#he is a book store owner!! he collects little trinkets!!

[helenofblackthorns]

just remembered the stupid tv show made luke a cop 3783 injured 279 dead

[reallyromealone]

Rome you know I'm gonna need a part 2 to that zoro x reader x sanji right cause I can't let that slide😊

Title: goodbye love

Fandom: one piece

Characters: Zoro, Sanji

Fic type: angst

Pairings: Zoro x sanji

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, angst, aggressive conversation, sad reader

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(name) hummed as he stocked bread in a small bakery, it had been five months since he left and he felt lighter and happier since the breakup. He was far from the island they docked from, getting a job easily at a bakery in a small coastal town.

Occasionally he wondered how his now ex boyfriends were, how they reacted to the letter... Were they sad? Angry? Did they even care? (Name) Didn't know and slowly stopped caring. He was starting fresh, leaving the pirate life to have something more domestic and stable though getting used to land was a bit tough.

"(Name), you work too much, go home early" the elderly bakery owner said softly, her cane tapping against the old wood with each step "are you sure? I don't mind being here" (name) asked her, (bakery owner) chuckled as she led him out "the rush is over, not many people will come today"

"Alright, but just get one of the kids to get me if it gets busy"

"Yes yes, now go!"

(Name) Chuckled as he was kicked out of the store, she was old but strong.

'with this extra time, might as well grab some stuff from the market' he thought as he went back to his place to grab some bags and coin, the walk calm and the gulls squawked as they flew overhead, the town was on the side of a huge hill, winding and full of turns, small but popular. It was perfect.

His apartment was small, he was surprised to have a one bedroom, a fireplace for cooking and even a bit of space for seating. His bed was the most expensive thing he owned, he saw it at the market and immediately got it. It was a futon, comfiest thing he ever slept on and he even got pillows. It was pricy but thankfully he had a fair amount of coin from his previous employment.

He only slept on wood or a hammock.

It was a nice adjustment.

The market was the biggest thing beside the town square, many vendors and travellers in and out selling everything and anything one could need.

(Name) Loved getting fruits from other places, one a trip as a treat for himself, today he got something called an apple, typically he's used to mango and jackfruit on this island so it was a nice change.

(Name) Made a few purchases, important house things and a few little trinkets for himself.

A book from a far away land.

An apple.

Some sewing needles and thread as he wished to learn to sew better.

And finally, a little music box.

It was nothing fancy but the sound it played reminded him of childhood, his mother would hum a tune quite similar to it.

What he didn't expect to see was a familiar boat.

"Shit" (name) immediately rushed home, he wasn't ready to face anything at the moment and definitely not with how he left.

(Name) Was shaking as he got inside, glancing out the window of his apartment to see if they are close to his home, irrational be knew but he had to check. Thankfully the street just had a few passersby and no strawhats. He would have to avoid anywhere that sold alcohol for a while, most restaurants and thankfully he was off for the next few days so he didn't have to go to the bakery. (Name) Looked at his collection of books and the sewing supplies and sighed happily.

Guess he has to stay inside and do the things he enjoy.

What a shame.

(Name) Spent the day doing his hobbies as a tiny radio played music in the corner, thankfully this small town had a radio station so he could enjoy some sound.

Knock knock knock.

(Name) Was engrossed in his quilt as he looked up curiously, setting his project down to go down to answer the door, a staircase down to the front door "hello (name), I thought you would enjoy some bread" his boss said kindly and handed him a basket of breads and a few muffins "ah thanks boss, that's real kind of you" the two made small talk casually, the elderly woman happy he's starting a new project "I have some sewing supplies at my home, I'm to old to use them but you can have them" the woman ushered him to follow and (name) realized he would have to leave his house.

Shit.

Silently begrudgingly he followed her, the woman excited to have someone take the supplies.

Then he smelt it half way to the bakery, cigarettes and fresh made food.

"(Name)?" He didn't turn around as his boss looked back curious, Sanji staring at his ex in awe.

(Name) Looked different.

Glowing, lighter and most of all; happier.

(Name) Turned to see his ex and sighed "hello Sanji" this is why he didn't want to go outside, his ex boyfriend looking hurt at the lack of sweet names for him, stopping closer he saw the uncomfortable expression wash over him "Luffy is gone to go get some food, have you.... (Name)" Zoro halted, staring at (name) like salvation.

(Name) Was startled at how awful the two looked, like they barely slept and sanji looked almost dead inside "can we talk?" His voice gravelly with exhaustion and (name) looked to his boss who smiled "we can talk later, you do what you need to do"

And that's how (name) ended up with the two in his apartment "So what do you guys want" (name) said less of a question and more of a demand, clearly uncomfortable "seems you settled down nice" Zoro commented as he looked at the homey space "I have" (name) stared at them unimpressed "why did you leave?" Sanji finally spoke up and the room grew more tense.

"I couldn't stay any longer, not with you two"

"Why?!" Zoro snapped and (name) had enough "because you two didn't care!" (Name) Fired back angrily "you two acted like I didn't exist! Flirting with women and ignoring me to do anything else! Who in their right mind WOULD WANT THAT! DID YOU EVEN LOVE ME?!"

It was silent as (name) heaved out a dog "I gave you two everything! And I get cheating and neglect!"

The two pirates barely had time to react as (name) lost his shit on them "why didn't you love me?" (Name) Finally asked, shaking and angry "why was it never me? You two showed more love to women and fucking swords than me!"

"I-im sorry..." Sanji whispered and (name) looked him in the eye "then why did you look at Nami in a way that you could never look at me?"

Zoro fidgeted, knowing he was next and in a rare moment... He was nervous.

"And why was I not worth spending time with?" There it was "you come here demanding to speak with me yet the time we dated you couldn't even be bothered to do the most basic of things with me"

"(Name)--"" I think you two should leave" (name) finally said "I have no interest in this conversation anymore... Goodbye "

"(Name) Come on-"" leave now, I'm begging you"

The two sorrowfully walk down the stairs, unable to get a word in as the door slammed behind them.

And at that moment they truly realized.

They lost (name).

[solitablvd]

Read My Mind

**Minors DNI**

chapter one

Read chapter two

Masterlist

Pairing: Demon!Javier Escuella x Female Reader

Summary: You’ve always been one who was lost in delusions of love and captivated by romance novels. One day, while exploring an antique store, you stumble upon a mysterious locket. Little do you know, this locket comes with a twist.

Warnings: NSFW, pure smut tbh, unprotected p in v, v fingering, more tags to come, female reader, brat Javier Escuella

Word Count: 2.3k

AO3 Link

chapter one:

As they cherished their final kiss, Jane knew that this boundless love they shared defied all limits. It was an eternal love that deserved to be honored in every way. As they walked down the aisle together, hand in hand, Jane felt her heart soar. In that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the setting sun and the promises of forever, she knew that they were entering an endless journey where their love would continue to flourish. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, united in a heavenly love. The End. 

You closed the book shut and held it close to your chest in cherishment. You were always a sucker for a happy ending. You let out a warm sigh, holding your knees close to your chest as you looked out the window of your home. Your private library window held the view of the town below. 

Saint Denis was beautiful this time of year. The city was full of life. Every person carried their own story. You watched as the people passed by, unbeknownst to your watchful eyes. You watched as a couple entered the nearby theater, seemingly on a date. This time you let out more of a wishful sigh as you thought about how that could one day be you. 

As you were approaching the age of marriage, it seemed that ideas of love and romance followed you everywhere. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t dream of them every night. You wanted to cherish and be cherished. You weren’t sure what love felt like, but you imagined it felt like time standing completely still. 

“Are you done lounging around?” A voice broke your daze.

It was your father, who stood at the doorway of the home’s library. Complaining, he continued, “You always have your head in the clouds and your nose in a book. Be a dear and go pick up the groceries for today, please.” 

“Of course.” You nodded dutifully, rising from your window seat and carefully placing your book back on the shelf. 

You bid your father a kind goodbye, made your way down the flight of stairs, and journeyed out into the city streets. The general store was not too far from your home, and luckily the shop owner was familiar with you. As you entered, he knew exactly what you needed for your father: a collection of different foods and items.

While he gathered everything you needed, you looked across the street through the glass pane window. 

The antique shop was always intriguing to you. You had only been inside once, to search through the collection of early printed books they had. Still, it held a fascinating factor as it was filled with trinkets that carried their own narratives. 

“I’ll be right back, sir.” You notified the shopkeeper, exiting the store and crossing the street to the antique shop.

The wooden floor creaked under you as you entered, feeling very different from the luxurious spaces you were accustomed to. Still, you continued, giving a kind greeting to the older man at the register. The walls were draped with framed prints of different landscapes, some that you could recognize as the Heartlands, but a few others that were from parts of the country unfamiliar to you. 

The shelves were filled with all sorts of curiosities and trinkets. One shelf was full of early printed books that looked delicate to the touch. Another was full of only different, elegant candlesticks. The air felt thick with the smell of aged paper and wood. As you looked around the shelves you felt fascinated by the beautiful porcelain figurines, their soft skin feeling cold to the touch. 

As you looked through the trinkets, your eyes became drawn to a small black box. The object piqued your curiosity. You lifted the item, opening it with care. The inside of the case was lined with a deep red velvet fabric on the inside that you would’ve been captivated by had your eyes not locked on to a necklace the case had been holding. 

The chain was golden and detailed intricately. But what you were most drawn to was the golden locket that was adorned with an engraving of a flaming heart, an interesting design choice for a locket that was both elegant and striking. You opened the locket, expecting to find an aged photo of the previous owner. Instead, the locket protected a clouded garnet stone. Your thumb brushed over the smooth stone; it was remarkable. 

Having made your decision, you closed the case and carried it to the register. 

After purchasing the necklace, you went to pick up your groceries then headed back to your home. You couldn’t hold back from temptation once you arrived at your home, rushing to the washroom to try on your newest piece of jewelry. The necklace was surprisingly heavy as you lifted it up to your neck, watching yourself in the mirror as you clasped the ends. The length was perfect, allowing the detailed locket to lay on your chest divinely. 

The rest of the evening passed as it did everyday. You ate dinner with your father, then read some more before finally preparing yourself for bed. 

Your thin white chemise rested loosely on your shoulders as you sunk to your knees and leaned forward on your bed, folding your hands neatly to pray before bed. As you whispered your prayer, a strong gust of wind pushed your window open. You jumped slightly, doing the sign of the cross before getting up to close the window. The city below was still bustling with people. 

Slipping under your white bed sheets, you leaned over and blew out the candle in your room. The only light in your room was now only the pale moonlight shining through your window. You could hear the rustling of trees outside, along with the sounds of the city that had grown comforting to you. With a deep sigh, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep. 

In the depth of the night, a voice whispered, smokey and intimate. “Wow.” 

You stirred, your eyebrows furrowing as you were unsure if the voice was part of your dream or reality. 

The same voice let out a deep, low chuckle. It sounded so distant, yet so close. The sound sent shivers down your spine, forcing you awake. You sat up quickly, blinking furiously as your eyes attempted to adjust to the dark room. 

On the couch near your window sat a dark figure. You could barely make out its silhouette in the darkness of your room. The figure became clearer with a snap of his fingers; fire sparked from the tip of his thumb as he brought it up to the cigarette hanging from his lips. The small flame allowed you to see more of him, his hair framing his carved features. He appeared elegant yet sinister. He paused slightly before lighting the cigarette. 

“You don’t mind if I smoke in here, do you?” He spoke again. The flame reflected in his dark, piercing eyes. You remained frozen in silence, feeling disoriented by the odd encounter. He looked at you expectantly, shrugging when you continued to give no response and lighting his cigarette anyway. He took a slow drag as he continued to connect his gaze with yours. 

“Who are you?” You asked wearily. 

“I can be whoever you want me to be.” He replied calmly, taking another drag from his cigarette and looking up at the ceiling. You stared at him further, still seated in your spot in your bed, not daring to move. 

Finally, he flicked the cigarette onto your carpeted floor. Your mouth opened to protest, but as he stepped on the cigarette it seemed to completely disappear from existence, leaving you both in complete darkness once again. 

“You’ve been longing for someone.” He spoke in an alluring tone, walking closer to your bedside. Your heart rate quickened as the distance between the two of you dwindled until he was standing right beside you. Getting a better look at him, you could see that he was wearing all black, with the tips of his boots providing the only pop of color in the form of a reflective gold. 

His hand reached out to grasp your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. His touch was surprisingly warm as if he was radiating his own heat. You gulped as you allowed his hand to guide your gaze, looking up to meet his. He looked at your features carefully, seemingly examining you. 

“Untouched paradise,” He muttered almost inaudibly. 

As he held your chin you could not deny the attraction you felt to the mysterious man. He had a hauntingly alluring energy, completely drawing you in. You felt a newfound sensation of want growing within you. He smirked at you slightly, making your eyes flicker down to his lips. 

He moved his thumb to now rest against your bottom lip, brushing it lightly before delicately pulling your lip down. Your breathing hitched as his thumb slowly entered your mouth. You opened your mouth ever so slightly to let him in. His other hand made its way to snake around your neck, not putting any pressure, but holding you in place as he moved his thumb slowly in and out your mouth. You allowed your lips to tighten around him, sucking slightly. 

“There you go,” He whispered deeply, focusing his gaze on your lips as they continued to move around his thumb.

He took a deep breath, moving his hand to run through your hair, “Lay back.” 

You did as he said: laying back slowly and keeping your eyes on him. You felt a strong tension growing. Your head hit your pillow and you looked up to the ceiling with a heavy breath. The bed shifted slightly with his weight as he sat beside you. 

You gasped lightly as you felt his hand trail up your thigh, reaching for your undergarments. He pinched the hem with his fingers and slid them down your body. The pulsing sensation was new to you, and was driving you to the point of desperation. 

His hand caressed your waist as the other pushed your raised knees apart. He used his fingers to tease you slightly, rubbing you in small circles. His touch made you tense slightly as you had never experienced anything like this before. 

“Relax.” He whispered encouragingly. You nodded, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. He collected your slick on his finger before slowly inserting it into you. You let out another gasp as he curled his finger in you, working his finger to slowly massage you. 

As he slowly inserted another finger into you, you let out a louder gasp, clenching around him while he began to move his fingers at a curated pace. His fingers stretched you slowly. Your hands gripped on the pillow underneath your head, letting the moans leave your mouth as you bucked your hips against his touch. 

He chuckled lowly as he slipped his fingers out of you, seemingly enjoying your growing desperation. He brought them up to his mouth to taste you. You watched as he seductively sucked your slick off his fingers, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so. When he was finished, he gave you a quick wink before shifting to get in between your legs. 

He placed his hands on either side of you, keeping himself lifted above you. You hadn’t even noticed that his clothes had now vanished completely, leaving him undone on top of you. He pushed your chemise up past your raised knees. 

You let your hands rest on his toned biceps, biting back your moan as he slowly pushed himself into you. He was a lot bigger than his fingers. You gripped him tightly and winced slightly as he finally fit all of himself into you. 

“You okay?” He asked. Through your tremble, you nodded at him. 

He remained still for a moment, seemingly letting you get comfortable with the new sensation before he began to move at an achingly slow pace. You couldn’t hold back the small gasps that escaped your lips with every slow thrust of his hips. His grip on your bed sheets tightened as he began to move a little quicker, keeping his gaze low as you squirmed below him with pleasure. 

The pooling in your lower stomach began to grow as your moans became incoherent, your fingernails digging into his arms desperately. He groaned above you, still keeping his gaze low as you threw your head back and moaned in pleasure. 

Your back arched as you came undone beneath him with a twitch. His thrusts became overwhelmingly quick as you continued to tremble below him, your hands traveling up to wrap around his neck. You felt him tense inside of you with a deep groan. He pulled out of you quickly, coming on your lower abdomen. He breathed heavily above you, his head hanging low. 

Your breathing matched his; your eyes traveling up to his as his gaze finally met yours. Your eyes connected only for a moment before he pushed himself off of you, standing up beside your bed as you continued to lay there breathlessly. With a snap of his fingers his clothes had completely reappeared, and with another snap, the mess on your stomach was completely gone. 

“Well,” He began, adjusting his collar, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“What?” You questioned. 

He took another cigarette out of thin air, lighting it with his thumb, “You’ll see. Get some rest.” 

He began to walk off towards your window. Your eyelids grew heavy, you tried to fight back the sleep to see where he would go, but you felt the wave of sleep takeover you and within seconds you had fallen into a deep slumber. 

[ants-personal]

season 2 idea of crystal who now has access to money again makes edwin come with her out somewhere she wont specify even gping as far as to say she needs to talk to him privately which edwin doesnt see the need and after annoying edwin into going turns out she needs his help buying charles a new cricket bat the sword is nice cool even but they've both heard him mention how much he does miss it

so crystal has them go to all kinds of sporting stores but edwin doesnt agree to any of them to the point crystal thinks hes just being an ass but none of these newer bats fir charles yes they are flashly like him but the designs with logos and people they dont know wont work not matter how high quality it claims or price so crystal asks edwin where they should be looking then

and thats how they end up at some old vinrage antique shop thats in a building that is falling apart ran by an sweet older couple trinkets and items lining shelves and the floor theres no order as crystal tries to ask the owners if they have a bat or if they know someone edwin bwgins exploring and notes to look into magically expanding the office to make a room to show off their own collection in a much cleaner organized fashion of course

crystal finds him as hes looking at a tin toy that he cant remember owning personally but can tell it is from his own time slightly annoyed shes ready to go having looked at the other aisles herself and so edwin agrees placing the toy back on the shelf triggering a different item and causing it to knock a sack off the side shelf landing right in front of them and thats when the see it halfway sticking out a dark wood cricket bat it has three red rings around the handle and edwin slowly pulls it out turning it over before handing it to crystal thats the one its perfect

They make their way back strangely the couple do not charge crystal and hope whoever its for likes it outside the office edwin suddenly turns and tells her to go home with the bat and wait for him theres no time to explain before disappearing how annoying but she does

and its at her house she finds edwin with a book full of symbols and charms bat layed across his lap as he meticulously draws these symbols that sink disappear to the wood enchantments to ensure it doesnt break again and also to give a little power boost if needed edwin drags his palm over it once done runes glowing red as energy sizzles from them before disappearing again

Edwin hands the bat back to crystal and in the nicest way he can thank her for getting it for charles and that hell love it but she should give it to him by herself whoch crystal doesnt understand why it cant be from both of them?? and edwin wont explain it just trust him says gathering his items before leaving

Its outside the office edwin watches the shadows of crystal and charles hug as charles thanks her over and over again for going out and even getting him a gift let alone such a badass bat he even pecks her cheek and edwin feels cold as charles comes back to inside crystal by the hand showing off his new bat to edwin who gives a small smile and agrees it is a very nice gift

[luckyknightly]

The Jesters Kiss

Dear Samantha, I am writing you because I believe I am currently being haunted. As I know you have a lot of experience with witchcraft and the occult, I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me. I pray you read this email soon, I don’t think I have much time left. I’m fact, I’m afraid it might already be too late for me. Let me stop prattling on and get to what happened, the events that led to me writing you. So I had recently gotten into collecting dolls. I couldn’t tell you what it is about their little porcelain faces that just brought a smile to my face, but I loved them. Every Friday when I got paid, I had a habit of checking out local shops to see if anything caught my attention.

This particular week, I was driving home after leaving one of my favorite shops, they didn’t have any new dolls in stock so, and it was a bit of a letdown. While driving home, I noticed a shop that I had never seen before. It had to have just opened, but it looked old and weathered. Like it had been there for ages, but that didn’t make any sense. This is a pretty small town and I’ve lived here my whole life. There was no way I wouldn’t have noticed this shop before. So, I decide to check it out. I wish I could say it was just curiosity, but it was more like the store was calling to me. It’s hard to explain but, I needed to go inside. A small neon light flashed in the dirty window. OPEN, it read. The wooden steps leading to the front door creaked under my feet. I feared that they would collapse in if I put too much weight on them. I reached the front door, old red paint peeling off the wooden door and a plaque was hammered into the door that read, 2nd circle antiques and trinkets.

Inside didn’t look much better. Run down and dusty. It put me in mind of that old Stephen king novel with needful things shop. There were plenty of old books and records. Old telephones and vintage clothes. But the only thing that caught my attention of the lone porcelain jester doll that sat on a book shelf. Something about it had me hypnotized. I walked towards it slowly as if in a trance. I hadn’t even really registered that I had stretched out my arm to reach for it until I heard a voice from behind me. Deep but with a hint of playful mischief to it. I turned to see a tall black man in a dark black suit. He had his sleeves rolled up to reveal and intricate tribal tattoo. It kind of reminded me of a snake in its design. When I made eye contact with him, the room seemed to get hotter. I felt my knees get weak. He gave me the usual spiel I get from most store owners, current deals in the store, asking if I was looking for anything in particular, so on and so on, but I was so distracted by how hot I was feeling. It felt as though the room was getting smaller, closing in on me. I barely managed to point at the doll on the book shelf and I watched his eyes light up with excitement. A collector’s item, he had said with a funny accent that I couldn’t quite place. Last one in stock, he explained as he took it from the shelf and handed it to me. My mind went hazy once I made contact with the doll. The rest of the time in the shop was a bit of a blur. I don’t even remember paying for it. Next thing I could recall, I was in my car, turning on to my street, the doll neatly sitting in the passenger’s seat. It was that night that the dreams began.

I told myself I’d find the perfect place for him in the morning. So for now the doll sat on the night stand next to my bed and I drifted off to sleep. That night, I fell into a deep sleep. You know how people say their dreams are incoherent and random? Well, not this dream. This dream felt more like a memory. I had woken up in bed and turned to look at my new doll, only to find that it was missing. The initial shock caused me to sit up in bed. I thought maybe it had simply fallen of the night stand, but when I checked the surrounding area, it was nowhere to be found. That’s when I noticed to shadowy figure in the corner. He took a step forward, bringing him out of the shadows and into the moon light that came from through the window. In the moon light, I got a good look at him. It was the doll, or rather, this full grown man was dressed exactly the same as the doll that I had bought earlier. My heart spasmed in my chest. My breathing was shallow, but I wasn’t scared at all. In fact, when I got a better look at his body, I felt…hot. He stood at least six feet. His face was hidden by the porcelain jester mask that he wore, but his bright yellow-gold eyes seemed to glow ever so slightly in the moon light. He wore no shirt, just those colorful tights. A black and yellow striped pattered up his legs. And I couldn’t help but notice his dick pressing against the fabric of his tights. He tilted his head and the smile that was painted on the mask appeared to widen. He said no words, but I understood clearly what he wanted. So, I stood, heart pounding in my chest. I knew what was about to happen and anticipation gripped me.

I’d gone to bed wearing my pajamas but as I stood, I found that I was only wearing a see through night gown. He tilted his head the other way. I gave a sheepish smile and I let my night gown fall to the floor. Fully nude I stood there as his eyes examined me. As if he was taking his time to memorize every detail of my body. Without saying a word, I was made to understand that he wanted me to walk over to him. I took one step forward. Then another. Slowly making my way over to him. I knew he wanted me to take my time, he didn’t want to rush anything. I understood that he’d been waiting a long time for a suitable mate, a new play thing. He had been trapped in his doll form for decades. I don’t know how I knew all this. I just had the information in my mind readily available. I knew one more thing as well. I knew he was going to make this an unforgettable experience. I stood in front of him, inches away. The slight cracks in his mask clearly visible this close up. His hand found its way around my neck. He gently applied pressure while pulling me close. My breath caught when I felt his other hand land on my bare ass. His touch was so tender, yet firm. So full of affection, but demanding of authority. His golden eyes never broke eye contact. Without muttering a single sound, he asked me to free him before pressing those cold porcelain lips against mine. The alarm blared on the night stand next to my bed. The sunlight lit the room blinding me for just a moment. Once my eyes adjusted, I turned off my alarm and saw that my new doll was the night stand, right where I had left him. Although, it did seem to be ever so slightly larger than it had been yesterday, but at the time I thought nothing of it. Maybe if I had been a bit more suspicious, I wouldn’t be in thesituation I’m in now.

It was two more days before the next dream. I remember it had been a particularly rough day. Rude clients at work, and series of headaches caused because Jan had misfiled some extremely important paperwork. All topped off by the ridiculous traffic getting home that night, I was ready to have a glass of wine and rewatch The Fresh Prince. I don’t remember when I dozed off, but when I awoke, my head was laying on his lap. My new doll was once again the size of fully grown man. I gasped in shock and stood up. That’s when became aware of my clothes, or lack thereof. White thigh high stockings are all I had covering my skin. I can only assume that the lack of shame or embarrassment was do to this unrelenting lust that consumed me. And truth be told, at the time, I still believed it to just be a dream. I had no idea what I was involved in. I should have tried to wake myself up, call for help, something. But looking back on it now, I’m sure by that point it was already too late. He tilted his head. His suggestion made me blush, but I dropped to my knees, just as he silently commanded. I looked up at him, and in his golden eyes, I saw his restraint. He wanted to ravish me, but he also wanted to savor the moment. He cupped my chin in his palm and gazed deeply into my eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

I took his cock into my mouth and felt him shutter. He didn’t moan or grunt, he remained completely silent, but the way his body would shake brought equal satisfaction as I bobbed my head back and forth. I worked the tip of my tongue around the head of his cock, tasting the precum that snuck out. His body’s reaction told me that he liked that. He grabbed the back of my head and began to fuck my face. Thrusting his hard dick down my throat over and over again. He was being so rough, but I was loving every single thrust. Muffled moans were only interrupted by me occasionally gagging. Tears streamed down my face. Saliva dripping down my chin as he used me. I felt him violently thrust his cock all the way down my throat. I couldn’t breathe but he held me there. My nose pressed against his skin, just below his naval. I felt his body convulse as he began emptying his balls down my throat. He slowly slid his long dick out of my mouth. My saliva dripping off of it. It was beautiful. I wanted it back in my mouth. I wanted him to use me more. God, please give me more. He leaned down until his bright gold eyes were level with my own brown eyes. His gaze never faltered when he said it. I felt butterflies in my stomach. “Thank you, Sir.” I said in response. He cupped my chin and pulled me in for a kiss. As soon his cold lips met mine, I was shocked back to consciousness by my alarm clock blaring some obnoxious tune, ruining my dream. I sat up in my bed, wiping the drool off of my face. That’s when I noticed the weird taste in my mouth. Was that semen? I looked over at my night stand. The jester doll lay lifeless next to the lamp. Thats when the realization hit me. I had fallen asleep on the couch last night, but I had woken up in bed. Seeing as how I’m not prone to sleep walking, I had no idea how I had gotten to the bed. That is when is when I became suspicious.

I sat in the car, feeling a mixture of shock and confusion. The shop where I had bought the doll was should have been right here. Instead, it was an empty dirt lot with a chain link fence blocking it off. There were no signs that there had ever been a shop here. It had simply vanished. The only proof it had been there at all was the porcelain doll in my passenger seat. On the barrier there was a large sign that was advertising some night club or something that was ‘COMING SOON!’ My heart sank, I came here hoping for some answers, but I clearly wouldn’t be getting any. I threw the doll in the trash as soon as I got home. I did my best to keep it out of my mind. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I had another dream. That seemed to work, until it didn’t. Four dreamless nights passed. I was beginning to feel like life was returning to normal. I had gotten home late that night. An old college friend of mine was in town on a business trip. We had spent a few hours at a jazz club I frequently visit. We killed time by drinking and catching up. I was thoroughly exhausted when I got home. After a quick shower, I got dressed in my pajamas and laid down for bed. Everything felt so normal. Just another day. I hadn’t even thought about the doll all day.

When my eyes opened, my heart dropped. I was not in my room. Instead, I was in a large ball room. The moon light illuminated the vast space and reflected off the large chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Decorating every inch of the walls were thousands of porcelain mask. More than I could possible count. All of them staring down at me, different facial expressions on their glossy white faces. I stood, letting the thin sheet fall off my naked body, and I walked over the large throne at the far end of the room, where he sat.

Irritation and annoyance radiated off of him in waves. His golden eye peered down at me, the glare of a disappointed parent. I couldn’t help but feel ashamed for my actions. My face burned with embarrassment. Shame made me want to divert my eyes. I couldn’t bear to look into his beautiful golden eyes. As was his way, he said nothing, but I still jumped at the anger in his question. “I…I’m sorry.” I replied. When I made it over to him, he bent me over his knee, my bare ass exposed. I felt the paddle rub against my skin. No sound escaped his face but his voice was so stern. That’s when I felt the first impact. SMACK!

My breath caught in my throat. The pain cut deep, to my very core. I barely had time to really register it before the next one came. SMACK! I yelped. My eyes began to water. My ass was sore already, but the punishment continued. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Five lashes, just as he had promised. Then he silently commanded that get on my knees before him. I was so sore. Tears fell down my cheek and I reached my hand up to wipe them away. He stopped me though, then used his own hand to wipe my tears away. This was not an act of love or concern. There was malice in his energy. The lashes were just the beginning. I was on my knees, the cold tile floor sent chills through my body. My hands were bound behind my back, clamps tightly squeezed my hard nipples, a ball gag was placed him my mouth. He sat on his throne in front of me, drinking in my discomfort. Enjoying my fear. With a wave of his hand, he manifested a vibrator that slid into my aroused pussy with ease, a butt plug that pushed its way into my ass, and a small vibrator that press against my clit. I tried to moan but the ball gag muffled my cries. My pussy clinched around the vibrator and mind went hazy, I felt the orgasm building up. Fuck. Fuck. FUUU-. SMACK! The impact shocked me out of my orgasm. He glared at me and shame washed over me. No, he hadn’t given me permission to cum. The ball gag in my mouth prevented me from responding clearly. I tried to apologize. Both for throwing away the doll and for cuming without his permission. I tried to beg him to let me cum, but he refused. Instead he let me body continue to get worked up, he allowed me to get right to the point of orgasm before he would strike my bare ass with his cane. Tears fell down my cheek from the pain, saliva dripped down my chin, my muffled cries echoed loudly in the large room. It was beautiful torment.

He stood in front of me and removed the ball gag from my mouth only to replace it with his hard cock. He was not gently when he shoved his cock all the way down my throat. Not even letting up when I began to gag. In fact, that only seemed to encourage him to fuck my throat more violently. He held the back of my head with his hands, keeping me in place as he viciously and repeatedly thrusted his cock down my throat. Saliva dripped down my chin on to my breasts and then on to the floor. I felt my pussy clinch as I fell deeper into the lust filled high, my eyes rolled back and I felt his body shutter. He forced his dick all the way down my throat and I felt it throbbing as he once again emptied his balls into my esophagus. Silently, he verbally degraded me as he continued to pump my throat full of cum, and I must admit, I loved it. Yes, I am a whore, I confessed. Yes, I am a slut, and yes, I love having my throat fucked and drinking your cum. I’m such a slutty bitch. Unable to hold back the tide any longer, I came harder than I had ever experienced in my life. My body convulsed as I fell to the floor. My pussy clinched around the vibrator, and that only added to my bliss. I lay on the ground, pussy dripping wet, body shaking uncontrollably, cum leaking from my mouth, my eyes rolled back and the orgasmic onslaught captivated my body. He reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair, he lifted me to face him.

When my eyes rolled back as another orgasm gripped me, I felt the impact of his hand across my cheek. I was shocked back to the present moment. Still, he said nothing but the threat was clear as day. I was claimed. Cursed. He was going to continue to use me until he grew bored of me. Each time will be more violent than the last, I was to be his newest addition to his collection.

The alarm blared and I slowly sat up only to realize that I was on the floor or my bedroom, completely naked. Cum leaked out of the corner of my mouth, my pussy was soaked and my ass was still sore. On my night stand next to my alarm clock, was the jester doll that I had thrown away. Lying next to the doll, was a white porcelain mask. Upon closer inspection, the mask matched my face perfectly. I remembered the room and how the walls were covered with similar masks and I wondered, had all those masks been people that had felt the jesters kiss as I had? What happened to them? So that is why I am writing this email to you Samantha. I am afraid of what will happen if I go back to sleep. I know we haven’t spoken much since that night, but although we have our differences, I pray that you do not hate me so much that you would allow this jester doll to have his way with me and do whatever it is that he has planned. Please Samantha, write me back soon. I am begging you. Sincerely, Rebecca Clark

[the-book-32]

Unlocking Worlds: A Journey through "The Book of Doors" by Gareth Brown

 Have you ever dreamt of escaping the ordinary, of stepping through a doorway and finding yourself in a world unlike anything you've ever known? Imagine bustling marketplaces teeming with fantastical creatures, or ancient libraries where forgotten secrets whisper from dusty shelves. If such dreams ignite your imagination, then prepare to be enthralled by Gareth Brown's captivating debut novel, "The Book of Doors." This enchanting tale throws open the portal to a universe brimming with magic, adventure, and the power of human connection.

A New York Adventure Begins in a Familiar Setting

Our story unfolds in the seemingly ordinary setting of a New York City bookstore. Cassie Andrews, a young woman with a well-worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice" perpetually tucked under her arm, finds her world turned upside down when a beloved customer collapses in the store. In his final act, he leaves her a peculiar gift – a leather-bound enigma titled "The Book of Doors." Curiosity burning bright, Cassie delves into the book, unaware of the extraordinary power it holds. Little does she know, "The Book of Doors" isn't just a collection of words; it's a portal, capable of transporting its owner to any world imaginable.

Friendship Forged in Extraordinary Journeys

Cassie's life takes a thrilling turn as she discovers the book's magic. With a gasp and a swirl of color, the first journey begins. But where Cassie might have embarked on this solo adventure in a book, Brown wisely introduces Izzy, Cassie's witty and fiercely loyal best friend. Their bond forms the backbone of the story, reminding us that even the most fantastical adventures are best shared with those we love. Together, they become explorers of the extraordinary, their laughter echoing through the fantastical realms unlocked by the book.

From Bustling Markets to Underwater Cities

Brown masterfully paints a vivid tapestry of these fantastical worlds. Each destination is distinct and richly detailed, a testament to his creative vision. Imagine the bustling markets of Asgard, where Norse gods mingle with curious travelers amidst stalls overflowing with enchanted trinkets and exotic wares. Or picture the serene underwater city of Atlantis, where bioluminescent jellyfish illuminate the coral-encrusted streets and merfolk glide effortlessly through shimmering currents. The descriptions are so evocative, you can almost smell the salty spray in Asgard or hear the gentle gurgle of air bubbles rising from the depths of Atlantis. 

Facing Villainy and the Value of Loyalty

But lurking in the shadows are those who covet the Book of Doors for their own nefarious purposes. A nameless evil seeks to exploit the book's power, threatening the very fabric of reality. As Cassie and Izzy face off against these sinister forces, they learn that true strength lies not just in wielding magic, but in the unshakeable loyalty they share. The bonds of friendship become their greatest weapon, reminding us that even the most formidable foe can be overcome through courage and unwavering support.

Beyond the Adventure: A Look at Humanity

While the fantastical elements are undeniably captivating, the true heart of the story lies in its exploration of human connection. Cassie's journey is not just about discovering new worlds; it's about confronting her own fears and insecurities. As she navigates the challenges of each realm, she grapples with self-doubt and grief, learning to overcome adversity and embrace her own resilience. We see this theme reflected in Izzy's unwavering support, a constant source of encouragement and strength. Their friendship becomes a beacon of warmth and understanding amidst the fantastical chaos, reminding us of the importance of human connection in even the most extraordinary circumstances.

A Debut Filled with Promise

"The Book of Doors" is a debut novel that bursts onto the scene with a captivating narrative and a healthy dose of humor. Brown's writing is engaging and witty, drawing readers into the story with his vivid descriptions and well-developed characters. The plot is fast-paced and full of surprises, keeping you on the edge of your seat until the very last page. The novel leaves us with a lingering sense of wonder, eager to see what fantastical worlds Brown will unlock for us next.

A Glimpse into the Author's World

Gareth Brown, the mastermind behind "The Book of Doors," is a relatively new voice in the world of fantasy fiction. While details about his background are somewhat limited, his debut novel speaks volumes about his creative talent and his love for weaving fantastical tales. "The Book of Doors" is a testament to his ability to build immersive worlds and craft relatable characters, leaving readers yearning for more.

A Final Invitation

So, if you're looking for a book that will transport you to another world, make you laugh out loud, and leave you pondering the power of human connection, then "The Book of Doors" is a must-read. Buckle up, grab your favorite

[starryasmo]

Cottagecore MC x Demon Brothers

this has a bonus chapter with the undateables in the making!! cross posted on my ao3, which can be found in my bio ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ ☆☆

——— 

Sometimes, Lucifer wondered truly how innocent you could be.

You were simply the purest. You were like a little woodland fairy, flitting about and bouncing upon mushrooms and through the foliage of the Devildom as you skittered about, doing your tasks diligently and with a warm smile all the while. Your delight at seeing a tree in your room was like that of the warm sun of the human world, the sun that Lucifer remembered as golden rays and a warm embrace. You would hum as you completed your tasks and when you finished, you would beam proudly at your handiwork, and Lucifer would swear on his life that he could see the pale white sparkles surrounding your face as you preened at your hard work, bringing an innocuous light to the usually dark and enigmatic Devildom.

You were as cute as a human could be, with doll lashes framing sweet gentle eyes and fluttering against cherubic cheeks that flushed with pink. Mammon had even tried to market you as a doll to sell at one point, and Leviathan liked to have you standing next to his Ruri-chan life-sized cardboard cutout or figurines to make it feel like his collection was complete. You smelled of tea leaves and spring petals and warm sugar cookies and soft cream puffs, and the scents brought a small dosage of serotonin to Lucifer’s heart whenever you passed by. When you weren’t in your RAD uniform, you liked to dress up in pale peasant blouses, flouncy pinafore dresses, and cozy knits that Satan would gift you. You were like a forest wanderer, skipping along the trails of the Devildom as if it were a leisure stroll through the woods, wicker basket hanging off your arm as you hummed, carefree and bright. Had you been anyone else, Lucifer would have scolded you for your naivety as to walking carelessly in a world of ravenous demons, but one look in your pure, sweet eyes, and the words died on his tongue like melted snow.

You had even managed to attain the favor of the other six brothers, albeit you had no clue that you had six of the seven overlords of Hell vying for your attention and your gentle smile as you invited the Little D’s to have tea with you in your room.

Mammon would accompany you to the human world market on Wednesdays when you went to go shop for groceries and to buy little trinkets. He’d trail after your happy figure, your linen apron fluttering in the early spring breezes as you filled your basket with vegetables and meat, as well as sweet bread, milk, and sugar. At first, he’d been reluctant, trudging after you boredly because it had been his obligation to accompany you to the human world and bring you back. However, after he’d noticed you always tucking the afternoon tea menus into the pockets of your dress and buying hand painted teacups from the shop with the elderly owner more often than not, he’d questioned your motives, and you introduced him to starting collections of things that you found pleasing. Now, whenever Wednesday struck, he was pulling you along excitedly to the human realm, eager to add on to his collections of cute rings, little trinkets such as lockets and charms, and other treasures that caught his eye. You had even bought him a comical-like treasure chest for him to store his newest finds in. Every time he finished a collection, something new would catch his eye, and he’d be rushing to buy it. It was one of the perfect ways to spend leisure time with the second born. He especially loved it when you invited him to bake with you, surprisingly. He passed it off with the excuse that he could sell some of the pastries and make good money, but he found himself eagerly looking forward to you waking him up gently in the wee hours of the morning on the weekends so you two could sneak into the kitchen and bake something. Those hours were usually spent baking batches upon batches of treats, enough to satiate Beelzebub’s ravenous urges and still have enough left over for everyone else. You two would dust powdered sugar on each other’s cheeks, sharing laughs and jokes as you cleaned each other up. The treat that Mammon liked to bake with you the most was your infamous honey tarts. They tasted delicious, and they reminded him of gold, therefore combining his two favorite things — gold, and you. He loved spending time with you that way, and when you’d offered to feed him a honey tart once, he was sure that something in him short circuited.

Leviathan wasn’t as easily convinced as Mammon had been. Being someone who preferred to stay in his room, he was a lot more hesitant to allow you to visit his room, especially considering your fondness with nature and his aversion to it, as cute as you were. However, you had noticed the plants that he’d gotten just to give his limited edition porcelain Ruri-chan flower pots a purpose, and your sweet and gentle smile had twisted into a slight frown, which had caused his heart to shrink and tighten up in slight fear upon seeing your calm and loving demeanor fade, although he would deny it to this day. When you lifted the pots from their shelves, he’d tutted anxiously, warning you with rushed words to be careful. You had sighed and carefully emptied out the pots, filling them with richer soil from the farms of the human world. You had brought some flower seeds with you, and you had pulled Leviathan over from his game to help you. He couldn’t deny that the way that your soft and gentle hands guided his to tend to the flowers was something that pleased him greatly, and when the first blooms had sprouted from the soil, you had smiled before giving each bloom a small kiss on the bud, and while the sight was totally moe, it sparked up that familiar twinge of envy in Leviathan’s heart, which he shoved down quickly in favor of seeing your beautiful smile as you kissed the blossoms. Your hands were gentle in handling both the flower pots and in squeezing his and untangling his fingers from his hair during anxiety attacks or episodes, and they were probably his favorite thing about you. They were incredibly soft, and your fingers were delicate and smelled like the light lemon pies you would bring in during gaming sessions to feed him while he played. You loved baking for him, and he loved it when you baked for him, especially when you would decorate the desserts to make them seem like they were straight out of a fantasy anime. He honestly liked sneaking peeks into the kitchen to see you baking more than he liked the desserts themselves, but he’d be damned if he ever told you that. After all, he needed the perfect dating sim route to go slow and steady, right?

Getting along with Satan was something that had come surprisingly easy to you once you got past his distrusting facade, because nobody, especially not a human, could possibly be this gentle and sweet . When you had earned his trust, however, you two would pass the wee hours after studying by curling up before the ornate fireplace and reading together, cups of enchanted cocoa steaming next to you. You enjoyed reading with him — his presence was comfortable and warm, and more often than not, he would read to you in a silky smooth voice that you absolutely adored. When Diavolo had sent you to the human world to retrieve some of your belongings in order to make you feel more at home, one of the things you had brought back was a thick book full of fairytales and worn pages. That was the thing that had caught his eye the most, and when you’d noticed him reading not-so-subtly over your shoulder, you had shot him a gentle smile and began to read the story of Hansel and Gretel aloud to him. Of course, he didn’t understand the merit of the story, but hearing your voice reading all these fantastical stories of grandiose warriors and heartwarming romances was enough to make his heart melt. Your voice was probably his favorite thing about you — it was soothing and sweet, like a sip of his favorite tea. Earl grey, which you somehow knew already because you were a clever little pixie of a human who could read him like an open book, no pun intended. You even made it the way he liked it. He especially loved hearing you talk to his cats about mindless little things, even if he thought that they couldn’t understand you and you couldn’t understand them. Truth be told, he liked hearing you chatter to any woodland creature; when you two went to the human realm together, he noticed that you would always stop to tell the birds about your day, or strike up a friendly conversation with the bunnies who lived in the rosebushes, or tell the deer that seemed to draw towards you about Satan himself and how kind he was. You always seemed so happy to talk to them, even if they couldn’t understand you. He was becoming unsure of that, however, but he ignored it. Why dwell on that when he could watch you chatter with the frogs and ducks by the pond instead?

Asmodeus was quick to smother you with affection. How could he not? You were as cute as a button and twice as precious, and you smelled like honey and wild berries! You were simply too cute for him to resist. Almost immediately after your transfer to the House of Lamentation, he’d whisked you into his room and sat you down for an impromptu makeup session. You’d been a bit overwhelmed at the fast pace, but eventually just let it happen as you let him do your makeup. He couldn’t stop crooning at how cute you looked, both naturally and with touches of subtle but elegant makeup here and there. He had definitely taken you out to find clothes that you liked at Majolish, and he’d entertained your hobbies of collecting little trinkets by taking you to shops that sold items that you liked. In return, you gifted him little homemade pieces of jewelry you made, such as the gold necklace with flower charms and little baby buds on it that you’d given him for his birthday, or the honey earrings and bee pendant you’d made him as a thank you gift for taking you to a farmer’s market when everyone else had been busy. Picnics in the human realm were also a common occurrence with you two, and they usually ended in you two weaving flowers into each other’s hair and telling each other stories as you snacked on blueberry cheesecake and passionfruit tarts. You would bring two portable cups for the two of you, and the drink would be different every time — some days, it would be raspberry cordial for him and a berry mix for you, and other days he would get a sweet latte while you sipped on honey tea. There was never a dull moment with you two, and you loved running through grassy lavender fields with him, especially when he would catch up with you and lift you by your waist, the breeze filtering through your hair and ruffling the skirt of your dress as you let out giddy giggles that brought a blossom of warmth to his chest, right under his heart. The sun would beam down upon you two and kiss your scalps gently, and you would lean on Asmodeus’ shoulder with a contented smile, never really noticing the faint twinges of pink on his cheeks or the way he subtly pulled you closer to him.

Beelzebub, truth be told, didn’t really like you at first, although he never expressed it. You reminded him too much of Lilith, too much of her breezy laugh and gentle smile and pure demeanor, and even though he knew that you weren’t trying to replace her and that you didn’t know what had happened, it still hurt to look at you and see Lilith’s face flicker behind his eyelids. However, when the events of freeing Belphegor and you dying had occurred, Beelzebub had felt a primal desire to protect you, defend you, save you , rip through his body like a papercut. He wanted to protect you. You , not Lilith. So he embraced that change and tried to be a bit more friendly with you, which he found surprisingly easy. No doubt had you noticed the shift in his demeanor around you, and while it miffed you slightly that it took you dying and freeing his twin brother for it to happen, you were still happy that he didn’t seem to hate you anymore. You weren’t Lilith, he knew. And he didn’t see her when he looked at you anymore. What sealed the deal for him, however, was when you were put on cooking duty. He’d tried Solomon’s cooking before and left his plate untouched for the rest of the night, but when he came downstairs on your first night to see what you had prepared for them, he was met with a pleasant smell that had his mouth filling with drool as he trailed after the scent, right into the kitchen, like a moth drawn to a flame. Luckily, you were plating the food by the time he made it into the kitchen, and his eyes roved over a main course of sweet chickpea potato curry with halloumi and roasted cherry tomatoes, accompanied with mushrooms and sauced lamb chops. Next to the bowl of curry was a plate of strawberry beignets dusted with powdered sugar and drizzled with maple syrup. You had ever so kindly offered him one — one , mind you — and he’d been stunned at how incredible your cooking was. Needless to say, with your constant gifts to Beelzebub in the form of steamy homemade soup with toasted croutons or treacle tarts with dollops of cream, it wasn’t a surprise that he found himself adoring you and showing you more affection than any of the other brothers.

Belphegor, of course, hadn’t met you until a bit later after your transfer. Despite your frankly adorable features and demeanor, he wasn’t below deceiving you and killing you. Although he acted like he adored you and was smitten with your gentle and sweet personality, his hands still gripped your throat until what was supposed to be your final breath. However, unlike all of his other victims, something in him had shriveled up in horror upon seeing your delicate eyes wide with fear and pain. Something in him had eaten at his stomach uncomfortably when he saw the blood from your neck dripping down his nails and staining the pure white of your linen apron. His mind had been flooded with a split second tidal wave of pure shock and horror at what he had done when your fragile body ceased to move. When you came back due to Barbatos’ power, he couldn’t help but throw his arms around you desperately after he got over the tiny spark of anger in his mind. You, being the sweet and forgiving angel that you were (not literally), dismissed it, and although you were weary around him, you soon learned to lighten up and trust him again. You did slip a few times around him due to reflex, like when you’d accidentally burned your hand against the tray of pastry croissants and golden twist rolls that you’d pulled out of the oven when you turned around and he was suddenly there, sitting on the counter, towering over you. However, you found yourself warming up to him in time, and when you’d invited him to come up to your own little leafy treehouse in the mossy forest, he’d felt a bit honored that you had invited him out of all the brothers. There, you two had shared snacks and pressed your hands against the lilypads in the pond. You two had sat at the edge of the lake, looking around at the variety of mushrooms surrounding you two while your feet dipped in the water, talking about everything and nothing at all. It was just the two of you enjoying a quiet moment together, and when you two had climbed the tall tree back to the treehouse, you fell asleep with your legs loosely tangled together, listening to the sound of rain pattering the windows.

With how quickly you charmed his brothers and were able to get them to be at your every beck and call, even without the pact, Lucifer would have thought that you were an angel in disguise, or perhaps a magical being. Perhaps a pixie, or a woodland fairy, or maybe a little doll come to life.

But he was soon to find out that your charm was all natural, no magic.

It had started when you’d knocked gently on the door to his study, carrying a tray in your slightly shaking hands. Perhaps you were intimidated by him — the thought of your sweet and cheerful nature being withered by fear of him was a thought that made his chest swell with pride. Either way, you had let yourself in upon his approval, setting the tray down on the part of his desk that wasn’t swamped in paperwork.

With a small voice, you explained to him that you’d learned a bit of magic due to your time in the woods, and you had charmed the treats that you brought him — soft tea cakes with sweet glaze and your signature ‘lucky tea’; a brew of dried gold clover, lotus petals, and enchanted honey. The tea cakes were supposed to relieve pains in your muscles and bones, and the glaze was steeped in mountain snow, so it was supposed to relieve Lucifer of the burn in his body due to stress. The tea had calming properties, as well as being charmed to grant the consumer good luck for a short amount of time. You said that you hoped it would help Lucifer breeze through the paperwork stacked on his desk. He hadn’t reacted much other than a slow eyebrow raise, a nod of thanks, and a dismissal. You bowed at the waist and scampered off, clutching the hem of your apron anxiously.

Most of your other interactions had been more lighthearted, like when he’d swiped a small dollop of ganache from where you were baking molten lava cakes. He’d used his finger to smudge the chocolate across your nose, and you blinked, snapping out of your baking trance, before giggling slightly and wiping it off with your thumb, sucking the sweet concoction off of your finger. Lucifer had followed the motion with his eyes and briefly wondered what else he could get away with, if only to elicit those soft little reactions from you.

He also noticed that you never reacted the way anyone else would have when Asmodeus made a dirty joke, or when Mammon nudged you into the more scandalous clothing sections of Majolish. When you heard those comments from Asmodeus, you simply blinked and voiced your confusion. When mammon tried to get you to dress in skimpy leather or latex, you frowned slightly and said that the clothing wasn’t really your type before opting to go over to the sections you usually shopped in.

Later, he learned that you had grown up alone, with only the woods and your otherworldly connection with nature keeping you alive. You had only started interacting with others at the ripe age of eight years old — before that, you lived amongst the small creatures of the forest, feeding off of the foods they brought you, as if they were your family. Perhaps they were. You spent most of your life building shelters for yourself, until you were old enough and experienced enough to begin building your own cottage. It was a quaint little stone cottage, nothing fancy, and it was humble and hidden away, and you absolutely loved it. You had spent most of your life in it, baking tarts and pastries with the ingredients you bought from the merchants in your village in exchange for rare mushrooms, seeds, and plants with healing properties that you seemed to have a sixth sense for finding. Most of your life had been spent frolicking in the woods, swimming in the lake and snacking on pastries of your own creation and chatting with the woodland creatures you encountered. You were a creature of the forest, a creature of flower scented skin and a honey voice.

What an innocent being you were, Lucifer mused over a cup of your lucky tea. The teacup, he noticed, was one of your favorites, the porcelain one with the gold rim and the hand painted floral design. Briefly, he wondered how you found the time to collect all of these things, all while pulling together so many gifts for him and his brothers and still miraculously completing each of your tasks with perfect marks.

His eyes flickered to the plate on the same tray — hand carved and painted by you yourself, and he was the only one who got this privilege; honestly, it was going to make his heart combust — that the tea had come on, the circular dish scattered in crumbs and smears of cream and jam from your latest impulse baking session; heart shaped waffles with cream and raspberry puree. Of course, Beelzebub had immediately poked his head into the kitchen at the smell of fresh fruit and waffles, but you had managed to hide some from his hungry eye — just enough to give to the rest of the brothers. Of course, you had taken the liberty of drawing a little panda bear on one of the two waffles you’d given him, using chocolate and cream, because he was special to you, he knew he was, and because he was special, you gave him special treatment. Just the thought of it brought a prideful smile to his face, lips twisted somewhat informally.

Perhaps he’d made the right choice in sneakily slipping your folder away for future reference during the selection process of the exchange students.

But nobody needed to know that but him.

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust | 5 - culmination

🔖 [first] [prev] [next]

🔖 a/n - aaah some stuff finally starts going down in this chapter, thanks y'all for staying patient through the last four chapters. please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for updates! enjoy!

—

  “Admittedly,” Zhongli sighed, “I may have gone a little overboard with the food.”

   You both peered at the carnage leftover from your feast, the table strewn with at least half of the meal left.

   “Are you full?” Zhongli inquired. He wasn’t smiling, but there was unmistakeable amusement in his voice. You nodded — a few minutes ago, you’d felt like you could have eaten everything on the table, but the physical limits of your stomach betrayed you. “Very well. Let’s clean up, then I will show you around the house. How does that sound?”

   It still took you by surprise, each time he asked you for your opinion. “It sounds good, Mr. Zhongli.”

—

   The first time you touched him was as he handed you one of the plates, as you thumbed over the intricate blue-white markings and felt your fingers brush.  You didn’t know it then, but it would not be the last.

   He was wearing his gloves, and so it was really leather that you’d touched, but it was electrifying all the same. You winced, searching his features for any displeasure. It was not your place to so much as gaze upon a noble of  half his status without permission, let alone touch — you’d been taught that lesson, quickly and very early on.

   “Please take this to the kitchen,” he requested, as though nothing had happened. You obeyed with slow, deliberate steps, squashing even any thoughts of dropping the fine china. Gingerly — how in Celestia was even the inside of his fridge elegant? — you set it down, closed the door and almost jumped out of your skin. He was standing right behind you, arms crossed as he studied you, features unreadable.

   “Tell me a little about yourself, Hansi.”

   Small talk? Or a test? Surely, certainly, he wasn’t genuinely curious? You felt naked under his probing gaze, still clad in that plain white dress. Had it really only been a day since you’d met Zhongli? Every second with him seemed to stretch over the length of a millennia. Instinctively, your hands wandered to your chest, feeling for your Vision. Wasn’t there. Wouldn’t help you even if it was.

   I grew up in a shithole with a dozen other people. I stole, robbed, dredged myself through life, you imagined yourself saying to him, just to get sold to a nobleman who thinks I’m too stupid to understand his intentions. 

   By the way, three nights ago, Rex Lapis smoked up something real good and gave me a Geo Vision I don’t know how to use.

   “There is nothing to know about me,” you said, instead, “save that I am bound to you in loyal servitude, and that I will do as you please, Mr. Zhongli.“

   “Hm.” Zhongli hummed, a low echo. His golden gaze rend you through Then, rather abruptly, he said, “Let’s begin the house tour, shall we?”

   Somehow, his curtness stung. Had you said something wrong? What you’d said — that was the textbook response you were meant to give, no? Regardless, you nodded your obedience, swallowing the fear you felt, as always, at his displeasure.

—

   You almost expected there to be a dungeon of some sort hidden behind one of the doors, some skulls, maybe a poor chained up Hilichurl or two.

   What you didn’t expect was so many rocks. 

   And paintings. And scrolls, and trinkets, and jewelry, arranged carefully upon display stands in each room. You remembered how cluttered the drawers were that you hid your Vision in. In the daylight, now that your mind wasn’t clouded with as much fear and fatigue, you were realizing just how much stuff Zhongli owned.

    (Vaguely, it brought to mind images of dragons — the billowing, fire-breathing, treasure-hoarding creatures you’d read about in one of the many storybooks you’d stolen. You shook that image out of your head. Zhongli was plenty intimidating, even without a set of horns and fangs.)

   “—and this is the bathroom,” Zhongli said, pushing open the door. The bathroom, on its own, was bigger than the shack you’d shared with four other families growing up. In the middle of the room, the dark marble floor gave way to a large, circular bathtub — it looked a little like a pool. “You are free to use it, and anything in it, whenever you’d like.”

   The idea of a hot bath was heaven, but you were a hundred percent certain that your current state — dirt-caked fingernails and unkempt hair and all — was all that was keeping you safe. If you got nice and clean, who was to say what he would decide to do to you?

   No, you would avoid taking a bath as long as you could.

   Zhongli closed the door, and hesitated. “Hmm. There is less than I thought to show you,” he admitted. “These other rooms are simply full of items I’ve collected over the years, and I’m sure they would bore you.“

   “It would be my pleasure to hear more about them,” you said, quickly. You wanted to keep him talking; as long as he was talking, he was doing nothing else. Besides, you found yourself growing more and more intrigued about Zhongli — only so that you could read him better, you promised yourself.

   “Well, then far be it from me to deny you your pleasure,” he said. “What would you like to know more about?”

   You glanced around, gaze landing on a small, glass standing display case. Two gemstones sat side by side in it, both a rich, translucent gold — like his eyes, you thought. “What are those?”

   “Cor Lapis,” he said, and you heard a hint of something in his voice. Pride? “They were a gift, from someone close to me.”

   “Are they worth a lot? They’re so pretty.” You bit your lip. They were probably worth more than the average Liyue merchant would ever earn. Pretty? Really?

   “In terms of Mora, yes, they are worth no small amount,” Zhongli replied. “However, their value far surpasses material currency, for these are prime Cor Lapis samples from Mount Hulao.”

   “Hulao... in Jueyun Karst?” You’d heard the rumors that floated between drunk fishermen and merchants, of the dangers of the mountain, of those who entered and came back changed. You had never put much stock in them — drunk men would say just about anything.

   “Yes. And as I’m sure you know, Jueyun Karst is a dangerous place to venture into, without the proper precautions.”

   “Dangerous… even for you?” You glanced at the Vision hanging off his waist. You couldn’t imagine a situation where Zhongli would ever be forced to break that collected facade of his.

   “For any human.”

   You found yourself enjoying the light conversation — you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spoken to another person like this. “Who gave you these?” You tried to smile, and it came easier than you expected. “They must have been really nice, to give away something so expensive.”

   Immediately, you regret opening your mouth. Zhongli’s eyes darkened, and his face fell visibly.

   “Yes. She… was certainly very kind,” he said, quietly. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but didn't. Couldn’t.

   Was? You wanted to kick yourself. Of course you’d manage to bring up his dead friend in your first real conversation with him. The next seconds of silence were almost unbearable. Finally, you spoke up with the first thing that popped into your head. “So, you like rocks?”

   By the Archon, weren’t you on a roll today.

   You were pleasantly baffled to hear him chuckle, a deep, throaty rumble from the depths of his chest. “Yes, one could say that I am fond of them.” He said, amidst soft laughter. “And you?”

   “I don’t know much about them,” you admitted, “but the ones you have are beautiful, Mr. Zhongli.” So was his laugh.

   “Is that so?” He asked, the previous conversation seemingly forgotten, as he strode over to a case across the room, “perhaps you will find these to your fancy as well — these pieces of Noctilucuous Jade were mined from the deepest mines of the Mingyun...“

—

   By the time Zhongli had finished regaling you about his rock collection, the sky outside had become a smear of pink and orange, the sun drifting barely over the horizon. You hadn’t even noticed the time — Zhongli simply had the kind of voice that demanded wholehearted attention.

   “I seem to have gotten carried away again,” Zhongli smiled. Was it just you, or were his smiles coming more frequently? “Thank you for being such a good listener, Hansi.”

   You nodded in response, not quite sure what to say to that. The praise had a strange, warm feeling spreading through your chest.

   “All that’s left of the house is the library upstairs,” he paused, the tacit question clear on his lips.

   You froze. Ever since you started stealing to survive, you’d made a point to sell everything that couldn’t be eaten. Jewelry, hairpins, no matter how pretty, no matter how much your heart ached to put them on, went straight to the pawn store. But you could never sell books. You couldn’t bear to give up the worlds within them, the promises that one day you would be able to live as freely as the heroes of those stories.

   So you stole. First from Wanwen bookstore, then when the owner learned to watch for your grubby hands, from bags and pockets and homes. You devoured them like hot meals, kept them under the floorboards of your corner, read them out loud to the kids who lived with you, read them till the dirt from your fingers had smeared the words to unrecognition.

   You wanted to see Zhongli’s library, so badly that it hurt.

   But to tell him this would be to admit to him that you’d stolen those books, that you taught yourself a skill that someone of your social class didn’t deserve to learn. Something you weren’t worthy of.

   “I can’t read anyway,” you lied.

   “I see,” Zhongli said. “Then, shall we go and get some dinner? Are you feeling well enough to make a trip to Liyue Harbor? I know the most splendid restaurant.”

—

   You thought that things were going relatively well, that you were doing a fine job of squashing the unease and distrust of Zhongli that still gnawed at the corners of your mind. You were giddily excited, even, to be going to a restaurant for the first time.

   So, as you two arrived at the outskirts of Liyue, close enough to hear the bustle of nightlife, you certainly weren’t expecting the sudden wave of emotions that knocked you clean off your feet.

   It had started small — the unrelenting reminder of how out of place you would look at the restaurant. How out of place you would look in public, next to Zhongli in all his regality. Then: how out of place you truly were — how absurd of you to have started warming up to Zhongli when you knew, with every fiber of your being, what all men like him wanted; when you knew that one day he would grow impatient of waiting for you to offer it.

   If you took his dinner, his food, his kindness, what would you begin to owe him?

    Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. The bile that rose through your throat was hot and bitter, and you doubled over and retched noisily into the nearest bush. Vaguely, you could hear Zhongli’s exclamation and his footsteps approaching, but you couldn’t stop until your stomach was empty once again.

   You flinched violently at his light touch on your shoulder. “Hansi,” he said, and you were baffled at how genuine his concern sounded, “what happened? What’s wrong?”

   “I don’t know,” you whispered, and it was true. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

   “Please don’t apologize. Can you stand?” Zhongli asked, voice low and soothing. “Let’s get you home.”

   You nodded. “I’m sorry I ruined dinner.”

   “Nonsense, your health is infinitely more important.” He said. “Do you think that you can walk?”

   Once again, you nodded. You let him lead you home.

—

   When you reached the front door of the house, Zhongli’s hand on your shoulder firm and gentle, something had begun — deep in your heart — to fester. The fear, the confusion, the things that had fallen into place but didn’t quite fit together — it had all been boiling too long, too hot. 

   “Mr. Zhongli.” You said, as you stepped through the door, once again greeted by a warm gust of air. 

   “Yes, Hansi?” He asked, close behind. His hand on your shoulder was suddenly heavy, and hot. You shrugged it off, whipping around to stare him in the eyes.

   “Please, just— do whatever you’re planning to do to me.” You said, knowing that if you lost your momentum now you would never get it back.

   “I beg your pardon?”

   “I’m not a child. We both know what I'm here for. When I lived on the streets, two pieces Mora would have earned any nobleman a night -- let alone... however much you’ve spent.” You were vaguely aware of how many lines you were crossing with each word, but there was no stopping the words flowing from your lips now. You could feel your heart thrashing against your chest, anger warming your bones. 

   “We both know that I have nowhere to run, no way to defend myself, so just DO it already. Be cruel, hit me, whatever, do your thing so that I can stop holding my Archon-damned breath and waiting for the inevitable. What exactly are your intentions with me, sir?”

   You paused to catch your breath, and the horror set in suddenly. Your temper had always been the bane of your well-being — you just had to let it get the best of you, every time, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you have just bided your time and waited for his patience to run out later rather than sooner?

   Zhongli stayed silent, face pulled into a frown as though he was pondering over your words. Time seemed to slow into a viscous fluid, drowning you in its wake. You glanced down the hallway at your room.

   If he raised his hand against you, would you be able to make it to your room? Would you be able to grab your Geo Vision before he caught you, and would you even be able to use it against him, against the years of experience he’s had with his? You knew the answer to all of those questions: a resounding no.

   Would he let you live if you apologized? You opened your mouth to beg.

   “My intentions with you...” he said, brow pulled down over heavy lids. “Hm. It seems that I must apologize.”

   You let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. For the umpteenth time since your meeting with Zhongli, you wondered: What?

   “I have been trying to let you acclimate to your new life at your own pace, whilst moving on from your old.” Zhongli’s pursed lips were the only sign of discomfort in his composed features. “I did not know that such concerns were going through your head, though I should have seen that your seeming lack of fear was but a facade from your incredibly strong character.”

   In the corner of your eye, you saw your hands trembling. You tried to get them to stop. They would not.

   Zhongli swept on. “The circumstances of our meeting are... unfortunate. In time, you will understand my intentions in orchestrating our meeting, but for now -- you have been put in a very uncomfortable situation. I am remiss for not having acknowledged this much earlier.”

   What?

   Zhongli cleared his throat. “Hansi, please listen to me. While you are under my roof, I will never lift a finger to cause you any harm, physically or otherwise. And for as long as you are a part of my household, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are never again touched by hunger, frost, hardship. That you will never be subject to the kind of fear that’s making you tremble,” he reached out slowly and took your hand, “like this.” 

   He had done all the speaking, but it was you who had lost the breath from your lungs. Each of his words was a low rumble, earthquakes in their own right. You didn’t know if you believed him, but you so badly, badly wanted to, with every inch of your shaking body.

   “I do not expect you to believe me, right now,” he said, as though reading your mind. He let go of your hand, and it fell back to your side, still shaking. “However, you will soon come to learn that I never break my word.”

   You were beginning to see why Rex Lapis had chosen to grace this man with a Vision. He commanded — no, demanded — your attention, your respect, your trust, your entire being. There was more to him than the rich, lonely nobleman he seemed to be; in that moment, you had never been more sure of it.

   “Is there anything else you would like to ask me, Hansi?” Zhongli asked.

   You shook your head, mutely. There were a lot of things you wanted to say to that, but the swollen words stuck in your throat. “Thank you, Mr. Zhongli,” you said, and hoped he heard everything behind it. 

  Tomorrow morning, you supposed, it’d be alright if you had that bath.

[littlestarofthewest]

Valentine drabble request you say? Well, if you're up for it, could I maybe request something Morbell related (if you even write that)? Maybe a flustered Micah trying to find a good gift for Arthur? Thank you!

I've never written Morbell before but I gave it a shot. Hope you like 😆

Guns make for good Flowers

Pairing: Arthur x Micah | Words: 2260 | SFW

Micah lifts up the bottles in the box one after the other, trying to find a full one. It's hard to get smashed if you don't have the booze. Behind him, Pearson talks to Strauss, saying something about when to give his present to Susan. Micah wonders what the occasion for a gift would be, but then he finds two full bottles and forgets all about it.

At least until two days later. Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen are talking about gifts as well. Micah hangs around, curious after all, and finally catches on. Valentine's day. It seems that everybody gives somebody else a gift. 

Micah shrugs it off. He most certainly has better things to do with his time and money than gift shopping. Besides, he knows for sure that nobody would give him anything, so why would he bother?

Despite his disinterest in the whole ordeal, it keeps coming up. Abigail has something for Jack, of course, and Jack wants to give something to Sadie to cheer her up. Sean's got a present for Karen, Charles is making something for Tilly, and so on. 

Every day, Micah hears something new, caring about it or not. Even lazy Uncle gets involved, and two days before Valentine's day, John, of all people, found a great gift for Abigail. 

Micah's about to give him shit for it when all the conversations of the last days wander through his mind. Mary-Beth insists on giving a present to the O'Driscoll boy, Molly and Dutch give each other gifts, and Susan takes care of Hosea, but there's one name Micah hasn't heard at all. Arthur.

For the rest of the day, Micah keeps snooping around. This time, he actually tries to find out who will give something to whom, and by evening his first assessment still stands. Nobody thought about Arthur.

While most of the gang already sits by the fire, Arthur comes in late after a job. He hands Pearson two rabbits he must have shot on the way and puts some money in the collection box before he passes out on his cot, not even caring to take his boots off.

The sight gnaws at Micah, and the happy chatter of the others annoys him even more. He wishes he could laugh about Arthur being left out, but somehow it doesn't sit right with him. 

Micah can certainly live without an ugly Valentine's card, but ever since he joined the gang, he's never seen Arthur rest longer than needed. It's a shame that the gang members forgot all about their little workhorse.

After emptying his bottle, Micah gets up to find a place for the night. He doesn't need much sleep, but shutting his eyes for a moment can't hurt. On his way, he avoids the singing Reverend, and Uncle who's asking around for money. That's how he ends up hiding behind a wagon, Arthur's wagon. 

Micah sits down and leans against it, enjoying the irony. He can hear Arthur's quiet snores, knowing that this man is in for a surprise soon. If Arthur's lucky, he'll be out of the camp on Valentine's day. Maybe that's what people are counting on.

----------

"You want some company, mister?"

Micah turns to the girl approaching him. She's fairly pretty, and probably older and therefore more experienced than she looks. All in all, she would be a nice thing to spend his money on, but ever since yesterday, Micah's thoughts drift when he's not careful. 

Instead of taking a closer look at the girl's ample bosom, Micah thinks about Arthur, and the money in his pocket feels heavy as if it wants to stay in there. "Not today, sweetheart."

Micah downs his drink and walks outside, looking along the street. On the other side, the general store's doorbell is ringing when a customer leaves, and Micah is drawn to it like the moth to a flame.

It's empty inside except for the store owner, who greets him with great enthusiasm. Micah ignores him to take a look around, his eyes falling on some journals and pencils, but he knows Arthur has enough of those. 

Walking along a shelf with booze, Micah stops, horrified. He asks himself what Arthur might like, and it dawns on him that he's looking for a gift for Arthur. He didn't mean to do it, but the thought of Arthur not getting a present seems so wrong.

It's probably just him thinking ahead. Micah might act as a simple bully, but he has ways to make people lean his way. If everybody but Micah has forgotten Arthur, then they might be grateful that he thought of him.

Booze doesn't seem enough, though. Micah checks out the products for horses, knowing how fond Arthur is of his horrible black monster, but again, it's something Arthur could get himself. Even a watch doesn't come close to an appropriate gift.

With an annoyed grunt, Micah leaves the store, looking along the main street again. There's a tailor, but Micah can't be sure about Arthur's size. He could invite him to a drink at the saloon, but Micah doubts that Arthur would agree to it. 

Taking a deep breath, Micah looks up at the burning sun, hoping for inspiration, when something hits his eye from the side. A reflection. Turning to it, Micah watches a guy who puts a shiny new rifle onto his horse, and Micah's eyes fall on the building behind the man. It's a gun store.

An idea pops up in Micah's head, and he crosses the street with a smile on his face.

---------

The whole day, the camp is busy like a beehive. People hurry back and forth, giving away their presents, and soon, everybody walks around with something new. A lovely shawl around a girl's shoulders or a new necklace or braclet - made, bought, or probably stolen -, bottles of booze, books, a new shirt, or even boots. 

The only person not in the midst of all that is Arthur. He's sitting on his cot, writing in that stupid journal of his. Micah keeps a look on him for a while, but nobody's approaching him, and Arthur doesn't seem to be giving away a gift of his own. 

Micah is tempted to keep what he bought to himself, but the longer he looks at Arthur, the more curious he gets about what his reaction would be to the present. Even if he tells Micah to piss off, Micah wants to know. He wants to hear it from Arthur.

When the rest of the gang seems busy enough, Micah walks over to Arthur, the gift hidden under his coat. He gets in position, ready to greet Arthur, but Arthur already slaps the journal shut and looks up to him.

"What do you want, Micah?"

"Oh, I could think about a few things I'd desire," Micah says, determined to stand his ground. "The question is what you want."

"Peace and quiet," Arthur grunts, and Micah is about to tease him about Valentine's day when he takes a look at Arthur's table. 

Yesterday, it was empty except for a photograph and the stupid little glass flower. Now there are arrows, cigarettes and a cigar, sweets, hunting and fishing materials, and other small trinkets. 

Micah can feel his heart sink. He's been so focused on thinking that nobody would give Arthur a present that he didn't consider the obvious alternative. It looks like everybody gave Arthur a gift. 

Arthur follows Micah's gaze and rubs his neck as he looks up to him. "Look, Micah-"

"I've got something for you," Micah interrupts him, forcing himself to say it before he can chicken out.

"What?"

Micah gets the box out from under his coat and pushes it at Arthur, who looks like it's stuffed with dynamite and might explode in his hands. He still opens it, and his mouth falls open.

There's a chance Micah might have overdone it a little, but he didn't want to look cheap. The revolver he bought has a unique grip, and the letters A and M are carved in next to a coyote. Micah's not even sure why. He just liked the look of it, and in a weak moment, he entertained the idea that the M might not stand for Morgan.

"Remember the holster I gave you?" Micah asks, feeling the need to explain himself. "Didn't make much sense without a gun."

Arthur still looks like he's in a trance, running his fingertips over the weapon. "You're giving me this? Why?"

If Micah only knew. He's still not sure what devil rode him the last few days. "I'm actually a pretty nice guy, cowpoke."

"Yeah, right," Arthur huffs, but he takes the weapon out of the box, squinting at the engraving.

Micah feels heat rushing up his neck and to his ears, afraid that Arthur might catch on to the double meaning of the letters.

"So, don't shoot anything I wouldn't," he says before walking away.

"Micah!" Arthur shouts behind him, and when Micah turns around, he sees that Arthur has gotten to his feet. "Thank you."

Arthur's voice is quiet, barely audible over the camp's noises, but the words still ring in Micah's ears. He can't remember the last time Arthur has spoken to him in a friendly manner, and he definitely never thanked him. Micah tips his hat, unable to speak, and he decides to get out of there.

He heads for the main campfire, but then he takes a detour, passing behind one of the wagons and heading into the woods. He finds a quiet spot and pulls out one of his own guns. It looks a little worn compared to the new one Micah gave Arthur.

With a sigh, he puts it back in his holster, ready to get himself something to drink and pass out somewhere, when a figure steps out of the trees next to him. Micah's about ready to draw and shoot, but it's only Arthur.

"You following me, cowpoke?"

Arthur doesn't say anything, his hand hovering over his holster. Micah's heart beats faster, but it makes no sense that Arthur would pick today of all days to shoot him.

With a swift movement, Arthur draws his gun, but he points it at a nearby tree instead of Micah. "That's a fine weapon, not cheap. Why would you give me that?"

"What would you want me to give you? Flowers?"

Arthur comes closer, the weapon still in his hand. Micah figures that he probably shouldn't mouth off to him, but he can't help himself.

"Why would you give me anything at all?" Arthur asks.

"These degenerates out there have been talking about giving each other gifts all damn week, but nobody ever mentioned your name. Just didn't seem right."

Arthur huffs a laugh. "So you decided to be my Valentine?"

"Shut up, Morgan, or I'll-"

"You what?" Arthur interrupts him. He's not raising the gun, but Micah knows full well he's playing with his life, so he stays quiet.

Arthur swirls the gun around and slips it back into its holster before stepping even closer. "I've got something for you, too."

Micah looks Arthur up and down, waiting for a knife to appear, but instead, Arthur grabs him by the throat. Adrenaline rushes through Micah's body, but Arthur's fingers only rest there, not choking him. Micah swallows a few times, knowing that Arthur can feel it. He wishes he could draw his weapon or fight back in any way, but he's too curious about what Arthur might do. 

For now, Arthur's holding Micah's gaze with those piercing blue eyes, then he runs his fingers along Micah's neck, down to the first button of his shirt that he actually cared to close. Arthur fists his fingers into the fabric and pulls Micah close. They're only inches apart, breathing the same air.

Micah's still waiting for something terrible to happen, a trick, or Arthur at least insulting him. Instead, Arthur puts his other hand on Micah's neck, his fingers digging into his hair. He draws Micah closer, so slowly that it borders on torture. Micah's heart is about to leap out of his chest, but then it just seems to give out when Arthur kisses him.

It's not nice and soft, but harsh and with force. Arthur kisses him as if he needs to punish Micah, but Micah can't say that he minds. He grabs Arthur's arm, feeling how his muscles strain, unwilling to let him go. Not that Micah wants to escape. 

He lets Arthur in, getting a good taste of him when their tongues rub against each other. Arthur barely gives him a chance to breathe, and when he finally lets go, Micah feels like he could pass out any second.

Arthur leans in, his lips touching Micah's ear as he whispers to him. "Tell anybody about this, and I'll make good use of that new gun."

Micah's still too overwhelmed to answer, only able to look after Arthur as he disappears into the trees. Taking in a deep breath, Micah leans back against the tree behind him. From all the possible outcomes, Arthur picked the one Micah didn't see coming in a million years.

With a sigh, he walks back to camp, longing more than ever for a drink. When he settles down by the fire with a bottle, he finds Arthur already sitting there. They share a look, and one thing becomes clear to Micah. He's prepared to give Arthur the whole damn gun store if he can get another kiss like that. 

[ohbeaby]

So the all of the boys we have met really are just rich. The only one who isn’t is probably Mammon but even he is only in debt due to some of his strange spending habits.

So this is just a silly little thought about how the boys might react to an MC who isn’t very rich at all and has habits to save money.

Clothes:

While they all take decent care of their clothes they also tend to just throw them out if a hole is made or a stain appears. Belphie might keep his longer out of sheer laziness but it’s not like he’s trying to fix any of the issues with his clothes he’s just too lazy to go get more.

MC probably has a small sewing kit and some tricks to get stains out of just about any fabric. The brothers try to throw clothes away and Mc swoops in your save the lightly used fabric from the garbage. They also have a small collection of patches and fabric strips that they give to Levi if he needs extra material for his cosplays. All the saved clothes get returned to the brothers who are very confused as to how the holes all got patched up and WHY MC would bother patching them.

This spills over into Purgatory Hall when MC learns Solomon keeps ruining his clothes in different disasters. The issue is the word disaster clearly has different meanings to everyone because MC just about loses it when they learn that the “disastrous” state of his clothes is just some tears and some small spots where a potion spilled.

All the boys confront MC at some point about why they keep fixing their clothes and MC just explains that they find it wasteful to throw the fabrics away when they could easily be repaired and maintained. They’re all mildly impressed but don’t say anything, though there is a distinct lack of clothes being thrown away after everything is done and some even come to MC for repairs.

Food/Soaps/Jewelry/Bedding:

So when MC first got there no one really paid attention to what they were buying for themselves. The brothers simply didn’t care because it’s just some human. As they get to know MC more though they start to pay attention and realize that MC isn’t exactly buying the highest quality in anything. I imagine Lucifer might be the first to actually say something.

MC: I think I want to get some hot coco.

Lucifer: Yes that doesn’t sound nice. Some milk and cream with coco powder- What are you doing?

MC: *holding up a box of instant hot coco* This is what I usually get. Just add some hot water and it’s okay.

Lucifer: *internally screaming at how terrible that sounds compared to what he was imagining* Do you...not know how to make hot coco?

MC: *laughing* Oh I know! It’s just more expensive than this.

Lucifer makes sure to accompany them on their grocery shopping trips and tries to get them to be a bit more open to buying more expensive cuts of meat or cheeses. He just wants them to enjoy some of the nicer things they feel comfortable indulging in.

Asmodeous probably has a heart attack when he realizes MC is just buying the most affordable shampoos and body washes. Poor boy isn’t able to comprehend that MC doesn’t want to drop 100’s of dollars on soaps.

Asmo: But look at how many harsh chemicals are in there MC! Your poor hair isn’t going to feel healthy at all!

MC: I mean...it gets my hair clean yeah? So it’s fine.

Asmo: At least get a body scrub! They help make your skin feel so soft!

MC: Is there one not quite as expensive? The one in your hand is a bit more than I expected.

Asmo: ...I don’t know what’s in the cheaper ones though. They probably don’t have as much moisturizer.

MC: Soooo I don’t need it?

Asmo: *screeching because he doesn’t know how to convey what the issue is*

Asmo takes time to find more affordable products that at least have a similar quality to his high end taste. He doesn’t like it but he does know he can’t force MC to buy the products he would normally use.

Mammon is VERY confused when MC is looking at jewelry of some kind but it’s like glass or shiny plastic instead of actual crystals or diamonds.

MC: Oh these charms are cool! Look there’s a crow!

Mammon: I mean...I guess? They aren’t real crystals or anything though. Looks like hard plastic.

MC: Eh? Why does that matter? *laughing* I’m just window shopping anyways.

Mammon: Window shopping?

MC: You know? When you’re just looking around but not actually going to buy?

Mammon: But if you want it why not just get it?

MC: These charms are each more expensive than my average meal! I can’t just drop that kind of money on little trinkets!

He’s probably the most understanding about all of it since he gets not having money. The realization that MC doesn’t actively seek out anything remotely expensive turns him to trying to save up more money to get them nice things.

Leviathan is probably the one to make MC the most uncomfortable with his spending habits. He is known to spend egregious amounts of money on things that don’t have an actual function aside from just being part of a collection. MC on the other hand will buy little knock off things like key chains or stickers because they don’t want to spend so much on the official merchandise but they still like whatever show or game it is. MC also knows how to make their own cosplays and repurpose things for props and accessories.

MC: *showing Leviathan some cute little charm from Pokemon or something* I love this one it’s so cute. I wanted to get the set but that was quite a bit more!

Leviathan: *sees it and knows immediately that it’s knock off and not even close to official merch* The colors aren’t even close! Look it doesn’t even look like the original character!

MC: I mean it’s pretty close. Maybe it’s just hard to make that color?

Levi: Why not just get the official merch?? It’s much better quality

MC: But the official is ten times more expensive. I think this looks close enough.

Levi: ...okay look I THINK I have an extra set with that character in it.

MC: ...extra set??

Levi: Well I buy more than one so I can sell them later.

MC: More than one??????

Leviathan makes it a goal of his to get MC whatever merch he can for their interests. He doesn’t like the idea that MC just settles for lower quality stuff just because they don’t think they should buy it. This is HIS Henry after all, only the best quality for them.

Satan also struggles hard trying to understand MCs spending habits. He prefers to get new books when he can as he doesn’t like the idea of buying a used book that someone ruined (ie. the corners have small bends or there’s a pencil mark in them, he has high standards for his books lol). The only exception he has is older books that are limited quantity. He gets frustrated when he sees MC carrying books around that look like they’ve been through hell and back in his eyes. He initially thinks MC is the one ruining their own books.

Satan: Really? The semester started a week ago and your books already look this bad?

MC: Bad? I thought I got a good deal on them.

Satan: Well when you bend the corners like that of course they look bad. Is that a coffee stain? Really?

MC: What? We haven’t even gotten to these sections yet. I’m not sure what you’re issue with my books is.

Satan: Well why are the pages all bent here of you haven’t gotten to these sections yet? Are you just incapable of taking care of your stuff?

MC: Maybe it was the previous owner? I take care of my stuff, don’t even try and pull that card.

Satan: ...previous owner? Like you’ve just gone and bought a used book? Why?

MC: Well actually it’s a rental, it was cheaper than-

Satan: RENTAL?!

Satan then insists that he buys MC all new books despite their protests. He isn’t going to sit around and let them use older books if it can be helped though he does start to understand why MC doesn’t mind used books when they show them places with discounted or even free textbooks and PDFs. It’s kind of handy to not have to pay a large sum for a physical copy when he can just have a free PDF of an older version on his laptop.

Beelzebub starts questioning what the humans habits are when he takes them shopping in place of Lucifer and sees them picking up instant noodles and coffee. He may be willing to eat almost anything but even he knows that stuff doesn’t taste the best and can’t be the healthiest for them.

Beelzebub: What about this brand? It’s got those little veggies in it.

MC: But it’s three times the price. I can just chop up some chives and put it in this for cheaper.

Beel: Why does the price matter?

MC: I don’t like spending too much if I can help it. Oh! They have frozen pizzas!

Beel: *increasingly concerned about the humans poor eating habits*

Beel probably starts taking them out to restaurants more or trying to rope them into cooking with him. He isn’t sure if they just don’t know what good food looks like or what their deal is so he’s just going to try and show them and hope they get the hint. He does avoid eating anything healthy they bought, like yogurts or frozen fruit.

Belphegor. King of sleep. Ruler of comfort. The one you know KNOWS how to take a good nap. He is absolutely pissed when he sees MCs room for the first time, most importantly their bed. The pillows look awful and the sheets are the cheapest ones you can get at the store. He confronts his brothers about the humans poor sleeping arrangements to which they all say “it’s what they chose when they first got here.”

Belphie: No. Unacceptable. Throw it away.

MC: You’re being ridiculous, I’m not throwing my pillows away.

Belphie: They don’t even have a shape they’re so flat! You have no comfort standards!

MC: My bed is comfy!

Belphie: The only comfortable part is the mattress which is also the only thing you didn’t choose.

MC: What’s wrong with the rest of it?!

Belphie: Those sheets are scratchy, the blanket is thinner than a piece of paper, those pillows look sadder than a kicked puppy, do I really need to go on?

MC: You’re being completely unreasonable.

Belphie drags Asmo and Mammon to the store to get MC a whole new bed set and even insists on getting them a new mattress. MC gets barred from their room for a few days until everything is set up. Belphie cares, he just wants MC to be comfortable, it’s important to him that MC sleeps well.

Overall I think the boys will learn to be a little more accepting of MCs habits. They also become increasingly more aware of how much richer they are than them and try to make MC as comfortable as they can.

[soemthingsparkly]

Hiya it’s me again!

So I’ve been stewing on some Conrad Headcannons recently and thought I’d share one and see what you think...

So I could totally see Conrad getting a job. He hates when people offer to pay for him because he doesn’t like taking their money. It’s theirs. Plus he’s super stubborn on being independent and not having to rely on others like a certain mother he knows.

He ends up finding this small, private owned, bookstore. It’s run by this adorable little grandma who has renovated the store to have a modern decoration, and has a hang out area, plus very reasonably priced books. The dream place for book lovers.

So Conrad finds this place, and immediately falls in love with the design and all around vibe. Turns out they’re hiring, and when he walks up to the counter, application in hand. All dark clothes, eyeliner, and sarcastic wit, the owner hires him on the spot.

“You haven’t even looked at my application.” He points at the paper with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t need to. I’ve seen a lot of people over the years. I know who will work hard, and I know who I’d like to have as employees. Now what times are good for you?” She smiled sweetly at him, pulling out a work schedule from under the counter.

The best part was, it was out of the way of where Reggie and his friends hang out and go. It’s unlikely they’d really find out unless he made a point to tell them. Which he never did. He just told them he had a job and that was that.

So after school he’d make his way to the shop. Taking the long route so no one would notice where he was going, and enjoy the walk til he walked up the familiar shop.

“Hey there Conrad. I made cookies if you want any.” The owner, Mrs. Waggner, who insisted on being called Shelia, pointed at the employees door.

“Thanks Shelia.” He’d wave, going to clock in and snag a cookie. Who was he to deny fresh baked cookies, no one was there to see it anyway.

Then for the rest of the afternoon he’d shelf any new books they had, deal with customers. Which for such a small shop they gained a fair amount of customers. Shelia would say it was the placement fo the shop in downtown Los Angeles, and the eye catching decor. Conrad knew it was because of her though. He’d come to notice familiar faces come through, even if it was just to browse. They’d always say hi to Shelia and then buy a small trinket or a bookmark anyway.

Conrad’s favorite part though, was being able to take any books he wanted and read them when it wasn’t busy. He’d make sure to keep it clean and not ruin anything, but sometimes when he found a book he really liked. Shelia would insist he take it home and keep it in case he wanted to read it again. His book collection grew tremendously after being hired.

He’d come to like it though. The routine. The ability to have somewhere to run off to and just be himself. No teachers breathing down his neck. Or worrying about Reggie and his band of friends judging him (they wouldn’t, but it’s a thought that always plague him).

It was nice.

Was.

Then, the bell ringed and as Conrad went to greet the new customer, he came face to face with Julie. As in Reggie’s friend Julie.

“Fuck.”

k a t

[v-poreons]

Please do tell us Kova entire backstory

I will put it under a cut because it will probably get LONG

Kova is a Catfolk which means his kind is naturally nomadic, but his parents settled down to raise him on a farm. From a young age he had a passion for reading and learning, so eventually his parents agreed to send him to a prestigious school on a scholarship. The setup for this school allowed for students to spend a certain amount of years studying general topics as they wished before selecting a track (basically their class; sorcerer, paladin, druid, etc.) Kova found he didnt really fit in at first, since he was on the younger side and his accent was so different but as he grew older he adopted the speech patterns most people in the university had (when he's nervous or excited his original accent peeks through though). One day he was out in the surrounding city, browsing book shops and trinket stores and whatnot when he met Tisla, who was also a Catfolk. She was fighter class and worked from shop to shop helping lift or move heavy things. She loved helping people in trouble and LOVED fighting bullies and petty thieves.

She was loud and rambunctious and basically his polar opposite but they became fast, close friends and Kova found himself spending more and more time with her outside of his classes (at one point rumors about their closness got so strong they decided to try things out to see if everyone was right but they spent less than 12 hours in a "relationship" and couldn't even look each other in the eye before they were like yeah no just friends). When the time came for Kova to pick a track he really didn't know what direction he should go. He went out with Tisla to clear his head when they passed a band of street performers and Tisla made a few side comments about how much she loved music and how it brought people together. This really got to Kova and inspired him and so he joined the Bard track, which she thought was a little funny, because she didnt realize just how much of an impact her words had on him that day. Anyways Kova graduated top of his class and he and Tisla decided to go on adventures together and fight bad guys and stuff and it was awesome. And then one dayyyy Tisla got super pregnant and she had Iris. Iris was a little sickly but Kova absolutely adored her and spoiled her rotten. She gave him his harmonica (which he actually can't stand the sound of, but kept and used to humor her). They still all went on adventures but Tisla from then on wasn't so reckless.

One night the trio arrived at a small tavern and the owner convinced Kova to perform a bit, using Bard magic to entertain everyone and have a fun time before they all settled down for the night. A few hours later the village came under attack by a group of marauders who started setting fire to houses and pillaging all they could. The inn was set on fire and Kova and Tisla gathered as much as they could from the burning building before escaping. Tisla handed Iris to Kova before she ran back inside to help anyone who might be stuck inside. Iris had inhaled so much smoke though, and her body just couldn't take it, and she ended up passing in Kova's arms after making him promise to take care of her little stuffed owlbear. Since the whole night hadn't passed yet, Kova's spell slots hadn't been restored, not that he knew very good healing spells in the first place. Kova rushed to find Tisla but right before he could run into the burning tavern the whole building collapsed with her inside.

After that night Kova became even more of a recluse than he had been in school, throwing himself full tilt into learning as much as he could. He still did jobs but stubbornly held any of his travel companions at a stiff distance. He became overly cautious and meticulous; he never wanted anything so devastating to happen to him ever, ever again. He has a collection of "letters"/diary entries addressed to Tisla keeping her updated on his experiences and travels. Idk if I should talk about the basic plot of the campaign he was in or everything afterwards (or even his villain au) but if anyone is interested I'll do another infodump for that. I love him. SO MUCH.

[kerikaaria]

If I Never Met You: Chapter 30

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) FLUFF

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31

Chim: Seokjinnie hyuuuuuuung~ Where are yooooouuuuu?

Taetae: What do you mean? He was right… OH NO, HE’S GONE!

Joonie: I saw him in the kitchen making some food earlier.

Chim: Yeah, well he’s not there anymore. I can’t find him anywhere. Where did he go?

Yoongi: Does it matter? It’s our day off.

Chim: OF COURSE IT MATTERS!

Taetae: We have no idea where he is!

Chim: What if he’s been kidnapped?!

Taetae: Who knows what could be happening to him right now as we speak!

Hobi: There they go sharing one braincell again…

You stared at your phone, not surprised in the least at the source of the many notification sounds you received in the last minute alone. Jin was looking at his phone as well, shaking his head at the antics of his younger brothers.

“Did you forget to tell them we had plans today?” you asked, even though the answer was obvious.

“Guess so,” Jin chuckled as he typed in the group chat to let them know he was okay before Taehyung and Jimin sent a search party out for him.

The two of you had been walking along a beach you came across, just relaxing and enjoying the view and each other’s company when your phones started to get blown up. As you slowly progressed down the sand, not quite close enough to the waves to need to worry about your shoes getting wet, Jin continued to be preoccupied by his phone.

Just as you were about to tease him for paying more attention to the device than you, he suddenly laughing hard enough that he stopped in his tracks. You stopped as well, turning to him with your eyebrows raised, silently questioning what was so funny.

He eventually looked up at you, needing to suppress more laughing so he could manage to get out what was entertaining him so much. “Some fans really have the eyes of hawks. Not even censoring faces of the staff in videos stops them,” he said. Of course, that didn’t explain much, so you waited for him to further explain.

“I just came across this profile on twitter,” he said. “It tracks all the times that you’re caught in pictures that fans take of us. And also when you, or what fans think to be you, interact with us or are in the shot in videos. And that led me to finding a gold mine of tweets with fans gushing about our interactions and shipping you with the different members.”

Your eyes widened, almost comically. “W-What?!”

Jin resumed his laughing fit, but managed to turn his phone towards you to show you what he was talking about. And sure enough, you saw exactly what Jin described. A picture one fan caught of Hoseok at an airport with you standing next to him, and a bunch of comments mostly fangirling over shipping the two of you.

The sight under any of the other pictures this profile tweeted was identical, some even inciting small arguments between fans who thought that you would be better fit with a different member of the group.

“It seems like the popular one to ship you with this week is Namjoon,” Jin said once he was able to regain his composure once more. “Apparently the two of you had a lot of chemistry in this one clip where your blurred face seemed to be looking at him in a Bangtan Bomb.”

Your mind went blank as you slowly returned the phone to its owner, having trouble comprehending the fact that this was actually a thing. Were you surprised that there was some shipping going on? Not particularly. The fans knew who you were and that you were with the boys all the time, so it wasn’t a stretch to assume there were those who would wonder if you dated any of them.

But seeing that there was an account dedicated to spotting you in videos and pictures, and that spurred a whole mini community in the fandom that enjoys shipping you with any and all of them? That was crazy to come to terms with existing.

“Aw, don’t be disappointed Y/n,” Jin said after you didn’t respond, probably for longer than socially acceptable while you still sorted your thoughts on the matter. “There seem to be quite a lot of them who like the idea of me and you.”

Your head resumed normal functionality to snap and look at him. “Why do you say that like that’s a good thing?” you asked.

He grinned as he continued ahead of you, walking backwards to see your expression as he teased you. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy being shipped with my handsome face.”

You rushed toward him, and he broke into a smile, laughing as he turned around to run away from you. “Yah!” you yelled as I chased after him. “Get back here!”

He wasn’t going anywhere near his full speed so you caught up to him rather quickly. He turned around when you reached out to stop him, catching your wrist and pulling on your arm to force you to fall into the sand, him following just behind. While your mind reeled, trying to comprehend all that just happened in the last half of a second, Jin continued to laugh.

“What was that for?” You asked after a moment of collecting yourself (again), turning your head to the side to look at your friend. He met my stare as his laughter calmed down, and you laughed a little yourself as well. “I was trying to not get sand stuck in every crevice of my clothes today.”

“We haven’t gotten to hang out just the two of us in so long,” Jin replied, ignoring your lame complaints.

You lightly sighed. “It really has been a long time, huh?” Of course you had seen each other almost every day, just as you had with the other boys. But by now it was easy to forget that there was a time the only one you knew was Seokjin, and that it was just you and him spending time together. Even after becoming their manager, while you got along with everyone fine, you were still the most comfortable around the oldest for a while.

“This is so nice,” Jin exclaimed as he turned towards the sky and closed his eyes. “I know none of the others are having as good of a time as I am since I’m monopolizing you today, but I hope they are recharging like I feel like I am.”

“I hope so, too,” you replied before the two of you fell back into a comfortable silence, watching the clouds make their way across the sky for a while.

After staying just like that for quite a while, Jin was the first to sit up. You followed his lead as he stood up, then reached his hands out to help you up as well. He helped brush the sand out of your hair and from the back of your shirt before doing the same to himself.

“So where to now?” you asked.

Seokjin shrugged. “I don’t really know anywhere. Let’s just keep walking,” he said, flashing a smile.

“I don’t know if we should spend that much time walking,” you said. “You know we’ll be walking around a lot every day during shooting.”

He just shrugged. “It’s not like we’re on our feet all day. Besides, what else are we supposed to do?”

“That is true, I guess.” You made your way back to solid ground, looking for where you should head to next. “You know, I think I saw a street with shops back that way,” you suggested, pointing in the direction you had come from. “Want to go see if there’s anything interesting there?”

“Sounds good to me,” your friend replied, placing a hand on your lower back as you walked.

The street you found was full of small shops, most of which were definitely aimed towards tourists. Small, overpriced trinkets and stereotypical “I Love” shirts were visible through the windows. While they had little effect on you, it seemed that Jin was rather interested in something he saw in one of the stores you passed by. You knew he’d just ignore it and walk past if he noticed you didn’t particularly care, so you decided to enter the shop first so he would follow.

The shopkeeper didn’t seem to pay much attention when you entered, distracted by the book they were reading. You turned around to see what would occupy Jin’s attention in this little shop and followed him to a display of tiny snow globes. You had to admit, they actually were kind of cute. But definitely listed for at least twice the price they were really worth.

While Jin picked up and examined a couple of items, you started wandering around the other sections of the shop. Past the keychains with names on them and the city-specific shirts on display, you noticed a jewelry section. There was a display case of cheap jewelry that was made to look more expensive than it was, but what caught your eye was what you saw after that. There were small bracelet designed to hold charms, and then a wide variety of charms to choose from.

As with everything else, of course it was overpriced. But you couldn’t stop yourself from perusing through the many unique pieces that were offered. You had never had a charm bracelet before, even though you thought they were interesting and would have liked to own one. You weren’t sure what you would have wanted to get specifically, but just taking a look for a while kept you entertained while Seokjin continued looking at what he wanted.

When I eventually heard Jin at the register making a purchase, you tore my eyes away from the display to stand next to him while he paid and you walked out of the store together.

“What did you get?” you asked

“It’s a secret,” he replied, winking at me. You started walking away, but Seokjin stopped as he looked back into his bag.

You paused as well, turning to face him. “What’s wrong?”

He took another second before looking at you and saying, “Sorry, can you wait right here, Y/n. There’s one I forgot to get.”

“I can come back in with you,” you offered.

“No, that’s okay,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder to keep you from moving. “Just wait here, I’ll only be a minute.”

You shrugged, seeing no problem with waiting outside while he finished his purchase. He did perfectly fine with the first one on his own so it wasn’t like he needed you.

You took out my phone as you waited, looking at the group chat that Eric had put you into a few days ago. You were overwhelmed when it had happened. He didn’t give you any warning or ask you about it first, just decided to make a chat with you in it. Suddenly you had found myself thrown into conversations with not only Eric, but also Kevin, Amber from f(x), Peniel from BTOB, and Jackson from Got7. They were surprisingly active in the chat, although you hadn’t been able to chat much since you were added, being as you’ve been busy with work.

Some may think that since you’re around a K-pop group all the time, that meeting people from other groups wouldn’t be a big deal. But oh boy, was it nerve wracking. Got7 had just debuted this year, and being as Jackson and Namjoon had made quick friends when they met at music shows it wasn’t so bad talking to him. You were already a bit familiar with him. But the rest?

You were fans of them before I even came to Korea. Just like when you met Eric, you were still super nervous in the chat. But the rest of them were pretty familiar with each other, so they easily kept conversations flowing in the chat and were constantly trying to include you when they could. You almost felt bad for not being able to be more active in it right now, but they of course understood.

You barely got to read through the messages that you had missed before Jin came back out of the shop, looking happy with his extra purchase.

“Ready to go?” you asked, putting your phone away.

“Let’s go!” he responded, linking his arm through yours and practically started skipping down the sidewalk. You laughed, trying really hard to keep up with your shorter legs.

You found a local place to eat before deciding it was probably a good idea to head back to their “dorm” they were staying at.

On your way back down the street, a different store caught Jin’s eye and he paused in front of it.

“Do you really have something else you want to buy?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s something really cool in here,” Seokjin replied. “Can we just look really quick?” He flashed his attempt of puppy eyes at you, as if he needed that to convince you.

“Yeah sure, it can’t hurt,” you said. He quickly entered the shop, heading toward the display that had caught his eye.

You took my time entering after him. This shop was definitely bigger than the one we went to before, and wasn’t blatantly a tourist trap. It sold more expensive wares, things that were more worth their large price tags. What seemed to have gotten Jin’s attention was a display of really nice crystals of all different colors.

“Wow, these are really pretty!” Seokjin exclaimed, closely looking at a deep blue crystal as you approached him. “I wish we had room for things like this in the dorm back home.”

“Even if we did, these are probably way out of our price range, Jin,” you said as you examined what appeared to be an amethyst crystal.

“Yeah, I know,” he responded, backing away a little to look at more of the gems. “But one can dream, right?”

You nodded in agreement, turning away to look over what else was in the store. As your eyes wandered, you noticed the shopkeeper had his eyes set pretty firmly on Seokjin as he looked at the crystals. That wasn’t too unusual, especially with items like these you’re sure that they could never be too safe. But a few moments later another customer entered and started perusing through the other side of the same display that Jin was still examining, and when you looked back to the man at the register his eyes were still firmly glued on your friend.

You realized he hadn’t been looking at you at all, and taking a glance at the new customer as well, you started wondering if there was a certain motivation behind why he was eyeing Jin specifically.

“Hey, Jin,” you carefully said as you tore my gaze away from the man. Jin hummed in response, and you lightly grabbed onto his elbow. “We should probably get going, especially since we’re not buying anything.

“Yeah, just another moment,” he said as his attention turned to another of the beautiful objects.

“I don’t like how the guy at the register is looking at you, Seokjin,” you quietly said, although you weren’t sure why you bothered being quiet when you were pretty sure no one else in the store would have been likely to understand Korean. “I’m sorry, but I really think we should go.”

Jin looked away from the items behind the glass to glance at you, no doubt seeing the concern on your face. He didn’t bother looking at the man, knowing you wouldn’t lie about something like that, before nodding and seeming to decide that it was best to listen to you.

As you were turning around and about to leave, Jin almost bumped into the man who had managed to quietly approach us while we were distracted.

Before we could say or do anything else, the man asked, “Can I help you?” rather sternly. He also seemed to have been speaking slower than normal.

“We just saw the crystals in the window and wanted to take a look at them,” you responded in English, attempting a smile.

He looked the both of you up and down. “Oh, so you do speak English,” he mumbled. Then at a normal volume, “Well, are you going to buy or not?”

You did your best to keep the smile on your face despite how rude this man was being. You knew that the conversation was simple enough that Jin could understand as well, so you hoped that his poker face and acting skills were being useful right now. “Unfortunately not. They’re very pretty, but a bit out of our price range. We were just about to leave. Have a nice day, sir.”

You tugged on Jin’s arm to make sure he knew that was a cue to start walking towards the door. Once you were outside, you let out a deep breath, glad that was over and done with.

“Well, that was rude,” Jin said.

“Yeah, told you I didn’t like how he looked at you,” you replied.

“Oh well, at least we’ve had a nice day overall though.” Jin turned to you to smile as you continued walking. “One rude guy isn’t going to ruin this really nice day I’ve had with you, Y/n.”

“Yeah, of course not,” you replied, returning his smile despite still being a little shaken. He was right, one person shouldn’t ruin the rest of the lovely day you had. “Let’s get back now, hm?”

By the time you made it back, it was evening and everyone there was eating dinner.

“Nice of you to join us, hyung,” Namjoon said through a mouthful of food.

“Did you guys have a nice time?” Hoseok asked, a little more mannerly.

“Yes, we did!” Jin said with a smile. “I missed spending time with Y/n.”

“We see her every day,” Yoongi said.

“You know what I mean,” Jin retorted. Yoongi shrugged in response.

Not wanting to intrude on their personal time, yo just quickly greeted everyone before saying, “I should probably get back to my hotel room. I’ll be seeing you guys tomorrow.”

“Oh, hold on a minute Y/n,” Jin said as he dug through his bag. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” you asked. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” He found what he was looking for and enthusiastically pushed the little box toward you. “Open it.”

You carefully took the box from him, opening the lid to find a bracelet. A charm bracelet like the ones that you saw in the case at the tourist shop. The charms adorning the bracelet were all letters. You gently picked it up, and as you analyzed them you realized there were eight separate sets of letters – RM, J, SG, JH, JM, V, JK, and (your initials) – representing the seven members of BTS and yourself. These little charms weren’t the most expensive thing, but that many letters couldn’t have been cheap! But also, how did he know?

“Jin, what?” you asked after a few moments of not being able to find your voice from the surprise. “How…?”

“I saw you looking at them in the shop,” he said. “When I went back in, asking you to wait outside? I had gone back in to buy that for you. I wasn’t sure what other charms you’d like, but figured I couldn’t go wrong with that.”

“It’s…” you were having trouble finding words as you turned away from the bracelet to look at your friend. “Thank you,” you settled on, smiling widely. “It’s really thoughtful, Seokjin. I love it. Thank you.”

He smiled back before taking the bracelet from you to clasp it around your wrist.

You rushed over to the others to show them the bracelet he got for you, hoping that your enthusiasm over the simple charms showed them how much they all meant to you. You’d definitely be sure to treasure this gift for as long as you could.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 29 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope​ @misohime​ @netflix-batman-sleep​ @smallbaby-cat​ @leitholdwithlove​ @ramyagovindraj​ @leesalts​ @rjsmochii​ @overtherainbow35​

Send me a message or ask if you want tagged! And also feel free to leave comments or send asks to just talk to me!

[2manyfandoms2count]

Dear Chat Noir

Sigh... I really wanted this to be a one-shot. Desperately so. And then I wanted the premise to fit into one chapter. I really did. And then for both premise chapters to be ready before @auyeahaugust was over. Oh well.

Here’s chapter 1 of Dear Chat Noir, my ML Penpal AU (day 25 of AU Yeah August). Chapter 2 should be up soon!

Read on AO3

---

Chapter 1: Of mysterious findings

If you asked Adrien Agreste to describe himself, he would have said he was a somewhat normal child. Should you ask anyone else, their answers would range from “who?” to “a child prodigy”. 

Adrien lived a secluded life in his family’s mansion, away from any distractions, as his father called anything that wasn’t piano practise or fencing training. Every school was considered a waste of time for his son’s intelligence, leading to private tutors to be taken on to satisfy Gabriel Agreste’s education standards. Adrien’s experience of the outside world was limited to being driven to these activities, if they couldn’t take place within the four walls that surrounded the Agreste Hôtel Particulier, and a weekly Sunday evening walk at the Jardin du Luxembourg with his bodyguard. The latter was the only tradition he’d managed to maintain after his mother’s passing. It wasn’t the same without her, but he did enjoy the fresh air. 

He’d also had a brief time in the spotlight as a model for his father’s fashion brand, but Gabriel Agreste had not looked on his son’s increased freedom and contacts with people his age with a favourable eye, and had restricted any unnecessary interactions.

Adrien was therefore left alone with his thoughts most of the time. Part of him wished he could go out more and meet other children, but he knew from his father he was very lucky to be living the life he was. And it was true he couldn’t really complain: he lived in a palace, by Parisian standards, was well fed, well dressed, and was receiving the best education he could ever hope for. Some people had it a lot worse than he did.

Still, he found himself dreaming that one day, maybe, he’d have a little more freedom. With no one to talk about it with, his father’s assistants all siding with the man who held the money if he tried to confide in them, Adrien had taken the habit of putting his thoughts to paper. It had been sporadic at first, but had soon evolved into a daily exercise. He sat in his bed at night, his gigantic room only lit by a little flashlight, and poured out his emotions.

Dear Plagg, the boy wrote that night. He had started addressing his letters to a fictional friend to make himself feel better. Once upon a time, he had tried journaling, but had soon discovered his inner thoughts were not as safe as he’d thought they’d be in the little notebook he kept in one of his fencing trophies; he’d noticed pages had been torn from flicking through them too fast, some had been cornered to mark certain parts, clearly indicating he wasn’t the book’s only reader. He’d therefore moved on to writing his entries on loose paper, which he hid in a little tin box next to a fountain in the Jardin du Luxembourg. He’d soon taken to the game of writing the letters, even enclosing them in envelopes. Between two visits to the park, he would stash them in various locations in his room, making sure the seals stayed intact.

Adrien tried to vary the contents of his letters, even though no one would read them, and nothing particularly exciting happened to him on a day to day basis. He found it kept him focused on the small joys of his life, like when the cook smuggled him an extra croissant, a fragrant flower bloomed in the garden, or he spotted a ladybug on the window while studying. 

He signed the letter the usual way: Until next time, Chat Noir. He read through the letter again, satisfied with the result. Journaling really did wonders to improve his mood. Even if the negative feelings did remain somewhat, it felt good to “share” a little, even though his letters had yet to be found by anyone, or anything. The letter would join the others the next Sunday, and he wouldn’t think twice about it. 

Or so he thought.

--- 

“Tikki!” Marinette Dupain-Cheng chased after the turbulent dog, whose leash had once again escaped her hands while she admired one the Luxembourg statues. She wasn’t very good with dogs, but when her old neighbour Mr Fu had fallen ill, she’d bravely accepted to walk Tikki until he felt better. She’d figured it wouldn’t be very hard, given how calm the dog was. 

Apparently Mr Fu was an animal whisperer, though, because the dog had been nothing but excited since she’d taken custody of her. It was cute, but Marinette was also tired of running around, Tikki being particularly good at losing her in the park’s alleys. 

The young girl sighed as she saw the leash drag around a corner, and slowed her pace. She knew the Jardin du Luxembourg quite well thanks to its central location in Paris, making it a prime spot to meet up with friends. Tikki had just dashed into a dead end; the worst that could happen was her jumping into the Medicis Fountain, but she hoped the barriers that surrounded it would prevent that. 

Turning into the alley, Marinette saw her prayers had seemingly been answered, as Tikki was busy sniffing at something under a stone bench. The Parisian walked up to her, marvelling at the fountain as she did so. The leafy trees surrounding it provided a nice dappled lighting and welcome shade on the hot summer Saturday. The babbling of the water and its gentle sprays only accentuated the cool atmosphere. 

Marinette sat on the bench, picked up Tikki’s leash and gently tried to pull her out from under her seat, but encountered a great resistance.

“What have you found there, girl?” Marinette asked, slightly concerned by the dog’s pining. She leaned over and tried to determine what had caught Tikki’s attention, hoping it would be a lost ball. She had seen rats scuttle around the park a couple of times, and had no interest in coming face to face with one, whether alive or dead.

She looked down and saw Tikki was pawing at a tin biscuit box, pushed deep under the bench, almost in the little hedge that stood behind it. Marinette smiled and shook her head, reading the inscription from afar: Macarons. That dog really did only think with her stomach.

“You know you’re not supposed to eat those, they’re not for you.” Marinette scratched the dog’s neck. Seeing that it didn’t divert her attention, she sighed and kneeled down next to the bench, reaching for the box herself. “You know, I’m sure you’re going to be disappointed, I don’t know if you’re aware but most tin boxes these days don’t actually contain food.” She explained, although she wasn’t sure her audience was very receptive to her words. 

Marinette pulled out the box, which was a lot lighter than she’d expected. She shook it gently next to Tikki’s ear to prove it did not contain treats, and was surprised to hear a soft ruffle, like paper. She sat on the bench again and laid the box on her lap. Her hands hovered over it, hesitant to open it. 

She looked around suspiciously, watching out for anyone trying to pull a prank on her, or just its innocent owner, but the area was empty. 

I really shouldn’t open it, she thought to herself. The box looked quite clean for something that was hidden. It was probably used often, or had been dropped off recently. Had it been hers, she probably wouldn’t have liked to know someone had gone through it. Tikki licked the box gently, which Marinette interpreted as “no one has to know”.

“Okay, fine, I’m doing it for you. It’ll be our secret.” She nodded gravely at the dog and lifted the edges of the lid.

She didn’t know what she’d expected to find. Maybe a bunch of little trinkets, like in the movie Amélie. Perhaps a badly hidden stash of money. Whatever it had been, it definitely wasn’t a collection of letters, all sporting the same handwriting on the envelopes. Tikki looked into the box curiously.

“See, I told you so.” Marinette tilted the box towards the dog. “Nothing in there for you.”

She carefully picked the first envelope. It had the previous Sunday’s date on it. Nothing else.

She was about to look at the next one when her phone rang. She jumped at the sound, almost spilling the box’s contents as she did so, and fished the device out of her handbag. A picture of her parents appeared on the lit screen. Marinette looked at the time and swore internally. She’d been out for over an hour, when she’d said she was only going to be half an hour. She hastily put the letters back in the tin, and slid the latter back under the bench.

“Come on Tikki, time to go home.”

--- 

As she lay in bed that night, Marinette couldn’t stop thinking about the box and its contents. It had just been so odd for it to be there. Who, in their right mind, stored their letters in a public garden? Surely there were better hiding places in an apartment, or wherever the author lived.

Speaking of the author, she found it weird that there’d only seemed to be one, if she could tell from the neatly traced dates on the envelopes she’d seen. It therefore didn’t seem like a makeshift postbox, like the one in Little Women. 

She’d definitely have to investigate the matter the next day.

[immabethehero]

Chase and the Treasure Hunt

Part one of my new multi-chapter!!!

For Chase’s birthday, the egos decide to go extravagant. What adventures await them as they sail through the beautiful ocean on a magnificent pirate ship?

🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓

“Alright kids, you all knew this day would come.” A single lamplight turns on. Sabrina and Noah squint against the harsh light. Chloe pays no attention to the four men staring her and her siblings down and simply plays with her doll.

“Uh… Guys? Is this… necessary?” Noah asks.

“Absolutely. Your father’s birthday is one week from now and we still don’t know what to get him!” Jackie exclaims.

“You could just get him another book,” Sabrina suggests.

“He still hasn’t read the books we got him LAST year,” Henrik grumbles. “We’re not getting him any new ones until he’s read the others!”

“A new hat?” Noah recommends.

“And add another ugly snapback to his collection? Gross!” Marvin interjects.

“A trip to Disney World?” Chloe asks.

“We went last year! We’re not blowing our budget again,” Jameson says. “Nice try, Chloe.”

“That’s all we got!” Sabrina says.

The Septics groan and grumble. Marvin turns the lights back on. Jackie flops onto the couch. Jameson gets up and begins perusing through his library.

Sunlight shimmers through the curtains of the Septics’ Library. Bookshelves line up against the walls, holding books organized by genres, or rather, the Septics’ favourite genre. The bay window has cushioned seating to sit on, so one could read then look wistfully out the window. Chase came up with the idea.

There are two low coffee tables in the middle. Noah gets up and looks outside. “Hey, it’s stopped raining!”

“Wait for it to dry up a bit, and then you can go outside,” Henrik says. “In the meantime, help us find more gift ideas!”

“You are surrounded by books, why don’t you go through them?” Sabrina asks. “Maybe you’ll find ideas inside.”

“That’s a great idea!” Marvin pulls a book off the shelf and thumbs through the pages, before putting it back. “Nothing in there.” He shoves the book back and takes out the next one, thumbing through it. “Nope.”  He continues on to the next book.

Chloe looks outside. Both the grass and the pavement hold large puddles that look like lakes. Her eyes light up.

“What if we took Daddy on a cruise?” she asks.

“Isn’t that a bit expensive?” Henrik asks.

“We’ll make our own ship! Uncle Marvin has real magic, so you can make a ship!” Chloe says.

Marvin pales a little. “Uh… kid? I appreciate the enthusiasm but…”

“Seriously? This could be the least expensive gift for his birthday and you’re rejecting it?” Sabrina says.

“It could be fun!” Noah agrees. “Us, Dad, and you guys all going for a sail in our very own ship that you don’t have to pay for!”

The Septics exchange glances. Henrik motions for a group huddle. After a minute of loud whispering, the egos turn around. Jackie clears his throat and says. “OK! Let’s do it!”

🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓

Not even an hour later after the kids left does another fight break out. This time over what kind of ship to make. Jackie has presented a video of an excavator on a barge, using the giant shovel as a paddle, and suggested they create a ship from that. Henrik retorted that it wasn’t safe, and that Jackie’s presents never met safety regulations, which made the hero explode in a fit of rage.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY ‘SAFETY REGULATIONS?’” Jackie yells” “I’M A FREAKING SUPERHERO. MY JOB IS TO KEEP PEOPLE SAFE-”

“THEN EXPLAIN THE LAST FEW GIFTS YOU’VE GIVEN THE BRODY FAMILY!” yells Henrik. “YOU GAVE SABRINA AND NOAH FLYING TOBOGGANS LAST CHRISTMAS!”

“So they could get a sense of what it was like to fly like me!!! And those toboggans came with seatbelts and helmets and padding! It’s not my fault Chase decided to do a barrel roll and ended up in the hospital with a concussion!”

“At Chloe’s 3rd birthday party, you gave her a taser and put bottles of pepper spray in the guests’ party bags!”

“We are living in a society where females face attacks from horrible misogyny everyday! I was simply preparing them for how to respond in an attack!”

“You gave Stacy and Delilah machetes for their 3rd anniversary!”

“Girls like swords!” 

“My point stands!”

Marvin flies past the kitchen, wearing a pretty maroon coat. “I’m heading to the store, let me know if you need anything!”

“I’m coming with you!” Jameson yells, jumping out his seat. He quickly shoves on his own coat and follows Marvin outside.

“Not enjoying the match?” Marvin asks.

“They’re so loud when they argue,” Jameson complains.

“They’re Septic Egos through and through, it’s in their blood,” Marvin explains.

Jameson laughs. “Where are we heading? I don’t believe they sell boat parts at the grocery store.”

“We’re not going there, Jameson,” Marvin says. “We’re going to the one place where we might find a working ship.”

🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓

In the calmer parts of the town, nestled on the edge lies the Survival Kit, a store with fascinating trinkets and other things needed for emergencies and of course, survival. For Marvin, it’s where he can grab whatever items he needs for a spell or a potion and not be questioned by his strange purchases.

The store itself looks like a normal store, with a gable roof and stone bricks, but when one walks inside does the magic begin. Fishing rods, boats in bottles, bikes, even ice skates are lined up on shelves and walls, ready for use. Among the useful outdoor items and the emergency supplies are cool little trinkets from different parts of the world.

Jameson marvels at the gramophones, each decorated to represent different genres of music. Jameson finds one such gramophone whose records only play symphonies. When he plays the test recording, his heart soars along with the music. He sways side to side, basking in the beautiful noise.

Marvin peruses the shelves of nautical items, looking for the perfect Boat in a Bottle. He can simply resize it into a real-life ship and transfigure it to make it sail. He’s done resizing and transfiguration before, this won’t be any different!

“Need help finding what you’re looking for?” a voice with a strong Australian accent asks. Marvin jumps and turns around.

Angus McLoughlin, self-proclaimed “Survival Hunter'' and owner of the store, stands beside Marvin. Like the other egos, Angus has Jack’s brown hair and blue eyes, though his hair is often hidden underneath a dark green crocodile dundee hat. His left eye is somewhat glassy, and two long scars run down it. For a little while, the egos were fairly certain that Angus was connected to Jack somehow. When Marvin asked, Angus said that while he did share a last name with Jack, neither were related in any way and Angus didn’t really know the Youtuber that well. It was simply a coincidence.

“I’m looking for a boat in a bottle…” Marvin says, turning back to the shelves. “It’s for a friend’s birthday…”

“Fascinating!” Angus surveys his shelves. “Well, what kind of boats does he like?”

Marvin shrugs. “I don’t know. Something cool, I guess. Nothing too boring. Perhaps a pirate ship, I remember Chase saying he loved the Pirates of the Carribean series.. Or was it Treasure Island… wait… was it that stop-motion animation pirate movie-”

“Might I interest you in this?” Angus holds up a bottle with a little model brigantine ship inside. The wood was a beautiful mahogany and shimmered in whatever light the bottle caught. The flag colours consisted of blue and red. A tiny mermaid was carved into the bow of the ship.

Marvin slams a twenty euro poun noted into Angus’ hand, grinning like a maniac. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m assuming you’re also paying for the gramaphone?” Angus asks with a laugh. Marvin turns to see Jameson holding up the symphony-themed gramophone, eyes pleading.

Marvin chuckles. “Yes.”

🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓

The egos, minus one rad dad, gather around the little ship.

“What are we going to do with it?” Henrik asks.

“First: we need to take it apart and rebuild it. Jackie, you’re in charge of remodelling the ship,” Marvin orders. Jackie nods.

“Then we need to repaint it so it will fit Chase better. I want to use sails that go with our theme. Maybe Septic Sam wearing pirate hats and holding little swords. Jameson, you’re decorating.” Jameson whistles.

“Henrik, I need you to work on some clothes for the big day. We can’t go in our usual get-up! I’ll give you the designs to work with!” Marvin shoves a stack of papers at Henrik, then runs out the door. “I have more work to do! See you guys soon!”

The egos stare suspiciously at their retreating friend.

“What’s Marvin hiding from us? What is he doing?” Henrik asks.

“Probably just some more ideas for Chase’s birthday,” Jackie says, scribbling away on blueprints.

“It’s not like him to hide plans like that,” Jameson notes.

Henrik skims through the designs. “Are we… going on a pirate adventure?”

Jackie and Jameson stare at the blueprints.

Jameson grins. “Looks like it. Could be fun!”

“Why would we do that?”

“Because it’s fun! Chase would love to have a little fun and adventure for his birthday!” Jackie exclaims. “Besides, it’ll give Stacy and Delilah enough time to set up the house for the party after!”

“I wonder if there’ll be treasure!” Jameson muses.

“It better be worth all this trouble. It’ll take all night for me to make these costumes!” Henrik groans. “Jameson, could you help me?” JJ nods.

One of Jameson’s time manipulation tricks is the ability to speed up tasks, so that a task that could take an hour would only take seconds. Chase’s children used to bribe him with treats so he would use this gift and speed up their homework time, which worked until Chase found out and banned Jameson from homework help.

While Henrik and JJ work on costumes and sails, Jackie tinkers away at the ship, remodelling it to be more modern and fit for the six egos and the kids. j is out all night, but returns in time to paint the ship and transfigure it.

When the ship is done, the egos head to the docks. Marvin performs a spell, and soon, a large ship floats on the water, ready for use.

The egos take the ship out for a test run, Marvin pinpointing each place they need to take Chase too.

Back at home, Chase Brody doodles in his journal, humming softly. Nothing, not even a cryptic hint from Jack, can prepare him for tomorrow.

🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓🏴‍☠️⚔️⚓

@graysun, @florenceisfalling, @miishae​​, @lonelyseiren, @goldenoceanaart, @egopocalypse, @oasisofgalaxies, @fleecal, @kofi-king, @myspatialspace, @jo-ann-ahh-2, @writerwithdepression, @huffletrax, @gemstone6, @dumbasticart, @lunaarmada, @deadlydevine, @meteorshowersfillthesky, @bupine, @the-yandere-kitsune, @climbing-starrs, @the-spawn-of-loki, @jadehowlettthewolf, @obsidiancreates, @rammypaige, @hollenka99, @cest-mellow, @randowaffle, @green-protects, @dezi-popp, @badlypostedeverything

[twiwrite]

CHAPTER ONE;  711 DAYS. 

This is a house of collections. Artwork, books, instruments, albums, sheetmusic, clothing, exotic plants -- the Cullens have collected a museums’ worth. 

Words: 3.7K Warnings: you may develop a cavity after consuming this sugary shit. 

CONTINUE READING ON;  FANFICTION | A03

FULL PIECE BELOW THE CUT; 

FORKS, WASHINGTON SEPTEMBER, 1950.

This is a house of collections. Artwork, books, instruments, albums, sheet music, clothing, exotic plants -- the Cullens have collected a museums’ worth.

In the past few days, I’ve made myself particularly familiar with the clothes. Oh, the clothes! They’ve got closet after closet of coats and shoes and dresses I could only ever dream of wearing -- more than a family of five could ever possibly need.

I’ve concluded that the closet right off the master bedroom is the most fantastic of them all. It’s about the size of the little house Jasper and I shared  -- but with higher ceilings, and a nicer paint job.

Every shelf of the master closet is full, every hanger turned in the same direction. There’s every colour, and fabric, and style of clothing imaginable, and each piece is arranged with care and forethought; by season, then by routine. Hats up top. Outfits right below. Shoes on the bottom. Special occasion items are tucked in the back, and their ample jewellery collection is displayed on its own little table. It’s a room fit for royalty, and I’m desperately jealous.

I’d give anything to have a closet like this.

The first time I saw it, I couldn’t contain my excitement. It poured out of me so loud and so pure, that I was compared to a child on Christmas. In the time since, I’ve longed to spend a full day — maybe longer  — lost within that fabric forest.

I’ve managed a quick peek every now and then, but each and every time, my plans to explore further are foiled by a Cullen, curious to find their newest housemate.

I see them coming, and I’m back to something less suspicious before anyone catches me in the midst of my foolish little games.

Today is different. I’ve got ample time to explore, totally unencumbered. No one is here except Jasper and I. The Cullens have left for a hunt, and we’ve been trusted to care for their big house of belongings in the meantime. And while I miss my new family -- which I truly do -- it’s nice to just be, without Edward in my head, or Rosalie nervously eyeing my every step. I’ve got room to breathe, if I wanted to.

Jasper and I had planned on using our day to venture towards town without the added pressure of prying tawny eyes, but late last night I saw that his mind had changed --  that he was no longer ready for such an important experiment -- and so today has become a day of adventure right here, in the safety of the big house. I don’t mind. We can try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. We certainly have the time.

For Jasper, a day in means a day lost in Carlisle’s study, with his nose pressed to the page of a book. He’s happy in there. I can feel it radiating through the whole house, like a sweet cross-breeze, and so I leave him undisturbed. Besides -- when Jasper gets a book in his hands, or any good opportunity to learn, nothing will distract him, not even me. Not unless its got a racing pulse.

Luckily, there’s none of that here.

So, really, it’s just me and the belongings.

I take the opportunity to dig deep into Esme and Carlisle’s regal closet. I peek into garment bags and hat boxes, rifle through scarves and gloves and trays full of accessories, and take the time to scrutinize every single piece of clothing.

A few are so new you can still smell the store on them, others are old as me. Some of Carlisle’s suits might be older than that, still. Jasper’s age, at least, and so well-kept that any untrained eye would think they were fresh from the haberdashery.

The older pieces smell of their owners day to day -- for Esme, it’s a plethora of floral scents. Rosehip. Lavender. Peony. All of which she grows in abundance, in the garden tucked up against the house. Carlisle was harder to make out at first, but after spending a few hours lost in his belongings, I managed to place it. Castile soap and antiseptic. Iodine, I think. It’s strange, at first, almost too clean, but then I notice something underneath all that — something cold, and sort of sweet.

I bury my nose into one of his tweed jackets and inhale deeply. The powerful tangle of scents caught on Carlisle’s jacket waft over me and settle in, but I make the point to take another draw — even deeper this time — to try and distinguish each individual odour. First I make out the rich scent of vanillin that oozes from his study, and then it hits me — mint, from the plant sitting on the kitchen windowsill.

Below all that —  rosehip, lavender, and peony, all embedded deep in the fabric of his jacket. I smile, and the tweed tickles my mouth. That’s Esme, lingering on. It makes sense — the two are never more than a foot apart. She’s left her mark on him in more ways than one.

Once I’m satisfied, I tuck Carlisle’s jacket back into place and move on to do the same with a particularly lovely sage green dress.

This one is brand new. It still smells of sweaty human hands and nondescript, chemical perfumes.

I keep on digging, and searching, and enjoying, and eventually I land at the table where Esme keeps her collection of trinkets and jewels. I look at them, all shiny and perfect, and I think how lucky she is to have such beautiful things.

I commit myself to just looking  —  that is, until I notice the glimmer of a pearl tucked beneath the edge of a satin headscarf.

I’ve always loved pearls.

Before I know it, the most pleasing peal-adorned hairpin is resting in my hands.

My heart doesn’t beat, but it does squeeze at the sight.

It feels familiar, like it’s already been mine. Maybe I’ve seen it before, in a vision, or a store, or at some point in the indistinguishable fog that was my human life. It’s small and simple and delicate, and I just know that it’s an antique, too -- maybe a family heirloom!

Oh, I love it. I really, truly love it.

It’d look so swell pinning back Esme’s caramel coloured waves, or tucked into one of Rosalie’s elaborately braided creations.

Me, on the other hand? With hair so spiky, and unyielding, and awful, I’ve always tried to draw attention away from it, not towards. I’ve never bothered with such precious things. Disappointed for the billionth time over the permanence of my choppy locks, I glance into the little mirror situated beside the jewellery tray and take a good, hard look at my boyish appearance.

Maybe if I twist that piece of hair just so, and stick the pin right there -- My vision goes out of focus, and I come to spinning in a room. I’m tucked against Jasper’s chest, feeling warm and good and happy. I can see the floor, and my feet, and the hem of a blue skirt.

Jasper touches something atop my head. “I like this,” he mutters, “it’s pretty. Reminds me of your skin, whenever I can get you out in the sun.”

I blink and I’m back in Esme’s closet.

He likes it.

I look to the mirror again, to check once more if I might find the right spot for such a pin, and in my reflection, just behind me, I spot something very familiar.

Something blue. Well!

That’s all the confirmation I need.

The grin that splits my face in two is an unstoppable force.

Visions like this are my favourite.

When I’m in-tune enough to catch a glimpse into my own future — one that confirms a question or leads me left or right — I know to listen. To pay close attention. If I catch all the details and follow all the clues, I’m more often than not led to a picture perfect moment. One that I would have otherwise missed, if left to nothing but luck.

It’s these self-fulfilling-prophecies that brought me to Jasper. They brought me here.

I tuck the pin into the pocket I’ve sewn into my dress -- I’ll have it back before Esme notices! -- and turn on my  heel to march towards the most beautiful thing I’ve found yet.

A dress, pale-blue, and made of tulle, with a tea-length skirt and a ruched bodice. It’s magnificent!

The most tantalizing part? I already know that this particular dress would fit me just right. I’ve seen it!

Still, I hesitate to touch it. It’s not mine.

The same vision flashes before my eyes, like the future calling directly out to me, saying, I already told you, you must! So I must. Who am I to argue an inevitability? This particular future is set in stone. So --

I lurch forward and curl my fingers into the ample skirt, gasping out in utter delight when I do. This here is no common frock. This is a work of art. My simple, curtain-fabric dress seems almost disgraceful now. I want out of it, and into this. Esme won’t mind. I’m sure of it. She’s been so insistent that I use whatever I need, after all. And what Esme doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I make quick work of the change.

The inside of the blue dress is lined with silk. It slides deliciously over my marble skin, like butter melting in a warm pan. I take extra care with the line of buttons running up its back, snapping each one closed as delicately as my fingers will allow. I flatten out the skirt, careful not to pull, and float towards the full body mirror leaned in the far corner.

The dress’ shoulders hang off mine just right. Its bodice hugs my waist like it was tailored just for me. The skirt -- well, the tulle hits just past my knees, and tickles them every time I move. I look beautiful. I look happy and bright that I swear there’s colour in my cheeks.

I look like one of them. A human.

Not just any old human. One of the fantastic ones. Straight from sunny, golden Hollywood. Rita Hayworth. Ginger Rogers. Grace Kelly!

I admire myself for another second, but refuse to rest before my outfit is complete.

Somewhere in the mess of ugly dress I’d discarded on the floor, I find the pearl pin. I bring it with me back over to the mirror, and start fiddling away with my hair. I struggle for awhile, but just when I’m about to give up, my hair submits, and I find the perfect spot to showcase the singular shining pearl against my dark hair.

It even manages to hold down a particularly formidable cowlick in the process.

There.

Perfect.

I want to be content standing here in the closet, where Esme’s dress is out of harm’s way, but my heart aches to find that simple and tooth-achingly-sweet moment I saw minutes ago. I want to find Jasper.

So, armed with the courage only a perfect dress could give you, I venture out into the house.

I wander around in Esme’s blue dress, my head held high. I swoosh down the stairs and dance my way through every hall, with no need for music or party-goers with this magnificent, twirly thing to entertain me. I could go on all night, twisting, and turning, and gliding around.

My one-woman parade ends in the living room, right in front of my second favourite spot. Here are ceiling-high shelves, tirelessly cradling a collection of vinyl records that spans through genres and decades. There are singles, and extended plays, and soundtracks, all lovingly forced into each and every measly inch of storage space. And even that’s not enough to contain this particular collection — down at my feet are more piles, stacking up towards the hem of my dress.

Any second, the weight of it all is going to rip through the floor. I’ve never known a vampire to accumulate so many things. Then again -- I’ve never really known any vampire, except for Jasper. Maybe a penchant for collecting is normal among our kind, if given the chance. It makes sense. An endless life equates to endless things.

I drag my fingers along the spines of albums arranged at my height. I walk, collecting fresh dust on my fingertips, until I’m stopped by the hard corner of the cabinet positioned alongside their glorious collection.

Sitting on top is a brand spanking new record player.

I’ve had little radios of my own, and spent many hours tucked up beside jukebox in Finch’s diner, but I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to justify owning such an extravagance.

Such a thing shouldn’t just sit, collecting dust.

It takes a little investigation — and a little peering into the immediate future — but I eventually figure out how to bring the player to life. I settle on a record by an artist I’ve heard before, almost everywhere I go.

I set the needle down on the record, more gentle than I was with the buttons on my dress, and wait for the thing to crackle to life. Music follows soon after.

The hearty bass of a big band orchestra shakes dust of the speakers, and they go on flexing in time, like a beating heart.

I turn the music louder, hoping the steady beat might distract Jasper from his books.  

While I wait, I close my eyes, and I let the joyous sound shake me, too. It brings me to life, starting in my fingers, until I’m moving head to toe.

I let go of everything else for a moment — I leave the future where it is, and my worries at the door, and I focus on how happy I am right now.

Eyes still closed, I wander out into the middle of the living room and spin myself around, hands outstretched to feel the edge of my skirt fly when I do. I spin again, and again, until something stops me.

I’m delightedly surprised -- something I’m not very often -- to find Jasper there, with a big stupid grin on his face. He catches my hand, effectively stopping me in place.

“How long have you been watching me?” I ask through a fit of giddy laughter. “Didn’t you see me coming?” He teases, staring me down with that feigned-serious look he wears so well.

I hum in response, not interested in explaining how deeply I’ve been enjoying the present. Jasper doesn’t quite get it yet, how big of a burden monitoring the future can be.

He chuckles and lifts his hand to spin me around. I follow his lead, just on time with the beat of the music, and turn until I’m facing him again. Then Jasper pulls me close, right up against his chest, and settles his free hand on my back, just between my shoulders. Each fingertip spreads a calm kind of happy through my being, growing larger and more dominant until all I can feel is what he is.

I understand more of how our powers work now, and how much proximity has to do with it. From afar, Jasper’s emotions might be palpable to me, if he works hard to project them and I work hard to tune him in. Up close, however, it’s all too easy to drown in him. It’s not my doing, and not his. It just is. It was overwhelming at first, feeling enough for two people, but now I’m not sure how I ever existed without this kind of fullness.

We stay quiet and sway for awhile, until Jasper decides to speak. I can feel the finality of his decision coming towards me in the form of a vision, but I push it off, eager to stay right here with him instead. “We should do this more often,” he says, before taking a step back to twirl me again. I tip myself back into his embrace, and nod fervently at his suggestion. “Any excuse, right?” I ask, turning my gaze towards our tightly clasped hands.

Jasper chuckles, and tightens his arm around my waist. “I don’t think we need an excuse,” he says confidently, like it’s obvious.

I shrug, and smile sweetly up at him. “Well — an opportunity, then.”

He nods, and laughs again.

From where I stand, I can see the floor, and my bare feet, and the baby blue hem of Esme’s dress. A familiar type of chill rolls up my spine. Here it comes.

Jasper’s hand lifts off my back and reaches up. He touches the pearl tucked into my hair, just as lovingly as I saw he would, and so I lift my eyes to him like I’m meant to do.

“I like this,” he mutters, “it’s pretty. Reminds me of your skin, whenever I can get you out in the sun.” I grin.

What’s next hasn’t been plotted out, but my mouth seems to find the words anyways. “I hate to break it to you, but there’s not much sun around here.”

He furrows his brows, like he’s seriously considering this new information. “Probably a good thing,” Jasper notes. He touches the little bobble one more time, and then brings his hand back to my waist. After a moment of deep thought, Jasper speaks again. “We’ll just have to make our own sunshine.”

Goodness, he’s great.

Overflowing with his joy and my own, I stretch up as high as I can, on the very tips of my toes, and press a hard kiss to his smiling mouth. Even then, he bends himself in half to reach me.

We melt into each other, a puddle of his emotions and mine. Jasper’s hand leaves my waist to cradle the side of my face and his touch spreads searing want against my cheek. I welcome everything he has to give me, and curl my fingers into the fabric of his shirt to say, yes, please, more.

I’ve always mourned my humanity, but God, I’m so grateful not to breathe. It means Jasper and I could go on like this indefinitely. Forever.

It’s exactly what I want, and Jasper knows that, but he slides back into the role of proper gentleman before his powers get the best of us and there’s no turning back.

He clears his throat.

I laugh.

My head lands on Jasper’s chest and I close my eyes. The music slows to a stop after a while, and the needle against the inner end of the record, where the grooves in the vinyl cease.

Neither of us bother to do anything about it. We stand there in silence, just holding each other, swaying back and forth to the click, click, click coming from the far end of the room. That’s music enough for us.

I feel Jasper shift. His head turns up and his shoulders lower.

Then, another voice shakes me out of Jasper’s arms. “Chronologically, by year. And then by preference, I guess.” Surprised twice in one day! I look past Jasper’s arm to see Edward leaning against the doorframe, smiling at us both with a good and proper grin.

Jasper lets me go and turns around, and I stand and watch as he attempts to match the man’s expression.

“-- since you were wondering,” Edward finishes. He stretches out his smile and stands up straight, then acknowledges me with a solid nod.

Jasper sighs out a nervous laugh. “I was,” he says, forcing his body into a straight line. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he says of Edward’s gift.

“Sorry,” Edward says, unapologetically.

“It’s a wonderful collection,” I offer, snaking an arm low around Jasper’s waist. He relaxes, just a little, so I keep throwing calm his way.

Next into the room is Carlisle, followed closely by Rosalie and Emmett. Esme is tucked between them.

Esme!

The dress!

Before I can hide my crime behind Jasper’s body, I’m caught. “Alice!” She says, her red-painted lips pulling into a smile.

“Oh, Esme -- I’m sorry, I know you said I could borrow a dress or two, but this! --”

“You look absolutely lovely.”

Three surprises — now that’s absolutely unheard of. What a strange kind of day.

“Oh,” I say, hands flying up to fiddle with the bodice. I smile through my embarrassment and mumble a quiet thank you. “It’s yours,” Esme quickly assures. “It fits you like a glove.”

No words leave my mouth, but a wonky little gasp of air does.

Carlisle’s smile pulls wider across his face. He closes the distance between himself and his wife, and takes one hand out of his cardigan’s pocket to rest on Esme’s shoulder proudly. “I agree,” he simply states, “like it was made for you.”

“Oh, I could never!” I argue.

Rosalie looks up from Emmett, who’s sat himself down to pull off his muddy shoes, and she huffs a laugh at me. “You’re already wearing it,” she notes, with a surprising amount of sincerity amongst her usual bite.

Esme eyes Rosalie. “You absolutely can,” she insists, ignoring the blonde’s remark. “Please. What’s mine is yours. You’re part of the family now.”

I look down at the dress -- my dress -- and burst into a fit of giddy laughter. How can I say no to that? I look at the Cullens one by one -- Esme and Carlisle still embracing, Rosalie and Emmett poised just behind them, and Edward smiling that all-knowing-smile to their left -- and then land my gaze on sweet, dedicated Jasper.

This is my family.

For thirty years, I’ve been searching. I’ve been looking, and looking -- scanning through the future and digging to understand the past -- hoping to find some spot in space and time that suits me right.

For so long I searched alone, with nothing, and no one, and no idea where to go.

That changed when I saw a man, scarred and uncertain and spun of gold. It changed again, when I saw a family put together by choice, and by love.

I started on a path that would lead me across the country and back again, with nothing more than hope and a picture in my mind.

I’ve gained so much since then — pieces of myself, determination stronger than fear, a deep, life-affirming understanding of what it means to love, and be loved, unconditionally, with every inch of your deadened heart — but nothing will ever compare to the satisfaction that I feel right now.  

I can stop. I can stop wanting, and waiting, and searching. I’m here. I’m finally here, exactly where I’m meant to be.

I’m home, and that is the best thing of all. THE END.