell of a lot of time making another kid with my wife, and then I’ll come back somehow. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get into the commentator’s booth with Emma. I think we’d make a hell of a team, and there’s nothing I’d love more than working with her again. Maybe I’ll be a coach for an MLB team or for a college or for my kid’s little league team. I don’t know yet. I haven’t exactly gotten it figured out.”

“One more question,” Ariel calls out, and Emma swears that she’s not crying. Nope. It’s not a thing that’s happening.

Except that she’s definitely crying and far too emotional, and she doesn’t want Killian to be up there by himself for his last press conference question. So as there’s a loud chorus of questions with every reporter’s hand raised, Killian still trying to pick someone to ask a question, Emma moves around the side of the room until she’s stepping up on the stage, her heels clacking against the platform, until she’s gently sitting down on Killian’s lap.

He rolled back in his chair in anticipation of her walking this way.

And his hand is warm on her arm and around Jace’s back, and just the slight touch is enough to make her emotional all over again.

Killian deserved to go out winning the World Series again. He deserved for his Hall of Fame career to have a big bang for an ending instead of a quiet fizzle, but life doesn’t work out that way. If this is what he wants, this is what he wants, and it’ll be perfect for him.

“Lawrence,” Killian calls out, nodding to the reporter who took over Emma’s job at ESPN.

“In all of your career, what’s been your favorite moment? Do you have one?”

Killian snickers at the question before turning to the side and pressing a kiss against her forehead. “World Series 2019, game seven. That was the year that changed every aspect of my life, and that game was incredible. I don’t think I’d ever experienced such an adrenaline high before. I don’t know if I have since in terms of baseball. I just…that was a special win for me because I got to do it with my mates, a lot of whom have retired since then or been traded to other teams, but I also got to do it with Emma. I know that I…God, I know that I sound like a sap right now, and I – ”

Killian tilts his head to the side and buries his face in her hair while his arm tightens around she and Jace. She can feel his body shaking the slightest bit.

“It’s okay, Killian,” Emma promises, whispering in his ear while Jace twitches in her arms, waking up the slightest bit. “You’re doing great, twenty-nine.”

“I was a fucking liar when I said that today wasn’t a big deal.”

“I know.”

He chuckles, that same chuckle she’s heard almost every day for six years, and when Killian pulls back from the two of them, he’s got a smile on his face.

“That year was the first time I had a partner in my life outside of my brother that I knew was always going to be by my side, no matter what happened, and I think baseball wise, that moment is always going to be my favorite. I’ve loved almost every minute of this journey, even having to deal with all of you guys hounding me about every move that I make, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ve got a toddler who is fast asleep and needs to go home.”

Emma twists her head to look at Killian, and he throws her a wink before leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers in a kiss while applause fills the room, an echo of the standing ovation Killian received while out on the field. He doesn’t stay to listen to this one, though. Instead, he encourages her to stand from the chair, and the two of them walk out of the room with his arm looped around her waist to the sound of people cheering for Killian.

He deserves every single clap.

They don’t stick around the stadium much longer. Killian runs into a few people who want to say goodbye, mostly those who won’t see him in their personal lives, but they’re able to leave pretty quickly. Their families have already gone home per Killian’s request of not making a big deal out of today. They’ll have some kind of celebration next week, one full of food and laughter and joy that isn’t so bittersweet like today.

When they get home, Jace is completely out, the car ride having knocked any remaining wakefulness out of him, and instead of waking him, Emma tells Killian to go take a shower while she changes Jace into his pajamas. He protests, like he always does, but eventually he relents and walks out of the room and down the hall to their bathroom so that he can shower. Emma figures that he likely needs a little time alone anyway.

It’s a weird day.

Once Jace is asleep, his arms wrapped around Will, the stuffed lobster toy that Jace named after Will Scarlet, Emma quietly turns on the baby monitor and closes the door behind her before making her way to the bedroom. The water in the shower is running, a constant hum of a stream, and Emma really does intend to let Killian be and let him have his moment alone where no one will bother him while the warm water beats against his skin. But Killian left the door to the bathroom open, pretty much inviting her inside, and she doesn’t think that he’ll mind even if her plan is simply to stand underneath the water with him and have her makeup fall down her face until she’s left looking like a terrifying clown.

Slowly, she steps into the room, the tile cool against her feet, and strips out of her clothes, picking them up off the floor and throwing them into the hamper. Killian hasn’t noticed her yet, the water pressure too high for him to hear her, and he’s got his back turned to her so that she has a view of strong legs and a firm ass that looks a million times better like this than in baseball pants.

She’s lucky for a lot of reasons. The muscles that stretch up Killian’s back and his arms tick off some of the more superficial ones.

Steam escapes the shower door when she opens it, a little bit of water too, but then she’s quickly pulling the clear glass door closed and stepping onto white tile so that she can wrap her arms around Killian’s waist, her finger threading into the patch of hair over his stomach, and her cheek nuzzling between his shoulder blades. Heat curls between her thighs at the feel of him, at knowing just how much she loves him, but instead of acting on any of it, she presses her lips to his back, laying soft kisses wherever she can while Killian’s hand comes to rest over hers.

“I thought you had banished me in here so that I could be alone,” he finally says as the water continues to pound down on them.

“Do you want to be alone?”

“I want to be with you.”

Emma hums and moves her arms from his stomach, sliding them up his body until her hands come to rest on his arms. Killian grunts something unintelligible, a mixture of pleasure and relief, and she’s barely even begun to work out the knots in his shoulder. He didn’t get his post-match massage, none of his usual recovery happening, so his shoulders are particularly tense. She knows exactly what to do, which muscles to apply pressure to and which to knead. It’s a rhythm and a practice that they’re been doing for years now to make sure Killian’s shoulder doesn’t get too stiff in the middle of the night.

Running her hands from his shoulders to his neck, she kneads the straining cords there while Killian reaches forward to press both of his hands against the tiled wall. His head drops, chin practically touching his chest, and his groan is almost more than Emma can handle.

“Fuck, love. I don’t...this feels so damn good, but if I don’t get to touch you soon, I’m going to lose my bloody mind.”

The heat she feels at his words, spoken in a deep and gravely tone, is almost dizzying, and Emma is ready to let him touch her, to let him bring her to life in the way that he always does. But today is Killian’s day, whether he wants to accept that or not, and instead of letting Killian turn around and kiss her, Emma wraps her arms around his waist again, dipping lower and lower until she can feel him straining warmly against his stomach.

She wants to tease him, to draw this out and make him go crazy with want now that they have actual alone time together, but Emma’s never been very good at being patient, especially not when it comes to this man wanting her. Killian’s the patient one, the one who is willing to wait until things are right, but his shallowed breathing and stuttered words make her think that he’s not very interested in being patient right now.

“Emma,” he breathes out, a mixture between a plea and a promise.

“You do this thing,” Emma begins as her finger traces underneath him, tracing a line in the vein in his length that Killian loves for her to do, “with your arms that make your veins more prominent. It’s just, like, all of the time, and your forearms are ridiculous. I get distracted staring at them. You’re a very distracting man.”

She wraps her fingers around his cock now, slow and steady as Killian’s knuckles practically go as white as the tile, and moves it in long strokes. Killian is very obviously trying to keep from thrusting his hips, the tenseness in his body back in full force, and all Emma can do is continue to stroke him and let him find more pleasure than pain as the water falls down around them and causes the hair on Killian to mat together and for the hair on her head to tangle.

“Sometimes I worry that I don’t let you know how much I love you,” she continues while Killian’s feet move and his hips begin to pump, aiding her hand in its work. “You’re so good with words and affection, with letting me know how much I mean to you, and I wish I could do the same with you. You deserve that.”

Killian’s step falters once more, and Emma thinks that he’s on the precipice of coming until he turns around, her hand falling from him as Killian’s hands come up to grip her face, kissing her with something approaching desperation. His tongue is sinful, hot and wet mixing in with hers, and Emma can feel his all the way down to her toes. There have been times over the years when they’ve gone through rough patches, when things weren’t always great between the two of them simply because of busy schedules or disagreements, but they’ve always worked back from those and come back to this.

Come back to this and everything else that makes up the two of them: baseball games, late-night baking sessions that never go right, attending far too many weddings and baby showers, having their own wedding at a courthouse on a random Wednesday, racing each other through Central Park as they run, laughing at the other as they trip over a pair of socks, sharing the depths of their hearts while under the covers, the lights of the city surrounding them.

Sobbing at a false positive on a pregnancy test. Sobbing at the accurate positive.

It’s a whirlwind, their life, and none of that can encapsulate it all.

Emma’s eyes are shut tightly as Killian continues to kiss her, his mouth insistent, and there’s no stopping the curl of heat now. Absolutely none. Especially when Killian moves his left hand and turns the water off, the stream immediately stopping so that chilled air hits the heat of her skin, gooseflesh rising. It’s cold, that’s undeniable, but Emma doesn’t care as her desire roars and Killian slowly backs them out of the shower with water dripping down both of their bodies.

“I swear if you let me trip, Jones,” Emma mumbles out as her feet hit against the cloth of the mat in the bathroom.

“You’ll what, Jones?” He enunciates the last word with a flick of his tongue against hers before he’s pulling back so that her nipples are no longer brushing against the thick patch of hair on his chest. Emma whines, her thighs too slick with wanting him to even care how desperate she sounds, and all Killian does is grab a towel from the shelf to wrap around her body, the soft cotton nothing compared to Killian’s touch. Even if he’s being an asshole right now. “I know you’re capable of a myriad of things darling, but I think you’re too desperate for me to do any of them.”

“You’re pretty confident in yourself, aren’t you?”

The towel tugs tighter around her waist, pulling her back into Killian so that his straining length brushes the inside of her thigh, and his lips are so close to her ear, breath heavy, that she’s not sure if she can handle any more of this. “Extremely. You usually like that about me.”

“You’ve had a lot of people complimenting you today. I wouldn’t want it to get into your head.”

“Of course. You’re here to keep me humble.”

“Exactly. I’m very good at my job.”

“Mhm,” Killian hums as the towel drops around them and Killian’s hands find the globes of her ass, kneading both of them while he continues to back them up into the bedroom. His lips are on her neck, her shoulder, back to her lips. “I love you, you know? It’s ridiculous how much.”

“Funny thing, I feel the same way.”

“Good.”

Once Emma falls against the mattress, they come together quickly, easily, like they have thousands of times before. Killian knows each inch of her skin intimately, knows just where to kiss and to touch and how to thrust, and it takes absolutely no time for her to begin to feel that desperation of needing him seep into her bones and settle there like it’s going to make a permanent stay. He’s fully seated in her, a heavy and thick drag that is like nothing else, and she can feel all of him hovering over her, heat and strength surrounding her he takes his time with his thrusts.

They’re slow, languid, and so damn breathtaking that Emma can’t even speak. She’s not sure that she wants to. Sometimes sex is just sex, a simple release of desire and passion to physically feel good. Other times it’s words of affection written with each kiss and feelings of love enunciated with each thrust and swirl of a thumb over a bundle of nerves.

Right now is the second one, and every word that Killian spoke to her earlier – in the hallways, on the field, in the press room – is echoed back to her as he moves within her and over her, his lips writing his love while Emma holds on and attempts to write the same words back.

Her heartbeat is thundering, a sound so loud that it blocks out nearly every other noise, and then she’s there, falling apart with a plea and a whisper, pleasure shaking over her body faster than she thought it would.

Holy fuck.

“Fuck,” Killian repeats back, almost as if he heard her thoughts. “Fuck, love. You’re exquisite.”

“So are you. You planning on finishing anytime soon?”

“I’m an old man. I’ve got to catch my breath.”

Emma barks out a laugh that Killian captures with a resounding kiss while his hips snap into hers, a perfect fit that is like nothing else in the world, and as his fingers intertwine with hers and he pulls them up above both of their heads, Killian joins her in her bliss, his body tensing up as his words become breathless, a mess that gets carried away with the thrum of the ceiling fan.

They collapse against the mattress, a tangle of sweaty limbs and wet hair, and when Killian pulls the comforter up over them, Emma turns on her side until she’s snuggled against Killian’s chest with her cheek resting against his heart and his hands in her tangled hair.

“We’re going to have to take another shower.”

Emma laughs with unbridled joy before pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Tell me the truth. Did I have mascara running down my cheeks this entire time?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

“Totally worth it.”

“Tell that to sheets that have little black marks.”

“I think we can wash them.”

“Possibly,” Killian sighs. His hand moves down her back until it’s resting on her ass once more. “But your mascara is damn stubborn. Ruined one of my favorite shirts that way.”

“It did not.”

“No, no, it did. I swear.”

Emma huffs and reaches around to pinch Killian’s side. He doesn’t even flinch. “Would it be so terrible for the two of us to go downstairs and make some brownies and then eat all of them so that we don’t have to share with Jace?”

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” Killian winks, trademark smirk curling on his lips. “Besides asking me out. That was a pretty bold move on your part, Swan. You had no idea that I had feelings for you. It’s not as if I’d given you any inclination.”

Emma laughs again, uncurling herself from her husband and sitting up in bed with a sated, goofy grin. “I had a pretty good idea, my love.”

-/-

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#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan

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trouvelle · 4 years

Text

Blockers

Fandom: Detective Conan Pairing: Shinichi/Ran (and HeiKaiShin friendship) Rating: G Genre/Tags: Humor, implied smut Summary: Heiji and Kaito are forces of evil.

•

Ran pushes Shinichi into the wall, her lips pressed onto his. Their tongues are twisting together and Shinichi breaks apart for a moment to pull off his shirt. In an instant Ran’s hot lips are on his again and he fumbles for his belt buckle. Her hands are roaming over his body and she only pauses to help him take it off faster. She moans against his lips and throws her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Suddenly the door is flung open and they are blinded by a bright sight. Shinichi pulls away, curses tumbling out of his mouth. He looks up to see a smiling Kaito holding a magician’s hat with a bunny peeking out from it, as well as an equally grinning Heiji beside him, the latter holding a trumpet with what looks suspiciously like a ferret hanging out of its bell. They were both wearing party hats and colorful streamers for some reason. And—what are those shapes painted on the faces?

“Oops! Bye!” They say quickly, and slam the door shut.

“What the hell just—”

Well there’s no coming back from that.

•

Shinichi eyes Ran, who is making her way down the hallway out of her lecture hall. She just got out from her last class of the day.

He slowly weaves his way in between bodies of students who were filing out from their own classes, and he’s getting closer and closer. He’s almost there when suddenly someone grabs his arm and turns him around. Shinichi gets ready to apologize when he sees,

“Kuroba.” He says flatly.

“What are you doing here?” Kaito asks suspiciously. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

Shinichi pulls his arm away. “‘I’m done for the day. I’m gonna go to be with Ran now, actually.” He turns around to relocate his girlfriend.

Just then, Shinichi feels a long arm draping around his neck from the other side, swinging his body around. “What is this, are we hanging out?” comes Heiji’s voice, sounding too merry for some reason. “Well I’ve got some time to spare!”

“Get off of me, I’m going with Ran—”

“Oh, Neechan is here too?” Heiji’s grinning at Shinichi like it’s no big deal. “She’s right there!” Kaito says helpfully, pointing at Ran who is already at the end of the long hallway.

“Wait—“ Shinichi tries, but Heiji is already calling out to Ran. “NEECHAN! OVER HERE!”

Shinichi’s head is empty of any excuses he can use.

It’s going to be a long day.

•

A long week, it turns out.

It’s now Thursday and Ran curls up against Shinichi, exhausted. She has been studying all day for an upcoming test, so she’s completely tired out both mentally and physically.

“Had a tiring day?” Shinichi asks softly into her hair and she nods against his chest.

Ran yawns, and she wraps her arms around him, pulling him closer.

“Take a nap, okay?” He says, “I’ll wake you up once it’s dinner time.”

Ran doesn’t answer and begins dozing off immediately, but the silence is shattered by a loud yodel.

“KUDO!!” cries Heiji loudly as he barrels into Shinichi’s room, “It’s bro night!” Before he can protest, he’s ripped away from Ran, whose eyes crack open from the loss of heat. He’s dragged away into the living room where Kaito is already present.

He tries to run away but Heiji holds him down firmly. He wistfully glances at the other boy for help. But the glint in Kaito’s eyes mirrors Heiji’s.

“Ow, what the—“

“WRESTLING TIME!” Kaito yells, throwing himself onto the pile that is Shinichi and Heiji.

Shinichi can’t even escape.

It’s gonna be a long night.

•

“Let’s go out today,” Ran whispers to Shinichi, “It’s nice outside.”

He nods and swiftly grabs his coat, ready to go out. This is one of their rare weekends where there are no looming threats of tests and homework due on monday and he wants to spend it fully with Ran.

They quietly leave the apartment, excited to finally go on a date outside. When they successfully make it outside into the chilly winds without any obstacles, they sigh in relief.

“I’m so glad. If Hattori or Kuroba had—“

“KUDO!” A voice screams. Shinichi’s eyes widen in fright.

He just knows who it is. He feels like he shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. Shinichi turns around to confirm his suspicion and sees his friend, standing a few blocks away. Wow, Hattori Heiji and his notoriously loud voice.

“Run,” he says desperately to Ran, “Pretend you didn’t hear him!”

They start to break off into a sprint when suddenly Kaito appears in front of them. Shinichi barrels into him, unable to brake in time.

“Shit! Sorry!” Shinichi says, jumping off.

“It’s okay! Hattori and I thought you didn’t hear us so we tried to catch you!” The tone in Kaito’s voice is unmistakable.

Just then, Heiji catches up to them, with a grin so bright like the sun that hasn’t shown itself for the past few days.

Shinichi doesn’t even try to hide his scowl. Heiji and Kaito don't notice.

•

“We need to talk,” Shinichi says, eyes glaring daggers. Heiji and Kaito look at him expectantly. When Shinichi falters at their bright expressions, Ran rubs a reassuring hand down his back. He sighs.

“Whaddup, Kudo?” Heiji asks.

“Ran and I want some time together. But you guys have been kind of in our space. So please, please leave us alone.” Shinichi looks up to see his friends smirking.

“What?”

“You could have just told us from the start,” Kaito says with a sneer, getting up, “Let’s go.”

Speechless would’ve been the understatement of the century.

“Shinichi? Did something happen between you and them?” Ran asks, looking at the empty space where Heiji and Kaito were.

While Shinichi was downright annoyed less than five minutes ago, now he’s simply confused as hell. “I didn’t do anythi—oh.” Realization hits him.

“What did you do?” Ran asks in concern, patiently and sweetly.

“... what we did, actually.” Shinichi is sporting a light blush at this point. “Remember our date night two weeks ago? We went to that restaurant and you were wearing that gorgeous pink dress?”

Yes, Ran remembers that night.

It was a beautiful night with a beautiful dinner, with an even more beautiful girlfriend, and Shinichi couldn’t keep his hands to himself throughout the whole night. Once they got back to his apartment and the door was shut behind them, they stumbled through the dimly lit living room and dining room on their way to Shinichi’s bedroom, too caught up in their kisses. They didn’t even see where they were going until they knocked over a big bowl of soup that was sitting on the counter, effectively spilling the contents all over.

There weren’t any kitchen towels nearby (it was laundry day, and one should not let Kuroba Kaito do laundry because he will forget to get them from the laundry room). And they had just run out of tissue papers and table napkins (and one should not let Hattori Heiji run to the store by himself because he will be distracted by anything in the store and forget what he’s supposed to get).

Head still spinning from their heat-hazed kiss, Shinichi grabbed the nearest piece of fabric, which coincidentally was one of two white towels on the couch, to absorb the spilled soup. He had to prevent their entire apartment from smelling like meat and vegetables. Ran also grabbed the other towel so they could finish the job as quickly as possible and get back down to business.

Halfway through wiping the soup, Shinichi realized that the white fabric they used were Kaito’s. His favorite white coat and pants. Shinichi remembers Kaito saying something about doing a show tomorrow or something.

“These are Kuroba’s.” He said abruptly. But he didn’t find much in him to care. Not with how Ran looks right now, bending down with her cleavage visible like that.

Ran, however, looked at him in alarm and rushed to put the white coat and pants away. “What about that one?” She pointed at a heap of black fabric on the coffee table. Maybe it was dark blue, but they couldn’t be certain because it was kind of dark. She did not waste much time and ran to get it. Whatever kind of cloth it’s made of, it’s not very good at absorbing the spilled soup too. But well, they have an even more pressing matter to get back to.

And then Heiji’s voice came floating through Shinichi’s mind, something about his Kendo tournament tomorrow or something. Crap.

“These are Hattori’s.” Shinichi announced unceremoniously. However, one glance at Ran—whose neckline was now crooked and dipped too much downwards that she was showing even more—and he decided that they can take care of this later. Too many problems, but only one that they have to appease very urgently right now.

“We can wash them later,” Ran had said, offering them a very effective solution. They can come back out and take care of the dirty garments later. They’d be clean in no time, and both Heiji and Kaito wouldn’t even notice by the time they need them tomorrow.

Somewhere between cuddling in their post-orgasmic haze and falling asleep next to each other’s body heat, they never did go back out to take care of the rest of the problem outside.

Ran blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Wow, they really mean it when they say revenge.”

They only said it to him, not Ran though. And he had thought that they’d be too busy with their own school works and everything else to come for him. Well, Kaito, he can believe. But he never expected Heiji—his best friend, his wingman!—to actually do this to him too. Heiji, of all people, has the most experience is getting cockblocked.

“Wow.” echoes Ran.

“I know. Those little shits.”

#shinran #dcmk #kudo shinichi #hattori heiji #kuroba kaito #title is from that movie with john cena lol #based on true events #true fucking events #y’all can decide which parts happened irl #university au

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chibi-mushroom · 4 years

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Hey everyone! Here is day three! The story is based on a show on youtube called Monstrum, I highly suggest it. There will be a picture to go along with it when I get home from work. I figured with her wearing all white and him wearing all black, it would be cute.

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

Today was the day. Riku had promised that he would take her to other worlds outside their own, and he intended to do it. Sora was safe and at home now, spending his days on the sands of the Destiny Islands with Kairi. However, life had other plans for Riku. He had decided to follow in Aqua’s footsteps and become a full-time keyblade master; protecting the worlds from any remaining darkness. He himself had learned that the darkness wasn’t the enemy they had always been told it was.

Not that he was never home anymore. His mother insisted that he be home as often as he could to visit. After they had lost him for so long, they weren’t intent on losing him again. His family had been so happy that he came home that they had forgiven him for plunging the world into darkness. Now they could ask Sora or Kairi for stories anytime they wanted to hear what kind of adventures their son was getting into. They also begged him to bring Namine home. She lived with the Wayfinder trio in the Land of Departure and kept it while they were away on patrols.

There she was in the courtyard of her new home when he arrived to pick her up. She wore clothes much different now than that she could wear something other than that white slip she had been created in. Now she had a blue plaid skirt and black v neck top that resembled the one he wore. Overtop was a long white jacket with blue plaid on the bottom and a mickey insignia in yellow on her arm. Her hair was tied up as well, which made it easier to keep out of her face while she was casting spells.

With a heavy blush, Riku accepted the soft peck on his cheek before he lead her into the gummi ship. It was such a new sensation to have her holding onto him and presenting him with varied kisses. He enjoyed and treasured each one, but was also glad that they were kept in private, when it was just the two of them and they didn’t need to worry what else anyone thought or said.

“So, where are we going?” Namine questioned as she buckled her seatbelt. Takeoff had been hard on her every other time she had gone through it, despite how much she wanted to sit with him.

“I was hoping you might have a world in mind. I’ll take you anywhere you’d like to go.”

Namine thought to herself for a moment. There were so many worlds in Sora’s memories and even more in the hearts of those tied to him. But one in particular had stuck out to her. She somehow knew the lore that went with the holiday; the spooks and the scares and the way the dead shambled back to life. It wasn’t her first choice of worlds, but the idea of going there with Riku by her side seemed a little easier to bear than dealing with the brunt of it by herself.

“Can we check out Halloween Town?”

“You want to go there?” Riku looked back at her.

“Yes. it might be a little scary, but Jack seemed really nice, and I want to experience the thrill of terror when I know I'm not in any danger. Terra always seemed to like it, so…”

Riku smiled. “Then Halloween town it is. I wonder what your form change will be?”

While neither said it, they were both thinking it. She was likely going to be a witch of some sort. That was what most of the organization had called her as well as DiZ and even herself on occasions, though she was usually repeating the words of others. As for Riku, he could be anything. Sora had seemed to be a vampire of some kind, so maybe the keyblade master would be, too.

When the ship touched down, Namine giggled at the bubbly feeling that always accompanied their form changes to other worlds. As they walked out of the ship together, they took a long look to evaluate the other's change.

Riku was wearing a dark suit and his usually tanned skin had paled to being much lighter than she had ever seen it. She noticed very small fangs in his mouth as well as the fact that his hair had been mussed up. The biggest change though was the addition of bat wings that had grown out of him. It was fitting all things considered.

Her change though was quite a bit different. She reached up to where the brim of a witch's hat should have been only to find none. Her skin had turned a deathly white and her hair had even lost its color as well. She was wearing a long white dress that may have had a couple of rips, but for the most part was quite lovely.

"Are you supposed to be some kind of ghost?" Riku asked simply.

"No, I think I would be a little more...floaty? I don't feel like a ghost." Namine responded.

"That's the thing about form changes. You yourself haven't changed, just your outward appearance."

"Like you did in Twilight town." She spoke and gave a gasp, clapping her hands over her mouth. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"You never saw me like that. To you I was always Riku." He spoke softly.

Namine nodded and gently took one of his large hands in her two smaller ones. She squeezed them lovingly and caught his gaze. The past was the past and she told him so in those very words. He had moved so far forward from that time; there was no need to drag himself back, even if it had been partially her fault that he even thought about it.

He nodded back and turned to lead them into town. He faintly remembered parts of it when he had wandered through the memories in Castle Oblivion, but he had never gotten a chance to go there properly before now. For a moment he was worried they wouldn't have anything to light their way, as it was fairly dark around here in the forest. Thankfully the overly large full moon gave them plenty of light to see by.

Town was easy enough to find, and as they walked through the gates, they were greeted by a small ghostly dog with a little lit pumpkin on its nose. It gave a happy bark and flew close around them, causing a small breeze to ruffle their clothes and hair. Namine had wanted to pet it, but since it was a ghost, she settled for watching the way it observed them.

Coming behind the dog was an unusually tall skeleton in a dark suit and spider bow tie. He looked at them, sizing them up with a smirk on his face. Both recognized him as Jack, the pumpkin king, even though he had never actually met either of them.

"Welcome to Halloween town. And who might you two be?" He bent over to get a better look at them.

"I'm Riku and this is Namine. We're friends of Sora's."

At the mention of the boy's name, Jack's face lit up. "So you found him after all. Good for you. Tell him to stop by sometime if he wants a good scream. I'm Jack, by the way. I help make each Halloween more scary than the last."

"Will do. And nice to meet you, jack." Riku replied. "So, is there anything to do around here?"

"Sure! Lots. Why don't you and your banshee friend head over to Curly hill? It's just down the way, you can't miss it."

A banshee. So that was what Namine had transformed into. As they waved goodbye, something was tugging at the back of Riku's mind. He had heard about banshees from his time on the island. They were monsters with a horrible voice and came to attack from out of nowhere. Maybe the form changes really were random, because that wasn't anything like her. She was usually soft spoken and thoughtful of others.

She must have been thinking about it too, because the look on her face was deep in thought, and perhaps a little troubled. As they walked, he took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. That was enough to bring her out of her thoughts, as she forced a smile at Riku.

"Are you bothered by the form change?" He asked.

"I don't know. I know about the stories you, Sora and Kairi would tell whenever you went camping, but it's like what we said earlier, appearance doesn't equal the heart, right?"

"Yeah, but you should also be comfortable in your own skin. Maybe we could try another world?'

"No, I want to see Curly hill for myself. I've seen it in memory, but this will be different."

They continued to walk, leaves crunching under their feet and a faraway howl rising in the air. Despite what she had said, her brows were still knit close together and she made a face similar to what Kairi did when she was frustrated.

There was a thin gate to their right and it led into a pathway in line with their final destination. Far ahead of them was the iconic hill that they were looking for, the swirl high in the moonlight. As they got closer, they noticed someone walking among the tombstones and pumpkins. She was moving at a leisurely pace, humming softly to herself.

"Oh, that's Sally." Namine smiled. She had always liked the woman from what she had seen.

"Hello there, and who might you be?" Sally asked.

"I'm Namine and this is Riku. It's nice to meet you."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Have I met you before? There's something about you that seems familiar."

Namine shook her head. She must have sensed the small amount of Sora that had been imbued in her upon her creation. Sally really must have been able to sense things others couldn't necessarily see.

"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Sally. It's not often we get a banshee around here. Not to say your vampire friend isn't welcome, but banshees are just a sign of good luck."

Riku and Namine looked at each other in slight confusion. They had never heard that version of the story. It had always been death and destruction. Where did the good luck come from?

"Banshees are good luck because they usually arrive to let members of their family know that death is coming so they have a chance to prepare. Which family are you connected to?"

"I'm not sure." Namine admitted.

"That's alright." Sally smiled warmly in the cool moonlight.

From the gate came the same ghostly dog who had greeted them when they entered the town. He zoomed around Riku and Namine before licking Sally and barking at her. The woman bent down and patted the ghost dog on the head before watching him fly off towards the town.

"It looks like doctor Finkelstein needs me for something. I hope you two enjoy your stay!"

With Sally gone, Riku suggyest they head up the hill to get a better view of the area nearby. They sat together for a while, listening to the wind sighing and a small band of vampires playing in the distance. He could tell she was deep in thought again, but this time, she wasn't nearly as frustrated. A contemplative look filled her face.

"Munny for your thoughts?" Riku asked.

"Just thinking about what Sally said. I guess I just got so used to being referred to as a witch that I didn't think there could be any good in monsters outside of this world. To me, a witch was just as much as a monster as any of them."

He listened as she continued.

"But I think….I think that hearing what Sally had to say about the banshees really made me wonder about who I'm going to be and what I'm going to do. They may have called me a witch, but that doesn't mean it's necessarily bad, right?"

"No, it isn't. After all, witch, banshee, nobody; those don't make up who you are. Only you can decide what you're going to be."

"Yeah. Maybe that's the real reason why my heart led us here today. That way I could figure this out." She caught his gaze. "Riku, thank you."

#rikunami week 2020 #rikunami #namiku #halloweentown #day 3 #black and white

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nameless-goddess94 · 4 years

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heres a dream i just had:

i was leaving work tonget something to eat.

when i stepped outside it was really outside, it was morning and a sunrise was happening i think. the grass was dewy, but the sky looked fake. i knew at this point i was dreaming.

i was supposed to be getting lunch but i didnt go to my car because i didnt want it to be a "car dream"(i knew i was dreaming and i wanted to explore my dream world, and usually my car dreams end fast. its also hard for me to stay grounded in my car, its easy to forget im dreaming)

i walked past my car and saw a man sitting criss cross in a field behind it. he was looking at me. i couldnt make out his face but ive never seen him before. he was white, wearing a red shirt and blue hat. he had a big belly and a long white beard. i was scared to walk past him bc i was afraid he was going to do something to me. he didnt though, he just sat there and stared. i think he had things around him? but i dont remember. anyways, i continue to the side of the building and i see three black cats. one of them came up to me, and i tried to scare it away, but it wasnt phased lol. and i was just like "whatever” since i knew i was dreaming and the cat wasnt real.

what could this mean?

Hello @012901,

I always find it interesting when someone can lucid dream. When someone dreams in this manner the symbols that stick out to us seem to be more spiritual, due simply to the surreal nature of it all. It is my personal understanding as well, when we dream in this manner we are perceiving rather than simply generating. Our conscious mind is aware of the dreamscape, a place where the line between the waking world and the spiritual realm blur.

When you say that you saw a man sitting cross legged in a field, my intuition can't help but wonder if this is a sign that someone, possibly powerful, is keeping tabs on you. It is no secret that in older times a larger man was the depiction of wealth, but NOT necessarily of material wealth. Rather, these men are rich in spirituality. A long white beard holds many of the same symbolical meanings as it did many years ago- it is the mark of someone who is educated and wise. The hat and the shirt can mean many things based on color alone. The red and blue could be signs of the nature and the true intentions of this being. Red is the color of passion, aggression, anger, deep love, war...the list goes on. Where as blue can be the color of serenity, calmness, and wisdom. I think it is up to you and your intuition to figure that out for yourself. The point I'm trying to make here is this- someone is reaching out to you. It could be a long forgotten relative. It could be an interested spirit. It could even be a god, depending on your beliefs.

As for the cats, what you should know is that three is a number of power. It is a number of unity, separate and yet one. It is the mind, the body and the spirit. It is the begining, middle and end. In other words, it is a highly spiritual number. Cats, in general, tend have some kind of connection to a powerful being as messengers or divine servants. Black cats most of all bear an association with magic, whether good or bad. I would like to say this is probably a good sign rather than bad. They could even be another clue as to who the man in your dream is. May be worth looking into.

Thank you for sharing your dream, and giving me this opportunity to hone my craft. I hope this helped and that you have a wonderful day.

-🌙

#witchblr #witch craft #dream interpretation #dreams #divination #cottage core #dark academia

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cavendish-dakota-central · 5 years

Text

Inspired by:

I got extremely carried away shaping Heinz into a hero and even more determining what circumstanced could possibly require Perry to need saving X)

Also I interpreted this as an Owca Files style mission and wrote it as an all!human au so I hope you like it

Thanks for this idea, it was a lot of fun to write.

Out of everyone on Owca's team, Perry was by far the most proactive. He had a certain something within him that demanded he take charge. Not that it was bad, in fact- leadership was his strongest attribute.

He had been slow to warm to his teammates, but now that he understood each of them as individuals, he had become fiercely loyal to them as a team. They often warmly joked that Perry's instinct to protect kept them the safest agents in Owca, even accounting for Heinz's -inator mishaps.

Perry was always the first in and the last out.

Lately, Heinz was working on laying off on the (often explosive) gadgets and learning to trust his OWN instincts- per Owca's request.

At first, it was incredibly difficult for him. Heinz had learned early on in his life that his instincts weren't very good at all. They caused him to act without thinking and his tendency to ramble often got the better of him. People didn't typically like those qualities, and he felt he had worked too hard to mess up his shot with Owca now.

Nevertheless, he had decided to try it. Perry's faith in him made Heinz want to try and to become better.

It was very nearly his worst mistake yet.

The team had run into a warehouse, blind. Perry had raced in ahead of the others to make sure the area was safe to enter.

The team was on the trail of a dangerous villain whom they'd been chasing through the city for the last several days.

This villain they were chasing was someone so dastardly, and who ignored the evil code so blatantly, that even Love Muffin had exiled him. He, in short, enjoyed overriding the minds of other evil scientists and using them as pawns in his twisted game. He worked them to the brink of exhaustion, forcing them to build him powerful weapons. Now that they finally found him, there was no time to waste.

The team of five sneakily lept in through a window in the roof, but the moment their feet hit the floor, the room began to fill with a masking smoke. It was still early evening outside, but the sunlight couldn't reach into the windowless room. In seconds, the agents found themselves unable to see their own feet through the thick mist.

"Perry?! Maggie?!" Heinz called for his teammates. He heard the sharp voice of Maggie calling back 'Here!' and a relieved bit of laughter from Harry, the pair barely visible to his left. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he quickly recognized Karen's sauve but unconcerned figure just over his right shoulder.

"Alright, that just leaves Perry," he commented, troubled not to have heard from him yet. He tried to push away the uneasy feeling. After all, he was sure Perry was plugging the source of the fog.

He felt his theory had been confirmed as the fog began to clear and he saw the familiar, well-dressed man standing just across the room. His bright teal shirt and brown vest were easy to see through the dissipating clouds.

But there was something amiss about him.

Perry abruptly began walking towards them- but his pace wasn't right. His body was too stiff and the orange shoes Heinz occasionally mocked him for wearing weren't slapping against the ground in the usual way he had grown accustomed to.

"Uh... everyone?" He grabbed the team's attention. Maggie and Harry turned to him and Karen even spared him a glance, "Take a step back. Mmmmm... maybe two."

His gaze stayed fearfully transfixed on Perry.

The agent was closing in. The gentle gleam in his blue-green eye missing, leaving them lackluster.

"Hey, Perry," Heinz chuckled nervously, "how are you! Did you happen to get a haircut or something because I could swear that-"

"His hat!" Maggie suddenly called out.

The band around Perry's hat was a different color- that was the difference Heinz had picked up on. Owca agents had bands around their hats with a unique identification sown into them. Instead of his usual brown-red band, a completely black ribbon was in its place. And the band was most likely the device now taking over Perry's volition.

Karen suddenly snapped to attention, her fists raised and green eyes narrowed.

Heinz tried to mirror her, but he already knew he was at a loss. He didn't have any gadgets left on him, per Perry's recommendation, and he certainly couldn't win at hand to hand combat. Years of experience had proven that much to be true.

"Oh, of all the times to be a good guy. I spend YEARS creating traps and -inators to take this guy down and then the ONE TIME I NEED THEM-" he ended with a defeated sigh. He quickly settled on a different approach,

"Perry, now hold on a minute! We're your friends!"

The other agents faltered as well, exchanging indecisive looks. Not only did none of them want to fight their friend, but none of them wanted to fight Owca's number one agent. Heinz had fought Perry for YEARS before joining Owca and had won roughly once out of hundreds of battles. Even with four of them, those weren't excellent odds. They didn't want to hurt him either.

Their fearful eyes must have ignited something in their team leader because suddenly Perry stopped.

The control seemed to let him go. His bright eyes widened and looked over the four in unprecedented, overwhelming confusion.

"You're going to be okay!" Heinz promised, reaching out with one shaky hand.

For a moment Perry looked relieved, like he had woken up from a terrible dream to find reality untouched. He took a step forwards and then winced, freezing in place immediately. His kind smile twisted into an agonizing grimace. His worn, skilled fingers clamped down on either side of his head and in a single agonizing moment, he collapsed limply onto the cold floor.

"Perry!"

Heinz raced to him, but the sight of a new figure appearing out of the subsiding fog stopped him. The newcomer was tall and elegant looking. He wore a perfectly tailored white suit and held a shining remote in one well-manicured hand.

"He's a strong one, I'll admit," the man's voice hummed in a cold, uncaring tone. He looked down his nose at Perry and turned the dial on his remote.

Perry quickly climbed back to his feet, standing at attention, his eyes once again empty. It felt like a knife through Heinz's chest to have Perry's eyes look right through him.

The ex-evil scientist faltered. The other agents prepared themselves, squaring up for a fight, but Heinz did no such thing. He simply took a determined step forwards.

"Let him go!" Maggie demanded.

"You think he's strong, just wait until we get our hands on you!" Heinz threatened through gritted teeth.

The man only laughed with a lightheartedness that conveyed nothing more than mockery,

"You won't- get a hand on me that is. Not as long as I have him. Consider him my hostage."

"What would he want he want us to do?" Maggie asked Heinz.

The scientist's provoked rage suddenly washed away as his teammates looked to him expectantly. It was true, Heinz knew Perry the best- but he didn't think like him. He didn't have Perry's skill or experience as a good guy. He wasn't naturally sharp-witted or focused. And he certainly didn't have Perry's instinct to know what to do....

All at once, Heinz realized something more. It was true, he had been failing to live up to who Perry believed he could become- but that was okay. He did have instincts, they were just different. His instinct was to adapt, and that took failing before he could succeed.

Heinz might not know what to do when it came to fighting or making a plan, but years of hardship had taught him that he could always find a solution.

What's more, he had something no other agent did. He had a little bit of evil helping him find his direction. And it was because of that evil that he hadn't ENTIRELY listened to Perry's advice. He still had a gadget or two left on him and that was all he needed. He just had to get creative.

Heinz cleared his voice and stepped forwards confidently.

"I have to say, it looks like you've got us. I mean, taking one of our own to use against us?" Heinz gave a falsely wholehearted slow-clap and let it ring through the empty room, "That's just not something just ANYONE can accomplish."

"Th...thank you?" The man in white answered with a baffled head tilt.

Heinz continued, gaining traction, "As an ex-member of Love Muffin I can't AGREE with your methods per se, but as a scientist of my own, I just have to know how you do it before you lock us away or enslave us for your own schemes. And anyways, you must have some triumphant dialogue planned!"

"I... I suppose." The mind-controller replied, "I've been waiting for the right nemesis but I have been dying to explain."

"Explain away!" Heinz insisted energetically. He slowly approached the figure and his army of mind-controlled guards as he spoke. He passed Perry without sparing him a glance.

He continued, trying not to let his voice waver,

"I mean, something to transmit that kind of signal to so many people would need to be incredibly powerful, but you would also need to keep it near you at all times," Heinz prodded.

"Well, I won't go into the details," the evil-doer blushed at another taking an interest in his work, "but it's quite simple really. I keep it all powered through my watch right here!" He held up his wrist. On it, was a massive chunk of metal with numerous controls all over it, "I am able to control the minds of each of my subjects with the simple press of a button!"

"Well it's a shame I won't be able to learn more before the obvious, taking over the tri-state-area and all that fuss," Heinz replied, acting as disappointed as possible by the prospect. Fear was gnawing at his chest but he refused to give in. He couldn't afford to if he wanted this plan to succeed.

He confidently reached out for a handshake and- caught up in the moment- the villain did the same.

Heinz grabbed he man's hand tightly and, with his other, produced a small, handheld -inator out from his pocket.

The -inator didn't have much of a name nor did it function at all like it was supposed to. Heinz hadn't NECESSARILY counted it as a gadget because it wasn't intended for Owca work nor evil. It was, simply, SUPPOSED to recharge the team's communications devices. However, it didn't work yet and instead, one blast from it had overheated Perry's phone so greatly that it melted on the spot just a few days prior. Perry had blatantly shunned him for several hours afterwards, so the incident was still fresh in the scientist's mind.

Sure enough, Heinz's scheme worked perfectly. The moment the -inator's blast connected with the bracelet, it began to overheat.

"Ah! Hot!" The villain immediately panicked. He unlatched the watch and tossed it to the ground. He rubbed his wrist with his other hand, relieved, and watched the bracelet crackled and spark until it became a puddle of half-melted medal.

The evil man let out a sigh of relief before he opened his eyes once more to see a cunning smile beaming away on his enemy's face.

"Oh.... damn...." he realized.

Heinz punched him square in the jaw, knocking him out cold.

The guards who had been under the villain's control immediately became aware of their surroundings and asked each other what was going on to little avail.

By the time Heinz made it back to his team, Harry was holding a barely conscious Perry upright. The black band fell from his hat and softly to the floor.

Karen aggressively smashed it under her boot.

Heinz ignored everything happening around him and focused on the gently-opening blue eyes of a particular secret agent. His long, boney fingers carefully cupped under Perry's sharp square jaw.

"Are you okay?"

Perry gave a weak thumbs up with one hand and then shakily stepped up to throw his arms over Heinz's shoulders. The scientist's long arms caught him and his tall frame leaned down to hold Perry so tightly Heinz was almost worried he would crush the smaller man. After a moment, Heinz felt Perry smile as the famous agent buried his face against his old nemesis's neck.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll stick to my gadgets from now on."

Perry gently shook with silent laughter and replied by hugging Heinz even tighter.

Heinz let out a small breath and lowered his head onto Perry's shoulder. He chuckled with relief of his own, "I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume you agree."

#i added a keep reading bc it's a little long #and i didnt want to clutter things up #phineas and ferb #owca files #owca #owca files fanfic #pnf #pnf fanfic #perry the platypus #perry the human #heinz doofenshmirtz #perryshmirtz #not exclusively perryshmirtz but their relationship is a main plot point and #thus I will tag it as such #karen the cat #harry the hyena #maggie the macaw

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magicalforcesau · 4 years

Text

Dancing with Ghosts in Your Garden ~ Chapter 1: Year 1- Summer

Ao3 link:

Summer came and went with the fleeting heat of a fever dream for young Anakin Skywalker. Aside from his general distaste for summer as a season with its blazing sun and sandy beaches, the overall course of the months seemed to elongate simply because for the first time in his entire life, he was excited to go to school.

He’d never belonged at school with the muggles. Not only did he constantly have to stress over hiding who he was, which frustrated him to no end, but he was somehow still painted as a freak. This would lead to Anakin getting into some form of a scuffle, which would result in accidental use of magic.

His repertoire of indiscretions included, but was not limited to:

Sending a student into a never-ending hole in the ground

Floating up and away

Causing a bully to only be able to breathe underwater

Pantsing another bully in front of a pretty girl (okay, he didn’t use magic for that one)

Making a parent on the PTA turn mute

Transforming his entire class’s musical instruments into live snakes

Burping the alphabet, but with explosive fire (this was more of a result of spicy foods than confrontation)

Turning a teacher into a fat purple penguin

And this meant he often hopped around schools like it was a playground game. He’d never had that many friends, and when he did, he understood that it was never meant to last. Honestly, none of the magical situations he got himself into were on purpose. They simply transpired from a raw energy within him, or so his mother always defended when the Ministry of Magic came calling.

This didn’t make the face she made every time he returned with an expulsion notice any easier. She insisted that she wasn’t mad and that she loved him regardless, but he knew that somewhere deep down she wished she had a child that didn’t force her to uproot her life so often.

It helped that she was also a wizard, but she’d given up that life in favor of the muggle world and sought to raise Anakin in it as well. She never used magic, save for the rare moments where she had to hastily put out a fire or turn a person back into their rightful form; always on the account of one of his accidental outbursts. It wasn’t that she detested it, but that Shmi Skywalker had an appreciation for those who did things with their own hands. She was hardworking that way and while Anakin saw her employment as a waitress to the pub below their apartment as borderline slavery, she seemed at peace with it.

He’d never even heard of Hogwarts until a man named Qui-Gon Jinn appeared on their humble doorstep with a huge stack of envelopes. He carried the airs of humility, wearing robes that looked much older than Anakin. His hair draped down his shoulders in a thick curtain that was fashioned half-up and half-down.

Anakin had to crane his head back to look him in the eyes, but he had a kind face that seemed easy to trust. Qui-Gon, he quickly discovered, was a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and came to deliver Anakin’s invitation in person.

“That’s a bit peculiar, isn’t it?” Shmi said warily. “Professors don’t normally make house calls.”

Qui-Gon had a twinkle in his eye as he nodded to her respectively. “Not typically, but we have attempted to send out Anakin’s letter all summer, but to no response.”

“We moved.” Anakin said and gave his mum a curious look. “There’s school for people like us?”

Shmi never took her eyes away from Qui-Gon and the two seemed to be speaking in a silent language that Anakin could not understand. He didn’t try to, because he immediately started buzzing around the room as rapidly as possible. This wasn’t just good news. It was marvelous news. This meant he wouldn’t have to go to that awful boy’s preparatory school in the fall. He could be amongst other wizards and learn how to harness the power within him.

In the midst of his scurrying around the room, he’d gotten so excited that he started to levitate off the ground. Neither adult noticed, even when Anakin drifted well above the impressive height that was Qui-Gon Jinn.

He overheard his mother softly ask, “Will he be safer there?”

“The safest thing we can do for him is to train him.” Qui-Gon said. “I know how much he means to you, Shmi.”

“Uh, a little help here?” Anakin interrupted.

Qui-Gon looked up and smiled at him, “How’s the weather up there?”

“Unsteady, sir. I don’t know how you manage it.” Anakin said.

A deep and hearty laugh broke across the room as he whipped a wand from the pocket of his robe. With the flick of the wrist and an utterance of “Descendo”, Anakin was placed back on his two feet once again. A part of him always liked when he floated off. He enjoyed being in the air.

Qui-Gon ruffled a hand through Anakin’s hair and looked to Shmi. There was more of that secret and silent adult-speak happening, but when Shmi looked to Anakin, he tried his best to convey that he wanted nothing more than to be amongst his own kind for a change. His little outbursts have been occurring more frequently and he was not sure how much more disappointment he could take.

To his surprise, she relented.

And so it was settled. Anakin was to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the fall- which was shockingly his mother’s alma mater. In his 11 years of living, she’d never mentioned it, just that she’d gone to school with other witches and wizards growing up and how she felt it was too isolated from the real world.

***

“Do I get a wand?”

“Yes, Ani.” She smiled lightly as they walked down the cobblestone streets of London. Cars and people buzzed throughout the town, each taking a slice of the rare sunny day. Normally, Anakin had zero interest in back to school shopping as it usually just included hand-me-downs from used outlets and the cheapest notebooks and pencils. Specifically, the kinds of pencils with erasers that didn’t function properly.

“Do you think I could have one like Qui-Gon’s?”

“The wand chooses the wizard.” She said, “Wands are unique. Just like people.”

He’d spent enough time in London to know for certain that there was not a wizard store at the market- not one that wasn’t mocking their culture with top hats and white rabbits. They passed familiar shops and boutiques until they made a turn onto Charing Cross Road and stopped in front of a charcoal pub with a faded sign hanging to the side. Anakin moved to continue walking as well, but Shmi was cemented to her position.

“Mum?”

She didn’t answer, only kept her eyes trained forward with a combination of knowing fear and unmovable determination. She took in a deep breath and reached for Anakin’s hand before leading him up to the large black door and pushing their way in.

It was equally unimpressive on the inside, resembling every other dive in England. Men and women huddled around their dimly lit booths and tables, trading barbs and sharing grub. He swore as they walked by a few, he heard his mother’s name leave their lips. Normally, a protective instinct would kick in, but his own beguilement was placed on halt. He was unsure what grabbing a beer was going to do for them, but then again, that was before the fabrics of reality opened before him.

His jaw dropped when a crummy hole-in-the-wall developed an actual hole in the wall and he suddenly stood on the bridge between parallel realities. There was the one at which he came from with its conformities, drab colors, and mundane days. What lay before him was anything but drab or mundane. While he’d never been here before, he automatically felt a singing rightness to it and found he could not bring himself to turn back- not even to express his sense of awe to his mother.

As if on a gravitational pull, he moved forward, his mother’s hand squeezing his own without a second thought. They drifted down the winding cobblestone street. It resembled the older paths in England with tight streets and turns as well as crowded rows of buildings. These, however, did not consist of standard row homes or shops, but an array of bright-roofed places of commerce.

His eyes were pulled everywhere, unsure whether to fixate on the joke shop or the menagerie, which had its windows lined with an assortment of obscure pets ranging from rats to little colorful wisps of fluff that he could not name.

There was a shop explicitly for selling cauldrons as well as robes, which were written on the list Professor Qui-Gon Jinn had given them before taking leave. Anakin had memorized it backwards and forwards and still hadn’t fully grasped the act of actually buying this kind of stuff.

Adults and their children appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the road and nobody blinked a second thought. Afterwards, they tucked their wands into their boot or pocket and went about their business with a casual air that only came with experience. They were all dressed very different from him- wearing long and vibrant robes as well as mismatched hats. No two were the same and while some of the younger crowd was more modernly dressed, most appeared to be in costume for a stage play. Anakin tried his best not to gawk at the strangers, who paid his shock no mind. He was supposed to be one of them, but while the rational part of him was trying to stop staring at wizards openly performing magic in public, the bigger part of him could only revel in the joy that came with not being the odd man in the room.

Various pleasant smells filled the open sky, which increased his sense of wonder. The street was lined with many different cafes and restaurants. The one that piqued his interest had a large light-up ice cream cone pinned on the roof. Just as his mouth began to water at the possibilities of how advanced magical ice cream could be, he was briefly tugged from his reverie by his mother, who took them aside and near the window of a different shop.

She knelt before him, a small and knowing smile playing at her lips, but also a bit of sadness that he could not understand. How could she ever want to leave this world? There was so much to explore and behold. What did their grubby flat above the old pub have that this place didn’t?

“Welcome to Diagon Alley. I know it’s a lot to take in.” She said and gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “And there will be time for that later.”

“And magical ice cream?” He tried. Though he wasn’t sure what was going to be so different about it.

She chuckled. “One rite of passage at a time.”

And with that, she stood up and nodded towards the shop behind him. “In there, I think you’ll find what you’ve been anticipating most. I’ll meet you back here with your textbooks. Do not wander, Ani.”

He heeded her advice and swung the wooden door open to reveal a dimly lit storage room that was stacked from floor to ceiling with shelves of long, thin boxes. Singular orbs of fading light dangled from the high ceiling and cast a yellow glow onto each shelf, though nothing worth noting leapt out at Anakin. Juxtaposed to the rest of the marketplace, it resembled a cluttered library rather than anything enticing. He couldn’t see how this would be what his mother believed was the most exciting place.

Well, aside from the gentleman positioned behind the desk, which sat next to a winding staircase leading to a closed door. At least, Anakin believed they were a gentleman, but it felt wrong to assume given they were clearly not human with a long snout, gray skin, and a very dinosaur-like shape. They wrote with a long feather in hand, clearly transfixed with whatever was being transcribed, and paid Anakin no mind.

“Um, excuse me?” Anakin spoke after the silence felt like it might overwhelm him.

Golden eyes lifted from the parchment to study him and Anakin swore he saw a thousand lifetimes in the span of seconds, but was also fairly certain he wasn’t under a spell. He couldn’t decide if they were kind or not- just all knowing yet totally unassuming.

“Yes, young man?” Their voice kept things ambiguous with a slight waver that gave away their age and a tone that was coated in gravel when they spoke.

“Um,” Anakin desperately wished his mother came in with him now, because he wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to be asking for from this creature. Said creature looked at him with expectant and timeless eyes, which eventually narrowed after considering Anakin.

“You’re new.” They said and got up from behind the desk, but not without the help of a cane and patience.

“Yes, sir.” He internally cursed for slipping, because really, he did not need to offend anyone on his first day in the wizarding world. While Anakin didn’t normally mince words, he hadn’t yet learned how to truly defend himself from this ancient wizard if that was required.

But, no rebuttal or offense came. Instead, this old man smiled and nodded before gesturing for Anakin to come closer. Despite previous anxieties, Anakin did as he was instructed.

“What a pleasure it is to share this moment with you.” He said and upon closer inspection, had many smile lines crinkled around the corners of his eyes. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Anakin Skywalker.”

“And what are you?”

“Uh, a person. What are you?”

This was hilarious to Tera Sinube, who laughed so hard that Anakin feared he was going to knock himself off balance somehow. He did not appear very physically stable as it was.

“Well, I’m a Cosian, but I’m also a person.” He said. “I was referring to your blood lineage. This can help when trying to pair wands to wizards.”

Anakin’s eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of his head, which provided more comedic content for the older wizard, who quite literally slapped his own knee at the confusion on Anakin’s face.

“You’re a wandmaker?” Anakin gaped, not caring about sounding foolish.

“Must be muggle-born.” Sinube smiled knowingly.

“Muggle?”

“Human.” He corrected, “My apologies. It’s what non-magical humans are referred to by wizards.”

While the statement held no edge beyond what naturally came with the tones of his voice, Anakin could not help feeling slightly bristled by the confusion.

“My mum’s a wizard, actually.” He said pointedly, “My father was a hum-muggle, though.”

He might as well get used to the verbiage.

Tera Sinube stared at him more carefully over his long snout and bit his lip in what appeared to be concentration.

“Skywalker.” He rolled the name around in his mouth and then his eyes widened a little before settling back to normal. “11 inches, Pear, with unicorn hair.”

“Huh?”

Sinube smiled and drifted to the back to pick up various packages from shelves. “That was your mother’s wand type. Your mother is Shmi Skywalker, right?”

“You know my mum?” Anakin asked.

“I’ve never forgotten a wand nor the wizard it chose.” He said with a firm nod.

“Wait, I don’t get to pick the one I want? Because I know this guy and his wand is super-”

“-The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Skywalker.” Sinube said firmly. “If it were backwards, I’d be terrified of the outcome. People have a tendency of prioritizing what they want rather than accepting what they need. And from that, we devolve into chaos.”

He wanted to push the point, because while arguing with a seasoned wandmaker about wands seemed foolish, Anakin really did enjoy the sleek fashion of Qui-Gon’s burgundy wand and believed that would most suit him too. However, Sinube did not give him much room to talk and instead laid out an array of thin boxes on the desk.

“I’ve been doing this for a very long time. Longer than I’d care to admit, actually, and I swear to you I’ve never come up with inconclusive results.”

Even as he said it, it felt like condemnation.

Because after a series of almost-disasters including, but not limited to: setting the entire wooden office on fire, turning Sinube into a Cosian Kebab, dissolving the floor into a gaping black hole beneath them, and literally turning the wooden wand into an angry python- it was easy to feel discouraged.

There were also wands that simply didn’t react to Anakin at all, which was even more disappointing. He had managed to let Sinube give him the opportunity to try Qui-Gon’s wand type on the off chance that his interests and needs coincided.

However, the 13” larch with dragon heartstrings acted as little more than a fancy stick in Anakin’s hand, much to his dismay and attempt at making it work.

“Ah, larch is a much sought-after wood.” Sinube said. “However, it is amongst the hardest to appease in terms of partnership. Its matches are typically hidden artifacts, so to speak, with untapped and unnoticed potential until the pair meets. Qui-Gon Jinn certainly matched that description as a young boy.”

Anakin wanted to further protest, but chose against it in favor of sulking. At this point, he cared a great deal less about matching Qui-Gon as he did finding a wand that would actually work with him at all.

“Now, now. One must not give up so easily.” Sinube placed a large hand on his shoulder. “I will have you know that some of the greatest wizards that ever lived were difficult to match. I was not alive in Headmaster Yoda’s time as a young wizard, but it evidently took days to find his wand.”

Anakin sighed, “I’m just so new to all of this, but I’ve always dreamed of it, if that makes sense.”

“It does and this moment will be a fond one if you let it happen.”

He tried to do just that and humored Sinube’s every whim of attempts and even climbed the ladder along the bookcase to grab more wands for him. It wasn’t until knocking a loose box from its hold on top of the bookcase and onto the floor- successfully rolling the wand across the room- that Anakin felt the room change.

Upon picking it up, the atmosphere transformed into one bathed in angelic light with a potent wind that swept all around them and took loose strands of parchment into the air. Anakin’s hand that gripped the wand grew impossibly warm, but never hot, and a strength seemed to manifest deep in the core of his being. Anakin’s soul felt complete where he never knew it was missing a piece.

Eventually, the lights dimmed and the heavens ceased singing and while he believed he’d been the only one doused in glory, it was clear from Sinube’s face that he’d bore witness to the whole spectacle. Perhaps, this was why he did what he did for so long.

“And there you have it.” The older wizard grinned. “An 11 ½” holly with dragon heartstrings. Known for handling well with the impetuous and the quick to anger as well as accompanying one with a large spiritual journey ahead of them.”

Anakin reverently ran his thumb across the surface of the hilt. How he could ever want anything else seemed ridiculous now. He finally tore his eyes away from his wand to acknowledge Sinube.

“Thank you, Mr. Sinube.” He said as he handed him the money his mother gave him- apparently it was the exact amount, “For being patient.”

“It was my pleasure, Mr. Skywalker. I just ask that you always extend yourself and others the same courtesy.”

“I will!” Though his rush to race out the door did not support the statement.

After Anakin left, Sinube’s eyes drifted to the wand that had been previously turned into a snake.

“Curious…” He said as he picked it up. Just as suspected, it was an elm wand, which was heavily believed to only react to wizards of pure-blood. Sinube, who was not human in any sense beyond spirit, hardly listened in on the political rubbish surrounding blood lineage. Still, it was odd that the elm wand reacted so.

***

Anakin dashed out of Sinube’s in such excited haste that he ran square into a family of wizards which knocked his wand from his hand and had it rolling onto the street. An array of passing feet accidentally kicked it along in transit and Anakin found himself scrambling on the ground in an ill-willed attempt to recover the wand he’d just struggled to meet.

“Excuse me! Sorry! Coming through!” He pushed his way through the crowd, never once taking his eyes off the ground and failing to really keep track where he was going.

Finally, his wand was spared from the stampede as it was all but launched into a darker passageway and down a series of steps. Anakin breathed out a sigh of relief and frustration as he descended to retrieve his wand. It wasn’t until he picked it up and determined that it was still usable did he realize he had absolutely no idea where he’d drifted.

Behind him, there was the pocket of light he’d come from while ahead only lay an oblique of shadows that extended deeper and deeper into a silent unknown. He could still feel the sunlight that shined bright on Diagon Alley at his back. However, he was inexplicably drawn forward as though he were being called. In fact, his feet seemed to move at their own accord, because despite his mind telling him otherwise, he followed the path of noir and gray stone until reaching a crossing.

Strange and unhappy creatures seemed to shuffle around one another without exchanging pleasantries or even acknowledging one another. Somehow, this part of town seemed even tighter than the rest of Diagon Alley. The shop owners were grim and threatened their patrons, though the patrons did not seem kind either. A few cast curious stares at Anakin as he walked by, but he did not want to be caught idle for too long and went the opposite direction, away from the quiet community of threatening onlookers.

As he drifted further along a narrow opening and towards a glowing green light, he felt a resounding cold settle in his bones without warning. His thoughts were screaming in meaningless questions as to why he was even here, but he resisted the urge to turn away. If he did, sleeping that night would be more impossible than enduring the chill that traveled up his spine at every distant echo.

He found himself clutching his wand instinctually, though he had no indication on how to use it. He slowly treaded closer to the ambient green hue that reflected off the stone wall. The anxiety that coiled in the pit of his stomach resembled that of being the follower and the followed. He was not sure which he was more fearful of in the present. When he rounded the corner, he realized it appeared to be from a wizarding shop, no less. While this should have caused relief, Anakin remained on high alert, noting that this shop did not resemble the others.

It was well-buried in the shadows, for one thing, and did not seem to be sought after despite its claim to sell antiquities. There were three front windows with a green light emanating off of them and highlighting the clear prevalence of skeletons throughout the store. He tried not to think too hard about their origin.

He squinted his eyes as he made out the sign on the front.

“Borgin and Burkes.” He murmured to himself.

He kept his steps silent and his breaths minimal, particularly when he realized he was not alone. Quickly, he rushed into the store in an attempt to avoid being seen by a large figure all dressed in black. The storeowner was clearly gone for lunch or other dealings, because he was not questioned when he slipped behind the counter after realizing the large presence was (hopefully unknowingly) following him inside.

There was a moment of silence beyond what Anakin could barely make out as the ignition of a flame.

He closed his eyes and wondered what his mother thought of his absence for the first time. What if she didn’t let him go to Hogwarts for wandering off? Surely, the rule of avoiding dark alleys applied to the wizarding world just as much as it did the real world. He felt remorse and regret, but didn’t even know where to begin on how to leave.

“Are you sure, Master?” A deep, but hushed voice asked.

“Yes. It is time to act. He arrives at Hogwarts this year.” The second voice sounded like more of a hiss than actual speech and crackled alongside the fire.

“There is much to prepare, then.”

Anakin peered his head from around the desk in a feeble attempt to catch a glimpse. Anyone that entered an empty shop to have a secretive conversation could not have been up to any good. What he was supposed to do about it, he was unsure.

The figure that had followed him into the shop was huge in stature- even larger and more dominant in appearance than Qui-Gon. He was dressed from head-to-toe all in black robes that were pulled over his head and shrouded him like a phantom.

The other man was not present in the physical sense, but judging from what Anakin could tell, was either in the fireplace or he was the fireplace. Green embers flicked in every direction, wild in abandon and enchantment as the phantom spoke down. Anakin wished he could get a better look, but thought better of it lest he reveal his presence.

“Just see to it that you are ready, Lord Tyranus. The Sith will rise once again if all goes according to plan.”

The phantom man knelt before the fireplace, as if to swear an oath. “I will not fail you, my Master.”

There was a long enough pause where Anakin briefly thought the conversation had ended, but a maniacal laugh rippled through the shop and he had to suppress the urge to whimper.

“Good.” He enunciated. “Until the darkest day at the darkest point.”

“Until then.”

“And by the way, my apprentice. You are not alone.”

Anakin’s eyes shot open and he burst into a blind sprint towards and through the door, narrowly avoiding a green shock of lightning that ricocheted where he’d previously been sat. Flames blew up behind him, lighting the dark path before him. He mindlessly chose his fate and sprinted down the cobblestone path to where he’d originally entered through. Well, it was where he believed he’d entered, at least.

His knees were almost hitting his chest. He was running so hard and determined to carry his strides as far as his little legs could take him. It finally felt as though his mind had lined up with his body and that every sense in him was on fire because of it. He could still smell the singed wood from the desk and hear the hushed tones of that dark voice.

There was so much he hadn’t gotten to do. He hadn’t seen Hogwarts or used his wand or made new friends. And for what? What did he have to say for drifting down strange roads that he had no place seeing?

He didn’t dare look behind him at risk of seeing what was approaching him, ready to swallow him up whole and never allow him to see or feel light ever again.

His mother would never get to see him graduate, which he knew was something she’d always hoped for him. She likely hoped it would be at a regular school, but would grow to be proud of him anyways. At the very least, he had intended on proving himself worthy of her devotion, even if she claimed he did not need to do such things. He would start by avoiding the dark side of Diagon Alley.

If he could only make it out alive.

He ran into a few angry and disgruntled characters, but none had the wits about them to stop him beyond shouting vulgar and threatening chants at him. He was numb to their words. He tried to listen for another presence running through them as well, but could only hear the steady pounding of his own heart and blood in his ears as well as the sound of his feet hitting the pavement.

A kaleidoscope of white light exploded before him as he’d finally wandered his way back to the open world. In a bout of momentary blindness he continued to plow straight ahead, colliding nearly instantly into an unyielding force. He found himself sprawled on his back staring at the very blue sky before he had a moment to catch himself.

Surely, he was caught and about to die in broad daylight. His wand fell from his hand and tears streaked his face. He didn’t even know where to begin in begging for his life. He wasn’t sure why he even went down that stupid pathway- just that it had called him. He felt he knew more now, though,and that it scared him.

His breathing grew heavy and frantic, but two firm hands settled on his shoulders- not his neck. He mustered up the courage to look up at his probable attacker and make peace with the fact that he’d lived an okay life thus far.

“Are you alright?” A voice- very different from the one before- asked him and the face matched the voice in its concern.

Instead of a hulking figure cloaked in black, there was a teenager- lean, medium-height, and light-skinned. Anakin would have thought he was an adult wizard by how he was dressed like a professor, in a pressed sweater-vest with a white button-up beneath, as well as ironed trousers and neatly combed auburn hair. However, his face was young and soft with caring blue-gray eyes. He held a certain air of authority and responsibility on him as though he’d been born shouldering the weight of the world.

Anakin sniffled and tried to come to terms with the fact that he was not about to die today and shrugged his shoulders in response.

The older boy’s eyes looked from where Anakin had come from in horror. “Why in the blazes were you coming from Knockturn Alley?”

He ran an arm along his face to get rid of any tears or snot that might have gone rogue in his hysteria.

“I-I got lost from my mum.” He said and hated how small he sounded, but he truly did not feel like explaining to a stranger why he’d decided to take a stroll into the ugly side of town.

“In Knockturn Alley?” He furrowed his brow, unwilling to be shaken. Clearly, this place had a bad reputation and Anakin could understand why.

“Why is that place even there at all?” Anakin complained. “I… I thought it might be a shortcut and… it wasn’t.”

The older boy’s conflicted expression was traded for one of sympathy and he simply gathered Anakin’s wand for him as well as his own dropped belongings before helping Anakin to his feet.

“Well, no harm done, right?”

He wasn’t so sure, but he nodded all the same.

“Let’s get you back to your mum, okay? It can be dangerous around here for a first-timer and I’m sure she’s worried sick.”

He appreciated not being confused for a muggle this time, though this kid struck him as a seasoned member of the wizarding community. Even still, after what he’d just seen, he was happy to have the company. He didn’t miss the disgusted look he shot back to Knockturn Alley over Anakin’s shoulder.

“Do you go to Hogwarts?” Anakin asked.

“Why, most of everyone here either has been, will be, or is a student at Hogwarts.” He said and scanned the crowd. “I’m entering my fifth year.”

Anakin sighed, “It’ll be my first.”

“I would have never guessed.” Though there was an obvious edge of sarcasm to his tone, which was a welcome surprise as he seemed regularly quite stiff. “I see you got your wand already.”

“From Tera Sinube’s. Just like everyone else, I’m guessing.” Anakin said, but did not miss the way his new companion flinched ever so slightly when he’d said that. There was a wand peeking out of his pocket, so it wasn’t that he simply didn’t possess one. He tried to think nothing of it and move on, taking notice instead of the button that sat atop the books that the older boy carried.

“Do all fifth years get badges that say they’re ‘perfect’ on them?”

He chuckled. “It says ‘prefect’, actually. It’s a big honor at Hogwarts. I essentially was elected by the Headmaster and Head of House to uphold the code of ethics at the school.”

“So…” Anakin paused. “You’re a hall monitor.”

He thought about that for a moment. “Is that what muggles call it?”

“Yeah, mate. It’s a pretty geeky position actually. The hall monitor at my school got so many wedgies that they had to get his briefs surgically removed.”

He grimaced. “Yes, well, bullies are no strangers to Hogwarts either, but I’d like to think at least some of them heed to our words and authority. So, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Anakin smiled. “Thanks. Trouble usually finds me pretty quick so I’ll need the connections.”

The Prefect smiled. “I can see that.”

***

By the time the Prefect had finally reunited Anakin with his mother, the sky above them began collecting orange and pink hues to resemble a mosaic painting. Anakin’s mood had brightened substantially since exiting the horrid Knockturn Alley and was all the more relieved to see that his mother didn’t appear too angry with him for disappearing.

Because he was still the kind of guy that liked hugging his mum, he ran to her all the same and enveloped her in a tight hug that she knelt to meet him for.

“I got lost.” He said, voice muffled by her shoulder.

“I know it’s all bright and new to you, but this place isn’t all rainbows and sunshine, Ani.” She sighed and stroked his hair. “You have to be mindful of your surroundings.”

Anakin understood what she meant more than he could say right now. For some reason, he felt he shouldn’t relay what had happened to his mother. Not only because it would upset her, but because thinking back on it sent a cold chill down his spine. He simply nodded in agreement and his mother finally acknowledged the young chaperone, who awkwardly stood off to the side.

“Thank you very much for seeing my son safely back to me. I hope he didn’t cause you any trouble.” She smiled warmly.

The older boy waved a hand of nonchalance, though his stiff posture didn’t quite sell the casual vibe he was going for. “Oh, no trouble at all. I was glad to be able to see Diagon Alley through the eyes of a newcomer.”

Anakin beamed. “He showed me all around! Mum, can I get an owl?”

Shmi chuckled. “Later. We must be getting home before it grows dark. I’ve got a late shift tonight at the pub.”

He slumped his shoulders a little bit. “You always have work.”

She sighed and gently pushed some hair out of his face. “I do what I must so we can have a nice life.”

Anakin wanted to say something along the lines of their lives not being so nice thus far, but he knew it would hurt his mother’s feelings and despite his disappointment, did not want to do that.

The Prefect smiled. “I better be off, myself. I’ll see you at school!”

He waved. “Yeah! I’ll see you then! Thank you!”

Shmi smiled down at him. “At least you’re already making friends. What was his name?”

Anakin blanked. “Oh… I don’t know! He’s a prefect though.”

“He saved you and you didn’t get his name?” She asked.

“He didn’t save me. I had it under control.” He puffed out his chest, even if deep inside he knew that was not correct. “But I was distracted. Hey, look at my wand!”

#the clone wars #tcw #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Qui-Gon Jinn #Shmi Skywalker #star wars #prequel trilogy #harry potter au #au #magical forces au

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dimpled-gukkie · 5 years

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Moodboard by @i-am-today-we-will-survive

A/n: I’ve been working on this for over a month and was debating whether I should post the first part and make it a series or to finish the whole thing first but I thought you guys deserved to at least read something I wrote. Anyways, thank you @euphoriajjkook , @i-am-today-we-will-survive , and @delboyanddier for helping me write this and giving me your feedback. Hopefully you’ll continue to do so on the next part ❤️

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader ft. Sassy Park Jimin & Kim Namjoon

Genre: College AU/ S2L

Warnings: Explicit language strewn throughout, brief mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 10.6k

Summary: Writing is something you have always loved to do. It’s what got you into the London Arts Academy Study Abroad program in the first place. Lately though you can’t help but feel like your creativity has run dry so you turn to this new foreign city to make you fall back in love with your passion. Turns out writing isn’t the only thing you’re passionate about.

An airport is the greatest place on earth to people watch. It’s a point of conjunction for all walks of life to meet, small interactions twisting lives together, entangling their timelines for short moments. Anything can happen at an airport, a place where time doesn’t seem to really exist. Though the people rushing past you with sweat trickling down their faces would probably like to argue that statement if only they had the time.

For those who don’t have connecting flights however, the airport can be a bit like a time machine. You don’t need to worry about the current time, only the time of the place you’re going. Glancing down at your phone screen you still have an hour before your plane even boards. Sighing, because an hour here feels like an eternity, you pack up your things and head over to the over-priced coffee shop located conveniently after the security checkpoint. Nothing like loosing braincells by waiting an hour to get an invasive pat down and spending a whole $7 on watered down coffee beans to recharge.

The man in front of you huffs angrily, his shoes still untied signaling he just came from security and in his haste to get away from the checkpoint he couldn’t even be bothered to do a menial task. You continue watching his behavior, there’s really nothing else to do at this point, noting the way he taps his watch in time with his shoe. You wonder if this is a passive aggressive way of telling both the person in front of him as well as the baristas to hurry up or if he just has a song in his head. Judging by his red ears its probably the former.

Noting down his characteristics in the notes on your phone, a deep voice sounds from behind you, “You a spy or something?” Turning around, you’re greeted with a boy around your own age, long dark brown hair messily strewn under a black newsboy cap. He grins at you, the corners of his mouth pulling into an odd rectangular shape, his dark almond eyes scrunching as his cheeks push them upwards.

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, half struck by his beauty and half confused by his question.

“Hey man,” The boy taps the annoyed man on his shoulder. The man whips around like a wild dog, practically snarling at someone disrupting his order but the boy seems undeterred, the mischievous glint in his eyes brightening. “Just thought you should know a spy is watching you.” Your eyes widen as he points his gaze at you a few times, silently telling the man that you’re the culprit and you put your hands out in an innocent manner. The boy glances down at you and smirks a little, amused by your expression.

“I-I- no I’m not. I was just uhh…” How do you explain you were taking notes on a guy to use for a character in your novel? As you struggle to come up with an explanation, the man’s gaze suddenly turns worried and he looks to the boy behind you once more who nods in justification to his words.

“I promise I’ll get him the money. I- I just need more time.” The man says hurriedly before dashing away, tripping on his untied laces in his hurry. Your gaze falls on the boy behind you, his body folded in half in his laughter and you can only gape at him.

“Wha- what just happened? I’m not a spy!” He pops up then, gaze suddenly serious and mouth set in a straight line.

“That’s something a spy would say.” He raises a thick eyebrow up and you roll your eyes at him.

“That’s also something that a not-spy would say.”

“Touche. But do you think we should tell someone about that dude? He seemed suspicious.” The boy asks, his hand moving up to play with his earring in thought.

“I’m sure it’s fine. I just hope he’s not on my plane.” You turn around and order, expecting that to be the end of your conversation with the strange boy but are completely surprised when he tacks his order onto your own before handing his card over.

When the cashier asks for his name he turns to you saying, “Taehyung” in what you suppose to be his way of introduction. “So spy-“

“Y/n.” You interrupt him.

“Can’t you just play along?” He whines before sighing. “Fine Y/n, why were you taking notes on him anyways? If you’re not a spy after all.”

Your cheeks bloom roses the same way they do every time you have to explain that you’re an aspiring novelist and softly you mumble, “I was taking notes for a character in my novel.” Somehow the boy, Taehyung, heard you and his mouth cracks open into that distinct boxy grin.

“You’re an author!” He asks, his excitement startling you. You were used to the disappointed tsks, the familiar scoldings of your passion not being a real job. To be met with such enthusiasm is simply shocking and caused the clusters of roses on your cheeks to bloom even further. “That’s so cool, I wish I was good at words. I’m a photographer.” His eyes twinkle slightly when he declares his profession, pride taking shape in his stance as his broad shoulders push back to reveal the toned chest beneath his striped long-sleeve. You can’t help but smile back at him, his cheerful personality infectious and his passion for his passion beautiful.

The barista calls Taehyung’s name and you follow him to retrieve your drinks, giving him thanks for buying you one and half expecting him to walk off. Except Taehyung doesn’t and he motions for you to sit down at a nearby table like he wants to continue your conversation. “So what do you like to photograph?” You ask, not one to like sitting in silence with a complete stranger. Though Taehyung is so warm, he’s beginning to feel less like a stranger and more like a friend with each smile he gives you.

“Have you ever heard of abstract impressionism?” You nod your head and he gives you a quick smile. “Well basically around post-impressionism photography was also growing quite popular and artists began using photographs to take pictures of their subjects to later recreate in a studio setting, which began the link between art and photography. So I do the opposite, you could say. I focus on emotions, colors, and movements like Monet and Degas but in photographs rather than with paint.”

“Can I see some?” You ask, not quite grasping what he’s telling you. Grinning widely, he nods, shuffling his camera out of his bag to pull up a few photos on the screen. The first photo he shows you has a cluster of monarch butterflies, their wings misshapen as they’re caught in movement. Their wings look similar to passing buildings when you drive down the freeway at a fast speed, blurs of colors and white lights, their wings caught in a rapid flutter. You can’t help the small gasp that escapes your mouth, starstruck by the complex simplicity of the photograph. You never thought you’d say a blurry photo was beautiful but somehow Taehyung did it. “That’s really beautiful Taehyung.” You say softly, still entranced in the picture and following the movement of the butterflies’ wings.

“Thanks.” He says quietly, a small voice on him already so out of character that you look up. His cheeks are a dusty red, a small smile dimpling them. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something more but your phone obnoxiously buzzes and you smile sheepishly at him before checking it.

You nearly drop your phone onto the ground in your haste to stand up, your bags clanging loudly against your table and drawing the attention of nearby people. “I’m really sorry Taehyung but I have to go. My flight is boarding right now and…” Looking around frantically you check the signs of the gates, sighing in defeat when you realize yours is at the other end of the airport. “My gate is on the other end of the airport. Anyways I really have to get going. It was nice talking to you!” You yell, beginning your long sprint through the terminal. You feel bad for laughing at those people hurrying through the airport earlier. How did the hour pass by so quickly? Heavy footsteps join yours and you turn your head to the side, nearly knocking into someone as Taehyung runs next to you.

“My flight is boarding too!” He huffs and if you weren’t so stressed you’d laugh. What are the odds that both your flights are boarding at the same time? As you sprint through the airport, Taehyung staying by your side even as you weave through the crowds of people, you can’t help but fantasize you both having the same flight. It’d be nice to carry on your conversation with Taehyung, get to know more about him and his passion for art. Maybe even snag his number if you’re lucky. You can’t deny that he’s handsome, even as he pants next to you, his hair begin to stick to his forehead as sweat accumulates under his hat. But fate usually doesn’t play in your favor so you don’t put much hope to your thoughts. With your luck he’s probably on the plane next to yours and the luckiest you’ll get is to wave at him through the window. To your surprise though Taehyung pulls to a stop at your gate and you both pause to look at each other before it clicks. He’s on your flight. What’s next? His seat being next to yours?

Good things really do come to an end as you wave at Taehyung seated a few rows in front of you. You guess your timer had run out, your good luck ran dry, and you can’t help but pout in your seat, momentarily forgetting that you’re afraid of flying. It only seems to click when the stewardesses are making their final rounds to secure the cabin that the fear sets in, wrapping its sharp claws around your throat and making it hard to breathe. You tap your foot anxiously to the fast beating of your heart, clasping your hands tightly in your lap as a way to ground yourself. Your eyes water and a blur of dark hair catches your attention and you smile slightly at Taehyung, who’s risen up in his seat to glance back at you. Through your watery vision that you hastily blink away, you can make out the concerned draw of his eyebrows and his hand waving at one of the stewardesses to catch their attention. In a minute he’s standing at your row with a sheepish smile on his face, large hands wrapped around a black duffel bag.

”Excuse me sir, but would you mind switching seats with this young man? His girlfriend is pregnant and has major flight anxiety.” She gestures to you but you’re too busy trying to take deep breaths to say anything. “And you’d be trading a middle seat for a window.” Only then does the middle-aged man begin to move, grumbling to himself while he gathers his things. Taehyung immediately shuffles in and places a warm hand on your own comfortingly, only saying something once he’s successfully shoved his duffel bag into the small compartment under his seat.

“Hi,” He says softly. “thought you could use some company.” He makes no move to mention his hand now laced into your own and neither do you. You smile weakly at him in response, squeezing his hand tightly in a silent thanks. The bouncing of your leg increases as the plane roars to life and you pull your conjoined hands into your lap, using Taehyung’s arm like a makeshift seatbelt. “It’s gonna be okay.” He tells you, his thumb rubbing soothingly across your knuckles. He squeezes your hand once to get you to look at him and your body relaxes slightly at the certainty in his eyes. “Say it with me, we’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be okay.” You mumble, looking out the window as the plane gets taxied to the runway. Your gaze snaps back to Taehyung when he places a pair of headphones over your ears, a soothing symphony already playing. The volume is loud enough that you can barely hear the engine rumbling, can only feel the vibrations as the plane hurdles down the runway before leaping into the sky. Only when the seatbelt sign flicks off does Taehyung pull the headphones off your ears, smiling widely at you as the tenseness in your body fades away. Taking off and landing were the worst parts.

“See what did I tell you? I knew we’d be ok-“ Your hand lands over his mouth before he can complete his sentence, eyes already scanning for some sort of wood to knock on.

“Shhh! Don’t jinx it.” You exclaim, knocking on Taehyung’s wooden phone case. Taehyung’s mouth moves under your palm, his eyes creasing as he lets out a muffled laugh and you pull your hand away with a glare. “Don’t laugh.” You pout, which only makes Taehyung smile even wider.

“You’re so cute Y/n.” He coos, trapping your face between his large hands. Your mind immediately drifts to the idiot sandwich meme and you slap his hands away. Taehyung talks to you until your eyes grow heavy and you blink sleepily at him, trying your hardest to stay awake. You don’t want him to think he’s boring you to sleep but the stress of riding on a plane and your anxiety took a toll on you, your energy depleted despite the coffee you ingested earlier. “You tired?” Taehyung asks quietly, smiling softly at you. Nodding you mumble your apologies but he just shakes them off. “It’s alright love. I’ll wake you up when we land okay?” He says, leaning down to take a book out of his bag. ‘Impressionism in its truest form’ it says. You smile when he puts on his glasses on making him look infinitely softer. You blink a few more times while staring at him until your eyes refuse to reopen and you drift off to sleep.

When you awake it’s to a voice mumbling lowly in your ear and you groan shifting closer into your pillow. The voice laughs and your pillow vibrates and you sleepily open your eyes. Why is your pillow moving? You glance up to see Taehyung smiling down at you and you scramble away from him, cheeks warm from the realization that you were cuddled up to him in your sleep. “I-I’m sorry.” You stutter, eyebrows drawing closed as he smiles brightly at you. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just cute when you’re flustered.”

“Stop.” You whine, pushing on his chest. He giggles at you. “Are you always such a flirt?”

“Do you want me to flirt with you?” He asks, pressing his chin into his palm as he leans in closer to you. You open and close your mouth trying to come up with a snarky remark but his close proximity has you fumbling.

“I-I don’t- Leave me alone.” You huff, crossing your arms and turning away to look out the window. To both your relief and panic the ground gets closer and closer as the plane begins its descent. With a startled gasp, you clutch onto Taehyung wrapping your arms around his own as you shut your eyes. Taehyung places his hand on your knee to give you more access to his arm, squeezing it a few times in reassurance. You keep your eyes closed until the plane stops bouncing as it hits the runway, the engines silencing. You peel your eyes open glancing to Taehyung who smiles down at you.

“See, I told you it was gonna be okay.”

“Yeah I guess you weren’t wrong.” You say. He keeps his hand on your knee even after you release his arm from your grip.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing in London?”

“Oh! I’m doing a foreign exchange with an art university here.”

“That wouldn’t happen to be the London Arts Academy program would it?” Your eyes widen as your mind begins to process what this means.

“You’re part of it too?” You ask and Taehyung nods excitedly, his eyes sparkling.

“Guess I’ll get to see more of you huh love?”

When you step outside of the airport, the sky is overcast and painting the city in a soft white light. Taehyung stands by your side, tucking his hand into your own as you both get swallowed by the amount of tourists in the area. You’re thankful for his continuous support towards you even though you both are practically strangers.

“So what do you plan to write while you’re here?” Taehyung asks, pulling you towards the bus stop your university directed you to upon your arrival.

“I-I don’t know.” You mumble ashamedly, causing Taehyung to frown. Before you looked so happy when mentioning your passion, eyes bright like the sun, and just like that very sun your glow is now obstructed by your uncertainty and woefully dim.

“That’s alright. I mean I’m sure you’ll find some inspiration here. We’re in a brand new city after all.” Taehyung holds out his free hand, gesturing to city around you. He almost smacks a man in the face and you struggle to hold back a giggle.

“I hope so.” You say softly. You can’t help but feel a little guilty to have taken this spot of such a prestigious program only to have no ideas. Well you do have ideas you just hate them. They’re bland and boring, some done a few times. There’s nothing that makes you excited, nothing making you itch to have your fingers on the keys, to spill your plot onto a page. It’s like all your creativity has been drained from you.

“Come with me.” Taehyung says suddenly and you turned to him confused. “I have some places in mind I wanna scope out to take photos of. Maybe they’ll bring you inspiration too!” Taehyung’s eyes twinkle like the flickering light a few feet away.

“If you’re sure.” You’d hate to intrude.

“Wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t.” A bus rumbles towards you, breaks squeaking as it pulls to a stop.

“Comforting.” You say causing Taehyung to chuckle. The driver steps out and loads your bags into the vehicle, huffing at the weight of your bags.

“Women am I right? Constantly overpacking their luggage.” Taehyung says to the driver, smirking at you as you scoff and hit his arm.

“Actually it was your bag that was the heaviest.” The driver says matter-of-factly, and you fold in on yourself in laughter. Taehyung turns to you with a slight blush, tangling his hand in his long dark hair as he smiles shyly.

“Serves you right.” You grin, heading inside the large charter. Taehyung is quick on your heels, sitting in the seat in front of you. “Tired of me already?” You tease, tilting your head to the empty seat beside you.

“Actually can’t get enough of you. Just thought you could use a moment of separation before you’re stuck with me for the next two months.” Taehyung says unabashedly.

You lean forward, pressing your elbows into your knees. “That so?”

Your grin widens as Taehyung inches closer, resting his chin on the top of the seat. “Yes I’m afraid.”

“Damn I wish my girlfriend was on this trip with me.” An unfamiliar voice says from the front of the bus. You and Taehyung both turn to the voice with wide eyes, having forgotten that it’s not just you two in this program. “Hi I’m Jimin.” The boy smiles, eyes scrunching due to the plumpness of his cheeks as he gives a small wave.

“I’m Namjoon.” The boy beside Jimin says, hunching over slightly as his tall frame seems to be struggling in the bus. They both move towards you and take a seat in the row behind you. Well initially Namjoon tries to sit next you before Jimin pushes him away, mumbling something about letting lovers be. You blush at the comment but don’t say anything, not wanting to draw attention in hopes Taehyung hadn’t heard. “What do you guys do?”

“I’m a photographer. I specialize in impressionistic photography.” Like before Taehyung stands tall when he mentions his passion, something you can’t help but admire him for.

“Ahh cool! You like impressionism too?” Jimin exclaims, reaching across you to give Taehyung a high five. “I’m a painter, but I also like making little cartoon animals sometimes. Like this little guy!” Jimin shows you his phone, smiling proudly at the little yellow hooded dog waving at you from the screen. “His name is Chimmy after his daddy.”

Namjoon groans from beside him, placing a hand over his face exasperatedly. “Please never refer to yourself as daddy again.”

“Do you need a snickers bar Joonie? You’re not yourself when you’re hungry, instead you’re a HATER.” Jimin throws a snickers bar at Namjoon causing the tall boy to roll his eyes.

“I get that being dramatic comes with being an artist but could you tone it down a little? I’m tired.”

“Ahh yes, another late night at the studio?” Jimin teases before turning back to you and Taehyung who were watching the scene with wide eyes. “My boy Joonie here is a musician. Writes some sad ass lyrics, but they’re actually pretty deep. I’m still waiting for my own song though, which I deserve for putting up with him for the last 12 years as his best friend.”

“You put up with me?” Namjoon sounds offended, but the way he dramatically places his hand over his heart says differently. You giggle at their interaction and that brings their attention back to you. “What do you do again?” Namjoon asks, seemingly forgetting you never told them in the first place.

“I’m a writer.” You say softly, cheeks tinged a dusty pink. You know you should be proud to say it, especially when met with such creative minds yet you can’t help it. You’ve been faced with too much disappointment about your passion in the past.

“Cool! Maybe we could work together sometime? I need help with the lyrics for my new song.” Namjoon smiles, dimples pressing into his cheeks.

“Oh! Okay.” You say, startled by Taehyung coming to sit beside you. You realize then that the bus is beginning to fill up with other students, the volume gradually becoming greater as people begin to interact with each other and make new friends. You can’t help but feel like you made the right choice as you all dig into the bag of skittles Jimin brought along with him, joking around and trying to toss them into each other’s mouths.

When you pull up to the school, your jaw drops at the beautiful architecture, something very unlike your university at home. The building vaguely resembles a castle and you can’t help but feel like you stepped back into time as you walk inside the building, trudging your suitcase behind you. You look over at Taehyung and you can picture him as a prince, probably one of the most sought after too for his ethereal looks and kind personality. Maybe you should write something about a prince? Jimin bumps into you from behind and you let the idea die, disheartened by the squire in front of you. “Sorry uhh…Wait did we not ask for your names?” Jimin says.

“Oh I guess not. I’m Y/n, this is Taehyung.”

“I feel like a jerk.” Jimin pouts and you can’t resist the urge to ruffle his hair like you would to a sad child.

“It’s alright. You were just excited.”

“Like a puppy.” Taehyung says and you gasp.

“Like your drawing! Jimin you really are the same as chimmy.” You exclaim and he laughs, cheeks a soft pink.

“You might as well call me puppy.” Jimin jokes but much to his dismay you and Taehyung take a liking to it.

“Alright puppy.” You both say in unison before looking at each other and giggling. Jimin rolls his eyes, less than enthused by your teasing. His lips form a plush pout and his eyes round making him resemble an upset puppy. Taehyung reaches forward and pinches one of Jimin’s bread-like cheeks between his fingers which makes the other man pout further after swatting his hand away.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Jimin whines and Namjoon just places an apologetic hand on his shoulder.

“It’s the curse of being so cute Jiminie.” Jimin screams loudly in annoyance before storming off to his room which only makes the three of you giggle.

“What floor are you two on?” Namjoon asks, following in the direction Jimin went.

“Two.” You and Taehyung say in unison once again, causing you both to look at each other. What a coincidence.

“Ahh, Jimin and I are on four. Want to meet back down here in an hour to go get some food? Orientation is tomorrow so we have the whole night off.” You and Taehyung nod and Namjoon waves before leaving the two of you alone again.

“They seem cool.” Taehyung says, leading the way towards the second floor. He offers to take your backpack for you but you refuse.

“Yeah they do. I think we have a good group.” You say. Taehyung nods in agreement before turning back to you with a wide smile.

“You’re mine though. My ride or die, my plus one, my best bud.”

“Partner in crime?” You tease and Taehyung laughs.

“That too.” Taehyung pulls to a stop in the middle of the hallway and for the first time an awkward silence forms between the two of you. Taehyung fiddles with the keys in his hand, bouncing back and forth on his heels for a little bit. It almost feels like he doesn’t want you to leave. Two minutes pass of the two of you staring at one another, waiting for the other to say something before Taehyung speaks up. “Well I’ll see you in an hour?”

“Yeah.” You say softly, hoping to hide your disappointment. You’ve grown rather fond of the brunette with the boxy smile. Taking out your own key from your pocket you continue down the hallway, actually paying attention to the room numbers this time. “Did I pass it?” You mumble to yourself, jumping slightly when Taehyung asks you if you need any help. You thought he had already gone inside. “Yeah I can’t find 222.” Taehyung steps outside to help you look only to turn to you with a large grin.

“Love, I think I found it.” You hurry towards him, having to blink a few times to make sure what you’re seeing is right. Your door is the one right across from Taehyung’s. You’re starting to think these are less of a coincidence and more of fate shoving the idea of romance down your throat. But turning towards Taehyung you decide you don’t mind all that much. Maybe you should write a story about lost lovers? “As much as I love you staring at me and admiring my handsomeness, you gotta unpack at some point.” Taehyung laughs and you turn away with a blush. Scratch that idea, romance is dead anyways.

“R-right. I’ll just umm go then. See you in an hour?” Taehyung checks his watch.

“Make that 50 minutes.” He grins, waving to you as you duck into your room to hide your embarrassment.

Someone knocks at your door right on the hour and fixing your hair one last time you open it to reveal a smiling Taehyung. He’s removed the news cap in place for a beanie, his hair even more fussed than when you first saw him in line at the airport and yet he looks ungodly attractive. He’s swapped his long sleeve for a black thrasher hoodie but still wears the same black pants from before. “You changed.” He says quietly, scanning your figure. You fidget under his piercing eyes, pulling and twisting the drawstrings of your own oversized hoodie.

“Yeah, I felt gross after the flight. Plus it’s kinda cold outside.”

“You could’ve borrowed mine if you were cold.” Taehyung says matter-of-factly.

“Well I didn’t know that. Or know that you’d be wearing one. But I’ll keep it in mind for the future.” You tell him, locking your door before you both head back to the main floor to meet Jimin and Namjoon. When you arrive they’re already bickering, something about Jimin stealing Namjoon’s favorite shirt.

“Hey guys!” Jimin chirps, moving over to meet you at the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t you like my shirt.”

“First off, that’s mine. Secondly, the audacity. This kid.” Namjoon says, nodding towards Jimin.

“Fuck you Namjoon. Just because I’m small does not mean I’m a child. Besides if this was yours then why was it in my suitcase packed with my clothes?“

“Hmm I don’t know… maybe because you STOLE it.”

“How are you two the most chaotic people I know already and I’m friends with Taehyung?” You say.

“It’s how we roll baby.” Jimin says and you all collectively gag. “I hate you all. I can’t believe you got into this program.”

“Yeah same. They really lowered their standards if they let you in.” Namjoon quips, only to be smacked on the back of the head by Jimin. Jimin’s eyes are now a dark coal and you wonder if you’ve all gone too far as his eyes flicker with anger. “Ahh, calm down Jiminie. You know I love you.” Jimin smiles brightly, appeased by Namjoon’s praise. You’ll have to remember that compliments make him feel better.

“Yeah sorry puppy. We didn’t mean to make you upset.” You say and Jimin only smiles, waving his hand to dismiss your comment.

“It’s alright. I wasn’t really mad anyways. well not at you at least.”

“Do you wanna go eat now?” Taehyung asks and you all nod enthusiastically.

“What should we get?’ You ask, the four of you wandering off campus to look at local restaurants.

“I’m thinking like a british staple. I’ve been dying to try out my british accent in Britain.” Namjoon says, already heading towards a local fish and chips shop.

“If we’re getting fish and chips then you have to order. For all of us. And we get to be over there.” Jimin points to a bench ten feet away. “I don’t want to be associated with you when you offend the masses with that awful accent.” Namjoon rolls his eyes at Jimin’s remark but heads to the ordering window anyways.

“We should help him.” You say, stepping to follow Namjoon only for Jimin to stop you with a hand on your wrist.

“We will. Just after he orders.”

“You play dirty Park Jimin.” He grins at you wickedly, sending you a quick wink.

“I know.”

When Jimin assures you that Namjoon has in fact ordered you pull out a wad of cash, attempting to hand the cost of your order to him. “No need.” Namjoon smiles, his dimples presenting themselves. “On the house because the guy liked my accent. Besides we’re friends anyways, I don’t mind covering once in a while.”

“Well thanks man. I can buy coffee tomorrow for everyone before orientation.” Taehyung smiles.

“I can cover pastries or something for breakfast!” You say and Taehyung pulls you into his side.

“Looks like we can go together.”

“Eww can you keep the coupley stuff to yourselves. It’s only cute when you’re part of it.” Jimin groans, fake gagging to show his distaste.

“Oh we’re- we’re not together. We just met like today.” You say hurriedly, worried Taehyung would be offended at the misunderstanding. You’re so worried you miss the way his smile droops a little, his eyes losing their sparkle. Taehyung retracts his arm from around you and the four of you stand in awkward silence.

“Oh my bad, Sorry, you guys just have such good chemistry.” Jimin says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“No big deal. But yeah we just sort of clicked huh love?” You don’t bother to correct Taehyung for the nickname, not wanting to make anything more awkward. Or maybe it’s just because you like it. His affection, his smile, his nickname for you, just him.

“We did. You know after we cleared up that I’m not a spy.” You don’t get a chance to further elaborate on your sentence because a bell is rung at the pick-up window and you all get too focused on inhaling your dinner, tired and hungry from the long flight. Within ten minutes your plates are picked clean, and you pat your food baby affectionately. “Well guys, looks like I’m expecting.” You giggle, rubbing your food baby for extra emphasis.

“Me too! Joonie be ready to be an uncle to Chimmy.” Jimin pulls up his shirt to reveal his tone torso, one that makes you internally gasp because you weren’t expecting someone so cute to have abs, and turns to the side to show off his barely bloated stomach.

“Congratulations!” Taehyung yells, causing a few passerby to turn their heads towards you and Jimin to lower his shirt with slightly pink-tinged cheeks. “I expect an invite to the shower. And a plus one for Y/n.”

“Why do you assume I’m not invited?” You ask Taehyung, brows pulled together and bottom lip jutted.

“I change my mind. Y/n you’re invited, Taehyung you can be her plus one.” You cheer through your laughter, folding in on yourself when you look up at Taehyung’s pouting face. Serves him right.

“You hear that Tae? You’re my plus one.”

“Yeah yeah whatever.”

It’s been a week since the program has started and you and Taehyung are inseparable. The only time you can be seen without each other is when you have class and even then Taehyung drops you off and picks you up at the door. You’ve grown fond of his boisterous laugh and deep voice, entranced by the way his mind works. He flows so easily through topics, one second questioning the inner workings of the universe to the next asking why dolphins haven’t adapted gills if whales once had legs. It’s one of those rare moments on sunday morning where you’re alone and you can’t help but wish for the boxy-smiled boy to be beside you. Like he’s called by your thoughts a knock sounds at your door and you hurry out of bed to throw it open. Taehyung immediately walks inside before plopping onto your bed, watching as you make your way back to him. “Let’s go somewhere.” He says, wrapping his arms around you to bring you into a hug. You’ve learned this past week that Taehyung is very physical when it comes to affection but you don’t mind.

“Where to?” You ask, running your fingers through his hair. It really was as soft as it looked. He hums against your stomach and places his chin on it to look up at you with a grin.

“It’s a surprise!” He says excitedly.

“At least tell me how I’m supposed to dress then?” You say.

“Whatever you wear you’ll look beautiful in.”

“Not helpful.” You huff and turn back towards your closet to hide the roses in your cheeks.

“You try and give someone a compliment and they-“

“Fine. Thank you Tae.” You grumble, shoving aside your clothes to look for something. You pick out a pair of shorts and your favorite long-sleeved shirt, stepping into your bathroom to change. When you come out Taehyung has your polaroid camera in his hands, making funny faces as he snaps several pictures of himself.

“You wasting all my film?” You laugh, enjoying the slight blush on his cheeks.

“I-umm…” Taehyung fumbles over his words, the sound of your camera printing the cutting over him. When the films are fully developed you flip through them, giggling to yourself as his poses get more and more ridiculous. You pause on the last photo, his pointer finger pushing lightly into his plush bottom lip, shifting it to the right and showing his white teeth. His head is cocked to the left, long brown hair soft as it passes over his eyebrow and frames around his eyes, He looks cute. “Why do you keep staring at that one?” Taehyung asks, shifting nervously behind you. You turn back to him, a little out of it from observing his features so deeply. He’d be perfect character in a mythological universe. His beauty rivaling Aphrodite herself. “I know I look ugly in that one, stop looking!” Taehyung laughs, attempting to snatch the photo out of your hand.

“Kim Taehyung don’t you dare say you’re ugly.” You scold, turning to him with a hard gaze. “You are anything but ugly.”

“Yeah whatever.” Taehyung says, and you roll your eyes.

“You try and give someone a compliment and they-“ You tease, quoting Taehyung from earlier which only makes him yell.

“Hey! Using my words against me is not very nice.” He whines, lips pulling into a soft pout. “What are you doing?” His brows furrow as he watches you place the image in the back of your phone before sealing it in your case again, turning it over so his picture faces you through the clear case.

“There. So now everyone can see how cute you are.” You smile proudly at him and he giggles at your determination, before turning and grabbing your camera again from your desk. He points it at you and you cock your head to the side confused. Why does he want to take a picture of you?

“It’s only fair.” He smiles making you grin back at him before the camera flashes. He shakes the film aggressively in an urge to make it develop faster and you lean into his shoulder as you watch it develop, wondering what it’ll look like. You’ll never be as photogenic as Taehyung but you hope you look at least somewhat decent, somewhat attractive to the man standing beside you. “Look at that.” Taehyung says, peeling his phone out of his case to place the polaroid in the back so it’s visible like his in yours. “What did I tell you?” He asks, eyes not leaving the photo. “Beautiful.” He says softly, finger trailing along the photo.

Taehyung’s hand is in yours when you pull up to the bakery, your other hand stuffed in your pocket to keep it safe in the chill of the air. The bells rings softly above you as you follow Taehyung inside, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air. Your stomach growls lowly and you hide your face in Taehyung’s arm, his laughter ringing out through the quiet shop. A woman appears from behind the back and wipes her hands on the white apron tied around her waist. “Hi, how can I help you?” She smiles.

“We’re here for that cake decorating class.” Taehyung says, causing the woman’s eyes to widen.

“Oh right! Hold on one minute, I’ll bring the supplies out and you can settle down at one of the tables.” She rushes off and Taehyung shrugs off his cardigan, placing it on the seat next to him.

“Why cake decorating?” You ask him, taking a seat directly across from him.

“Why not?”

“This inspires you?” You mumble, looking at the woman who rushes around while whispering to herself frantically.

“There’s more ways to be inspired than just seeing something Y/n.” Taehyung says softly and you holt a little. It’s been so long since he’s last called you by your name. You hate it.

“Why Y/n?” You ask and Taehyung furrows his brows.

“I don’t know why your parents named you that.”

“No, not that. Why not love?” You ask and Taehyung blushes a little.

“Namjoon said I shouldn’t call you love anymore because you might not be comfortable with it if you have a boyfriend or something.”

“Don’t listen to Namjoon anymore.” You tell him, thankful that your conversation is cut short by the woman returning. You miss the way Taehyung smirks.

The woman goes through a quick demo of all the tools and techniques before disappearing into the back mumbling something about a wedding cake. You almost want to make her a cup of tea or something to ease her stress. She’s clearly very busy. Taehyung and you fall into an easy silence as you draw on the cakes with your colored icing. You’ve stuck to a more cool palette of blues and greens meanwhile Taehyung is making every color under the sun. Streaks of pink mix with a deep blue, intercepted by a streak of fluorescent yellow. “Taehyung what are you making?” You laugh, moving to stand up and get a better look.

“A masterpiece.” He says distractedly, not lifting up his head from the cake. He seems to be having a lot more fun with his than you are so you decide to borrow from his technique and start smearing the colors around to look like streaks of paint. Though you can’t bring yourself to stray from the color palette you’ve created in fear of making brown. By the time you’re done and add a yellow dotted circle around the top your cake looks completely different. Gone are the semi-descent flowers, in their place are swirls that rival Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Well, not really but hey you can pretend.

Taehyung finishes not long after you and turns to show you his piece excitedly. An abstract face seems so come out of the icing, its strong nose centered between two blue eyes. “That’s cool Tae.” You fight the urge to swipe a dollop of frosting from it and plop it into your mouth.

“Lemme see yours!” Turning your own cake towards him, you watch almost anxiously as he takes in your work. “Pretty.” He says affirmatively. “Lowkey wanna just take a bite out of it.” He tells you making you giggle.

“Do it.” Whipping out your camera, you catch a picture of him just as he takes a large chunk out of the cake and fold in on yourself in laughter.

“You do it too!” He says though a mouthful of cake and you shake your head.

“I don’t want to ruin it.” You whine and he rolls your eyes, coming to stand next to you with his own cake in hand.

“Then take a bite out of mine.” Blushing you take a tentative bite out of his cake, heart thumping against your chest from the fear of him smashing it in your face and also from you taking a bite of something Taehyung’s lips have touched. Why do you sound like a middle schooler with their first crush? Maybe you should write a story about puppy love if you’re getting so worked up about an inadvertent kiss. You make the mistake of looking up at Taehyung as you take a bite and almost choke at the intense look in his eyes. Their normal milk chocolate hue is now dark and you quickly turn away, wiping some of the icing on the corner of your mouth and cheek. Like in a trance Taehyung reaches a hand out and swipes the frosting with his thumb before sucking it off with his tongue. Nope, this is much too R-rated for a puppy love story especially with the way he’s looking like he wants to devour you.

You can’t get the look in Taehyung’s eyes out of your head when you leave the shop even though he has gone back to normal. Nothing about Taehyung is sultry anymore. You can’t help but wonder if you perhaps imagined it in the first place. It was so out of character for Taehyung, maybe you were only seeing what you wanted. Because if you were being honest, nothing sounds better than knowing Taehyung wanted you. That this man who seemed more like a god than a human picked you out of all the people. Someone so quiet and boring, who liked to spend their days sat in front of a computer and making stories out of their head. That someone so bright and lively like Taehyung, enriched with the colors of life, would find you and your monochrome world enrapturing.

“Where to now Tae?” You ask, readjusting the bag that holds your cakes in your hand. Taehyung notices your discomfort and takes the bag from you.

“I wanted to go take some pictures.”

“Let’s drop the cake off back at the dorms though. It’ll get gross if we carry it outside all day.”

You and Taehyung walk hand in hand back to the dorms, stopping by Jimin and Namjoon’s rooms on the way. Knocking on Jimin’s door, you’re greeted by the sight of a sleepy Jimin, his hair tousled and his eyes slowly blinking as he rubs the sleep away. “Yeah?” He croaks, voice raspy.

“Just wanted to see what you guys were up to. Plus we have cake!” You say which immediately makes Jimin perk up.

“Cake?” He says excitedly, salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs. You chuckle and rub his hair.

“Yes puppy. You want some?” He nods, running across the hall to wake up Namjoon who was apparently also still asleep.

“You guys do know it’s like one pm right? What were you guys doing last night?” Taehyung asks as you look around for any cutlery and plates in Jimin’s room.

“We were playing Overwatch with our friend Jungkook from back home. He wouldn’t let us go to sleep until we won.” Namjoon says, stifling a yawn.

“Wow you guys must suck then.” You snicker, earning a half-hearted middle finger from Jimin. “Puppy do you have any like forks and plates?”

“I have chopsticks?” Jimin pulls four sets of chopsticks from seemingly out of nowhere.

“Did you pull chopsticks out your ass or something? Where did they come from?” Taehyung asks.

“If they were from his ass they’d be broken.” Namjoon laughs, taking a pair from Jimin’s hand, sanding the chopsticks quickly before taking a chunk out of your cake.

“Do-do I want to know?” You ask and Namjoon shrugs.

“No, probably not.” Jimin unsheathes his before taking a bite for himself and moaning at the sugary goodness.

“I wish I could live off cake.”

“Why aren’t you eating my cake?” Taehyung whines at Namjoon and Jimin who are crowded around yours.

“Scientific fact that what looks better, tastes better.” Jimin shrugs, moving to take another large bite.

“It’s alright Tae, I’ll eat your cake.” Taking a rather large bite you grin at him, earning yourself a large grin back. “Want some?” You ask, holding out a piece of cake between your chopsticks. You swear you see the same look as before flicker in Taehyung’s eyes as he wraps his lips around the chopsticks but you turn away quickly with a blush to avoid your mind going elsewhere. Taehyung only sees you as a friend and you’ll have to accept that.

The sun has dipped behind the horizon when you and Taehyung finally make it back outside after a ‘family’ dinner with Jimin and Namjoon. Both you and Taehyung have bright smiles painted on your faces, eyes bright and sparkling from Jimin’s secret Apple Ale stash. You tuck your arm into the crook of Taehyung’s as you both carry on down the street, admiring the London sky as you pretend the street lamps are stars. You look over at Taehyung in his big hoodie and black beanie, swaying slightly as you loose your focus to his beauty. Painted in the soft yellow lights, Taehyung looks like an angel sent down from heaven. Your own guardian angel sent down from above to watch over you and show you all the good in the world. You wonder if perhaps a cynical main character and their doting guardian angel would be worth writing. If you could write about Taehyung maybe they would be. You laugh to yourself, watching as Taehyung bends down to call a nearby pigeon. Maybe you should just write a biography about Taehyung since you’re so smitten. Your breath hitches, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by your feelings for a boy you’ve only known a week and you take a few steps back like separating yourself from him will distance you from your feelings. It’s useless because even as he has his back turned to you, you can’t find anything more beautiful than the boy in front of you in this entire city. Damn you and your hopeless romantic heart. It’s been a week and you’ve written nothing, wanting to spend every second basking in Taehyung’s attention. What kind of writer even are you?

Taehyung turns to you finally realizing you’re not beside him with his eyebrows drawn together in concern. When he notices your glassy eyes he immediately cups your face in his large hands. You try and shake them off as your chest shakes but he simply shushes you, placing sloppy kisses on your forehead as a way to soothe you. “What’s wrong love?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” You murmur, looking up at the sky as a way to avoid his imploring eyes.

“Nothing you feel is stupid. Talk to me.”

“I-I just…” You take a moment to collect your thoughts and find your voice. “why am I here? I haven’t written anything this whole week, none of my ideas are good enough. Namjoon’s already almost done with his first song on his mixtape, Jimin’s finished two paintings for his collection. You’ve already found inspiration and what do I have? I have an empty word document on my laptop that’ll probably never be filled.” Taehyung is silent after your speech, his eyes searching for something in yours but you’re not sure what.

“What inspires you?” He asks suddenly and you push his hands away.

“Taehyung were you listening? I have none.”

“No, not what inspires you to write but you as a person. As y/n. What’s your motivation?” He pushes, grabbing your hands back to hold between his own.

“I don’t know. I guess I don’t really have any motivation. I just do it because I like it.”

He takes a step closer and lets go of your hand to put it on your cheek instead. “No motivation huh?” He asks and you hold your breath. It almost seems like he’s going to kiss you and you can’t help but look down at his pink lips, looking soft and pretty. Almost like they’re waiting for you to kiss them. They curve into a smirk and you look back into Taehyung’s eyes to see the same look from earlier flickering in them. “I bet I could find you some.” He chuckles before pressing his lips onto your own. Although you suspected kissing you was his intention you can’t help but freeze for a second before it finally clicks and you melt into his arms, throwing your arms around his neck while his own settle on your waist to pull you closer. When you part your breathing is labored and his lips are slightly swollen, making you press a quick peck to them in pride that you’re the one who made them that way.

“Did you like it?” He asks wryly and you nod your head. “That means you’re gonna do it again right?” You can’t help the giggle tumbling out of your throat as you bury your head in Taehyung’s sweatshirt.

“Yes dufus, I’m gonna do it again.” You reach up to press a soft kiss to his lips but he pulls back making you frown.

“Does this mean I get to be your boyfriend?” He grins cheekily and you blush.

“If you want to be.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t want to be love.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to your nose in lieu of booping it with his finger. “But kisses are for motivation only. If you can’t find motivation for yourself, I’ll be yours.” He grins and you pull him closer for a hug.

“Thanks Tae.”

“Anytime love.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head. “Now come on, I’ve got an empty SD card waiting to be filled and a whole night to get you inspired.” He pulls away and you whine at the loss of his warmth, crawling into his side so he throws his arm around your waist as you walk.

“Where to?” You ask, free hand clutching onto a hot chocolate to fight the cold in the air.

“I got a place in mind.”

Taehyung walks with you along the Thames River, humming happily as he snaps pictures of the moonlight reflecting on the water. You stand quietly beside him as he stops to take pictures of bright red buses and telephone booths. You even run past the camera as it takes a time lapse, becoming lost in the sea of people it captures. “So what’re you gonna do with the photos?” You ask Taehyung, swinging your hands together.

“When we get back to the dorm, I’ll upload them to my computer and overlap them on photoshop. The time lapse one is gonna take a while but I think the end result will be really cool.” Taehyung stops suddenly, eyes wide with excitement and you look around you curious as to what caught his attention mid-sentence.

“Love, we need to go on that carousel.” He doesn’t wait for your reply, hastily dragging you towards the brightly colored ride that plays a soft classical tune as it rotates.

“Tae aren’t we too old for this?”

“Age is just a number love. Who’s to say we’re too young or too old to enjoy things anyways? Besides maybe this could inspire you.”

“I’m trusting you.” You tell him, trying not to focus on the weird looks people are giving you as Taehyung clambers onto the ride and sits on a tiger. He pats the horse next to him happily. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” You tell him and he only laughs.

“Say ‘Tae is the best boyfriend ever’.” He giggles, pointing the camera in your direction. You roll your eyes but say it nonetheless, grinning at his happy smile. He turns around then, pointing the camera out towards the city, getting lost amidst trying to capture the perfect shot. You wiggle your phone out of your pocket and take a secret photo of your own: your large boyfriend sprawled across a plastic tiger meant for a child with a camera pressed firmly to his face and the tip of his tongue pinned between the corner of his lips in concentration. You smile softly at the photo before saving it as your lock screen and tucking the phone back into your pocket.

The ride finally comes to a stop and Taehyung helps you down from your horse, arms wrapped tightly around you in a back hug as you walk back onto the streets, his camera slung lazily over his shoulder. “Did you have fun?” He asks and you nod, leaning your head back into him.

“Yeah.”

“Any inspiration?”

“Unless you want me to write about a killer clown then no.”

“I take you on a cute date and all you get from it is a killer clown. That hurts love.” Taehyung fake pouts when you turn around to face him and you press a soft kiss to his lips to pacify him. He grins immediately, chasing after your lips again.

A slightly heated makeout session later that resulted in a stranger yelling ‘get some!’ at the two of you leads you both on your way back to the dorm, heart warm but hands very very cold. You squeeze onto Taehyung’s hand harder as your other clutches the pocket of your jacket and Taehyung turns his head at you. “What’s wrong?”

“My hand’s cold.”

“Your hand is always cold.” He says, cutting you off to continue speaking when you open your mouth. “I know, I know. Poor circulation.”

“If I were Jimin I’d flip you off right now.” You say causing him to laugh heartily before slipping your conjoined hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“There. Better?” He asks and you hold back a blush, turning your head away and pretending to focus on a nearby building instead.

When you finally make it to the dorms you’re blinking slowly, eyes heavy as you sway slightly in exhaustion. Taehyung still has your hand and his in his pocket and he’s reluctant to let go even though you can see the tiredness reflected in his own eyes. “We should go to bed. We have class in the morning.”

“We should.” Taehyung says and you both just stare at each other for a minute before he finally relents and gives your hand a final squeeze. “I miss you already.” He whines as you bring your hand back to your side.

“You’ll see me in the morning.” You smile softy.

“I know but that’s so far away.” You lean up to place a soft kiss onto his lips, a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Goodnight Taehyung.”

“Goodnight love.” He smiles watching as you enter you dorm and close the door.

The next morning Taehyung arrives at your dorm bright and early, a smile plastered on his face and two coffees in his hand. “One coffee for my wonderful girlfriend.”

“Tae you didn’t have to.” You say softly, pecking his soft cheek gratefully.

“I know but as your boyfriend it’s my job to spoil you. Besides, maybe in your story you can write about a handsome boyfriend who brings his girlfriend coffee every morning.” He winks, taking your hand in his own as he leads you downstairs into the main hall to wait for Jimin and Namjoon.

“Are you asking to be one my characters Kim Taehyung?”

“I do think I’m quite main character worthy.” He grins and you laugh, shoving his shoulder slightly.

“If anyone deserves to be a character it’s me.” Jimin announces, doing a slow spin for you to take in his outfit.

“A talented artist and model, traveling the city of Paris alone in a quest to find inspiration.”

Namjoon coughs loudly muttering ‘amateur’ under his breath.

“Did I ask?” Jimin says to Namjoon, scowling at the older boy. “But really have you seen me? If I wasn’t the reincarnation of Van Gogh, you’d see me strutting down the Paris runway and making it my bitch. I mean look at this ass, it was meant for fame.”

“Okay Kim K, no need to be defensive. But I think a much better story would be about a boy struggling to find himself, trying to use others to define who he is as a person until realizing that his character is who defines him, not materialistic things or other people.”

“How dare you make fun of me for wanting to be a character and then suggesting yourself as one. You’re many things Kim Namjoon, but I never took you for a hypocrite.” Jimin sniffles loudly, looking up into the lights above to try and bring tears to his eyes.

“With all that fake crying maybe you should be a YouTuber instead.” Namjoon says, causing you all to break out into a fit of giggles. Jimin flops dramatically onto the ground, clutching his heart while rolling along the floor.

“Betrayed by my own best friend!” He yells as he writhes.

“You done?” Namjoon asks, utterly unimpressed with Jimin’s antics.

“Hang on, one more minute.” Jimin says before letting out a loud groan and rolling around some more. Jimin finally picks himself up off the floor and makes grabby hands at your coffee. “Please, I’m exhausted from all that work.”

“You just rolled around on the floor.” Namjoon says and Jimin flips him off.

“Do you hear something guys? It’s almost like the ghost of Namjoon is speaking to me.”

“You can’t say I’m dead to you and then respond to what I’m saying.”

“Sometimes I still hear his voice…” Jimin drowns on. “But seriously I do need some coffee.”

“Here you can have some of mine.” Taehyung says, pushing his cup into Jimin’s hand when he reaches for yours instead.

“Oh okay.” Jimin’s gaze flicks between the two of you. “Why’re you being weird about sharing stuff now?”

“I’m not! Just another guy drinking out of my girlfriend’s drink seems…weird.”

“I already knew you two were dating dumbass.” Jimin rolls his eyes, taking a large slurp from Taehyung’s cup before slinging an arm around the taller’s shoulder. “But if it makes you uncomfortable I’ll leach off you now.”

Friday night Jimin whisks you away from a whining Taehyung, claiming you both need some separation as he drags you to his own room and locks the door. “Is there a reason you’re holding me hostage from my boyfriend?” You tease, flopping down onto Jimin’s bed.

“I have tea and Namjoon doesn’t give me the reactions I want.”

“Ouch, you only want me for my dramatics.” You gripe. Jimin rolls his eyes at you before pushing you over on the bed so he can sit down next to you.

“Don’t act like you don’t play favorites.” Jimin says, causing you to sit up and almost knock into his shoulder with your own.

“How dare you!” You gasp and Jimin snickers.

“Oh Tae, let’s go eat. Tae I’m cold, come hug me. Taehyung I’m bored let’s makeout.” Jimin drawls on, making you slap his shoulder.

“I’ve never said that.”

“Maybe not to me, no.” Jimin waggles his eyebrows.

“You’re the worst.”

“I think you mean best.” He corrects and you flip him off.

“Aww look at you, you’re taking after me! I feel so honored to be your biggest influence.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re an influence at all.”

“Every time you try to be mean to me, it’s like a puppy trying to growl. You’re just so cute it’s not scary at all.” Jimin chides, pinching your cheeks between his fingers. You slap them away annoyedly with a huff.

“So what was the tea?” You ask, trying to change the topic of conversation.

“Oh right! Wait a sec, I need to make popcorn.” Jimin hastily gets up and throws a bag in the microwave, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor while he waits for the two minutes for it to pop. When the timer finishes Jimin immediately takes the bag and throws it at you disregarding you juggling the hot bag.

“Okay so the tea is your boyfriend is a rat and ate all my cookies.” You blink a few times at Jimin to fully process his words.

“I’m sorry what?”

“And as his supervisor, the debt now falls onto you. I request two packs of oreo cookies mega stuffed because we all know the cream is the best part. Thank you for coming to my ted talk, you may now rejoin your boyfriend who’s currently harassing me for stealing away your attention.” Jimin concludes, clapping his hands together before ushering you out of his room while his phone buzzes continuously in the corner.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’m about to watch the titanic and cry my eyes out before bed to clear my body of toxins. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Jimin waves before closing the door.

When you arrive back downstairs, Taehyung immediately pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on your head. “What was that about?” Taehyung asks as he maneuvers you to lay on his bed so he can cuddle you.

“Apparently you owe Jimin two packs of oreos?”

“I literally ate like two cookies.” Taehyung groans, tucking his face into your neck.

“Well Persephone, looks like you have a debt to pay.”

Part 2 coming soon!

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