#i might do another with fancier robes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiribaku-queen · 4 years ago

Text

The Blood King and his Queen [1]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Hello my loves! And welcome back to another, rather long, series! I had so many inspirations for this piece that I couldn’t wait to share with you all! Be warned, this might be a 20 part series, maybe more maybe less but we’ll see what happens! I hope you fall in love with this story as much as I do!

And shout out to this amazing artist for the art! I am literally BLOWN AWAY by this art! I can’t stop looking at it! It’s so amazingly well drawn. Just... yes, yes, yes! Please support this artist if you ever want art done! Pricey but just look at this art. So worth it! Check out the end of the chapter for the full image without text!

Also!!!! Check out my side blog if you’re curious about what fics I’m reading! You’ll find alot of j u i c y stuff and please support my friends by reading and commenting on their stories as well! Love <3

[next]

Nothing started your morning off better than the princess screaming her head off first thing in the morning. You, along with other servants, rushed to aid the princess in her time of distress. Although, it was never something to worry about with her. It was always something minor, like her hair was styled incorrectly or she didn’t like the color of clothes her servant picked out. Of course, this time, she was making a fuss that her perfume didn’t smell right.

“Your highness, I promise you, it’s the same one,” one of the servants who aided her in the morning pleaded for her life.

“No! You must have switched it out because it smells nothing like mine!” the princess screeched. The princess was so outraged that she started throwing everything and anything that was around her. Clothes, jewelry, candles, mirrors, anything she could get her hands on, she threw it. You and the other girls that just arrived could only watch in horror as her whole room becomes a mess with her belongings, some broken some completely shattered.

You wanted to say something. But you knew you couldn’t. If you stepped out of line or even talked back to any of the royals, you were surely to be punished severely later. Yet, you wanted to say something so bad. It was on the tip of your tongue. Because you knew the reason why it may smell different to the princess. To help your fellow friend in desperate need, you were going to say it. You pray to the gods that what you were about to say was right.

“Princess, if I may,” you started. The princess stopped what she was doing, midair, to give you the coldest stare you have ever received from her. You gulped. Well, too late to back out now. You bowed down your head respectfully while extending your hand to take the perfume. You don’t know why the princess decided to trust you at that moment, but she did. She nodded her head, allowing one of the servants to retrieve the bottle and place it in the palm of your hands.

“I believe it’s because your clothes already have a different perfume on it.” you explain. You pick up a different piece of clothing, one you knew was clean and free from previous scents, and spritzed the perfume onto it. “Here, does this smell like normal?” you offer the piece of clothing to the princess. For a moment, she stares at it, not believing your words. But she forcibly takes it anyway and smells it. The look of realization hit her harder than when she smashed her mirror against the floor. She spares you a second glance before handing off her perfume to someone and faces away.

“I would like to be left alone,” the princess states. After a synchronized bow from all her servants, you left the princess’s quarters and back to your own. When you were far enough, you let out a big sigh of relief. Man, that was scary. You probably shouldn’t be doing that again any time soon. Your friend hooked arms with you, the unexpected force made you loose your balance.

“Your intuition was spot on, once again,” she stated. You could only roll your eyes.

“I was just trying to help the situation,” you explained.

“Yeah, well if only the princess could use her brain once in a while, then she would have figured it out herself,” your friend puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Well maybe her highness wasn’t feeling herself this morning,” you tried to defend her. But really, there was only so much you could defend her on.

“Oh, please, (y/n). You know that’s how she acts all the time. You act more like a princess than the princess herself,” your friend finally let the cat out of the bag. You quickly slapped her hand and checked your surroundings. Phew, no one of importance was in sight.

“Oh hush now. Don’t say things like that,” you scold her, giving her a stern look.

“What? You know all us girls think that. It doesn’t help that you look almost exactly like her. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the princess instead.”

“Good gracious! Really? How could you say that so loud? What if someone overhears you? Then both you and me could get in trouble,” you warned. You knew your friend couldn’t care less. It was always gossip coming out of these girl’s mouths. That’s how news spreads fast around here. And you didn’t mind the gossip. Actually, you participated in the gossip too. There was a lot of downtime when you weren’t attending to the princess. So what do you do instead? Gossip. But you couldn’t have this type of gossip going around. This was dangerous.

The main girl who caused the princess to get upset, finally left the room. She was visibly traumatized by the whole event. Who wouldn’t be? Dealing with the princess is something else.

You noticed that the girl was bleeding from her finger. She must have gotten it when the princess was throwing glass around the room and it some pieces cut her.

“Come with me,” you gently grabbed her by the arm and led her to a room that was filled with different plants and bottles. The aroma immediately felt welcoming to anyone who stepped in. You went to a part of the room that you knew well and pulled out a bandage.

“This should do the trick,” you say as you finish wrapping her finger up.

“Thank you. How did you…”

“Oh, I learned a few things from the royal doctor. Sort of like an apprentice?” you explained. Being a servant isn’t the only task you knew how to do. On your spare time, you would come to the royal doctor and assist him whenever needed. In return for your volunteer, he taught you everything he knew about medicine. It was still a lot to process, but at least you knew how to do basic first aid.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” the girl asked. You thought for a minute. Was it? It wasn’t stopping you now.

“Well I guess it’s our little secret,” you put your finger to your mouth and gave a small wink.

After properly getting ready, you and the girls rushed to the princess’s side for it was your job to get her ready to be sent of and wedded. And she was not getting wedded off to just any prince. It was the rumored Blood Prince. Ah, yes. You heard much about this Blood Prince. He was the most vicious out of all the princes in the kingdom. Even more so than his eldest brothers. He was rumored to have sharp teeth and eyes that could kill with a single look. He was told to have scars marked all over his body from the battlefield. An ugly being, you imagined. Big, scary, intimidating, ruthless. God, you felt sorry for the princess for marrying such a man. You couldn’t imagine yourself marrying that type of person. Hearing stories about him made your blood run cold and chills down your spine.

You entered the princess’s room where a beautiful, white wedding dress, flowy, magnificent and perfect in all the right ways, was being fitted on the princess. You watched in awe because she looked absolutely fantastical in the dress. What a dream it would to be wear that dress only once in your life. At the same time her dress was being fitted, some servants were doing her hair and putting decorative pins and head pieces on. It was very chaotic in the room, with servants running everywhere, but it was all worth it for the princess to look this way.

You were preparing water for her hands and feet to soak while some of the girls that came with you were deciding which robe that best fits with her wardrobe.

“Your highness looks so lovely,” you commented, gently soaking her hands into warm bowls of water.

“Of course! I have to look my best for a special guest this afternoon,” the princess said in a cheery voice. You tilted your head slightly in confusion. You weren’t aware that the Blood Prince was coming to the palace. You thought the princess was being sent to him instead. You looked up and came into contact with a friend and she was speaking with her eyes.

She doesn’t know. She signaled to you. You frowned.

She doesn’t know?

She does not know.

Your mouth was left slightly ajar. The princess does not know that she is off to be engaged any moment now? This was a dilemma. She thinks a guest is coming. That’s why she’s dressed so much fancier than usual. But when she finds out that she is to be engaged, she’s going to wreck havoc in the palace. Now you really didn’t dare say anything now.

After finding out that very important piece of information, you could see that all the girls in the room knew, besides the princess. The tension in the room was growing increasingly more uncomfortable as time went on. But the princess was so air headed that she couldn’t read the room.

The princess was over the moon with happiness. And it was only because she could wear her fancy and expensive gowns that she can’t wear on the daily. She was skipping down the long corridors, humming a tune to only she knows as you and other servants follow behind her.

“Isn’t this dress beautiful? I feel like I’m in a wedding dress!” the princess exclaimed. You couldn’t help but raise a brow. Well, it’s because the princess is really in a wedding dress. But the princess did look beautiful beyond compare. She almost looked ethereal dancing in front of you like that. As the princess was dancing down the corridor, she passed by one of many large windows that gave a view of the front of the palace. A carriage was waiting to take her away to her fiancé, but she didn’t know that. Or did she?

She stopped in her tracks to take a better look at the carriage outside. A frown laid upon her lips and her eyebrows rightfully furrowed.

“Is that my carriage down there?” she questions. The ladies around you looked at each other, not knowing what to say. But even if they did know what to say, who was going to say it? One of your friends cleared their throat and bowed down to respond to the princess.

“It is, your highness,” she said.

“Whatever for?” a round of gulps could be heard from everyone there.

“For…your trip to your betrothed,” the girl’s voice shook from fear that the princess was going to blow up.

“My betrothed?” the princess repeated.

“Yes, your highness.”

“As in, to marry?”

“Yes, your highness.”

It was quiet. Nothing more came out of the princess’s mouth. And that scared all of you. This was not the normal reaction you were expecting. You expected her highness to rage, cry, scream, yell, destroy everything around her. But no. She was silent, like her tongue was ripped out of her throat.

In one quick movement, the princess turns around and dashes back to her bedroom. And who does she bring along? You! Before you could comprehend anything, the princess had taken you by the hand and now you were running down the corridor with the princess. The other ladies were running after you. When you turned back to look, you even saw a couple of guards running as well. But it was too late for them. The princess got to her room first, slammed the door closed, and barricaded the door with chairs to prevent anyone from coming inside.

“Your highness,” you call, out of breath from the sudden running. The princess didn’t answer you. She started taking off her dress, sending you into complete shock.

“Your highness! What are you doing?” you panicked. She only glared at you while not stopping what she was doing.

“Enough talking. Just take off your clothes,” she ordered you. You bit your lip. You had no idea what was going on but if she demanded it, then you had no choice but to obey. So, you stripped yourself of your filthy clothes and laid them on the floor. While you stood in front of the princess naked, she was getting the remaining of her clothes off. Then, she passed you her dress.

“Quick, put it on,” she said. You hesitated at first. You? Wear something only a princess could wear? But you couldn’t stall any longer. As quickly as you could, you put on the flowy wedding dress while the princess put on your peasant clothes. Banging was coming from the other side of the door, which only made both of you panic even more. If they came in while all this was happening, you would get into so much trouble. As soon as you both got situated in your new outfits, the princess gripped your shoulders so that you were looking her right in the eyes.

“Listen to me closely. You are going to take my place. I’ll be you and you’ll be me until you come back,” she shouted at you in a whisper.

“Your highness?” you began but she shut you up because she wasn’t finished.

“Your mission is to make this prince hate you so much that he calls off this marriage. Then you’ll return and everything will go back to normal,” she continued. It looked like she wanted to say more, but your time together was cut short. The guards had already pushed their way through the door and charging their way towards you. The princess, who was now dressed as you, quickly covered your face with the veil. The veil was thick enough that no one could see your eyes or face.

“Take the princess,” one of the guards ordered. The real princess bowed her head down, faking it until the end. The guards went straight up to you, grabbing you by both of your arms and forcibly escorted you out to the carriage.

And so there you were, on your way to some unknown kingdom, about to marry some man you didn’t even know. All because the princess ordered you to. No matter how much you hated the idea, you couldn’t even voice your opinions to her. You were in no position to do so. Before you left the palace grounds, you looked back, hoping that this was all some sort of sick joke. But the princess was looking down at you from the window, giving you a nod of trust. She trusted you. You had to fulfil her request.

This is how you found yourself in the presence of the most vicious Blood Prince, Bakugou Katsuki.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be put on a tag list! And leave your thoughts below about the first chapter! What did you think so far? How do you think the story is going to go? What did you think about the art? Speaking of art, here is the full image unedited! Are you in love with it just as much as I am?

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou imagine #bnha imagine #bnha art #bakugou angst

443 notes · View notes

rhysiana · 3 years ago

Text

Because @jingyismom just posted about the joyous thought of goth Wangxian, I was reminded I did actually have more from the punk club AU that I never posted because I kept waiting for it to get longer, but their outfits are just too important to languish in my computer anymore.

[Previous scenelets from this AU]

By the time they reached Lan Wangji’s apartment, Wei Wuxian was deep into second thoughts about attending this concert.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, standing unsure in the foyer, shoes off but fiddling with always-unbuckled belt at the hem of his jacket, “are you sure you really want me to go with you? You said it’s for your work.” He glanced down at himself pointedly. “I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

Lan Wangji glanced back at him over his shoulder, giving a swift but thorough once-over. “You are fine.”

Wei Wuxian gaped at him. “Ripped jeans and boots held together with duct tape are fine?”

“Yes.”

Unable to argue against the surety in Lan Wangji’s voice, Wei Wuxian trailed along behind him to the bedroom, where he was immediately arrested by the sight of Lan Wangji stripping out of the oversized sweater he’d been wearing all day, leaving him in a shirt that still covered him from fairly high on his neck all the way to the wrists but was much closer fitting. Wei Wuxian snapped his mouth shut before Lan Wangji could catch him staring and swallowed. He saw far more scandalously dressed people than this on a daily basis! This should not be affecting him like this!

Lan Wangji reached into his closet and pulled out a much fancier long jacket that paid homage to traditional Chinese robes without venturing into costume territory, and Wei Wuxian lost himself in admiring the white-on-white patterning before remembering the conversation they’d just had. “Hey!” he protested.

Lan Wangji looked him a mild question.

“You said I was dressed fine, but you’re changing?”

All that got him was a cat-eyed slow blink. “Yes.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help it; he laughed. “You’re impossible, you know that, right?”

Lan Wangji didn’t dignify that with a response, crossing instead to… an honest to god dressing table.

Wei Wuxian dropped down to sit on the foot of the bed rather than continue to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room and watched with interest as Lan Wangji opened a wooden box and began plucking earrings from it. Wei Wuxian tilted his head in consideration. There seemed to be a lot more chains involved than he expected. And Lan Wangji had not changed out of the pants he had on, which involved many, many pockets.

“Just what kind of concert are we going to? Isn’t your label for classical artists?”

Lan Wangji met his eyes in the mirror and then focused on his own reflection again, fingers nimbly changing out the plainer studs he’d been wearing. “No. It is an independent label specializing in the work of musicians interested in using classical instruments in new and innovative ways.”

Wei Wuxian blinked a few times as he took that in. “Did you memorize their PR brochure?”

Lan Wangji’s ears reddened at the tips just a bit as he shut the jewelry box firmly and reached for another drawer. “It is a concise explanation.”

“It is, it is,” Wei Wuxian assured him, and then became thoroughly distracted as Lan Wangji opened an eye shadow palette in bright reds. “Hey!”

Lan Wangji tensed in surprise, brow furrowing infinitesimally in the mirror.

“You said I looked fine, but I see how it is. I refuse to be shown up here. Where’s the eye liner?”

Shoulders relaxing, Lan Wangji gestured gracefully to the drawer next to him and returned to his task, applying color delicately to a brush and then sweeping it across his eyelid like he knew what he was doing.

Well. Wei Wuxian didn’t basically live in a punk club now for nothing. He rifled quickly through the drawer for eyeliner and a palette in blacks and grays. He cackled in triumph when he found the black lipstick, and Lan Wangji might possibly have looked a little alarmed.

By the time they were done, Wei Wuxian’s outfit hadn’t gotten any better, but at least it looked like he was wearing it on purpose. He no longer felt like he’d be letting Lan Wangji down by going out in public with him, which was really all he could ask for. (He viciously pushed down the voice in his head that insisted on noting how well Lan Wangji’s eye shadow matched the red streaks in his own hair, that they looked like they belonged together, like they matched…)

“Shall we go?” he asked, louder than necessary, bouncing to his feet.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji answered, and swept from the room.

***

“You just had to be that little bit taller, didn’t you?” Wei Wuxian muttered as they made their way to their seats in the university’s smaller performance hall, staring down at the deeply unfair platform boots with many straps Lan Wangji had put on just before they left his apartment. Wei Wuxian was going to have to go all out the next time he and Lan Wangji went anywhere.

What next time? he asked himself, but his brain offered nothing except the certainty that it would happen, and then he noticed the extremely satisfied barely-there smirk on Lan Wangji’s face and stopped thinking altogether.

To preserve at least a little brain function, he took the opportunity to look around at the other people in attendance and realized Lan Wangji had been right that he wouldn’t stick out too much. In fact, given the number of high school and college students in the audience, they were now probably overdressed, but that was how Lan Wangji usually appeared in any crowd.

Before he could start reading the program over Lan Wangji’s shoulder, the lights dimmed and the last people found their way to their seats. When the curtains opened, Wei Wuxian sat up a little straighter as he took in the stage: a shirtless and tattooed guy standing by a huge taiko drum, a young woman in what Wei Wuxian still thought of as orchestra performance black standard with a shakuhachi flute off to one side, and a woman in a tank top, mini skirt, arm warmers, and combat boots on the other side. Then, to great applause, two young men walked in from the wings to take the chairs in the center. Their traditional outfits were in marked contrast with their distinctly non-traditional hair, and the stringed instruments they carried and positioned smoothly as they seated themselves were electric.

Wei Wuxian leaned in close to Lan Wangji. “What are they playing?” he asked quietly.

“Shamisen. Like a sanxian.” Lan Wangji looked at Wei Wuxian out of the corner of his eye and then back at the stage. “You will like them.”

#yes they are seeing a fictional version of the yoshida brothers #if you want to imagine what the rest of the concert sounds like #I think I stopped here because I was waffling between describing the concert or just jumping to afterward #wangxian #the untamed #punk club AU #rhys's stuff

34 notes · View notes

a-dusty-emerald · 4 years ago

Text

Crimson Cuddles: Draco x Reader /Fluff

Just a fluff story for your morning Draco x Y/n comfort. (From my Wattpad story)

Crimson Cuddles: In other words, you get your period. _____________________________________________

Draco was tapping his quill on the edge of his desk annoyed, his eyes rolling at each sentence coming out of Professor Babbling's mouth (Ancient runes Prof.). He never cared for this class, he knew what he had to know.

He huffed at Granger's hand that was fluttering up high at each and every question.

'Does this girl snort cocaine every morning?' He thought. The know-it-all bubbly energy of the muggleborn Gryffindor at 8am only added to his temper.

However, the root of his issue was that his girlfriend, Y/n, was nowhere in sight. Class was almost over, so Draco guessed she overslept. She always was such a night-owl either way, so she must have stayed up till late. She rarely missed classes though. He didn't want to drag her to class himself just because she was not being responsible, though.

'I have told her so many times to train her owl to wake her up each morning. Unbelieveable.' He huffed again.

Thankfully Ancient Runes were finally over. Next class was Potions, Y/n's favourite subject. He had a smug look as he took his time going to class. He could already imagine the disheveled look on her face that she actually missed a class, and maybe, maayyybe, he could get her to train the bloody owl.

As he strutted confidently to the Potion's class, he lifted his eyes from his robe to his and Y/n's desk. His smirk fell.

'Where the fuck is she?' He thought. Y/n would not miss potions just for the sake of it. He had to physically detain her from going to class with a high fever a year ago. And then, it dawned on him. 'She must be sick.'

He turned on his heel to go check on her, bumping to Snape who was right behind him. He eyed him, an eyebrow raised at the platinum haired boy.

"Pardon me, Professor." He said coldly and sat on his desk.

Potions were boring for once. Draco had no one to nag him, no one to talk to. As soon as class ended, he said to Blaise that he would catch up later at dinner and sprinted towards the Slytherin's female dormitories.

Pansy had walked out of the entrance just now, and Draco ran to actually manage to get through the door. He walked towards Y/n's room, not knowing what's wrong. He lightly knocked on her door.

He heard a muffled familiar voice speak: "Pansy, I told you already, I don't care which bra you pick." Draco stiffled a laugh, biting his cheek. "Fine then, I'll wear the lacy one" he mimicked Pansy's voice. He heard his girlfriend softly laugh, understanding who she was speaking to. "You can come in, Draco" he heard the muffled voice again.

Draco opened the door slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. Has she not been out of bed yet? It was past 10am now. "Darling?"

"Yes?" Y/n's small voice was heard from under the fluffy covers. Draco suppressed a short laugh and sat at the edge of her bed.

"You alright?"

Y/n's head finally emerged from the covers and draco got a good look of her. Her skin seemed pale, her eyes tired and her hair was a mess. Y/n looked at draco, who might have been smirking at her state, but she saw a glint of worry in his eyes.

"I'm fine" she finally spoke. Draco said nothing, only leaned backwards and crossed his arms on his chest, a blonde eyebrow reaching higher than his hairline - or so it seemed. He was not satisfied with the answer. After a prolonged silence, he huffed and spoke again.

"Sure you are darling. Peachy as ever." He smirked again at her inability to lie to him.

"...What I meant is I am not ill. I'm on my period, I don't feel great. Quite bad actually. Didn't wanna bother you", she said as she slumped back into the covers, closing her eyes again.

His smirk fell. For the jackass he could be, he knew quite a few things about periods, Narcissa had informed him from a young age about the basics. He would never be insensitive to his girl, of all people. He had her 'female issue' supplies in his room as well, in case she stayed over.

"Your wellbeing is not bothering me. Do you need anything?"

He saw her eyes glimmer, peaking through the covers. "Can I come to your room? I want to take a shower and cuddle. Have left my conditioner at yours as well." She said.

"Sure, come on, lets get to my room." He threw the covers off her in one motion, and she shivered, her source of heat violently being taken from her. She was crouched in a fetal position, her hands pressed on her lower abdomen. She hissed in pain, as she felt a horrible cramp passing through her.

Draco frowned. He hated seeing her in pain. He inched closer to her to cuddle her, but Y/n was determined to get out of bed.

"No no, later. I need to get up. It's not doing me any good. I need to shower." She muttered as she forced herself out of bed, threw a cardigan over her pyjamas,put her hair in a quick ponytail to hide the frizziness and made her way to the boy's dormitories, clutching Draco's arm along the way.

Once she got in the -much bigger and fancier- room, she immediately locked herself in the bathroom, stripping out her silky pyjamas and hopping in the shower. She let the hot water relax her muscles,the steam putting her in a drowsy state. As she lathered her coconut shampoo in her hair and reached for her boyfriend's body wash, green apple scented, she silently laughed on his obsession with green apples, when she heard of him outside the door.

"Imma make us some tea. Alright?" "Sure!" She spoke as loudly as she could, in order to be heard over the sound of the water.

Stepping out of the shower, she found a pair of clean underwear waiting for her next to a brand new box of tampons and smiled.

'If only Blaise would see Draco making her tea and providing her tampons, he would tease him for eternity' she smirked, giggling to herself. Blaise was her best friend, telling him a few details of his oh-so-rare soft side would give him enough teasing opportunities for the whole semester. Draco's well known soft spot was her, he always had his stone cold persona around the guys and Blaise was always ready to hear stories that prove a point they all knew; the platinum haired boy was nowhere near emotionless or insensitive.

Draco opened his room's door carefully holding 2 mugs of hot tea, finding a more relaxed, but still in insufferable pain Y/n. She was wearing one of his hoodies and some high knee warm fuzzy socks, and he could not control the smile that crept over his lips.

"What?" Y/n said curiously, seeing him smiling at her. "Love it when you're wearing my clothes. You are honestly so cute". Y/n slightly blushed and faced the other way.

Draco made his way to bed, handing her her mug. He took a sip and spoke "I read tea is good for the pain. Warmth in general. So if you want to cuddle my hot as fuck body, understandable. It's available."

"Oh is it?" Y/n jokinly answered, her eyebrow raised playfully.

"Yup" he said. "Do not take it for granted though. Other women will be qeueing for the Malfoy cuddling experience later today." He smirked.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," Y/n said calmly. "I will castrate you and send your balls to your oh-so-friendly father, letting him know his lineage is lost forever".

Draco was audibly laughing, while his arm cradled Y/n's small body. Her face suddently went from a teasing expression to a scrunched up, pained one.

He frowned again. If he could take some of the pain, he would. "Another cramp?"

He heard a muffled nod from Y/n's head on his shoulder, and pressed a few kisses on her exposed neck, his arms hugging her even closer to him. His fingers snaked their way under her shirt and pressed in her lower abdomen, slowly massaging the area. He heard a shruddered breath come out of her, and didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing, continuing nevertheless. He stopped however, when he felt dampness on his neck. He pulled himself back to look at her. She had been crying.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked full of worry. "Sorry if I did, thought it would be better-"

Y/n furiously shook her head. "No, I'm just in a lot of pain, got a bit emotional that you are taking care of me. Stupid hormones..." Y/n mumbled, her face flushed.

Draco smiled and wiped her tear away. "Shhh, 'ts alright darling. Come here." He pulled her back in their previous position.

"Please continue whatever magic you were doing. Your fingers are proven to be magical today."

"I think you knew that beforehand, darling."

She could practically HEAR the smirk, so she smacked him lightly in his shoulder, as Draco showered her with kisses. He opened a box near his bed, getting a chocolate frog out and giving it to Y/n.

"Thank you." She smiled at him, and pressed a sweet peck at his lips.

As soon as she ate it, he removed one of his hands from her abdomen and grabbed his mug to finish the last bit of tea that was left. Placing the mug back, he felt her head in his chest getting heavier. She was drifting off to sleep, painfree, feeling relaxed in his embrace, and Draco was sure this image alone could let him cast a Patronus if he tried.

The next day, Blaise teased the fuck out of Draco as he huffed annoyed. He should have never let them be friends.

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

FEEL FREE TO LIKE AND SHARE! Love you all, feedback always welcome!

#fanfiction #slytherin #Draco #dracomalfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x oc #hogwarts #fluff #period #period fic #comfort #Gryffindor #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #dracotok #fanfic #wizard

349 notes · View notes

archonanqi · 4 years ago

Text

fragile as dust / 6

🔖 [first] [prev] [next]

---

6. to dream

When you woke up the next morning, the sky was still dark through the curtains. You’d slept well again, although it was soured once more by the rising panic in your throat as you woke up. Reluctantly clambering from under the warm covers, you tiptoed to the door, cracking it open a little and peering outside.

Zhongli was not in the living room. You couldn’t tell if the resulting rush of emotions were from relief or disappointment. Was he still asleep? It was hard to imagine him sleeping — hard to imagine him ever vulnerable. You emerged from the room and noticed a note pinned to the door.

In the most elegant scrawl that you’d seen in your life, it read:

“I am on my morning walk. I have left you a spare robe and towels under the sink, should you decide to take a bath. I will return as quickly as possible.”

At the bottom, inked in a scarlet name seal, was his name, and the characters “Wangsheng” — rebirth, whatever that entailed. Somehow, you weren’t even a little surprised that he had a fancy name seal stamp and used it to sign off memo notes with.

You scurried to the bathroom, taking longer than you would have liked to admit to figure out how to turn on the water — even his tap was vastly fancier than the one behind Wenqi Souvenirs that you tended to use sometimes. The water warmed almost immediately against the palm of your hand, filling the bathroom with hot steam. While letting the tub fill, you wandered over to the sink and opened the cupboard under it. As Zhongli’s note promised, there was a pristine white towel, and a neatly folded-up black robe.

Shaking it out, you marveled at how beautiful it was — it was clearly intended for a much taller man, yet it seemed like it might fit you. A golden trim ran down the edges of the black fabric, and the cloth itself seemed to glow under the dim light. Most strikingly, the material was astounding — it was the softest thing you’d ever touched. You buried your face into it, and oh—

It smelled heavenly, of faint flora, warm spice and the soil after a light spring shower.

It smelled like Zhongli.

Before realizing it, you’d taken a deep breath with your nose pressed against the fabric. And another, and another. You didn’t understand it, but even though you had never known any of these things, the scent reminded you of stability, concord, and peace.

The sound of running water brought you back out of your reverie. The tub was close to overflowing, and you rushed to go turn off the tap, the robe now forgotten over the sink.

You peeled off the dress that was beginning to feel like an extension of your skin, and lowered your body into the water. The hot water made your skin prickle, but it seemed to drag the fatigue, exhaustion and anxiety right out of your marrow.

If Zhongli permitted it, you decided, you were going to have a bath every day.

As the heat soothed you in places that you didn’t even know had muscle, you glanced down at your body. The dirt and grime had come off into the swirling water, revealing yellow-purple bruises. You’d always known you were unsightly, a skinny bag of skin and bones and grime, but next to Zhongli—

You hadn’t stopped thinking about what he’d said last night. Letting the water reach the top of your lips as you sank down, you wondered to yourself if you could believe him. Could you begin to believe that Zhongli had no intentions of hurting you, using you? You wanted to, certainly, but…

“Hansi?” You froze at the sound of Zhongli calling your name from outside the door. Quickly, all of your prior thoughts forgotten, you leapt out of the tub, wincing as you sloshed water everywhere.

“I’m here!” you yelled back, haphazardly wrapping the towel around your hair, slipping into the fancy robe and running for the door. You stumbled into the hallway and immediately bumped into Zhongli — literally, although for a moment it felt like a brick wall you’d just bounced off of. You knew at once that under those three layers of clothing, he was nothing but muscle.

Before you could land on your bottom and ruin his impression of you even more, Zhongli reached out and caught your shoulders, holding your body upright. His hands were rough and strong, but his grip against your skin was gentle, as always. Briefly, you wondered why his hands were so weathered — surely a nobleman like him has never had to work a day in his life.

“Thank you for the robe,”, you scrambled to break the heavy silence, neglecting to mention just how many whiffs of it (of him) you had taken in the past hour alone. You felt your cheeks flush at the very thought. “It’s very comfortable.”

Tilting his head, Zhongli considered you for a moment. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, “I presume that you found my note, then?”

Looking up into his golden eyes, you nodded too quickly. “Yes, Mr. Zhongli. You have excellent penmanship—“ you trailed off, realizing too late the hole that you had dug yourself and fell headfirst into. Shit.

Zhongli raised a brow, staring at you — through you. “So it seems that, contrary to your assertion yesterday,” he observed, “you can read, after all.”

A dozen possible excuses ran through your head, but his gaze demanded the truth. This was a reminder, you told yourself, a much-needed reminder that he was not your friend, that any familiarity or comfort you’d found in him was strictly your imagination — that he had played you like a gu’zheng and now that he had caught you in a lie—

“I— I’m sorry. I-I was— I was afraid—“ you began to stammer, but he raised his hand to stop you.

“It is my hope, of course, that there are no lies between us,” Zhongli said, his gaze peering into the deepest recesses of your soul. For a chilling moment, you were sure that he knew about the Geo Vision pulsing away at the bottom of your bedside table.

There’s logically no way he could know, you told yourself to calm your frayed nerves. He hadn’t even entered your room since you’d arrived. No way he knows.

“However, given the circumstances, I know that that’s not always possible.” Zhongli continued, glancing at his upturned palm, then back at you. ��You can tell me the story behind your ability to read, and your reason for hiding it from me, when you decide you are ready.”

“Oh,” you exhaled softly. Surprisingly (thankfully), your brain had ceased its habit of stumbling over ‘what?’s each time Zhongli bewildered you with his tolerance. “I— I am truly sorry for lying to you, Mr. Zhongli.”

If you got a single Mora for every second Zhongli stared at you so intently that it felt like he was dredging out every thought, word, and secret from your head, you’d be able to afford a house of your own by now.

“I can understand,” he finally said, an unreadable look on his face, “that certain situations sometimes leave us with no choice but the untruth. Now, are you feeling well enough for a trip to the harbor? As lovely as you look in my old robe, Hansi, we really must get you some of your own clothes.”

---

On the way to the harbor, all you could think of was how he had called you lovely.

---

If you hadn’t already been convinced that Zhongli was absolutely loaded, watching him shop would have sealed that deal.

“I’ll take it,” he said, for the third time that morning. You bowed your head to hide a grimace. Always haggle the price down to at least half of what was initially given when shopping in Liyue — even you knew that.

“Come now boss, surely someone as distinguished as you can tell that this vase is an authentic relic from the ancient civilization of Guili—“ The shopkeeper blinked. “Wait, you’ll take it?”

“Yes.”

“For forty thousand Mora?” Even the shopkeeper looked bewildered, eyes comically wide. You wondered for a brief moment if you should stop Zhongli from the most blatant scam you’d ever seen. Quickly, you shook yourself free of those stupid thoughts; who were you to tell him what to do with his seemingly infinite supply of wealth?

“That was the agreed upon price, was it not?” Zhongli said, picking up the vase with a practiced gloved hand. “Invoice it to Wangsheng funeral parlor, please.”

There it was again, Wangsheng. That’s where you knew it from. The funeral parlor passed down to the generational head of the wealthy Hu family. You wondered what connections Zhongli had with one of the most powerful families of Liyue. Even having lived with him for three days, he had stayed as much a mystery as the moment you laid eyes on him in that teahouse.

As Zhongli spoke to the merchant — no doubt being conned into buying a second vase at twice the price now that the merchant knew of his financial status — you glanced around the store. It seemed to have a little of everything, even dusty weapons on a rack in the back corner. It reminded you that although you’d been kept safe so far, the peace would not last. Not for someone like you.

Something glittering on one of the racks caught your eye. It was a necklace, its silver chain appended with a beautiful blue charm, catching the sunbeams in an iridescent bloom. You glanced at Zhongli — oh Archons, was that a third vase he was looking at? — before inching a little closer to look at the necklace. It wasn’t just a charm, you realized — the blue gemstone had been shaped into an intricate blossom. The handiwork it must have taken to carve something so detailed, so gorgeous—

“What a beautiful necklace,” Zhongli mused from behind you, making you jump. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to how surprisingly silently a man as tall as him could move. “Noctilucuous Jade of this clarity must have been incredibly difficult to find.”

“Like the ones from the Mingyun Mines,” you recalled from his lecture the previous day.

“Exactly. Very good,” Zhongli nodded, his voice unmistakably pleased. Your pride soared at his simple praise. “Do you want this necklace, Hansi?”

You blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I noticed you looking at it. Would you like me to buy it for you?”

“Oh,” you stammered, “I couldn’t possibly— someone like me—“

“Please,” Zhongli raised a hand, “let there be only truth between us today.”

You did want it, so badly that it ached. A year ago, you wouldn’t have been let anywhere near the door of a shop carrying such expensive and fancy wares. You wouldn’t have dared to steal something this precious, wouldn’t have been able to sell it to the shady folk who fenced your stolen goods. A year ago, you wouldn’t have even dreamed of ever owning something so beautiful. Certainly wouldn’t have dreamed of accepting such an expensive gift from a stranger, not when you knew the price there would be to pay.

Yet in Zhongli’s eyes (they were the exact shade of mora, you noticed absently), there was nothing but earnestness.

“I do,” you breathed.

It was dangerous that you had begun to let yourself dream.

“Excuse me. I’ll take this as well,” Without a second thought, Zhongli beckoned to the shop’s owner.

“What a good eye you have, boss,“ you could see the gears grinding in the man’s head. “That’s uh... a necklace made from the finest Noctilucuous Jade in the nations. Carved in the image of… of a silk flower, the symbol of luxury. It would make a suitable gift for your partner.”

You felt your eyes go wide, but Zhongli barely blinked. “You are correct about the quality of the jade, but this is a glaze lily.”

“I beg your pardon, boss?”

Touching the necklace lightly, Zhongli turned his gaze to the shopkeeper, and you delighted in watching him squirm — good to know that it wasn’t just you affected by that heavy stare. “This necklace was carved in the image of not a silk flower, but a glaze lily. How much?”

After a good bit of stammering to try and save face, the shop owner rattled off a price too high for you to even comprehend. Even if you had pooled all the Mora you had ever scrounged together in your life, you wouldn’t have been able to afford it — not in seven lifetimes. But you were reeling over something else.

Partner? And Zhongli hadn’t even taken offense to being compared to someone like you, someone who didn’t have a Mora to her name, didn’t even own the clothes on her back.

“No need to wrap it,” Zhongli said, and you realized that he had already bought it. Bought it for you. He gestured towards the necklace, still hanging there — but now yours, yours. “I trust that you would like to wear it now?”

He was talking to you, waiting for your answer. Throat dry and words failing you, you just nodded quickly. You fumbled with its clasp, carefully at first, then desperately. Your nails, bitten to the quick and ragged from digging, were useless in your endeavors. Amidst your futile efforts, you heard the shopkeeper hurry away to help another customer.

After what seemed like years, Zhongli offered you an open palm. “Allow me.”

“Oh,” you whispered, face burning as you handed the jewelry to him. “Yes. Please.”

He took it, deftly clicking it open. “May I?” It took you a moment to understand what he was asking. Without barely a thought, you inched closer, baring your neck to him so that he could put it on for you.

Zhongli leaned in — close enough to touch, close enough to kiss — and his fingers brushed the back of your neck. It was all you could do to not shiver. You could smell him, that warm scent promising that you might one day know what peace felt like.

The seconds dragged on — one, two, three — before he finally pulled away, leaving the necklace cool against the flush of your skin. You let out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding.

“There,” Zhongli said, a faint smile on his lips. “Lovely.”

---

By noon, it looked like even Zhongli might start buckling under the weight of all the items he had bought.

You’d come away with clothes for occasions you could not even begin to fathom: four bathrobes — silk from the Cuijie mountains — shoes, house slippers, boots — premium leather from the grasslands of Fontaine — every day clothes, formal clothes, round-collar gowns, court robes — what the fuck are court robes? — and cloth trousers, among other things.

With every purchase, you expected (anticipated?) the same degree of intimacy of when he put the necklace on you, but each time you were relieved (disappointed?) when he did not. Quickly, the rest of the morning became a routine mantra of: “Is this to your liking?” and “Mr Zhongli, it’s beautiful, but I know nothing of clothing, if you think it to be fitting—“ and “I’ll take it”s.

It was only when your stomach let out a mournful rumble that you realized how high in the sky the sun had climbed. You prayed that Zhongli did not hear, but of course, your luck had to run out sometime.

“My, look at the time,” he said, and you could tell he was trying to hide a smile. “Let’s have an early lunch, shall we? It would be remiss of me to bring you to Liyue Harbor without stopping at the best restaurant in the city.”

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli.”

As you walked, you braced yourself for what sort of restaurant could garner such high praise from an individual like Zhongli. You wished that you had put on one of the fancier clothes that Zhongli had bought you after all, before coming to a stop in front of a small eatery. Despite its position on the main commerce street, it looked wholly unremarkable, with its peeling paint, faded wooden countertop and old tables.

Zhongli seated himself at one of them, and beckoned for you to join him. As you hurried to comply, you saw the girl manning the window wave excitedly and hurry over. She was young, dark hair pulled into two buns. At her waist hung a small stuffed bear and bells that jingled with her every animated gesture. “Mr. Zhongli!” She called, balancing two teacups and a teapot on a tray above her head precariously. “Welcome back! Did you manage to take care of your urgent business from the other day?”

“Yes, it went well,” Zhongli answered, and you were surprised to hear a soft fondness in his voice. “Is your father not in today, Xiangling?”

“Nossir, he’s gathering herbs in Qingce Village!” The girl named Xiangling frowned, “you know, he doesn’t know when to stop. I worry about him sometimes. His knee’s been acting up again.”

“I see. I’ll be sure to bring some caoyào bandages from Bubu Pharmacy by sometime this week.” Zhongli promised with dignified resolve. “They work wonders on the bones—“

Next to your table, two young men seemed to be having a heated discussion. One of them, with hair the pale blue of a summer sky, gestured furiously at his dish, while the other one — his dark blue hair a stark contrast to the first boy’s — clutched his side and laughed.

You wondered idly what it would be like to have friends like that. You wouldn’t know what to say, even if the two boys had approached you at that moment. There was no place for friendship in the ratway alleys of Liyue, and the few times you had tried to initiate one had ended poorly at best, violently at worst.

“Hello? Earth to pretty lady!” Xiangling waved a hand in front of your face, jolting you out of your reverie. “Do you know what you want to order?”

You glanced at Zhongli for help, then had to look away when that overwhelming golden gaze met yours solidly as always. “Do you have any recommendations, Mr. Zhongli?” You asked — if the past day had taught you anything, it was that he always did.

“Certainly,” he began, taking a deep breath — the only hint of the reckoning to come , “there’s the Black-Back Perch Stew. It’s Monday, which means that the restaurant has just purchased fresh shipment of seafood from the docks, making this a fine choice above all the other items on the menu. However, it’s also worth noting that the Adeptus’ Temptation also contains seafood, in fact, crabs, which are caught on the shores of Guyun and...“

After the eighth dish, he paused to take a breath, and you took the opportunity to carefully tell him that you had caught maybe half of that, and regardless, you had no clue which to choose, still.

“We’ll have all of them,” Zhongli decided with an air of finality. Somehow, you had expected that. Xiangling nodded knowingly, as though this was a common occurrence.

“Should I put this one on the Wangsheng Parlor’s tab, again, Mr. Zhongli?”

“No,” Zhongli said, and you were surprised to see a small, wry smile on his face. “Please put this one on the tab of Tartaglia of the Fatui.”

“Of the Fatui?” Xiangling’s lips, curved into an “o”, expressed the same shock you felt. The elite military force of Snezhnaya — that Fatui? To what extent did Zhongli’s connections run?

“Yes. Please collect the payment at the Northland Bank — just mention my name, and that it was for a meal. We have an… open-ended contract of sorts.”

“Alrighty!” Xiangling had already bounced back from her surprise, and you wondered where in that tiny frame she was storing that boundless energy. “I’ll have your orders coming right up!”

---

The silence that followed Xiangling’s departure dragged on for a few painful seconds. You studied the tea leaves in your cup intently, feeling Zhongli’s gaze rending you through.

“Now then,” he started, bringing his teacup slowly to his lips, “have you had a good day today, Hansi?”

“Yes, si—“ You stopped yourself. “Yes, Mr. Zhongli.” Another silence followed, one that you desperately needed to fill. “I cannot thank you enough for your generosity in buying me so many things. I will work hard to ensure I can begin to deserve them.”

Zhongli placed the cup back down with an audible clack. “Nonsense. You already do.” You were startled at the hard edge of his voice, but it quickly reverted to its normal tranquility. “Besides, I haven’t spent a single Mora of my own today. You have the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor to thank for your bounty.”

That reminded you to ask. “May I ask, what is Mr. Zhongli’s connection with the famed Wangsheng Parlor?”

“Why, I work for them. As a consultant,” Zhongli said.

Oh. Of all the jobs your imagination had appended upon him since your meeting — assassin, mafia boss, black market dealer, eldest son and heir to a long lost clan of wealth and nobility, to name a few — this was somehow the most surprising.

“As a funeral consultant, Mr. Zhongli?” Surely this was just a side job for him, a hobby? But what a morbid one it was!

“Not quite. Although I do offer the odd advice on mortal— er, on normal funerals when it’s needed of me.” Zhongli took a long sip of tea, as though carefully considering his next words. “I specialize in the traditional arts of the Rite of Parting. The sending-off of the divine.”

“Like, Archons?” You whispered.

“Like the Adepti,” he corrected gently. “Although in Liyue’s case, yes, Archon and Adepti were one and the same.”

Was he talking about Rex Lapis? You shuddered at the thought of Rex Lapis ever needing a funeral. All those books you’d read about him, tales of his valiant stands and brutal fights. Surely nothing in the mortal realm today could even touch him.

“How do you know how to carry out the Adepti’s Rites, Mr. Zhongli?” You wondered aloud. Silly — the man literally had a library in the upper floor of his home; of course there would be a ritual book or two in his possession. Yet his answer took long to come, and surprised you.

“I have a good memory,” he said, with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Though I did have to get a little help with the most recent Rite of Parting. It’s been a long time since there’s been the need for a ritual so grand.”

Recent? Had an adepti died recently? The only news you’d managed to hear in the past few months had come from the lips of drunken guards, and not even half of it had been coherent. You opened your mouth to ask, but was shut up quickly by the most mouth-watering scent you’d ever been graced with in your life.

“It looks like our food is here,” Zhongli gestured to Xiangling, who was running at full speed towards your table, this time with two steaming trays balanced on her head. “I certainly hope you’ve got an appetite today as well.”

---

You were proud to be able to say that you ate at a human-esque pace this time, stopping at the first hint of fullness. You would not have a repeat of the embarrassment of last night.

“This is sho good,” you finally said, between your last few bites. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Xiangling’s cooking never disappoints,” Zhongli agreed. “Shall we head home, now?”

“What, before spending Wangsheng Funeral Parlor into bankruptcy?” you teased carefully, and you were pleased to earn a hearty chuckle from Zhongli.

---

Lying in bed that night, you admitted the answer to your question from that morning — you did believe Zhongli. You were beginning to let yourself grow complacent, to trust, to hope — you would be lying to yourself if you said otherwise.

You’d also be lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge how stupid, how hideously dangerous that sort of thinking was for someone like you. While you were no longer as sure as you were that Zhongli was trying to take advantage of you, you were far from out of the lion’s den. What would Zhongli do if he found out about the Geo Vision in your drawers? When he figured out you had been lying to him, that Rex Lapis had granted you the same powers as he did him? When he figured out what you were planning to use your Vision to do?

If Zhongli turned out to be like the others… You could scarcely even bear the thought.

Gripped with a sudden, ugly rage, you pushed back the covers and quietly crept to the bedside drawer. Under the scrolls and paintings, your Vision pulsed its soft golden glow. You brushed gently against the gem, feeling your fingertips tingle with the power of the Archons, of the power of Rex Lapis. Against your skin, your new necklace felt hot. For the first time since you were born, you felt strong.

霸王. Bawang.

That’s all you knew of the name of the organization that had dragged you through hell — a passing remark from a drunken guard. That’s all you needed to know to find them again. The surge of calm, then of power, that you felt through your veins scared you a little. What was the extent of your Vision’s abilities? Best not to find out in the middle of your bedroom.

Reluctantly, you put the Vision back into the drawer, watching it glow proudly against the dark. You shut the drawer tight. shutting it tight.

You hadn’t forgotten. You’d never forget, for as long as you lived, the faces of every man who banged on the bars of your cell just to watch you jump. You hadn’t been brave or strong enough to fight back, then. But you would be. You would be. And the second you were, you’d go back and kill them all, every single one. Raze it all to the ground.

If Zhongli got in your way, you told yourself, you would not hesitate.

#zhongli #zhongli fanfiction #zhongli x reader #genshin #genshin fanfiction #genshin zhongli #zhongli fanfic #genshin fanfic #fragile as dust #my writing #anqi writes

108 notes · View notes

detroitbydark · 4 years ago

Text

Chp 13

Characters: Commander Fox x Mouse (reader), and more Jedi/clones/politicians than you can shake a stick at.

Summary: that one time Padme throws a big party, Bly cracks jokes, fox hates himself some more, mouse wears matching underwear, and Anakin has a heart to heart.

A/N: Snuggle up Fox Fanciers this boy is stupid long and full of yearning on a level I didn’t know I could yearn. You’ve been warned!

Special thanks as always to @skdubbs and @crimson-dxwn for being my sounding boards and supporters in all this. Love you ladies! 😘

————

“For the love of the Force…” Mouse curses quietly. Padmé was never going to let her live this one down. She turns, admiring herself in the floor length mirror. The kriffing dress was perfect. Like, absolutely perfect. Had she not lost a few kilos since Coruscant she may not have even fit it to begin with but she had and it did and it was all that mattered at the moment.

It was easier to admire the stunning red dress clinging to each curve, cutting off just below her knees than it was to think about him. Yeah, knowing Fox was going to be there and seeing him were two entirely different things. Seeing him had felt… complicated.

There had been a split second when she’d first laid eyes on him in that door, bucket slung under his arm, that she would have done anything he asked just to be near him. The loss she’d felt the first few days on Naboo was nothing in comparison to what she felt when he’d entered the Senator’s office. It was a blessing to be holding Leia, to have Luke as an excuse to leave as soon as she could.

She couldn’t think with him there. Her first instinct had always been to radiate to him, even before she’d really understood that was what she was doing. Fighting that instinct was hard and it hurt, but she didn’t think she had it in her to be that girl anymore. She didn’t know if she could give all of herself again and again to be pushed away when he got scared.

Padmé had said all the activity would be just a few days and then they’d be back to normal. Mouse just had to survive. She’d gotten good at that.

On the way out the door she questions retrieving a shawl. She’d be eating with warriors, battle hardened soldiers. She doubts their delicate sensibilities would be thrown into a tizzy by the sight of her scars. Maybe the more delicate socialites and their wives, but she doesn’t much care for their opinions.

She reaches up to touch the skin of her shoulder as an afterthought. It wasn’t the appearance so much as the feel of it she didn’t like. She hated rubbing the lotion into it, the almost rubbery feeling of the proliferative tissue there, but the doctors had said it was important to keep it softened to prevent it from tightening and contracting over the joint. So, two to three times a day, Mouse let go of her own uneasiness and pressed the special lotion into the skin, rubbed and massaged until the skin was pink with irritation.

The walk to the grand dining room is short and Mouse's heels echo softly down the large hallway. She can hear the conversation before the doors are even opened for her, punctuated by deep, masculine laughter. She’s fashionably late and Padmé raises a brow from her spot across the room. Mouse offers an apologetic smile and the senator returns it. Anakin stands a foot behind his wife. His attention is split between watching her and conversing with his former master.

It’s odd seeing the Jedi, both men, in formal wear. Tuxes just don’t look quite right on them. That’s not to say they don’t cut striking figures - General Kenobi would have his choice of Coruscanti society girls if he marched around the capitol like that. It's just a little wrong to see the Jedi not in their robes.

“Sweetling!” The deep rumble drags her attention from the senator who returns to speaking with the men in front of her, neither of whom Mouse recognizes.

“Marshall Commander,” she greets, turning and accepting a soft kiss on the cheek as Cody draws near.

“Mous’ika,” he chides, using the name he’d obviously heard somewhere.

“Yes, Cody?” she asks sweetly, managing to hold in her giggle until he laughs.

“That’s more like it! How have you been?”

Mouse falls into conversation with the Commander of the 212th. They’d met a handful of times now since she’d arrived in Naboo. The Commander had accompanied his Jedi on more than a few visits and while General Kenobi was spending time with his former Padawan, Cody had taken to having tea with Mouse and Padmé. He was a steady man who loved to gossip over holodramas and sip herbal tea. In another life maybe, Mouse could picture him as a professor, or maybe the owner of a bookshop. Something quiet, studious.

A server makes the rounds as they chat and Cody plucks a flute from a tray and hands it to her. She takes it with thanks. The bubbles tickle her tongue as she takes a drink. Something prickles at the periphery of her senses and she glances around, trying to figure it out what it might be. She shakes off the feeling and gives her full attention to the Marshall Commander in front of her.

“This isn’t either of our particular scenes, I believe. We’ve got to blend in somehow.” He holds up his own tumbler in show, amber liquid and round cubes of ice rolling around in its confines.

“That’s very true. I was afraid I’d get here and be relegated to a wallflower.”

“As if Padme would allow that,” he scoffs.

Mouse laughs again. “Are you always right, Cody?”

“Ask General Kenobi.”

Music plays quietly, a string quartet from Coruscant flown in for just the night, as Mouse falls in at Cody’s side. A few troopers in dress greys stop to chat for a moment here and there and Mouse dutifully smiles and offers polite conversation, laughs at the appropriate times. She recognizes some here and there, a scar or tattoo sticking out in her memory, all Commanders with the occasional Lieutenant thrown in for color. She feels the sensation again and can finally place it. It’s as if someone is watching her. Cody offers her a questioning look as she glances around again. She flashes a smile and shrugs. She was being silly. No one was watching her.

“Are you still sponsoring the little girl on Coruscant?” Cody asks, making polite conversation.

“Me’kar? Yes, I actually just received a comm from her guardian the other day. She’s doing well, picking up basic incredibly fast.” Mouse had started sponsoring the child shortly after her arrival, not able to get her bright smile and sweet eyes out of her mind. It wasn’t uncommon for the children’s home to accept sponsorships to supplement the small stipends they received from the Republic. It cost money to keep the children dressed and fed and extras could be more than the budget allotted for. Mouse was more than happy to do it and the updates and occasional holo from the little girl were bright notes in her week.

“Have you given more thought to adopting her?” Cody asks knowingly, as if it was a forgone conclusion.

“I’m still thinking.” Mouse shrugs. It wasn’t a decision to take lightly, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the little girl and what it would be like to come home to her everyday, to be a mother to a child that needed one. She’d once harbored a silly dream of a family with one clone commander and little Me’kar playing a starring role. Now she still thought of a family, but maybe just of two and not three. Cody glances over her shoulder, a smile splitting his features. Mouse turns and sees, arguably, the most beautiful Twi’lek woman in the galaxy wrapped in a body contouring dress that looks nearly painted on.

“Have you met General Secura? Let me introduce you. She may be able to answer some of the questions you have.”

———

Aayla Secura was wonderful. Mouse found herself completely enthralled with the twi’lek woman as she spoke of Ryloth, customs, and traditions. The Jedi didn’t think her idea of adopting Me’kar to be improper and encouraged her. Family was important for her people and she didn’t believe any child should grow up without the opportunity to have one.

“I would encourage you to fill out whatever application needs to be started immediately. Bring the little one here or raise her on Coruscant, either way it sounds like you’ve been thinking a great deal on it. You’ve asked such important questions. The rest is all just figuring things out as you go.”

Mouse can’t help the bright smile she flashes. Aayla glances over her shoulder as Mouse takes a swallow of her second glass of bubbly. It’s sweet on her tongue and reminds her of Fall orchard fruits, crisp and delightful. She’s just a little bit more relaxed than she’d been an hour ago as the alcohol works to relax her nerves when she thinks she feels eyes again. She’s quick to laugh it off as nerves - she hadn’t been around so many people in ages.

“Have you met my Commander Bly yet?”

Mouse wonders on “my” for a moment, but as soon as the Commander is at the Jedi’s side she wonders no more. He stands close, closer than to be expected and his hand rests along the cutout in the Jedi’s dress for just a moment longer than is proper as he greets her.

“I’m rounding up stragglers, sir,” he says with a half smile, turning and offering Mouse a nod. She holds out a hand and Aayla introduces her. Bly has a moment when his brows twitch up in unison before he takes her hand and shakes it gently. “If you ladies would care to, I believe we're supposed to take our seats for dinner.”

Bly offers his arm to his general and she slips hers through it, allowing him to guide her. Mouse follows a half a step behind as they move to the grand hall. Large round tables are set up under sparkling chandeliers. Mouse tries to break off to a smaller one, out of the way and to the side of the room, but it seems Cody has taken up the rear behind the trio. He takes her arm gently as she tries to veer off.

“I believe you were assigned a seat of importance, Sweetling.”

Mouse shakes her head. She really was only here because Padmé wouldn’t hear of her not being there. She tries to explain to Cody as Bly glances over his shoulder. A look passes between the two troopers.

“I’m sure there’s at least one seat left at the head table.”

Mouse watches as Aayla gives her Commander a questioning look. She swears she sees him wink.

She’s not watching where he guides her, still gently trying to plead her case. She looks to her left and sees Padmé smiling brightly and knows she won’t back her up in her decision to hide in the shadows. Cody pulls the chair out for her as she offers him a grumpy look. He chuckles and captures her hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. Mouse feels her cheeks flame, too flustered to come up with anything in response. She doesn’t pay attention to the set of greys next to her as Cody nods and she slides into her seat. Not until he walks to his own seat beside General Kenobi does Mouse turn to introduce herself.

And comes face to face with the Commander of the Coruscant Guard.

Fox is leaned back in his seat, brow raised in her direction. He radiates slow simmering irritation.

“I- I’m sorry” she doesn’t know why she’s apologizing. She had nothing to do with this. Her eyes dart around frantically trying to find any other option, an escape, but all the other seats are full and the last of the guests are taking their places at the other tables. If she got up now she’d only draw more attention to herself.

Fox says nothing as he turns back to his drink and Bly on his other side. Mouse stares down at her plate, her stomach already twisting into knots. She throws back her drink, downing the rest in one swallow. A passing waiter offers her another and she readily accepts. Maybe if she’s just a little bit drunk this wouldn’t be so bad.

Padmé clears her throat and all eyes fall to where she stands at the head of their table. She’s resplendent, of course, in a loose cream gown that drapes her in the most eye pleasing of ways. Even if she didn’t have an air about her that demanded attention, her wardrobe choice alone would have done the job.

“I’d like to begin by thanking everyone for their company on this lovely evening. As I’m sure you’ve heard,” she says as if she’s letting the room in on a grand secret, “we’ve recently welcomed our first children into the world.” The small gathered crowd laughs as if on cue. Mouse glances to the other tables. She didn’t know faces, but she’d dutifully typed all the names into the guest list Padmé had dictated. They were some of the most influential individuals in the outer rim. Padmé has thought to treat this evening as a soft unveiling of the plan she’d eventually propose to the senate. It was a test crowd of her peers. She’d use their reaction to modify and gauge where to go from here.

“Now,I find being a mother is much like being a senator. There is always something that needs doing and a mother’s work, much like a senators, is never done.” She offers a smile as she glances from one side of the room to the other.

“The men and women I have invited here today,” she gestures to the clones and Jedi around her “are very familiar, also, with work that never seems to be done. These are the Marshall Commander and Commanders who keep the Grand Army of the Republic afloat. They and their men risk their lives for a Republic which has given them nothing in return, and for that,” Padmé gives a gentle smile around the table, “I want to be the first to openly admit that we have done them a grave disservice.”

Mouse glances to see the wait staff lining up along the walls with the first course. She really does try to pay attention to what the senator has to say, but Fox is so close. She can imagine she wouldn’t have to move far to be back against his chest, feel his hot breath against her skin. Maybe he’d wrap his arm around her, hold her tight, whisper sweet things in her ear-

Maker, she was pathetic. Her stomach turns in agreement.

“Throughout this evening I hope each and every one of you enjoy yourselves, and I also hope that you take a moment to give these brave men some of the gratitude that we, as a Republic, have denied them for far too long. Something I hope we will begin to change in the not so distant future.”

Polite clapping erupts as staff circles the tables and places the first course in one impressively synchronized movement. As Padmé sits, her husband leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek. Mouse looks away.

The food looks good. Or at least it should. Mouse had helped pick out the menu herself. Crudité, a small salad of exotic fruit, a light dressing. It should be perfect. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying it if the sound of silver clinking against china meant anything. She takes a bite and chews carefully - it has all the depth and flavor of sawdust.

“I didn’t realize you had a type.”

Mouse glances at Fox who is firmly staring at his own plate, chewing as if nothing is amiss. He’d always looked good in his greys but he looks utterly delicious now. His hair is longer and his face is shaved clean of its usual five-o’clock shadow.

“Excuse me?” Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t take you for a trooper chaser.”

The food very nearly gets stuck in her throat as she attempts to swallow. She takes a pull of wine from her glass, coughing lightly.

“Everything ok, Mous’ika?” Cody asks from across the table, concern evident.

Retrieving her napkin from her lap, Mouse covers her next cough. “I’m fine, Cody.” She tries to give him a reassuring look from behind the fabric. “Must have forgotten to chew,” she jokes awkwardly. At her side Fox makes a low sound. Cody glances between the pair of them for a moment before turning back to General Kenobi at his side.

“Cody,” Fox says, and Mouse catches the quick flash of brown eyes. “I seem to remember it took nearly a year for you to say my name. You’re moving faster.”

“Why are you saying this?” she questions. Why would he think such a thing? She hadn’t done anything that deserved such an accusation. He shrugs before turning to Bly and asking him a question about field munitions.

It leaves Mouse's head spinning. No one else seems to notice as they all speak quietly to one another.

“Commander Bly? General Secura?” Bail looks to the other side of the table and the pair. “What are your feelings on Senator Amidala’s personhood bill I sent you?”

“Far be it from me to dislike a law that makes me human,” Bly cracks. A round of laughter rises among the other troopers present. Aayla rolls her eyes at her Commander in an unmistakably fond way.

“What I believe the Commander is trying to say Chancellor, is that it is a more than welcome change to the status quo.”

“I was trying to say that?”

“Yeah, the vocabulary seems a bit past him,” Fox cracks dryly.

Aayla looks from one to the other. “Force I wish General Koon and Commander Wolffe could have been here. Maybe than you’d remember how to behave.”

“The ori’vod is the one who taught us,” Bly offers with faux indignation.

Obi-wan manages to smother a chuckle, though a smile still tugs at his lips. “Master Plo Koon sends his deepest apologies. The Wolffe pack is still firmly entrenched on their mission and he didn’t feel it appropriate to leave them.”

There’s a general consensus of agreement among the group. Mouse catches General Kenobi's occasional glances around the table, the majority of them falling between Commander Bly and his General.

“Senator Amidala,” he begins, his voice pensive, “How do you propose to introduce your personhood bill?”

Padmé gives a warm smile. She’d been waiting for this; Mouse can tell by the way her eyes sharpen and the slight quickening of her voice. “I think we need to show the public that it’s not only the GAR that stands behind the Clones, but also the Jedi Order as well.”

Mouse makes a small sound of dissent, feeling Fox adjust next to her.

“Mous’ika?” Cody questions, “Do you not agree with the senator?” Mouse looks embarrassed as she glances Padmé’s way, but the senator looks more curious than anything. Mouse gathers her thoughts while she finishes her glass of wine. A passing server goes to refill the glass but, at her side, Fox waves him off. She wants to glare at him, but all eyes are on her, waiting.

“I’m no politician, so I’m not sure my opinion should amount to anything,” she begins, “but general public opinion about the Jedi Order is not…” She looks apologetically at the few Jedi at the table “Well, it’s not good right now.”

There’s some concerned looks flying her way. Bless. It was easy to miss what was happening at home when one was in a war zone the majority of the time.

She reaches for where her wine should be and grabs a glass of water that hadn't been there a moment ago. She takes a sip before speaking again.

“It would be a poor decision to align solely with the Order on this one, I feel. Just a look at the holonews and you’ll see articles and op-eds questioning the Jedi’s involvement in the war.”

Fox clears his throat.

“She’s right” How sweet it was to hear those words. “We’re dealing with domestic terrorism on an unprecedented level. Nothing that we can’t handle but it’s something to take into consideration. The public feels like the Order has overstepped its bounds. It lacks policing of its own.” Fox holds up his hand when Obi-wan goes to speak. “While that may not be the case, in the court of public opinion the Order is guilty more than it is not.”

Mouse can feel him looking at her, handing the reins back over. “The average Coruscanti already is apprehensive of such a large military force within their presence. It’s going to take some doing to convince them to see the troopers as anything but soldiers awaiting orders” she finishes diplomatically.

There are speculative looks and nods around the table. “Much to think about,” Bail agrees, taking a slow sip of wine. His eyes linger between her and Fox for far longer than she likes. “Thank you.”

Mouse nods, her cheeks glowing hot from the attention. Her hand brushes against Fox’s as she sets it back down on the table. Her fool’s heart skips a beat when he doesn’t pull away immediately. She fights the urge to lace her little finger with his. Luckily, the next course comes and they both have to adjust to the changing of plates.

Her stomach is still turning in loops and food is still not something that sounds appealing in the slightest as the main course comes out. She doesn’t even remember what it’s supposed to be. It looks like it was probably delicious, roasted meat and delicate fresh vegetables sautéed to perfection. She takes a few testing bites but her plate remains mostly untouched.

“Quit pushing your food around and eat”. Of course she hasn’t forgotten Fox is sitting next to her. It must have been too much to hope he had forgotten about her.

Again, when she glances his direction he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her. She doesn’t acknowledge he’s said anything and listens in quietly as the others at the table chat.

She takes another bite and chews slowly before swallowing.

“Come on, another,” he says. This time something is softer about his voice. When Mouse looks she sees him glancing at her.

Her chest tightens uncomfortably. Why did she give him the power to do this?

“Mouse.”

She thinks for a moment that she just might be imagining things. Under the table Fox’s booted foot knocks softly against hers letting her know she wasn’t. This wasn’t fair.

“Eat.” It’s a soft plea. He didn’t get to be soft with her anymore. He didn’t get to give orders. He’d lost those privileges.

“I’m not hungry.”

Fox’s head turns slowly at her words. “You could have fooled me. You look like a strong wind could blow you away.”

“Let it go, Commander. You're being ridiculous,” she manages to whisper under her breath. She doesn’t realize the table has gone quiet, that half a dozen or more pairs of eyes are watching them. Fox hasn’t either.

“There are faster ways to kill yourself than starvation. I’m sure you remember at least one other way.” The sudden acid in his voice hides the sound of frustration and strikes a direct hit.

Mouse has never considered herself a dramatic person, far from it really. So the rapidly rising urge to turn and punch him in the eye comes as a surprise. The anger behind it is soon replaced by mortification when she realizes that everyone has gone quiet.

Cody’s jaw is set into a tight line, the antithesis of Bly’s slackened one. Both Aayla and Bail are staring down at their plates. Mouse doesn’t look at the others.

Fox is frozen at her side, unmoving and unspeaking. Horror is dawning in his eyes as she pulls the napkin off her lap and places it in her still full plate.

His hand fumbles reaching for hers under the table but she skitters out of his reach.

“If you’ll excuse me?” She addresses the gathered group, “I’ll be back shortly.” Hot angry tears are already starting to swell in her eyes as she pushes away from the table and makes her way from the great room. She manages to keep it together until she’s in the guest wing. She doesn’t slide to the floor in a heap til she’s in her room.

She doesn’t return to dinner.

————

“You know I remember it all.”

The words catch Fox by surprise. He picks up the tumblr resting along the stone terrace wall and takes a drink as he looks at the Jedi - former Jedi- he didn’t even know what Anakin Skywalker was anymore.

“Congratulations?” Bitterness is already brewing in his gut. First Mouse and now this? Could it get any worse? Could a man not drink away his self-loathing in peace?

“The first time I met the Chancellor I was a child, but I remember it like it was just this morning. He smiled at me. It was like having someone see me for the first time. Like my Mother. Like Qui-Gon-“

Fox isn’t in the mood for this.

“-as I got older his attention focused on me. He honed me. Groomed me for something-“

“That’s great, sir, really.” He’d failed to hold back his acidic comments when Mouse had been near. Now that it was Skywalker he doesn’t even care to try.

“Shift it Fox and listen to what the kriff I’ve got to say.”

Fox brings the glass to his lips and finishes it in one long, slow pull before taking it and throwing it out into the placid lake below. It would have felt better had it smashed. The urge to break something has been simmering on the back burner all night. Skywalker was bringing it to a rapid boil.

“And what are you trying to say Jetii? Your life story means to me about as much as sith spit.”

Something dangerous flares in the other man’s eyes. “We’re the same, you and I.”

Fox barks a laugh, a bitter stagnant sound as he feigns turning away for just a moment only to spin right back. “You and I are nothing alike. Are you one of millions? Does your order see you as interchangeable battle fodder? Tell me your serial number, sir.”

“Your loyalty is unquestionable. You would do anything for the people you care about.” Anakin seems undeterred by Fox’s growing ire. “We both love women who are far stronger than we gave them credit for-“

“Shut up.” Fox’s voice is low, a warning growl from a wounded animal. He’d already hurt someone he’d claimed to love, said something ugly and cruel. It wouldn’t take much effort to get him to throw a swing against the man in front of him.

“-we think we know best. Sometimes we do. Then we let our own ego get in the way and we hurt the ones we love with our good intentions.”

“What about shut up don’t you understand?” Fox takes a step forward, chest out. He wants this to escalate.

“What I don’t understand is how you can take a girl like her and purposefully hurt her. I watched her put a blaster to her-“

“ENOUGH!” Any cool Fox had left vanishes as he closes the space between them. His finger jabs into the other man’s chest, punctuating his point. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to talk about that night.”

How dare he. In the end, who was he but Sidious’s favorite lap dog? Rage boils over as Anakin steps into the jabbing finger, making Fox take an unwanted step back.

“Yeah? You want to go there? Pretty sure I remember being there just as much as you were. I was also there when your blaster killed Fives.”

Fox can’t hide the way he flinches at the name.

Anakin takes a slow even breath before he speaks again. “Fox, I’m not going to say I didn’t want to turn the damn thing on you and put two through your composite -Jedi way be damned- but I can look back and remember what your face looked like. When you stepped in the corner where you didn’t think anyone could see? You didn’t want to shoot Fives. You didn’t want to kill your brother.”

Fox closes his eyes, tipping his head up toward the night sky.

“She knew that too-“

“You think I don’t realize what she was doing? You think I don’t realize she was ready to sacrifice herself so I didn’t have to kill someone else I - “ He opens his eyes focusing back on the Jedi.

“But you didn’t feel her in the Force like I did. I was as much of a mess as any of us but you know what I felt coming from her?”

Fox shakes his head. He doesn’t want to know.

“Resolve. Love and resolve. She would have done anything to keep you safe. She was the only steady one of us all.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” He’d seen it in Mouse’s eyes, that decision she’d made and would have followed through with. For him. The nightmares where she had to follow through still found him, the ones with her wide eyes staring up blank and glassy while smoke rose in tendrils from her head.

“Because we're the same. Our love was used as fuel for manipulation. It was a tool to gain our compliance. I saw a future where Padmé died. Over and over and Palp- Sidious made me think I could stop it. If I did what he said I could stop it all. Then he was dead and I still had the dream. But you know what? She would have died at my hands because of me, because of my blind, fumbling attempt to prevent it in the first place and my children -” Emotion swells in his voice.

“When I watched you tonight, when I heard what you said, I saw those very blind steps I had been taking all over again. Stop it, Fox. She doesn’t deserve it.” Anakin stops and takes a deep breath,

“You don’t deserve it. Let the pain stop.”

Fox drags himself away from the Jedi, turning his back to stare out at the expanse of water below. “There’s no fixing what I’ve done”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“And I think you’re a fool.”

———-

Fox feels spent. Physically and emotionally exhausted, riding the fallout of an adrenaline surge down to rock bottom after his confrontation with Skywalker.

He’s ready for bed. He needs a solid six hours of sleep. Maybe a coma?

He wasn’t pleased with the continued attempts by others to force something with Mouse that was obviously not meant to be. He wasn’t pleased with his own behavior in response to it. He wasn’t a Hutuun, but he had certainly acted like one. Honestly, he'd rather take the butt of a blaster to his head as opposed to thinking about it anymore.

He tried to think of something else. Personhood. Not in a million lifetimes did Fox think someone as powerful as the Chancellor of the Republic or one of its most brilliant senators would take up the torch for him and his brothers. It was bound to be a controversial bill but after listening to Bail and Padmé speak, it didn’t seem so overwhelming. It was a real possibility that the end of the war wasn’t going to mean the proverbial scrap heap. The end of the war could mean citizenship, recognition, lives outside of battle and the GAR.

The thought left him a little lightheaded - or maybe that was the Alderaanian wine that had been flowing.

He tries to rein in his excitement at the thought. If Fox had learned one thing in his time in Coruscant and among politics it was that politicians were exceptionally good at dragging their shebs when it came to anything good. It would require finesse and more than a little debate for the good Senator to see her plans to fruition. If anyone could do it, it was Padmé. The time frame in which she could do it was up for debate. Fox raises a brow as he looks down the hall. If the sound coming from General Secura’s room meant anything, there was some very brisk debating going on between the General and her Commander.

Fox tries not to look at Mouse’s door as he goes to his own. He tries not to think about what personhood would mean for his vode that had broken regs and found something to fight for outside of the GAR.

Fox is barely in his door, already bending to remove his boots when he hears it, a soft plaintive voice in the hall. It’s instantly familiar. He’s already cursing himself. He’d done enough to her tonight. Obviously, he’d proven that he couldn’t be in the same room without hurting her. He hears her voice again and he’s pulling the door open without a second thought.

Mouse is leaning half in the hallway. “Hello?”

The disaster that had been dinner flashes in his mind's eye as do Skywalker’s words from a short time ago.

Let the pain stop.

Clearing his throat, he steps into the hall.

“Oh Maker...” it’s not the exact thing he was hoping to hear as she laid eyes on him, but he’s sure it’s no less than he deserves. “It had to be you, didn’t it?”

Fox gives her an appraising look. Her cheeks were hot and flushed even before she’d seen him and the gown she’d worn to dinner is still firmly in place. Her gentle eyes are rimmed in red. She looks just as stunning as she had a few hours ago.

The foundation his resolve has been built upon continues to crumble.

He chides himself. That foundation had never been strong, not when he’d asked Bail to transfer her, not when he’d seen her in her hospital room, certainly not when she’d given him the cold shoulder earlier when they’d arrived. It seemed everything about Mouse worked to destroy the barrier he’s tried to erect between them.

“What’s wrong?” He asks gruffly. He’s tired from travel and of the mental gymnastics he’d been putting himself through. Mostly though he was tired of feeling like he was fighting with both her and himself.

Mouse's eyes dart each way down the hallway as if looking for someone else to save the day. She isn’t that lucky. A particularly loud moan coming from Secura’s room emphasizes that point.

“My dress-“ a new wave of red blooms in her cheeks, “the zipper is stuck. I’ve been trying for nearly an hour and…” She glances down at the floor and her bare feet. He hates that she won’t look at him but he’s done nothing to earn that honor now has he?

He huffs taking a breath and a leap. “If you don’t hate the idea of my help, I’m willing to offer it.”

Mouse's eyes slowly rise back to his. “I-“ she’s making a decision as well. He can see it written across her face. Maker, he thinks, please give me this one chance.

“Yes. Please.” She stutters out her answer, pulling away from the door frame and moving into the suite. She glances over her shoulder as she moves as if she’s afraid he wouldn’t actually follow.

Mouse stops near a small dressing table with brushes and makeup laid out on its top. A full size mirror is immediately to its side. She watches him in the reflection. It’s the first time since the hospital on Coruscant that Fox has been alone with her. That feels like so long ago, another life and time. They’re two different people now.

He steps carefully into her space as if one off movement would spook her and this would all end. This close he can smell the soft floral perfume she’s dabbed on. He can feel the heat radiating from her. Equal parts comfort and temptation rolled in one.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says suddenly. Skywalker’s words haunt him. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.” Mouse’s head cocks to the side as she watches him.

“Why did you then? I’m certainly not Cody’s type and-“

“And what?”

She steals herself. Fox can see the deep breath she takes before she speaks again, “even if I was, my interest will always lie elsewhere.”

The meaning of her words strike home. “Me? After everything?”

“It was always you.” She admits softly.

She still- she still cared for him? After everything? After he’d nearly killed her. After he left her maimed. After he pushed her away over and over.

More of the wall crumbles. All he’d have to do now is take one big step and he could be over it.

“So, this zipper you were talking about?” He deflects, needs another minute to think because there's too much to sort through and he can’t make more mistakes. Not with Mouse. Not with them.

She nods softly toward her left side, pulling her arm forward to show the jammed apparatus. Fox closes his eyes. Her scars stand proudly from under the thin straps of her dress. When he opens them he catches Mouse watching him in the reflection, her look is sad.

“I can find someone else-“

His hand immediately drops to her hip as she tries to walk away, pulling her back and erasing the laughable space in between them. The shock shows on both of their faces.

“Easy,” he manages, and after a moment she settles against him. His thumb rubs small circles over her waist and he’s not sure if he’s trying to soothe her or himself. “I’m just coming up with a plan of action.” That draws a small smile from her but it’s all the encouragement he needs. “You need help taking your hair down?” He turns his head, the tip of his nose brushing against the soft strands still secured in their up-do.

It’s an absolute sithshit question, she had two working arms she could remove all the pins and clips herself, they both know this. Fox just wants- he wants more time. He wants to be ready to look at the damage he’s done and not feel repulsed by it. To maybe, just maybe, not hate himself when he looks at it.

“I- yeah, that would be helpful.” She says quietly after a moment. She sits on the stool in front of the mirror, her eyes following his actions with apprehension and curiosity. Fox takes a steadying breath and begins.

He’s never done this before, that is to say done anything more than held hairpins passed to him by senators like Padme and Chuchi on a transport after an event when they complained of the intricate styles giving them headaches or had simply needed to feel free of the bindings of senate formality. He’s seen enough though, and begins to work slowly from the base of her skull working up to the crown of her head. Mouse holds out her hand and he drops the thin pins in as he goes. As her hair begins to spill down, he watches her transform before his eyes back into the mouse he’d always known. Loose waves frame her face, still painted to perfection. Her red lips part and a soft breath escapes her as he massages his fingers along her scalp. Tension melts from her shoulders and she begins to lean back into him as his fingers rake through her hair, untangling strands until they slip smoothly through her fingers.

“You're going to make me fall asleep if you keep that up,” she says finally. The ghost of a smile crosses his face.

“Come on then. Stand up. Let’s get this thing undone before you have to sleep in it.” The stool is pushed to the side as she stands, and Fox moves a half a step back so he can see what he’s doing.

“The chain,” she says softly, catching his attention. “Unclasp it first, before the zipper. I can’t reach that at all.”

The thin gold chain hangs low on her bare back, spanning the distance between the straps of her dress. It glitters temptingly in the light, just like it had when he’d seen it earlier at dinner, when his mouth had gone dry at the mere sight of her.

Fox meets her eyes in the mirror as his hand moves softly from her right hip, up and over her back. His fingers drag feather-light over the bare skin they find. Mouse's eyes flutter shut and he can see her inhale deeply. Her skin was still as soft as he remembered. He gently scoops her hair to one side, over her right shoulder. Her eyes are still closed.

“Breathe, precious girl,” he orders softly, fighting a wince at the pet name that slips out. If Mouse cares, she doesn’t let on. She exhales slowly, opening her eyes at the end. Her pupils take a moment to adjust back to the light. “Am I ok?” he asks quietly.

“Are you?” There’s no heat or snark in her words. She’s staring at him, genuinely curious.

“I think so.” His fingers find the tiny gold catch holding the chain in place and it opens with ease.

“Can you- do you think you can do the zipper. If it’s too much to look at I-“

Fox stops her with a low sound. She hadn’t looked unsure or self conscious in the gown she wore all night. He wasn’t going to be the one to make her question it now. He’d already done enough.

“I’m good.”

He gently presses her left arm forward to gain access. He takes a steading breath as he looks down. The scarring spills across her shoulder, two shades lighter than her normal skin tone. He’s seen plenty of burns in his career and this wasn’t the worst but it feels like it is because he was the cause of it. A few centimeters more and he would have missed her entirely. A few centimeters the other way and-

His fingers move to the gown, easily plucking open the hook and loop closure at the top of the zipper. Mouse sucks in a sharp breath as the tips of his finger skim along the bare skin there.

“Is this ok?” he asks. She nods mutely. “I need words, Mouse,” he urges as gently as he can muster.

“It’s good.” Her voice wavers slightly as she speaks, “Go- go ahead.”

Fox can hear his heart beating in his skull. He can hear the rush of air through his lungs. Everything feels loud as his fingers slowly work at the jammed zipper. Mouse’s breathing is shallow as his fingers press into her, as they pull and twist until whatever has been keeping the closure jammed comes loose and it slides down. His fingers trail behind the zipper as it falls open.

He looks up to find her eyes on him again in the mirror's reflection. Her pupils are blown wide and her lips are parted. Fox feels the beginning wave of blood rush to his groin, the surge only becoming stronger as Mouse slowly - carefully - reaches up and slides the right strap of her gown down. She doesn’t look away from his reflection as her hand trails across her collarbone to the left strap. She pauses as if waiting for him to tell her to stop.

Fox puts the tips of his fingers over hers and together they lower the strap. He can see the rest of the scar now, can really get a feel for the size and the shape of it. It’s glossy compared to the surrounding area, as if her skin had been pulled too tight and frozen that way. She slides her fingers from the strap - laying flat against her lower arm - up, bringing his fingers along with it.

“Does it hurt?” The question slips out as her fingers glide over the surface.

“Not usually. It pulls sometimes,” she says softly, “They both do. I use lotion, try to get it massaged a couple times a day.” Fox’s eyes lock on hers. “The other option was worse.”

That’s right. She could be dead. He’s tried not to think of that the last few months, so trapped in his own guilt about hurting her that each time the psych droid brought it up he immediately countered with how she wasn’t and she had to live with what he’d done to her.

“Can I…?” He glances down and then back up. Mouse gives him a tense smile and a nod.

It feels different from how skin is supposed to feel. It feels thicker, less textured missing the fine hair that covered the rest of her arm. He traces the outline of it. It had only been glancing, the distal part of her shoulder taking the brunt of the burn from the bolt. His fingers map out the boundaries twice before he comes to a stand still.

He doesn’t want to stop touching her.

“Where’s your lotion?”

She doesn’t question him. He can see it in her eyes, in the split second of hesitation. She doesn’t want this to stop either.

One arm moves across her chest to hold her gown in place while the other reaches to the dressing table and wraps around a bottle. Fox takes it when offered and squeezes a small amount into his hand.

He’s taking that step over his wall, he realizes. It doesn’t feel like much of an obstacle anymore anyway as it lays in crumbles at his feet.

Her skin is warm under his touch, no real difference between the good tissue and the scarred as far as temperature is concerned. He works the lotion into her skin pressing his thumb in firm circles from the edges to the center. Mouse lets out a tiny sigh and it’s becoming more difficult to ignore the desire roiling in his belly.

“Fox…” he hums in response to the soft moan of his name, “it feels so good.”

“I missed you, Cyar’ika.” He offers tentatively as he presses in close, aligning her back against his chest. His free arm wraps around her waist holding her lightly against him. His hand falls away from her skin and his mouth descends to pepper soft kisses. She was warm. She was alive. she could be dead but she wasn’t and in the end it was because of his actions that he could still hold her, still hear the soft hitch in her breath as he sucks gently at the juncture where her shoulder and neck meet.

Mouse’s head tips, offering him more room. Her arm falls away from her dress and reaches back behind her, cradling the back of Fox’s while he sucks a mark into her skin. A sea of red flutters to the floor as the dress falls. Fox growls as he looks up and sees the pair of them, him still in his greys and her naked except for a small lacy pair of red panties. His red. From there his eyes travel up, finding the other shot he fired.

The scarring to her right flank is worse than the shoulder; he can see the puckered skin and the patterned appearance of healed grafting but he doesn’t feel the wave of guilt he’s felt earlier. She was alive and hot in his arms.

“Tell me to stop.” He demands quietly against her skin, “make me stop.”

Mouse’s hips press back against the hard line of his erection straining in his greys. Another low growl spills from his lips as he spins her around. Her lips are on his in an instant, messy and desperate as she presses up and into him. Her teeth pull at his lower lip. “Fox…”

His hands cradle her face as he slots his mouth over hers, breathing in the air she gives him like a gift from Fett himself. He can feel the press of her breasts against his chest, the way her hands wrapped around him and gripped at his back.

It was a dream. It had got to be. If it was, it was the first good one he’d had in months. Mouse whines quietly as his hands slide down and grips her hips as if they were the only thing tethering him to this reality. It’s too much and he should stop but he can’t because what he should do and what he wants to do are too wildly incompatible. His fingers graze over the pebbled skin of her right flank. Mouse inhales sharply.

“Stop.” The word leaves her mouth with sudden desperation, like it had been pulled from her body unwillingly. It’s like a bucket of cold water thrown over Fox as he jerks away.

Mouse turns from him, shaking her head as she snatched up a robe and quickly wraps it around herself. They’re both panting quietly.

He’d done something wrong, misread her signals. He was scum. He was an idiot. He should-

“I can’t do this again” She’s still breathless when she speaks, ruby lipstick smeared over swollen lips. “Fox look at me.” She demands quietly when he tries to turn away. “You can’t do this to me again.”

“Do what?” He can hear the desperation in his voice, he sounds pathetic.

She looks at him for a moment before she moves closer to him. He wants to turn away. He doesn’t want to hear how he’s ruined everything, how everything has become clear but it was now too late.

Her hand comes up softly to his cheek as she looks at him through dark lashes. Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“You can’t make me want you again, not if you're going to push me away when things get hard.” She has her free arm crossed over her chest. Her tone isn’t as strong as her words. They waiver as they fall from her lips.

He wants to make her every promise in the book before he even knows if he can keep them and it’s not about getting his dick wet.

He misses her. Has missed her every single day since the horrible event in the Chancellor’s office.

He misses her smile - the soft one she saved just for him. He misses the way she viewed the world from a different but similar way he did. He misses planning for a future with her even if he hadn’t told her any of it. Most of all he misses the quiet moments, the times when they would just lay together and enjoy being near one another.

“It was all for you Cyar’ika.” He says with force, as if he said it sure enough he’d convince her that every action he’d ever made in regards to her was completely selfless.

“Kriff” she curses, shaking her head. Her hand falls away and he misses the warm feeling of her skin against his, “you of all people-“ she mutters under her breath before speaking clearly.

“I get to make choices Fox. When it comes to my life, I get to weigh the risks and benefits and I get to make choices. You took that away from me. Have I loved being here?” she asks, gesturing around at the sumptuous suite, “I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t, but would I have rather been with you? Do you know that answer.”

Fox shakes his head.

“That’s right! Because you never asked. The truth is I would have rather been with you every minute of every day of the last three months. Doing paperwork, writing schedules, reviewing supply requisitions, it wouldn’t have mattered because I’d have been with you.”

“Cyar’ika, I didn’t-“

“No Fox, you didn’t think.” She sniffs lightly, her eyes bright with unshed tears, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life and you pushed me away. You turned your back on me when I needed you and now? Now you’re here and we fall into our old patterns? Not again. Not unless you can promise me you are in this 100% because I can’t do it again. My heart just can’t.”

Fox reaches out and swipes a trailing tear with his thumb “I-“ She leans into his touch, her cheek resting against his palm as her eyes drift shut. Just one second. she allows herself that. She straightens and steps away before his eyes can memorize the image of her.

“No, don’t say anything right now. Leave. Think. Decide what it is you really want. If it’s me you can find me and let me know.” There’s a finality to her words that has him biting back any response he may have made. She steps into him, rising up on her toes and gently bumping her forehead against his own.

“I do love you,” he says quietly.

Mouse blows out a ragged breath. “I know. You just need to decide if that’s going to be enough.” She moves toward the door, opening it. “Goodnight Fox.”

#fox and mouse #commander fox #cc 1010 #commander fox/reader #tcw

144 notes · View notes

jasontoddiefor · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: As a Jedi, you had to formally accept your new apprentice and your new Master.Obi-Wan, Anakin and Ahsoka from the beginning of their apprenticeships to their ends. AN: It's 1 am but I am here and queer and crying about baby Padawan disaster lineage. Read on AO3!

It was in the aftermath of their disastrous situation that Qui-Gon said the words Obi-Wan had been dreaming of hearing for such a long time. He always thought it would be in the aftermath of a tournament, perhaps after he had shown great courage and self-control, or maybe during a meditation session in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Never, not even in his wildest dreams, had Obi-Wan thought he’d be clinging to his new Master’s robes, bloody and full of dirt, tears running over his cheeks as he tried to get a grip on his emotions and panic. In the moment Obi-Wan had not once thought about his fears. There was only what was and what must be done. He had focused only on his task and now that he was finally allowed to reflect on his actions, it all came crashing down on him.

His shoulders wouldn’t stop shaking and he couldn’t calm his breath and the world wouldn’t stop spinning. Obi-Wan must look like a youngling, helpless and overwhelmed, but no matter what shame befell him, every other emotion was much larger, the size of a sun.

“It’s alright, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon soothed him, running his hand in circles over his back. “You have done well.”

He had, hadn’t he?

Obi-Wan had finally proved himself. He knew he was meant to be a Knight someday. He saw it in his dreams sometimes, flickering images of calling out to a Padawan or two, never clear enough to see their faces, but Obi-Wan knew they were his.

He had to be there for them.

“Obi-Wan, I want you to listen well,” Qui-Gon said. “Padenji foh keelak chareu leoah foh. Leoah foh keelak Padawanir.”

The words, so kind and full of hope, almost made Obi-Wan cry even more. He bit on his lips and forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Mimayaah foh keelak mipadananal kat fehl. Leoah foh keelak Jaiehir," Obi-Wan replied.

Qui-Gon smiled down at him, happy, and everything was exactly as it was meant to be. The weight of every world finally left Obi-Wan’s shoulders and he knew he was on the right path.

Obi-Wan took in the sight of little Anakin Skywalker. The seamstress of the Royal House of Naboo had put together a proper outfit for him. The boy looked the exact part of a Jedi, even if his robes were admittedly a little fancier than the typical Padawan robes. There was no use to get extra clothes for younglings likely to tear them and outgrow them within a month, but the look suited Anakin and Obi-Wan had almost smiled when the boy had put on the robes, amazed at how soft they were.

“I’m tired,” Anakin said, yawning, and rubbed his eyes.

They had decided to stay on Naboo for another month so they could sort out Anakin’s legal paperwork. As it turned out, freeing a slave wasn’t as easy as just buying them. They had needed to get his chip out and get him the right citizenship. Anakin Skywalker had been granted the Naboo citizenship, gifted to him by the Queen herself. Not in an official ceremony, it couldn’t reach the Senate that Naboo royalty had bought a slave but Obi-Wan was sure that Anakin had appreciated the informal dinner more than he would have anything excessively festive. It all was very overwhelming to him.

Obi-Wan opened up the doors to their quarters and against all expectations, Anakin did not head to bed immediately. Instead, the boy went to their little kitchen to make tea. Obi-Wan had gotten used to Anakin’s habit by now, and yet it struck him how rigorously he stuck to it. Anakin picked out the one tea brand that they had been able to find that was to both their tastes, spicy but sweet, and slowly filled two cups with the tea. He gave one to Obi-Wan and took the other for himself.

The first night they had slept in these rooms, Anakin had only hesitantly offered a cup to Obi-Wan, cheeks hollow and pale, and then, hours later, quietly asked for permission to sleep next to Obi-Wan. They had come far already in such a short time. Anakin had gained some fat and spoke more freely.

His Padawan was doing well.

Obi-Wan let out a low breath.

“Anakin,” he said. “You know you are part of the Jedi Order now, right?”

Anakin nodded quickly as if he were afraid Obi-Wan would take it away if he wasn’t fast enough. This wouldn’t be a problem had Obi-Wan already gone through with it. “Yes.”

“And you are my Padawan. Do you know what that means?”

“You will teach me?” Anakin replied, his statement more a question.

“Exactly. Nobody has told you yet, but we have a tradition.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste of the tea. He wondered how Qui-Gon had felt when he’d taken Obi-Wan on. Had it been similar to this? He desperately wished his Master was still here so that he could ask him for advice.

“Padenji foh keelak chareu leoah foh. Leoah foh keelak Padawanir,” Obi-Wan said slowly.

Anakin frowned ever so slightly and tiled his head.

“I said that I will teach you everything I know and I know you as my Padawan,” Obi-Wan repeated in Basic. “It is something a Master swears when they take on a Padawan. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you our language as well.”

“Oh.”

Anakin held his cup in his hands and Obi-Wan supposed that if not for it, he would be fidgeting and pulling at the hems of the sleeves.

“Is there- is there anything the student swears as well?” Anakin asked carefully. He was looking at Obi-Wan’s hands, not daring to meet his eyes,

“Yes, there is,” Obi-Wan said. “Very good, Anakin. Try to repeat this: Mimayaah foh keelak mipadananal kat fehl. Leoah foh keelak Jaiehir.”

Anakin stumbled over the words, his tongue unused to the vowels and soft melodic lift. Half his words were unidentifiable, and yet Obi-Wan felt his heart warm. This journey wouldn’t be easy, but they had taken the first step. Tomorrow would be another day and life would go on.

For the first time since the fight against the Sith Lord, Obi-Wan actually thought of the latter as a positive thing.

Anakin wasn’t sure what to think of the youngling. He hadn’t wanted a Padawan. He was barely twenty, much too young for being responsible for a child, never mind for one stuck in a battlefield. If he didn’t teach her well, she’d die and it would be his fault. The weight of the responsibility on his shoulders was almost too much. And yet, as Anakin looked at Ahsoka Tano with her slumped shoulders, he thought maybe.

The fact that the Council had just assigned him a Padawan, even if he could refuse her, still irked him and he’d be having words with them. This was not the Jedi way, but as his Master had pointed out endlessly over the last few months, none of this was the Jedi way.

“You're reckless, little one,” Anakin told Ahsoka.

She, somehow, managed to look even more saddened by that. They’d definitely need to work on that if she was to be Anakin’s Padawan. He couldn’t have an adorable youngling commanding his men. Not that she’d be in command for a long time.

“You never would have made it as Obi-Wan's Padawan. But you might make it as mine.”

Ahsoka quickly lifted her head, staring up at Anakin with disbelief written all over her face.

Anakin cracked a smile. Maybe this could give birth to something great.

“Padenji foh keelak chareu leoah foh. Leoah foh keelak Padawanir,” Anakin told her seriously.

Ahsoka beamed at him and quickly hurried to her feet to do a proper bow.

“Mimayaah foh keelak mipadananal kat fehl. Leoah foh keelak Jaiehir,” Ahsoka replied, almost stumbling over her words in her hurry to get them out.

Anakin smiled at her and then, remembering the warmth of Naboo, threw an arm around his new Padawan, hugging her from the side as he slowly guided her back into the direction of their company. He was glad this campaign was over. He needed to figure out what he was actually supposed to do with a Padawan and Ahsoka was likely going to crash within the hour from all the excitement.

New beginnings, Anakin thought, were worth it.

Translations:

“Padenji foh keelak chareu leoah foh. Leoah foh keelak Padawanir.” - I will teach you everything I know. I know you as (my) Padawan.

"Mimayaah foh keelak mipadananal kat fehl. Leoah foh keelak Jaiehir." - I entrust you with my education. I know you as (my) Master.

#star wars #Anakin Skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #tcw #fanfic #conlang #dai bendu

124 notes · View notes

vake-hunter · 4 years ago

Text

Acceptance into the House of Chimes results and which Master is playing Chimes in those results

this is fun and cute little details about the Masters

An innocent (Pages)

A fresh face among the jaded horde! No doubt you will achieve great things one day. But watch yourself: in Fallen London, innocence is a commodity like any other.

Mr Chimes glides across the floor and grasps your hand in a spotless white glove. It feels like shaking a branch wound with spider-silk. 'Most optimate friend!' it whispers. 'Welcome to our Chamber of Delicacies!'

An Extraordinary Beauty (Apples/Hearts)

Persuasive 20

That skin! Those eyes! That delightful nose! Nobody can resist you!

Mr Chimes glides across the floor and surveys you up and down. 'My dear, my dear,' it says. 'How very appetising to have you here with us. Will you tilt your head to the right a little? Just so. Just so.'

A Player of Games (Iron)

Watchful 20, the Boatman's Opponent 1

You are an emperor of the chess board. You shuffle tiles and playing cards with dazzling speed. Rumour has it that you have diced with Death itself.

Mr Chimes approaches: the clicking of its boot-heels on the floor is like bone dice thrown on marble. It hands you two mah-jong tiles. Engraved on the back of the Winter tile is the single word 'WELCOME'. On the back of the Plum tile, you read 'LUCK IS THE PREROGATIVE OF VICTORS.'

A noted trainer of Weasels (Apples/Hearts)

1 x Araby Fighting Weasel

The weasel-fanciers of Spite speak highly of your expertise with the genus mustela.

Mr Chimes is suddenly at your elbow. It inhales deeply. 'Oh, toothsome, my dear,' it says. 'Toothsome. Let the little fellows run free, by all means. Someone will manage the results, I assure you.'

A true patriot (Wines)

1 x A Copy of your Patriotic Adventure

Your writings inspire the youth of Fallen London to a frenzy of patriotism!

Mr Chimes takes your arm and guides you into the lobby of the House. Its grasp is like the clutch of a winter tree. 'We respect loyalty to an ideal,' it says. 'One of the more austere forms, perhaps. But a true realisation nevertheless. No?'

A masterful cat-chaser (UH I ACTUALLY DONT KNOW? Veils maybe?)

Shadowy 30

You have honed your skills in pursuit of the city's most evasive felines. They speak your name with respect, if not quite affection.

Mr Chimes steals up on you from behind, but you turn just before its gloved fingers touch your shoulder. It chortles. 'Who can stalk the stalker, eh? Welcome to my House. Ware the Bell!'

Not to be crossed (Iron probably)

Dangerous 20

There is something disquieting about your appearance. It's hard to pin down, exactly. An aura of suppressed violence.

Mr Chimes strides toward you. It holds up a hand in greeting. Or in warning? It nods once; it turns to go. That is all.

A crown in shadows (Wines)

1 Fate

Royal blood? Can it be true? On the wrong side of the blankets, no doubt. But that's what they say.

Mockery or respect?

Mr Chimes steps aside for you and makes the gentlest inclination of its head. 'We will bring you a bottle of something a little special,' it avers. 'We are delighted to add another crownable head to our collection!' Hm.

Allergic to brass? (Spices probably)

1 x Nevercold Brass Sliver

The touch of the stuff hives your skin and blears your eyes. It makes you weep tears of blood. This makes you an object of some fascination at parties.

A bewildered Master

Unthinkable!' the hooded Mr Chimes shrieks. 'Impossible! Unprecedented!' It seems quite cheerful about it, though. It does insist you demonstrate the weeping-blood business, unfortunately.

Exceptionally Talented (Cups/Mirrors. Possibly Hearts/Apples but almost definitely Cups/Mirrors)

10 x Confident Smile, Persuasive 100

Both ladies and gentlemen pause immediately before speaking your name. There is a quality to that pause which is not easily described.

A friendly thing

Mr Chimes' hand spiders along your arm. 'My dear,' it coos. 'If only my tastes ran to... well, perhaps if your blood was a little cooler. No matter, my dear. You will be treasured.'

The Rooftop Dancer (Veils)

Shadowy 60, Route: The Flit 1

You know the ways of the Flit like few others. They say you can reach the summit of All Christs' spire in the space of a single breath. They say you stole a feather from the Topsy King's hat. They call you 'Pussyfoot', but in a good way.

An avuncular approach

Mr Chimes drifts up like a scrap of silk on the wind. 'Good evening! Good evening indeed! You're a swift and circumspect maker of ways, aren't you? You are indeed! How very much to be admired.'

An Unparalelled Grotesque (Maybe Wines because it has blue eyes)

10 x Hard-Earned Lesson

In the decades since the Fall, no-one has ever looked quite like you. Thank God.

A long silence

The bluish glimmer of Mr Chimes' eyes is steady, but you sense an obscure emotion. 'Well,' it says at last, 'why not? Why not indeed.'

A Visionary (Wines. Not Pages due to wording. Royal we makes it Wines)

A Person of Some Importance: A Significant Individual

You have made the Square of Lofty Words your playground. You have cowed the women and men of the University. Your ideas are simple in outline and intricate in implication. They will be remembered, perhaps, when everyone in this room is dead. Except Mr Chimes.

A debatable honour

‘Dear friend,' Mr Chimes murmurs confidentially. 'We have often read the surveillance reports on your speeches. We have commended your texts to the Ministry of Public Decency. We look forward to hearing more of your thoughts.'

A Prisoner of Despair (Fires)

Melancholy 4

Can your misery be so deep and unrelieved that even Mr Chimes has taken pity on you? Or does it simply hope you'll be a diverting mascot?

Mockery, or Hope?

Mr Chimes bears down on you, robe flapping like a tent in a hurricane. Its voice is an alto shriek. 'Come along upstairs! It's warm enough. It'll steam the chill out of your heart. And, here - ' It hands you a candle. 'It'll light you to bed.'

A Speaker of Truth to Power (Iron)

Forceful 3, Subtle 3

You've said the wrong thing to the wrong people once too often. You're going to be a lot of fun.

An ambivalent welcome

Mr Chimes perches on a high carved chair like a black gull on a cliff. A footman approaches with a silver tray bearing a single card. It reads: 'SILENCE'. An announcement? A suggestion? An instruction? Or is Mr Chimes just being difficult for its own inscrutable entertainment?

A Possessor of Impossible Table Habits (Who knows. One who knows table manners I guess)

What are you - no. No! Such things were not to be dreamt of! A fork cannot be put to such uses! Close your mouth! Close his mouth! For the love of all that is holy! DON'T TOUCH THAT SPOON!

Mr Chimes arranges an audition of sorts. You are served a hearty meal of beef-steak and winter vegetables, and provided with all the cutlery you might require. You perform the operations for which you have become notorious. After a suitable time for the onlookers to recover their composure, you are admitted to the House.

Orphaned in a Grisly Accident (I want to say Veils due to what we know of its collections)

Mr Chimes likes tales of blood and terror. It likes tales of butter and whimsy too. Tales of blood, terror, butter and whimsy are like music and water to one dying of thirst in the Desert of Cymbals. The tale of your parents' death at the hands of the Dairy Kings will bring breathless listeners to the fire for a hundred nights.

Not a dry eye

You tell the tale, long and horrible as it is. Mr Chimes convulses with... Mirth? Pity? Fear? Black-liveried footmen watch impassively while its shoulders writhe and roll, and its eyes shimmer like topaz deep in its hood. At last it subsides and you are admitted to the House. 'Step carefully,' Mr Chimes flutes.

An Artist in Ivory (Wines was the Khan of Dreams, but this could be Spices talking. Or Cups/Mirrors.)

a Scholar of the Correspondence 1

You have carved flutes from femurs and trinkets from tibia. Your sigil-circled skull sits in the grandest gallery of Veilgarden. They whisper that when you die for the last time, Mr Cups itself will come for your bones.

A pale horse

‘A little gift,' Mr Chimes informs you. 'Something to recall the Khan of Dreams by. Since you seem so keen to commemorate him.' Do you? Or has Mr Chimes misunderstood the nature of your project?

A wanderer of Parabola (Mirrors)

7 x Memory of Light, A Game of Chess 9, Is Someone There? 10

In your dreams you have seen the Mirror-Marches, the Menagerie of Roses, the Castle of Forests, the nests of the Fingerkings... even though you may forget them when you wake. But there is a light in your eyes.

A light in the darkness

‘Yes,' says the Master quietly. 'The mirrors know your name. The serpents have your scent. The rivers of roses will not drown you. The apples of glass might lie quiet in your hands. If you burn, you burn like a candle. If you die, you die like dawn. You are very delicious.'

A zub-mariner! (Spices from voice but sounds like Fires from excitement about boats)

1 x Zubmarine, An Experienced Zailor 3

You are charting the unknown leagues beneath the zee.

Mr Chimes lopes towards you across the stone floor. 'Marvellous!' it shrills. It pumps your hand excitedly. It's like grabbing a nestful of velvet spiders. 'You'll fit right in here. Grab a seat.'

A killer of renown (Iron)

A Bringer of Death 1, 1 x Ravenglass Knife

Even in Fallen London, where bloodshed is as common as glim-fall, your name is whispered with apprehension.

Mr Chimes approaches in utter silence. It hands you a rostygold knife, hilt-first. Engraved on the blade is the word: MEET. That is all.

A font of devil's tears (Want to say Cups due to smell but could be any)

Connected: Hell 20

Did your masterwork really make a devil weep? It must be true. Mr Chimes has the tears there in a little bottle. Wait. Is it drinking them?

A chuckle in the hood

Mr Chimes drapes a companionable arm across your shoulders. It smells of dust and winter starlight. 'Devils despise that kind of humiliation,' it confides in you. 'I laughed for days. Come on upstairs.'

An Oenologonaut (Spices)

1 x Greyfields 1868 First Sporing, 1 x Greyfields 1879, 1 x Greyfields 1882, 1 x Black Wings Absinthe, 1 x Morelways 1872, 1 x Broken Giant 1844, 1 x Strangling Willow Absinthe, 1 x Fourth City Airag: Year of the Tortoise, 1 x Cellar of Wine

No-one has plumbed the secrets of the grape, the hop and the blood-apple more deeply than you. You can identify the products of vineyards that have no name in any human tongue.

Fond Sighs

Dear one,' says Mr Chimes warmly. 'Pleasure is a wilderness. We are its cartographers. Let us embark, you and I, on the catalogue of delight! Our journey begins here.'

A Liar among Liars (No idea)

1 x Appalling Secret, 1 x Uncanny Incunabula, 1 x Extraordinary Implication, 1 x Searing Enigma, 1 x Whispered Secret, 1 x Cryptic Clue

Who can ever believe your stories? Truth is mingled with falsehood like blood in milk. You are a prince of rumours. Or is it a princess? Who can ever be sure?

An impassive audience

Mr Chimes listens to your stories of star and sea and shadow. It neither nods nor shakes its head when you suggest certain relationships between the Mountain of Light and the troubling thesis of Mr Darwin. It is motionless when you venture a hypothesis as to why only six symbols of the Correspondence can be written together on one paper. When you begin to discuss a matter of wells and candles and the Third City, it raises a finger. 'This is false,' it murmurs. 'Let us ensure it remains that way,'

A Legendary Calumnist (Apples/Hearts)

Scandal 7, Persuasive 100, Watchful 100

Your barbs and insults and the twisting satires you've spawned have been the bane of the lowly and the great alike. All fear the savage edge of your tongue.

A cautious welcome

‘My dear,' Mr Chimes whispers. 'Be kind to the little ones, will you? Not all have your advantages. I admit you only on condition that you choose not to bite.'

‘I know a man.' (Probably Wines)

Connected: the Masters of the Bazaar 5

If it can be called a man. Step aside, peon. I am already welcome here.'

A hearty welcome

Come in, come in! A place by the fire is prepared for you. The table is set. The brandy rises from the cellar like the laughter of friends! Forget the petty troubles without. You have earned this night of peace.'

I will scream until your House rings with the Words of the Thunder! (Probably Wines)

Stormy-Eyed 5, having Recurring Dreams: What the Thunder Said 10

I am the storm, I am the wind, I am the rain! I demand admittance! Defy me and I will blow your House down!

The cloaked thing bows before me!

I fling gusts of squalling rain at its head! Then I race through the dusty corners and crannies of the House of Chimes with a cleansing breeze! I bid lightning spring from its spire in celebration! The Master insists I hang my oilskin on the hatstand before I drip on the carpets!

The Inescapable Arm of the Law (Spices I believe)

investigating the Rubbery Murders 12, ascending the Reliables list of Mr Pages 3, Connected: The Constables 50, Connected: The Great Game 50, Watchful 100, 1 x Antique Constable's Badge

Your eye pursueth the malfeasant as the wrathful eye of God pursued Cain across the desert. You have returned wedding rings to costermongers, cats to dowagers, and stolen hearts to sorrowful tomb-colonists.

A nervous flutter?

We are most pleased to see you here,' Mr Chimes shrills. 'You are an ingeniate of great note! But perhaps you should limit your investigations in this House, eh?'

A Blood-Cousin to Predators (Veils probably)

1 x Ancient Hunting Rifle, a Procurer of Savage Beasts 1, 1 x Fairly Tame Sorrow-Spider, 1 x Bengal Tigress, 1 x Araby Fighting-Weasel, Dangerous 100, Watchful 100, marked by the Eater-of-Chains 3.

You have brought the great beasts low and walked in the footsteps of the fierce. You have turned fang and cunning, spine and venom and brute strength, against the monsters who wield them.

A peculiar passion

Mr Chimes inclines its head to you. 'Beasts. Beasts beasts beasts! So many beasts, such little time. Perhaps you could turn your energies to the pursuit of troublesome humans, hey? Why waste your time hunting those who cannot speak? Or sing? But welcome welcome!'

#fallen london #lore

33 notes · View notes

rosalind-of-arden · 4 years ago

Text

Sword and Pen Reread, chapter 20 (continued) and epilogue

This is it. The last chapter. The end. Done. Wow.

This totally should have been in yesterday’s post, but it occurs to me that the Oxford baby incident very much foreshadowed Wolfe’s response to Morgan’s sacrifice. Both times, he’s told a child has to be sacrificed for the Library, whether it’s the Library’s treaties or the Archives. Both times, he just can’t go along with it. He was more torn in Oxford, with his students’ and Nic’s lives on the line. He might have left the baby there if a third option hadn’t presented itself, who knows. He seemed paralyzed by the choice. In the Archives, though, it’s just Morgan or the books. And he picks Morgan. Even after Khalila gives the order, Wolfe picks Morgan over the books.

An unspecified number of days and three doses of the antidote for Jess between him passing out in the Archives and waking up again.

If I wanted to do a Morgan Lives AU, the way this is written, it would be relatively easy to rewrite this scene to have Jess wake up and see Morgan sleeping in a bed next to him or something like that.

Wolfe-Jess parallel. Jess learning for sure that Morgan is dead: “His eyes burned, but it felt angry, not sad.” Almost the exact same language used to describe Wolfe’s reaction to being named Archivist.

Thomas, apparently, as already 100% adapted to calling Khalila the Archivist within a matter of days. I’m reading this as a display of support - there will be people who challenge and disrespect Khalila, so Thomas will be very sure to always call her by her title.

Khalila is wearing all black. We haven’t seen her in black since the beginning of Ink and Bone, where she had a black hijab, I think. Interesting way to come full circle - there it might have been in deference to her conservative-seeming uncle. Here, it’s mourning for Morgan.

No gold Archivist’s robe for Khalila. Just a crown, which seems like a fairly plain one (I’d imagine the old Archivist had much fancier ones).

Talking to Jess, Thomas and Khalila both emphasize that it was Morgan’s choice to sacrifice herself. I do think they’re right. But in Khalila’s case, is that a little guilt I sense? She’s going out of her way to make sure Morgan is honored. Name on the Scholar Steps, being treated as a hero, freedom for the Obscurists (really, Khalila, wouldn’t you have done that anyway?), mini-Serapeum tomb.

Every book is a gift from Morgan *cries*

Morgan had no family other than her father, according to Jess. I don’t think that’s actually been confirmed before. Well, confirmed to the extent that we can trust Jess to know what he’s talking about and Morgan to have told him the truth. (Obscurist-talented Hault family members in hiding who Morgan didn’t want to talk about with even Jess, anyone?)

Morgan’s tomb as a site of ancestor worship/some kind of religious movement post-canon, perhaps?

Khalila’s dress has pockets, and I continue to be envious of this alternate reality in which dresses with pockets are a normal thing.

“I’ve already got Anit; you don’t need to adopt me, too.” Jess. Baby. Accept that you have a family and they love you, omg.

Liberius. New Curia position for publishing. Thomas’s idea, which apparently Khalila is pushing through. Wonder what the rest of the Curia thinks of this.

Fuck Callum Brightwell. That just needs saying again.

Celia says there was a hill on the castle grounds where Brendan liked to “read and watch the sea.” Brendan didn’t like reading. The whole family can’t have even spent that much time in the castle - they got it after Jess left for the Library (no idea exactly when, somewhere after Jess left London and before the pack got to England in Ash and Quill). So... either Brendan took up reading when he moved to the castle with his parents or Celia is remembering something Brendan did while he was pretending to be Jess. Or Celia is taking Callum’s word for his choice of burial spots. Shows how little Celia understands her own children. Of course, also, London got invaded by the Welsh, so any potential burial spots there might have been destroyed.

Celia standing up to Callum makes me happy, but I also share Jess’s incredulity at the moment. It took losing two of her three children to get her to this point. Another factor, though, might be that they’re on Library turf now. In England, Callum held more power. He had henchmen around to enforce compliance. In Alexandria, Callum is just a criminal, and he has no backup. For the first time, Celia can confront him on equal footing.

Wolfe! Waiting just outside the door. Dad Wolfe does not trust Callum Brightwell. Dad Wolfe was just waiting for the excuse to do this, I suspect.

“Scholar Wolfe stood over him, smoldering like the coals in a barely covered fire.” “You’re lucky you’re not in chains, but I promise you, it can still happen.” Peak Wolfe right here.

“I’m more his son than I ever was yours.” Jess adopts Wolfe. Yesss!

Wolfe. Kissing Celia’s hand. Prickly as he is, Wolfe is capable of being very charming. This fits into a larger pattern: we repeatedly see him being nice to people who are stressed and/or vulnerable. Izumi. Naomi. Glain and Jess’s squadmate. His fellow prisoners.

But, ok, also, yes, @thegreatlibraryfangirl, give me Wolfe/Celia

Celia doesn’t feel she’s been “properly” introduced to Wolfe. We didn’t really see introductions between the Brightwells and the pack in Ash and Quill; guessing things were rather tense there.

“Wolfe and Santi, standing together with clasped hands.” Dads being a couple in public! This makes me happy. It’s also a sign of how much safer they both feel under the new regime. Their love isn’t being turned against them to manipulate them anymore.

They’re all a family now and I just have so many feelings. I particularly adore that every single one of them, in their own way, tells Jess that they know he needs support and they’re offering it. Yes, even Dario. We all know what you really mean with that teasing, Dario.

Thomas gives Jess a job, but seems unsure about whether it’s a paid position. Is this because of how Library contracts work (Jess is still under High Garda contact when Thomas says this)? Thomas already knows Khalila and Santi have arranged for Jess to get lifetime pay? A sign that the new publishing division hasn’t gotten the respect and resources it needs yet? Thomas leaving this job open to be on Jess’s terms, whether that means it’s a paid full-time job or a fun side thing?

Christopher “I’m fine, really” Wolfe saying to Jess “of course I’m ok” Brightwell, basically, “Look, we both know we’re dumbasses who deny when we need help, but you’ve seen me when I was a mess so you don’t have to be embarrassed about asking me for help.” It’s so sweet and so specific to who they both are.

A hug. From Santi. And “You’re not just Wolfe’s son, you know. I love you, too.” Reluctant dad has officially adopted the kid.

I still don’t feel like the Smoke and Iron strangulation incident is fully resolved between Santi and Jess, though. Santi did apologize when it happened, but that’s not the kind of thing that’s easily swept away, especially not for a kid who’s been abused. Jess might be inclined to dismiss it - Santi hurting him only once is better than Callum abusing him regularly, after all. But Santi owes Jess more than that.

Epilogue time! In a parallel with the prologue of Ink and Bone, it’s a father-son scene. The series both opens and closes with moments between a father and son, but neither deals with the central father-son relationship between Wolfe and Jess. Instead, we opened with Jess and Callum and close with Wolfe and Eskander.

More parallels. We have a father giving his son something valuable without explaining exactly what it is. The son experiences something surprising and gains greater understanding of himself. The son rejects the path his father has taken in life.

Now, differences. Callum’s abuse of Jess compared to Eskander’s awkward welcome. Wolfe and Eskander barely know each other, but they’re so much more comfortable around each other than Jess was with Callum. In the prologue, we saw the relationship between Jess and Callum breaking. In the epilogue, we see the relationship between Wolfe and Eskander mending.

Both the prologue and the epilogue also feature another family relationship along with the father-son one. Jess and Brendan in the prologue, Wolfe and Morgan in the epilogue.

We don’t know how long after chapter 20 this is, but I’m assuming not long. The Iron Tower still has burn marks on the floor.

On Alexandria changing: “Nic thought that would be a very good thing [...] Wolfe reserved his judgment.” Oh, you prickly bastard, let yourself be happy for fuck’s sake.

Wolfe, worrying about his sanity because he’s sensing Morgan, chooses to go to Eskander before talking to Nic. A sign things aren’t fully right between Wolfe and Santi after everything, perhaps. Wolfe is still worried about how Santi will react to a sign of declining mental health. Or maybe this is back to normal for them: Wolfe is handling this on his own, going to someone who can potentially diagnose the problem, and he’ll talk to Santi about it once he actually knows what’s going on.

“You never had talent.” “Thanks.” “Obscurist talent, Christopher.” These two are fun.

I don’t think Eskander quite understands how real of a concern it is for Wolfe that he might be imagining Morgan. Wolfe has struggled with hallucinations. They’re both a coping strategy in bad situations and a PTSD symptom for him. It’s entirely plausible that he could be hallucinating after everything that’s just happened.

Eskander, still pressing people to put on the ring without explaining it. You really need to learn about the concept of informed consent, Eskander.

Morgan in the ring seems to have gotten herself the Library-verse equivalent of a nice, big sandbox-type video game, and she’s having a great time with it. Actually, Morgan’s experience with Apeiron seems an awful lot like having access to the current internet: lots of stuff to play with! Tools to invade people’s privacy! The ability to see and know all of the things! Compare that with everyone else, who are stuck with the Codex, which is basically 1990s tech with email, ebooks, and instant messaging. There’s something very cyberpunk about Morgan’s situation, really.

Wolfe: oh fuck no I am not telling Jess about the talking ring with his dead girlfriend in it. Really, though, I wonder if Wolfe would eventually tell Jess. I can see Jess finding it comforting, especially once he’s had time to process things and move on.

“If he didn’t know storms were coming, it was easier to enjoy the sunshine.” I do like When Wolfe gets all emotional and his language gets more figurative. Anyway, here he is for the first time in the epilogue tempted to ask for something that isn’t really good for him, but having the restraint not to.

Having Obscurist powers switched on is a very physical experience for Wolfe. He’s not just seeing the world differently, he’s feeling it. Morgan doesn’t seem to quite grasp how big of a change this is for Wolfe. To her, it’s like flipping a switch. To him, it’s a complete change in how he perceives the world around him.

Here’s Wolfe’s childhood trauma coming back to him. Another parallel with the prologue, he and Jess both having a formative experience at 10. Wolfe and Jess both felt like they disappointed their parents. And Wolfe, like Jess, turns down the chance to be what his parents wanted him to be.

Wolfe’s reaction to being offered Obscurist power is a lot like Wolfe’s reaction to being offered the position of Archivist. Both things he thought he wanted in the past. But he’s not the kid who wanted to be like his parents or the ambitious young man climbing the Library ranks anymore. He knows who he is and who he wants to be, and he rejects these offers to become something “better” that isn’t him. Being himself is better than having power.

Eskander listening in on the conversation is both irritating and comforting. Prickly, prickly Wolfe.

Morgan sees watching over the Library as something she’s supposed to do that will keep her out of trouble. Wonder how she’s reaching these decisions. Gargi’s influence?

Morgan is watching over the Library, but she’s trying to stay out of her family’s lives. She offers Wolfe his Obscurist power, but at the end of the conversation, she tells him they won’t talk again. She agrees Jess doesn’t need to know about her. She doesn’t want to hold them back now that she isn’t part of their lives anymore.

“Be kinder to yourself. And to Commander Santi, too. I loved you both, and in here, I always will.” Awwwww. *cries* Hmm, but also, she’s telling Wolfe to be nicer to Santi. Probably, she’s referring to Wolfe’s usual prickles. “Stop being cranky and hug each other more, dad.”

But add this to Wolfe not telling Santi he was going to ask Eskander about sensing Morgan, and it’s possible to conclude they’re going through some relationship problems (fallout from, well, all of fucking canon, perhaps?)

Wolfe glaring at Eskander and being all “wtf did you do that for” after giving the ring back is just glorious. That, right there, is the proper response to being given a magic ring without informed consent.

Eskander and Wolfe, two people have been terribly hurt by the Library, are now scheming together to protect it. We don’t see whether Khalila invites Wolfe to be involved in shaping the new Library, but Eskander is making sure Wolfe gets a say in things.

Having Wolfe working with Eskander is potentially interesting post-canon. He’s possibly stepping into a role of helping to undo the oppression of the Obscurists and move the Library toward a sustainable future that doesn’t depend on alchemy. And that, right there, is what Wolfe really wanted. It’s why he invented his press in the first place. Wolfe’s been offered two old dreams that aren’t right for him anymore, and he’s rejected them. Now he gets back the dream that was taken from him, and that one is right for his current self.

Tea and plotting. Good way to end the series, really.

#the great library #sword and pen #sword and pen reread #sword and pen spoilers #long post

8 notes · View notes

orangeoctopi7 · 5 years ago

Text

Champions

I know I already posted something for the last week of @stanuary but that was sort of a place-holder for this. I’ve been sick on-and-off for the last month or so, so I wasn’t sure if I’d finish this in time. I did get time to work on it the other day while I was at work.

This is a crossover with Atop the Fourth Wall’s Contest of Champions, but you don’t need any prior knowledge of AT4W to understand what’s happening. I’m just borrowing a concept, really. (Although I do want to do a second chapter where Stan interacts with those characters)

***

Stan was awoken in the middle of the night by one of Ford’s alarms going off. He groggily sat up as his brother jumped out of his own hammock and dashed to the controls, muttering curses under his breath the whole way.

“Wazzat?” Stan groaned.

“An extradimensional portal just opened up aboard the Stan'o'war! But my sensors aren’t picking up any foreign lifeforms. Whatever it was must also have access to time travel. It must have paused time, entered our dimension, done whatever it was trying to do, and then left before restoring the flow of time.”

“Y'sure your nerd gadgets aren’t just broken?” Stan asked, reaching sleepily for his glasses on the bedside cabinet. He felt around, but instead of the thin plastic frames, he felt a heavy sheet of parchment.

“Yes, I’m sure! Now keep a close eye out for anything out of place! Just because I don’t detect any lifeforms doesn’t mean they couldn’t have left a robot or a bug.”

“Uh, Ford? I think I found what they left.”

Stan finally put his glasses on and looked down at the parchment he’d found. It was the same size as a normal 8.5" by 11" printer paper, but the parchment felt much fancier, like something the Northwests would use for an invitation. Which was exactly what it was.

STANLEY PINES

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE 1049th INTERDIMENSIONAL

CONTEST OF CHAMPIONS

SPEAK ALOUD YOUR ACCEPTANCE AND DETAILS WILL FOLLOW

CONGRATULATIONS, CHAMPION.

“What the…?” Stan muttered, turning the page over to look for more info, but it was blank. “Ford, are you tryin’ to pull some sorta prank? If so, I don’t get your humor at all.”

Ford silently read the invitation over his brother’s shoulder, before snatching it away. “This has to be counterfeit. I know you destroyed Bill, but that’s not… that doesn’t make you… does it?”

“Seriously, Ford, what is this?” Stan asked impatiently.

Ford took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts, before answering. “To put it in your terms, Stan, the Contest of Champions is like an interdimensional boxing tournament, only instead of just boxing, the Champions can choose any kind of contest they want.”

“Champions?”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, I bet this thing will do a much better job of explaining.” He held up the invitation like it was a phone and he was having a video-chat. “We’d like the Terms and Conditions, please.”

Nothing happened.

“Of course, I wasn’t invited.” Ford rolled his eyes and handed the paper back to Stan. “You have to ask it.”

Stan held the paper out like he’d seen Ford doing. “Uh… can you explain this whole thing to me?” He awkwardly addressed the invitation.

With nothing more than a bright flash of light, a figure in dark robes appeared. They looked like they might be human, but every part of them was covered, from their closed hood to their gloved hands.

“Sweet Moses!” Stan shouted in surprise, winding up to punch the intruder.

“Relax, it’s just a hologram recording.” Ford reassured him with a gentle hand on the shoulder.

“The interdimensional Contest of Champions is a tournament.” The hologram began, “Within every parallel reality, there are figures best suited to defend those realities. These individuals are referred to as Champions. The hosts for this contest, the Temlins, have elected to hold a tournament to judge their respective skills against one another. Participants are randomly selected across all realities and invitations are sent. You are under no obligation to join this great tournament, but should you enter, you will be granted the opportunity to test your abilities against other powerful individuals and make an attempt at a great prize. All battles are non-lethal and participation is voluntary. Should you remain victorious through all of your battles, you will be awarded this great prize. Defeat brings only as much dishonor as you allow yourself. If you have any further questions, you may ask now.”

“Wow, that’s quite the schpiel you got there.” Stan grunted. He turned to his brother. “So, let me get this straight. I can’t die, and I get to fight a buncha space dorks for some fancy prize? Sounds like a good time to me!”

“It’s a lot more complex than that.”

“What, you been in one of these things?”

“No, but I watched the coverage of one during my interdimensional travels. I should warn you, they take forever. Since it covers multiple dimensions and timelines, it can be really stretched out. I saw the beginning of the 1018th tournament while I was in the Bubble Dimension, by the time it finally finished, I was in the Flying Whale Dimension, six years later.”

“Well, do I haffta wait on their planet, or somethin’ or can I just go about life as normal?”

Ford shrugged.

“Between rounds, Champions are allowed to prepare as they see fit.” The hologram answered. “The Temlins are aware of the great temporal differences between participating dimensions. Champions are encouraged to continue their normal lives if at all possible while waiting for the next round.”

“Ok. And how do these battles work?”

“From what I remember, one of the contestants gets to choose the contest.”

“For each round, one of the two Champions is selected at random. They must set a battle that is fair to both parties, with a reasonable chance that either could win. The conditions of the battle must be agreed upon by both parties, and approved by the Temlins.”

“So, I just gotta bribe the right people, and make sure I get to pick the challenge. Dirty boxing, or, I dunno, a The Dutchess Approves trivia quiz.”

“Stanley, I’d advise against mentioning bribery in front of the recording device.” Ford scolded him. “And besides, the Temlins are all-powerful beings. I very much doubt you have anything that would interest them.”

“Well, what’ve I got to lose, right? I’ll give it a shot.”

“Stanley, wait, let’s think about this first! I don’t trust the Temlins. That much power, and they use it to host a tournament!? Why couldn’t they have done something about Bill, why couldn’t they use that power to stop injustice across the multiverse?”

Stan gasped in mock surprise. “What!? You don’t trust somebody? That’s never happened before! Whatever will I do with this new, vital information?”

“Stanley, I’m serious!”

“C'mon Ford, the man says it’s voluntary. If things get sketchy, I’ll quit! ‘Snot like I expect to win this thing. Think of it this way, I get to fight crazy space guys. You get to study whatever crazy space guys they send our way, and maybe if I get really lucky, I win some fancy sci-fi prize.”

Ford sighed. “I’ll admit, that does sound tempting.”

“Great, cuz I’m doin’ it!” Stan turned back to the hologram. “I, uh, speak aloud my acceptance, or however this works.”

“Welcome, Stanley Pines, to the Contest of Champions.”

“Great. So now what?”

“Preliminary round begins now.”

“Wait, what?”

“Your opponent is Ace Corgi, Attorney at Paw. Battlefield has been selected as Stanley Pines’”

“Ford, you said these things take forever!”

“Well I never saw anything about a preliminary round on the broadcast!”

Another brilliant flash filled the cabin. The hologram had disappeared, and in its place was a stout dog with pointy ears and a steel-gray coat. It looked just as surprised as they were. Ford’s alarms started again.

“Oh, are we starting now?” It asked in a deep voice that belied its small size.

“Aw, lookit the cute talking dog!” Stan cooed.

“That must be the Champion from the Corgi Dimension!”

“There’s a Corgi Dimension!?”

“Yes, but last I heard, the Champion of the Corgi Dimension was Atticus.”

“Oh, He retired just last year.” The small dog explained. “Now, which one of you humans is my opponent?”

Stan raised his hand.

“Thank you. Now have at thee!”

The dog lunged without warning, going straight for Stan’s knees.

“What the H!?” Stan shouted as he nearly toppled to the ground. His first instinct was to dropkick the animal, but he knew Mabel would never forgive him for doing such a thing to a cute dog, even if it was in self defense. Luckily, he knew a thing or two about dealing with rowdy dogs from his time pug trafficking. He grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, doing his best to avoid the snapping jaws, and forced the dog onto its back.

“A little help here?” He yelled to Ford as he struggled to keep the wiggling dog still.

The old scientist held his hands up. “I’m not allowed to interfere.”

The dog took advantage of Stan’s split attention and squirmed out of his grasp.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” Stan shouted as the corgi chased him up onto the deck.

“I’m not being a jerk, it’s the rules!” Ford called after him.

Stan at least had the presence of mind to grab his boots and his coat as he dashed for the stairs. Luckily, the steps slowed his stubby-legged pursuer down, and he was able to actually put them on.

“You cur! Your giant ledges won’t be enough to stop me!"

"What the heck, I thought we had to both agree on the battle first!?”

“That’s what I thought too, but it seems the Temlins get to decide the battle for the preliminary round. I suppose it saves time.” The dog replied as it hopped up the last step.

What the heck am I supposed to do!? Stan wondered to himself. I’m not gonna punch a little dog!

He ran around the deck a couple of times, trying to tire the little guy out, but the dog had boundless energy, and it’s fur coat was obviously better at keeping the cold out than Stan’s cotton one. Finally, his eyes caught sight of the net he and Ford used to catch specimens for his brother’s research. Perfect!

Out-maneuvering a herding dog was a challenge, but in the end he managed. After all, corgis were bred to herd large groups of sheep, not one cunning old man. Once Stan grabbed the net, he tossed it over his opponent, tangling up its little legs almost instantly. The dog continued to squirm, attempting to wiggle its way out once again. When this proved futile, it started to gnaw on the cables of the net.

“Yeah, good luck, Bucko.” Stan chuckled. “That net’s meant for things way bigger and more magical than you.”

“Preliminary round has ended. The victor is Stanley Pines.” The hologram appeared again in a flash of light. “You are both Champions worthy of being in this great tournament. Now you must await your summoning for the first true round. Information and dossiers about the other participants will be made available to you soon, relative to your own universe’s timescale. Welcome, once again, to the Contest of Champions.”

With that, the hologram disappeared again.

“Good show, human!” The dog barked happily. “Will you please let me out now?”

“Oh, right.” Stan pulled the net away. “Not that it’s any of my business, but if I can beat you, ya might not last many rounds in this tournament.”

“Oh, this dog still has a few tricks. I don’t want to show all my best moves before we’ve even begun!”

“Good point. Hey, before ya go, would it be too much to ask for a picture? My niece would really love you.”

“But of course!”

“Hey Ford, get up here!” Stan called down the stairs to the cabin.

“I told you, I can’t help during the match!”

“It’s already over, genius! We’re takin’ a commemorative photo! Bring up the camera!”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #atop the fourth wall #Stanley Pines #Stanuary 2020 #Fight #my writing

40 notes · View notes

evalinkatrineberg · 4 years ago

Text

First date 🧚😍💖

A/N: uhhh possible tw for mentions of blood? this was a very...interesting first date with @arin-schreave

True to my past experiences with wine, I woke up the morning of my date as moody as I could possibly be. Had I known that my first date with Arin was going to be today, I would not have made the mistake of indulging with Clemence the night before. Not that talking to Clemence was a mistake - that part was enjoyable, and much appreciated. The wine, however, was less necessary.

I frowned as I put my hair into a ponytail before pulling on my running shorts and tank top. I needed to get myself together before this date, somehow. Luckily, I didn’t have to meet Arin until the afternoon, so I should be able to pull that off. I grabbed my phone, my hand already on the cold metal of the doorknob when I felt the cell vibrating in my hand. With a deep exhale, I withdrew my hand from the doorknob, and picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Evalin!”

My blood began to boil as I listened to the voice on the other end of the line, as if it was an instinctual, fight-or-flight response. How could Lukas sound so chipper, downright cheerful, at this point? Had he forgotten about what had happened before I left, or was he just playing dumb, or pretending it didn’t happen? Either way, I did not have time for his shit today.

“What’s up?” I asked flatly. I truthfully couldn’t recall any other time in my life that I had sounded so disinterested in a conversation. I almost winced at my own tone before I remembered who I was talking to.

“Not much,” he began. From what I could tell, it sounded like he was walking somewhere, indoors. I could make out the faint sound of his footsteps hitting a tile floor. “Morning runs aren’t the same without you.”

Another sigh escaped my lips before I could stop myself. I really didn’t have time for this. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but speaking of morning runs, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a tight schedule to keep.”

“Right.” His voice was lower now, as if any smile he had had had vanished. “What time is it there?”

“Why did you call, Lukas?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Proctor wanted me to follow up, and see if you’ll be accepting her offer.”

It took all of my restraint to keep myself from hanging up right then and there. “I’m pretty sure I turned her offer down when I stormed out of her lab, and then again when I pushed you off my front porch, but maybe I wasn’t clear enough.” I pulled the phone away from my ear, so that my mouth was level with the microphone, the homescreen of my phone facing towards the ceiling. “My answer is no.”

“Not that offer,” Lukas countered as I brought my phone back to my ear. “Her new one, that I mentioned in the letter - if you leave the Selection now, you can come back to your old job.”

“Well,” I started, raising both of my eyebrows, “you conveniently forgot the, ‘leave now,’ part in your letter. Regardless, my answer is still no. Furthermore, I have to go. I have a date today.”

I was about to hang up when he yelled, “Wait!”

“What?”

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?”

Click. Phone call ended. Goodbye, Lukas, I thought, making my way back to the door. I managed to make it outdoors for my run without further complication, thankfully. It wasn’t until I was almost positive that I was out of sight of the majority of the guards that I began to tear up. It seemed my father had not solved whatever problems he had thought he had solved, then. I let the tears flow, hoping that my face, at least, wasn’t in the line of sight of any of the guards that I couldn’t see, but that were still probably lurking somewhere nearby. The last thing I needed was stories of me sobbing while running circulating throughout the palace. It was probably better that I let it out now, though, instead of risk it happening later. Fuck wine, honestly. Life would be so much better without it’s side effects.

I finished my normal route, forcing the tears to stop as I neared the palace again. I could do this. I had stood up to the woman I had idolized my whole life, I had come all this way on my own, and I hadn’t been entirely unsuccessful in doing so. My only interaction with the prince to date hadn’t been bad, though it was brief, and beyond that, I’d actually befriended some of the other people here. If I was being honest, I had learned more about myself and what I was capable of outside of my area of expertise than I ever had in the years leading up to this moment. If I had done all that, I could handle one date with the prince. I had this.

By the time I had finished bathing and had wrapped myself in a robe, Julia, Christina, and Grace had arrived in my room. I returned each of their smiles, my eyes drifting towards whatever clothing they had laid out on my bed. A quick inspection revealed what appeared to be a pair of jeans, along with a short-sleeved blue and white pinstriped button-up shirt. An interesting ensemble, for sure, especially considering I’d been almost exclusively wearing dresses since my arrival.

“What sort of date calls for an outfit like this?” I asked, smiling slyly at Julia.

She shook her head in reply. “My lips are sealed,” she insisted.

“You’re no fun,” I declared, rolling my eyes, my wide grin still in place.

“I know.” She pointed towards the chair in front of my dresser. “Now sit down so we can get to work.”

I relented, taking a seat and letting the three maids get to work on untangling my hair and applying a light amount of makeup. The fact that pants were part of my selected outfit for this date had piqued my curiosity. The outfit itself was fairly casual - were we going for a walk? A picnic, maybe? That could be nice! Though, if the picnic involved any champagne, I might already be in too deep.

In a few minutes I was dressed and ready to go, my hair falling in loose curls around my shoulders and my regular watch replaced with a slightly fancier gold one. I had tucked the ends of the shirt into my pants, completing the look with a brown belt. I turned to my maids then, flashing them one last smile over my shoulder as I made my way towards the door.

“Tell us all about it when you get back.” Christina’s words came out as more of a question than a statement, prompting me to nod in response.

“Good,” Julia stated, pushing me towards the door. “Now, go!”

I happily complied, almost skipping down the halls as I made my way to the spot where the prince had instructed me to meet him. Wearing jeans and the light shirt was almost liberating, compared to the dresses I had worn up until this point. I really hoped we were going somewhere fun - maybe a scenic overlook? That’d be romantic!

My excitement only continued as I exited the palace and the prince himself came into sight. He was leaning against a car - his car, I assumed - scrolling through some app or another on his phone, not even looking up as I approached. He’s probably just distracted, I assured myself. I could understand that. How many times had Lydia snuck up on me when I’d been distracted by something on my phone?

I continued to approach, still smiling. “Hello, Prince Arin. How are you?”

The seemed to catch his attention. With a click quick of a button, he switch his phone off, looking up at me. I smiled as he slipped his phone in his pocket, giving me a small bow. “I’m fine, Lady Evalin. How are you?”

He remembered my name! That was a good sign, right?

“I’m well,” I replied, curtsying. “Thank you.” With a smile and a light laugh, I asked, “So, am I allowed to ask where we’re going, or does it have to remain a mystery?”

“Oh, we’re going roller skating,” he answered with a small nod, holding open the door of the car.

Roller skating. Not the worst option for a first date, of course, but with my lack of coordination, it could very easily go downhill quickly. He had no way of knowing that, though. It wasn’t as if I’d stumbled or fallen in front of him, yet. “Oh,” I began as I stepped into the car, “that sounds fun!”

“Yeah,” he stated simply before shutting the car door behind me. I watched as he walked around to the driver’s side, sliding into his seat and fastening his seat buckle in one smooth motion. He spared me a quick glance before his attention drifted to the guard in the back seat, who appeared to be doing paperwork of some sort. I wondered briefly if I should say hello to him as well, but quickly abandoned the idea when I realized I didn’t know how to properly address the guard.

Instead, I looked at Arin, and laughed. “I make no promises that I won’t fall over, though. My balance is notoriously terrible.” He deserved a fair warning, at the very least.

“Hopefully not,” he replied, putting the key into the ignition and starting the car. “That would be tricky to manage.”

As the car made its way towards the gates, I asked, “I take it you’ve been roller skating before, then?”

“Yes, I have.” He gaze darted over to me for a brief moment before he added, “Have you?”

“I have not,” I answered with another, more nervous, laugh. “There’s a first time for everything, though.” A grin flashed across my face in his direction before the scenery outside the window caught my attention. It was a beautiful day in Angeles - sunny, not a cloud in the sky, but also not oppressively warm. It was like humidity didn’t even exist here. How was that possible? “Wow, the weather here is always so nice!”

“It’s like this most days in Angeles by the time spring rolls around,” he stated plainly. “Where are you from again?”

Alright, so he didn’t remember that part, then. Did he remember anything beyond my name? There was only so much information I had given him in our thirty minute interview.

“Carolina. It regularly thunderstorms there - almost daily, actually,” I replied, laughing as I turned to face him again. “It must be so nice, having it be so sunny and warm almost year round. Especially because you said you like the outdoors, right?” He may not remember everything from our interview, but I certainly did.

“It can be,” he agreed, keeping his eyes on the road as the car approached the gate. “But yes, I do like the outdoors.”

I stared out the windshield for a moment, taking in the sight in front of me. The sun shone overhead, illuminating a broad stretch of road with almost no cars on it yet. I had never considered the possibility that a stretch of road could be such an exciting sight, or even simply pleasant to look at.

“I don’t think we ever got to finish that conversation,” I noted, smiling once again. “What’s your favorite outdoor activity?”

“I don’t have a favorite,” he admitted as the gates slowly began to open, “but sometimes I enjoy camping.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. My smile widened. “Ah, somehow, that makes sense. Was it a family activity for you?”

He slowly began to drive through the gates, his jaw tensing up as soon as the question had left my mouth. So, that wasn’t the question to ask then. Interesting. Did he have family issues? Or, maybe, camping was something he and Felicity had often done together. I wasn’t sure which option was less appealing in that moment - and just when I had thought that I had found a topic of conversation we could work with!

He took a deep breath, and then finally answered, “Yes. Sometimes.”

I bit my lip, looking out my window for a moment as I tried to brainstorm other topics of conversation. “What about the beach?” I apparently needed to work on expanding my conversational repertoire beyond geographic features. Making a mental note of that, I continued, “Do you like water sports, what with the beach being right there, and everything?” As I spoke, I gestured in the direction of the beach, which was so close to the palace that I could see it from my bedroom window.

“Swimming is fine, and the beach being close to the palace is where it’s always been,” he responded with a shrug.

It made sense that he would be uninterested in something he saw everyday, but I still found myself growing frustrated. I shoved that down, however, in the interest of being polite. Being snippy on our first date wasn’t going to get me anywhere. “Sorry,” I began with a nod, “having a beach close by is new to me. My family lives pretty far inland. We had a river in our city though, so sometimes we’d go boating on it.”

Jesus Christ, Evalin! Enough with the geographic features!

“Rivers are important,” was his only reply.

As far as first date conversations went, this wasn’t the worst I’d had. The first guy I’d ever gone on a real date with had spent the entire evening making jokes about how one day he’d invent a “shrink ray” and use it to make me shorter than him. Not exactly a topic that does wonders for romance, or my self-esteem, for that matter. Another time, June and I had gone one a double date with a guy she had been talking to over snapchat, and one of his friends. Their conversational skills were lacking so much so that in order to fill an awkward silence, I had asked if they wanted to know why rivers meander. Arin and I weren’t at that point yet, but we were getting dangerously close.

I laughed a little at his response in a pitiful attempt to lighten the mood. “They sure are, biologically and politically.” Maybe an academic discussion was the way to go.

“Uh huh,” he muttered, nodding absentmindedly.

Or then again, maybe not.

I sat back in my seat, looking out the car window once again as I drummed my fingers along my thighs. I refused to ask him if he wanted to know why rivers meander. I would not go down that road again. What did that leave me with, though? Discussing the books Reggie had selected for me to read? They were interesting, but I was doubtful that he’d want to talk about politics during one of the few moments in his life where he wasn’t working. “What kind of music do you like to play in the car?”

He glanced at me briefly before answering, “Just whatever I’m in the mood to play.”

Which is what, Arin?

I could feel my frustration growing. It was like having a conversation with a brick wall. I was by no means a great conversationalist, but I could at least feign interest in a topic in order to keep a conversation going.

I shoved my feelings aside, shrugging. “Makes sense. Do you have a favorite band, or song?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” He asked in response, speeding up as we reached the main road.

Grinning, I answered, “I’d sure hope so. Life would be dull without a soundtrack.” I hoped that my mother would appreciate the fact that I quoted her during a conversation with the prince.

He raised his eyebrows for a brief moment, but still didn’t meet my eye. That was fair, though. It was probably for the better that he kept his eyes on the road.

“For example,” I began, my grin widening ever so slightly, “if my father’s life was a playlist, the first song on it would have to be Toxic by Britney Spears.”

I had been hoping that that little tidbit of information would pique his interest. It was an odd song for a middle aged man to like, after all, but it was the one song that always, without fail, came on the radio whenever I was in the car with my father. The lyrics didn’t remind me of him, but I definitely associated the song with our commute to the university. Arin, however, simply nodded, remaining silent. It was becoming clear to me that he really wasn’t listening. Part of me was fairly certain I could have told him that I had been sneaking out of the palace every night to pole dance at a strip club in downtown Angeles, and the most he would do was raise his eyebrows or nod. I was too afraid to actually attempt that, however, in case spewing such a blatant lie ended up backfiring on me.

“So, what’s your favorite song, then?” If Arin didn’t answer, I was about to turn around and ask the guard in the back seat what his favorite song was. He’d probably at least give me an answer. As if he could read my mind, the guard began rustling loudly through his papers.

“I don’t have a favorite song that I’m aware of.”

“Really?” I shouldn’t have been so surprised by this, given that the only personality traits he had displayed up until this point were distracted and aloof, but I found myself humming thoughtfully nonetheless. “Interesting.”

At that point, he stopped responding all together. We rode in silence for the rest of the ride, and I took the opportunity to look at the signs on the buildings that we passed on our way to the roller skating rink.

Luckily, it didn’t take us long to get there. Maybe he’ll open up more once we start skating. Maybe he’s just a nervous driver. My thoughts did nothing to ease my worry and frustration, but they were all I had to go on. Clemence had definitely been right about one thing - Arin could not be entirely over Felicity. There was no way. I was almost entirely confident that the reason he was being so distant was because I wasn’t Felicity. The realization lit a fire in the bottom of my stomach, and Lukas’s words from this morning came back to haunt me.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?”

Yes. I knew. I was here anyway, though, so I might as well make the most of it.

He parked the car, unbuckling his seatbelt and then getting out, not saying a word the entire time. I followed suit, not waiting for him to open my car door. He didn’t get to play the asshole and the gentleman at the same time, not with me. As I stepped out, I exhaled through my mouth, rolling my shoulder back before turning around to face Arin, where he now stood, opening the car door for his guard. The guard simply stepped out, a faint expression of surprise flitting across his face as he realized what Arin was doing as well.

I couldn’t help but smile. This was hilarious - peak comedy. With my thumbs hooked into the front pockets of my jeans, I flashed Arin a doe-eyed look, and asked, “Sorry, was I supposed to wait for you to let me out of the car?”

He didn’t respond. He hardly even looked at me as he started walking towards the entrance of the building. Didn’t he have to take etiquette lessons growing up? Clearly, he had missed the class on how to not be a dick.

I raised at eyebrow at him, crossing my arms as I followed him towards the building. Behind me, the guard quickly jogged up to the door, holding it open. Arin did nothing to acknowledge the gesture, breezing right in and up to the counter, where two sets of skates were set out. Inside, there was early 2000s music blasting, matched with strobing disco lights that changed color as they moved across the rink.

I looked at the guard, offering him a quick, “Thank you, sir,” before following Arin in, making sure to stay two steps behind him. He may not have manners, but I was going to be sure to remember mine. This poor guard had done nothing to me, or Arin, for that matter.

“Don’t thank me,” Arin called from up ahead.

I paused, nodding once as the door closed behind me and I took in my surroundings. The rink was empty, save for me, Arin, and that poor guard. “Wow,” I mumbled, “they really have this orchestrated.”

“I had nothing to do with this,” Arin corrected. He was already slipping off his shoes, one hand reaching to pick up his pair of skates.

I was so tempted to inform him that that much was blatantly obvious, and that I knew toddlers who could tell him as much, but I held back, pursing my lips. I followed his lead, and began slipping off my shoes as well, trading them for the pair of skates, which I then began to tie.

I had to say something. “Are you not a fan of planning things, then?”

“I’m not a fan of planning things I’m not interested in.”

“Oh?” I blinked, finishing up on the laces of my skates, moving my hands so that my palms were pressing against the tops of my thighs. I couldn’t hold back anymore. Besides, if he wasn’t interested in me, then I was bound to be going home soon, anyway, but I’d be damned if I was going to be sent home without giving him a piece of my mind. “Well, I wish I had that luxury, but unfortunately, do you know what not planning for a seemingly boring experiment in a lab gets you?”

“Hopefully a swift end,” he mumbled, standing up.

With a close lipped smile, I replied, “Only if you’re lucky.” I stood up then as well, making my way to the rink. As I passed him, I saw him blink once, but he remained silent.

I began skating, attempting to move my legs in time with the rhythm of the song that was playing - Girlfriend, by Avril Lavine, if my memory of songs I’d heard in my father’s car served me correctly. I wasn’t done with Arin yet, though. “So, is there anything you actually do enjoy, or is it all just doom and gloom with you?”

“Silence,” he answered, pushing off from the wall and into the rink.

Sounds like a lie to me, but okay. I raised an eyebrow at him, but decided not to argue the point. I shrugged. Maybe this wasn’t the best way to go about things. Maybe it was just a test of sorts to see how I could handle rude government officials, should I make it further in the competition. If it was, I must be failing. Yikes. I didn’t want to blow my chance yet.

“Well, it appears that for the time being, that’s impossible, seeing as there’s music playing in here.” I nodded along to the song for emphasis.

He began to skate towards me. Maybe this was a good sign!

“I’m assuming you know every word?”

I shrugged. “It was all my father ever played in his car.”

“Of course it is,” he said, letting out a massive sigh.

Really? I raised both eyebrows at him this time, my mind set on resorting to sarcasm. “Oh, apologies, I’ll inform him that you disprove of his music taste.”

He looked at me then before replying, “Excellent. Can I expect a letter of apology as well?”

The nerve of this man! “Only if you’ll accept it in Swendish,” I retorted, rolling my eyes and speeding up my pace. I had never been so grateful for the great cardiovascular shape running every morning had left me in.

“Gladly,” he began, speeding up and passing me. “I’m fluent.”

Oh, so not only is this an argument, but it’s also a race? Fine. Game on.

I sped up, easily catching up with him, eager to show off my Swendish. For once in my life, it was actually proving useful outside of my grandparent’s house! “Hvor flink du er! Når studerte du på det?” How clever you are! When did you study it? I hoped he could catch on to my sarcasm, especially as I passed him. I might lose this argument, but I wasn’t going to lose this little race, at the very least. I was going to leave this rink with a shred of dignity attached to my name.

He raised his eyebrows at me, responding, “Når jeg var et barn, lik som hvem som helst.” When I was a child, like anybody else.

Ah, yes, of course, clearly I must have forgotten the overwhelming majority of children in Illea that spoke Swendish. I wondered where they lived, and if I could join their cult. It seemed to be my best option, at the moment.

I let out a sharp laugh, mostly at his terrible accent. “Åå, selvfølgelig! Man må lære det når man er ung for å forstå det bra. Men forstår du kulturen rundt det?” Oh, of course! One must learn it when one is young in order to understand it well. But do you understand the culture around it?

“Why would I want to?” He asked, skating to one of the walls.

That response I could understand, at least. The tensions between Swendway and Illea had been mounting lately, and he was likely in the thick of it, but that wasn’t my fault, and I refused to be ridiculed for it.

So I shrugged. “It might help ease the strain in the relations between the two countries.” I skated past Arin before coming to a stop, turning around so that I was standing next to him, my back to the wall. “It’s easier to come to an agreement with someone else when you understand where they’re coming from.”

“Yes, because imprisoning an entire ship full of men can be understood.” He hit me with a from, narrowing his eyes at me.

I’d heard about that incident. My grandfather had been less than please about the whole scenario, and most of what I had caught of the conversation about it between him and my father had been the curse words he had used. It made sense that naval battles in particular upset him, since he had worked as an engineer for the Swendish navy earlier in his life, helping design the ships and submarines they now used. He was a kind-hearted man, though, and I didn’t think he wanted to see the finished products of his designs used to war, but rather for security.

I kept my face blank, looking out at the rink instead of at Arin. “There’s a cause for every action.” I was sure of that much. The political part of this was not exactly familiar territory for me. “And, while I don’t agree with the actions Swendway has taken, personally, I will say that their prisons are downright luxurious compared to the prisons here.” Another fact I was sure of - my grandfather had taken my siblings and I on a prison tour the last time we’d visited Swendway. Why, I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t about to question him at the time.

Arin did not look amused as he skated off, which didn’t exactly leave me confident that he’d take my words to heart. Remaining silent, I followed after him. What else was there to do, honestly? As soon as he noticed me, he sped up. Ah, so we were racing again, then. Excellent. I could do competition. I sped up as well, flashing him a smile as I passed by him.

He didn’t react at all, but a quick glance at him revealed that he was moving in time with the music. I tuned back in to what was playing. It took all of two seconds for me to realize that it was Toxic by Britney Spears. Clearly, the powers that be had a sense of humor. I began humming along, getting a little louder as Arin started to pass me again, leaving me to laugh at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. I hadn’t known what I’d expected when I signed up for the Selection, but it definitely wasn’t this. I sped up once again, overtaking him in a matter of seconds.

Arin attempted to speed up again as well, but this time, he didn’t pass me. In fact, before I could even turn around to look at him, I heard a loud thump behind me. By the time I had managed to do a one-eighty, all I saw was Arin, sitting flat on his butt.

“Oh my!” I couldn’t help but laugh, bringing one hand up to cover my mouth as I did. “What was it you told me before we got in the car? Don’t fall - it’ll be embarrassing?” One look at him, and I decided that I’d busted his chops enough at this point. I crouched down and extended one of my hands towards him.

He didn’t acknowledge the olive branch. Instead, he rolled himself on to his stomach and then pushed himself off the ground, waving off my hand. “Yeah, yeah.”

“As you wish,” I sighed, beginning to back up, still smiling. He deserved this, if I was being honest. He had been a massive prick for the majority of this date. It was some sort of cosmic karma that he had fallen, for sure.

As he stood up, he brushed the dirt off his hands by rubbing them against his pants. “You don’t have to stare.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, crossing my arms and shifting most of my weight to my right leg. “And what should I look at instead?” What else was there to look at - the guard doing his paperwork? I shook my head. “Are you okay?”

“Look at anything else. I’m fine.”

I turned my head downwards, pretending to look at the floor to my right, even as I caught him rubbing his butt out of the corner of my eye. I laughed a little at that, but it was time to put an end to this. Enough was enough. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Sure you are,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes at me.

“I am.” It was ture. I didn’t want him to be injured. All I wanted was to be more...normal, I supposed. To at least pretend to be into the conversation, and the Selection as a whole. He was the one who called it, after all. I should let him know as much.

I flashed him a smile again, before explaining, “Just because you haven’t been on your nicest behavior today, doesn’t mean I want to see you hurt. Besides, that’d be a dreadful end to an otherwise fun afternoon.” It was true, I realized. While Arin was infuriatingly frustrating, and got on my nerves, competing with him had actually been kind of enjoyable, or entertaining, at the very least. At least I would have had a good time before he inevitably sent me home after this.

He stared at me like I had three heads, and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was how he truly saw me. I had a feeling I was rather different than the company he usually kept, though I didn’t think that was an entirely bad thing. “Well, that’s only your opinion,” he stated.

Shrugging, I replied, “It is, and I think you’ve made your opinion on all of this -” I waved my hands through the air. Whether I was referring to the date or to the Selection as a whole, I wasn’t entirely sure. “-abundantly clear. It’s only fair that I do the same.”

“Well then.” He inclined his head ever so slightly. “Maybe we’re finally in agreement on something.”

What “something” was he referring to? I narrowed my eyes at him. “Maybe.”

“So then, are we good here?”

Noting his expectant look, I smiled. Best to make this as painless as possible. I needed to figure out how to best explain to my family that there was a very good chance I’d be coming home soon. “Sure.” I skated towards the exit of the rink.

“Excellent,” he echoed, nodding as he made his way towards another exit, closer to where he had left his shoes. As I exited the rink and made my way over to my shoes, I noticed the guard beginning to pack up his papers. I was a bit surprised the poor guy hadn’t gotten some popcorn to watch the spectacle Arin and I had just put on. He must have had a great work ethic, and some laser focus.

I looked at Arin out of the corner of my eye as I sat down to undo the laces of my skates. I was amazed, though ecstatic, that I hadn’t been the one to fall. That turn of events had been the most unexpected, out of everything that had happened today.

“Do we just leave our skates on the counter?” I asked, frowning. It seemed wrong to not put them away somewhere.

“Yes,” he answered, nodding as he sat down to undo his own laces.

I nodded back once as I slipped off my skates, trading them for the shoes I had worn here. The moment I stood up, I frowned. It felt like I was trying to reacquaint myself with solid ground, like how it felt to stand on dry land after being on a ship for a long time. The words escaped my mouth before I could even think about it. “Wow, I didn’t realize how weird it would feel to be back in normal shoes.”

“The only weird thing here is two strangers on a date,” he argued as he put on his own shoes.

Wasn’t that the entire point of having a date? Was he daft?

“Well,” I began, setting my skates on the counter before placing my hands on my hips, staring down at him, “we could get to know each other better, but you seem intent on shutting me out.” Because I’m not Felicity. At least I didn’t say the last part out loud.

Okay, Evalin, that might have been a little too harsh.

I sighed. “I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through,” I added, noting how much softer my voice sounded to my own ears, “but I’m certain it can’t be easy. Your actions and words today say that much. But, if you are ever struck with the desire to talk, vent, rant, whatever,” I trailed off. Frankly, he was more likely to be struck by lightning than he was to be struck by the desire to talk to me, and to top it off, I had intended to end the sentence with something along the lines of “I’m here,” but there was a very good chance I might not be here much longer, if today was any indication. I let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished, shrugging and offering him a half smile.

He stood up, setting his skates on the counter. “I’m not ‘going’ through anything,” he shot back, “so there’s nothing to talk about. You can take your offer elsewhere.”

Yeah, right, and I’m the queen of Italy.

“Consider it an open offer,” I finished, crossing my arms and shrugging yet again.

He stepped away from the counter, brushing past me on his way to the door. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not.”

“Well, at least you’re a quick learner.”

He had gotten that right, at least. I followed him out, walking towards the passenger side door. “How do you think I made it this far in life?”

“Patient people,” he called to me as he walked to the driver’s side, opening the door.

“Patience is a virtue,” I yelled back over the top of the car before climbing in and shutting my door. It slammed louder than I had intended it to, and I winced a little at the sound. Why was I acting like this? Nobody had ever gotten under my skin this much - not even Lukas the night before I had left for Angeles, when I had shoved him off my front porch.

Lukas. I thought about our conversation that very same morning as I heard the guard climb into the car, while Arin scowled and we all buckled our seatbelts. Lukas. Did he expect that if I came back to Carolina, everything would just be okay again? That we’d go back to normal? I didn’t believe our old normal was something we’d ever achieve again. Or worse, did he expect me to fall in love with him instead of Arin? I almost shuddered at the idea. I had never felt that way for Lukas before, and I certainly didn’t now. I made a mental note to block his number when I got back to my room, crossing my arms and legs and averting my gaze towards the scenery outside my car window. When had this become my life? I couldn’t help but laugh.

Arin began to pull out of the parking lot, his body tense, like he was waiting to pounce. He was giving off the same aura that my father did when one my siblings or I had gotten into trouble at school, in the moments before he began to yell at us. It was almost comical that Arin might think he had any right to rip into me like that. I almost wanted to dare him to try.

I turned to look out the windshield, still smiling. “Could we at least turn on the radio? Might help with that weirdness you mentioned earlier.”

“I prefer silence.” He didn’t bother to look at me as he spoke.

Yeah, okay.

I hummed thoughtfully for a moment, raising an eyebrow, but still not looking at him. “You know true silence will drive any man to madness? True silence is filled by the sound of your own body. You can hear your breathing, your heart beating, you can hear the blood in your veins. You can hear your pulse, you can hear your bones rub against each other, you can hear your skin sliding over your muscles.”

Well, at least you’re not talking about geographic features anymore!

“Well, that sounds delightful given my present company,” he retorted, looking over at me.

I smiled at him with as much sweetness as I could possible manage, batting my eyelashes for good effect. “Well, that’s a horrible way to talk about your guard! Poor sap has to put up with you all day!”

“At least he’s compensated for his time.” His eyes flitted to the guard in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before focusing on the road again.

“Did you just admit to paying people to tolerate you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. I was shaking with silent laughter at this point. This was absolutely ridiculous.

He rolled his eyes and began driving a little faster. Not an unsafe speed, but faster nonetheless. I simply sighed, leaning back in my seat and drumming my fingers against my leg. This couldn’t end soon enough.

Then I felt it. Or rather, I smelt it. A coppery scent, familiar, like a childhood friend, filled my nose. Of course. Of-fucking-course this would happen now, of all time. This was worse than falling while roller skating would have been. The universe really must have had a sense of humor.

I frowned, reaching up towards my nose as I asked, “Hey, do you have a tissue?”

Without looking, he replied, “Glove compartment.”

I kept my right hand on my nose, fumbling with the handle of the glove compartment with my left. Luckily for me, the tissues were on top of everything else that was in the glove compartment. “Thank you,” I said simply as I began plugging my nose with tissues.

He glanced over at me then, his face going slack as he took the sight in. “Are you bleeding?”

Of course, now he’d act like he cared. I laughed, but it came out sounding more nervous than I had intended. “Just a nosebleed,” I reassured him. “No big deal!”

He immediately pulled over to the shoulder of the road, unbuckling and opening his door. I wondered for a moment if he was going to tell me to get out and walk the rest of the way. It wouldn’t be a shocking concept. He probably cared more about the possibility of me getting blood on his seats than anything else. Not that there was really anything wrong with that, I supposed. Blood could potentially carry a lot of pathogens. He probably didn’t want to risk one of the other girls getting a disease.

I saw him through my window as he opened my door. “It’s really no big deal,” I protested, but he had already reached into the glove compartment and retrieved a trash bag and some more tissues.

“Are you okay?”

Was I hallucinating from blood loss, or was there genuine concern in his voice? He offered me some clean tissues, which I ignored as I replied, “Yeah. Sorry about this. I haven’t gotten a nosebleed since I was twelve. I don’t know why my nose chose this moment to spontaneously bleed.” I concluded with another laugh, but it sounded half-hearted, even to me.

He shook his head. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Lean forward,” he instructed, motioning for me to sit up. Who was this man, and what had he done with the Prince Arin I’d be bantering with a few minutes ago?

I did as he said. “God, I’m sorry.” I was about to go down in history as the girl who got a fucking nosebleed in the prince’s car right before he sent me home. This was worse than I could have ever imagined.

“Don’t apologize,” he admonished. “Let’s just stop the bleeding.” He opened a trash bag, offering me more clean tissues, his eyes darting between the dirty ones in my hands and the trash bag.

I had to bite my tongue to keep from apologizing again. “Thank you,” I mumbled, throwing out the old tissues and replacing them with the clean ones a quickly as I possibly could. God, if I got blood on the seats of his car, I would never forgive myself, let alone live it down. “It should stop soon,” I informed him. “Not supposed to last over twenty minutes.”

“Just keep leaning forward and pressing,” he instructed, nodding. “It’ll stop.”

“Yep,” I agreed, laughing nervously again.

I felt something on my back then, causing me to stiffen up. I looked over to see his arm extended towards me, and realized that must be his hand on my back. He must have noticed my discomfort, because he immediately withdrew his hand. I could hardly even process the whole interaction as I silently pleaded with any divine force that would listen to stop my nosebleed. If it went on for more than twenty minutes, we were in serious trouble. I did not want to finish my first date with Arin in a hospital. That was perhaps the only way in which this could get any worse.

Luckily, after a few minutes, I could feel the flow of blood slowing. “Okay, I think it’s stopping now.”

He held open the trash bag again. “Better?”

“Yeah.” I threw the last of the tissues into the bag before adding, “Thank you, and sorry again.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say more, to apologize for the way I had spoken to him even before this, but I couldn’t find the words. I was too stunned by his sudden change in demeanor. Clemence had been right - there was more to Arin than met the eye, but not in the way that she had meant. There was a good man buried in there somewhere, beneath all the heartbreak and anger.

“Good,” was all he said, nodding as he tied up the trash bag, running it towards a trash bin a little ways down the road. He then made his way back to the car, pulling back onto the road after a quick glance in the side mirror.

I stayed quiet, staring out the windshield at nothing, my arms crossed as I my elbows in my hands. I was somewhere between upset and mortified, and didn’t know how to fix any of what we had said and done. How had this all gone so wrong?

I caught him glancing over at me every now and then, and after it had happened three or four times, I couldn’t stop myself. “I’m fine. Really. Just tired, at this point.” Not entirely a lie, but not the whole truth either. I had never felt this level of despair in the pit of my stomach, and all I wanted to do was curl up in my bed and stare at the wall.

“I get it,” he replied with a nod. “We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

I caught him looking at me yet again, but this time was different. There was something else in his eyes, that hadn’t been there before. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head.

Not this again. “No it wasn’t!” I turned my head to look at him before asking again, “What?”

He shrugged, answering, “I don’t have anything to say.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but turned my face towards the windshield again. There was no use in fighting. “Okay. My mistake, then.”

“Mhmm,” he murmured, focusing on the road for a split second before glancing over at me again.

I side-eyed him for a moment, before deciding to let the issue drop as the palace came into sight. I let out a shaky breath through my mouth, dropping my hands to my lap. The gates couldn’t open any slower, even with Arin driving through the moment they were open wide enough for his car to shimmy on by. We made it to the front, where he parked his car and then promptly unbuckled his seatbelt.

I followed suit, turning back to look at him and offer him one more, “Thank you,” before beginning to open the car door. Somehow, I made it out of the car before he did, and I began to walk around the front of his car, one hand on the hood as I did.

“Let me walk you to your room?”

I hadn’t heard him sound so unsure of something the entire time we had been on this date. Even when my nose had started bleeding, he had been calm, cool, and collected. How irritated did he think I was?

I rolled my eyes, but decided to relent. “I guess.”

He walked around to the passenger side, motioning with his head for me to follow him. I complied, walking by his side, stealing glances at him out of the corner of my eye. Now, this was the kind of interaction I had imagined as a kid, but I had certainly never dreamed up the chain of events that would lead me to this moment.

We reached the doors, and this time, he held one open. “After you.”

My eyebrow immediately shot up, but I accepted his offer anyway. “Thank you.”

Once we were inside, he led me towards the stairs. When we were at the foot of the staircase, his eyes flickered towards me again, and he asked, “You said you used to get them as a kid?”

“Not super often,” I explained, nodding nonetheless, “but often enough that it was annoying. It’s been a while, though.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I see. Well, that’s unfortunate.”

What’s unfortunate, Arin? That I haven’t gotten a nosebleed in a while, that I used to get nosebleeds frequently, or this entire disaster of a date?

I blinked once, and then shrugged. “It’s just a part of life. There are worse things.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, nodding, “like falling while roller skating.”

I laughed at that. “Exactly.”

We reached my door then, and I stopped, looking at him for a moment. His face was filled with some emotion that wasn’t quite concern, and wasn’t quite curiosity, but some weird hybrid of the two. I began to fumble with the doorknob and said, “Well, thank you again. I hope that the rest of your day is, uh, a lot better than that was.” I could feel my face turning red, but I attempted to hide in by turning back to my door. Why couldn’t I get a good grip on this doorknob?

“Me too,” he responded from behind me. His footsteps echoed through the otherwise empty corridor as he took a step away.

I nodded, finally getting my door open. In an instant, I slipped into my room, and shut the door, leaning against it for a moment and breathing heavily. When I focused my vision on my room, I caught sight of Julia, Christina, and Grace, all staring at me, lips parted slightly as if they wanted to ask a question, but didn’t know what to ask.

It was Julia who broke the silence. “What happened.”

I just shook my head. “Do you mind if I call my sister and put my phone on speakerphone? I don’t want to have to tell it more than once.”

The three simply nodded, and I started dialing. Lydia picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Evalin! What’s going on?” Just hearing her voice was bringing tears to my eyes.

“A lot,” I answered, noting the noise in the background.

“Can I put you on speaker? June’s family is here for dinner.”

I paused. “Could you actually grab June, and then go upstairs? I…” My voice broke. “I don’t need everyone to hear this right now.”

Silence. Then, “Yeah.” I heard her call for June, followed by heavy breathing as I assumed she was ascending the stairs. “Okay, we’re going on speaker now.”

“Hey, Evalin!” June’s cheerful voice floated through the phone, bringing a small smile to my face. “What’s up.”

“You’re on speakerphone in my room.” I looked around at my maids before launching into my tale. “None of you are going to believe the date I just had.”

#selectionoc

7 notes · View notes

therewasatale · 5 years ago

Text

Ritual

On Ao3.

The ritual was in session for at least an hour. The members of the cult chanted louder and louder, in the warm humid atmosphere of the cellar. In the dim light of the hundred blood red candles the tied-up victim feebly tried to get free from her restrains but with no avail. The leather was too strong, and she was drugged to be just aware of her surroundings.

The cult leader flipped the page in his occult book continuing the dark incantation they were repeating when suddenly the pentagram on the other side of the room flared up and two figures appeared. The cult leader didn’t even had time to become surprised when the taller one, a thin dark person an expertly tailored suit, wearing sunglasses hurried to him, and knocked the book out of his hand.

"Would you shut the hell up?!" He shouted with slightly twitching left eye.

The cult leader blinked a couple of times, stunned, and his flock, about a dozen man and women wearing dark foreboding clothes, complete with blood red belts, slowly fell silent as well.

"FINALLY!" Exclaimed the stranger and rubbed his temples. His companion, a shorter man, with fair blond hair and a suit which style would be more at home in the previous century, looked around curiously. When his eyes stopped at the sacrifice he slowly walked up to the altar.

At last, the cult leader managed to compose himself.

"Who the hell are you? " He asked finally his own anger mounting. "Do you have any idea how long does it takes to set up the summoning ritual?"

"Based on the time you were shouting in my goddam head about one and a half hour!"Responded the taller stranger bitingly. The cult leader puffed up himself up and drew his ceremonial knife.

"Now listen to me you assh-" Before he could finish his sentence the tall stranger snorted and then raised one of his fingers and then he tapped it against the cult leader's chest. The occult master disappeared, leaving behind a small puff of acrid smoke, clothes, and the sacrificial knife, which fell to the ground clanking. His flock moved as one person towards the tall man who just calmly raised his finger again. The sudden rush of humans halted, well out of finger reach.

"Before anyone tries to do something nasty." The man slowly removed his sunglasses showing the crowd his vibrant yellow eyes. "Just remember I have a much vibrant imagination on that part. "

The cultists shuddered and knelt down as one.

"Oh my dark master…" One who, based on his slightly fancier robes must have been the second in command in their little religious organization, spoke up. "Why did you punish your devoted servants?"

"Don’t 'oh my dark master' me. Have you got any idea what another demon would have done with the lot of you?" Asked the man with almost palpable indignation.

The cultist glanced at each other.

"But, dark master, we done everything written in the book." The demon rolled his eyes and extended his arms.

"Really? Did you really? Because I think the only two things that are genuine here is the book and the sacrifice." At that some cultist glanced towards the girl who oddly quieted down. They tried to raise some objection about the fact that the demon's companion was meticulously worked on untying her, but then the yellow eyed stranger bent down and got something from the floor. It was the ceremonial dagger. The demon started talking without even reacting to those who tried to speak up.

"Look at this! What is this? The book definitely asked for a sacrificial dagger. This is a steak knife painted with gold spray paint. Come on guys you couldn’t have believed this would work. "

"Its…Well…. We have a pentagram." Protested one of the cultists.

"Yes, made out of red paint and glass instead of a priest's blood and crushed rubies. A demon can really tell, I assure you." Sneered the yellow eyed stranger.

"Candles, the candles must be right." Stated another cultist in vain hope.

The demon sniffed into the air and then sighed.

"Cherry scented ones from a supermarket. Not exactly created from the fat of a slaughtered lamb is it? Look, you can't just half ass these things. All or nothing, most demons are really stickler for traditions. I know. I have worked with them." He rubbed his forehead and noticed the small washing machine at the very edge of the room. It was hastily covered in a star patterned tablecloth. The demon sighed wearily." What the hell do you wanted to summon a demon anyway? "

"For money." Said one of the cultists

"And fame, and dark evil powers." Added the right hand of the previous leader who realized that without his boss, now he might get a chance in the spotlight.

"Become a politician then. You get all the dark evil powers with fame and money as you want. Or a financial advisor, maybe a lawyer. If you don’t want to get that quiet so vile, do organized crime. You all get to go down either way, but at least you get to live a little before that."

There were some murmurs from the members of the cult and then the self-titled new leader spoke up.

"And if we don’t want to do that? " The demon's eyes glinted maliciously.

"Then you can follow your leader wherever I sent him." There was an ocean of menace behind those eyes. Suddenly every cult member began to reconsider their life choices and found out that a life full of normal everyday evils might be infinitely better than just dying right here at the hands of an occult one.

"I am also taking your book." The demon reached down and grabbed the ancient tome with the same elegance and reverence one would treat a morning newspaper.

"But…" The second man in the cult stepped closer but the demon once again raised his finger and waggled it. The man stepped back into the line.

"And we will be taking this poor girl too."

Suddenly the cultist realized that the demons companion was still in the room. During their talk with the black clad stranger he managed to untie the sacrifice, and gently led the barely conscious girl to the pentagram.

"What?" Asked the leader of the cultists and the demon at the same time.

"Excuse me, can we have a minute? I need to talk with my friend over there." The demon briskly walked to the other man and stepped right next to him. They started a muffled conversation, but the cultists do manage to glimpse some tidbits here and there, along the lines of:

"Look you can't just pick up every stray when you see them. We were at a DINNER we can't just arrive with a half-naked young women. Its impolite."

"Oh come on, Crowley, when was the last time something being impolite ever worried you?"

"Five hundred bc…That's not the point here. Look can we not do this right now."

"If you won't let me take her home before we continue our dinner, I shan't continue our dinner at all."

"What? Don't be like that…"

"I said what I said." With that the man in the lighter suit puffed himself off. His companion answered with a now clearly audible.

"Fine."

The demon, named Crowley, turned back towards the cultist. "We are taking the girl too. She was a sacrifice after all and I'm a demon. And I haven't even eaten out your eyeballs or something like that like any of my old coworkers would have. So how about you sit a little here thinking about the prospects I raised and I won't be forced to vaporize any of you before we go? Sounds like a plan isn't it?"

The cultists slowly nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing with the not being vaporized part, and being generally lukewarm about the other things.

"Wonderful. Off we go then…What?" He asked as his companion gently tugged on his sleeves and whispered a question in his ears. "No of course not. I know you are particular about that. He just has some swimming to do." The demons companion nodded smiling, and waved at the cultists.

"In shark infested waters." Added Crowley before he disappeared in a puff of sulfurish smoke. The other man snorted, and also popped away with the girl they were meant to sacrifice.

There was a long and awkward silence in the room followed by a bit of shuffling. After a couple of minutes one of the cultists spoke up.

"Brendon…"

"Master Occultist." Corrected the former second man of the cult, rapidly climbing at the top of the ladder before anyone could dispute his ascension.

"Master Occultist….what the hell just happened here?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale #gocrowley #crowley #good omens crowley #good omens aziraphale #The Emperor in Silver

8 notes · View notes

toddysdiaries · 6 years ago

Text

Off-Camera - Jeff Wittek x Reader

((GIF IS NOT MINE))

Pairing: Jeff Wittek x Reader

Requested?: Yes, by anon:

‘An imagine kinda based on tana’s newest YT video where he reviews her date night/Valentine’s Day outfits where it’s super flirty/fluff!!!! Basically just like Tana’s Vid but with JEFFFFFFFIEEEE’

Summary: you and Jeff make a Valentine’s Day outfit video.

Words: 1,867

Warnings: an allusion to sex at the end?

A/N: Requests are open! NO MORE JEFF REQUESTS PLEASE.

Jeff sat down next to you after fiddling with the camera. “Hey, guys.” He grinned and waved. “This video’s going to be a little different today. We’re going to be doing an “I review my girlfriend’s Valentine’s day outfits” video, with my beautiful girlfriend, Y/N. At the end, I'm going to pick an outfit for our valentine's day date tomorrow.” Jeff gestured at you.

“Hey!” You did a little wave, you didn’t feel the most comfortable on camera, but you knew Jeff’s subscribers wanted to see more of you in his videos and you knew that Jeff wanted to show you off too.

“You guys wanted to see more of Y/N, so here she is!” Jeff grinned. “So, what types of outfits have you picked?”

You grinned, thinking about the shopping trip that you’d been on. “Well, I got some casual outfits for like throughout the day, then some slightly fancier outfits and then I got some dinner outfits. I thought I could start with the casual and progress.”

Jeff wrapped his arm around you and rubbed your shoulder. “Sounds good to me. Why don’t you go and put the first outfit on, baby.”

Jumping up, you ran into Jeff’s bedroom and shuffled through your bags. You pulled on a soft grey crop top and then pulled on a baby pink tennis skirt with three white hearts going down one of the pleats. You paired the outfit with some grey ballet flats and a little pink over the shoulder bag.

“Okay, first outfit.” You called out so Jeff could close his eyes until you were in the camera frame. You arranged yourself in front of the camera, so your whole outfit was in view. “Open.”

Jeff’s eyes popped open and flickered over your body, assessing the outfit. A grin spread over his face. “You look so cute, baby!”

You giggled and twirled, skirt flying up around you. “Okay, rating out of 10?”

“Definitely an 8.5!” Jeff hugged you round the waist, head coming to rest against your stomach, he gave you a peck. “Alright, next outfit!”

You wriggled out of his hold and received a smack to your ass as you walked past. “Jeff!” You heard Jeff’s deep laugh as you skipped back to his bedroom.

Your next outfit was similar to the first, this time white with small red hearts at the bottom of every other pleat, you paired it with a red vest top and a pair of red ballet flats. A white shoulder bag completed your outfit. “Eyes closed Jeff!” You stood in front of the camera and smoothed out your outfit. “Okay, open.”

“This one is so cute too!” Jeff pushed at your hip, so you turned to give him a 360° view. “8.5 again, baby!”

“I think I prefer the first one.” You commented looking at yourself in the camera again.

Jeff hummed. “I actually think I prefer this one.”

You laughed. “Okay, next one." You swapped your red vest top for a white one, pairing it with a red mini skirt and a grey cardigan with little red hearts. You wore the grey ballet flats again and the white shoulder bag.

Telling Jeff to close his eyes again you looked at yourself in the camera, this definitely was not your favourite outfit, but you tried to make it all valentine's themed. "Okay open."

Jeff's nose wrinkled slightly as he took in your outfit. "Okay, I don't like this one as much. It's not as you as the other outfits."

You turned. "Okay, rating?"

"7." Jeff hummed.

You giggled. "You don't like this one, do you?"

Jeff shook his head. "No, I don't."

"I don't either." You admitted. "Okay, next outfit. This one is a little bit fancier."

You changed into a deep red velvet co-ord of a skater skirt and a cropped, long sleeved shirt. You really like this outfit and hoped Jeff did too.

"Okay, close your eyes, Jeff!" You made sure that you were in the camera frame.

Jeff's eyes lit up at the outfit, he had a bit of a thing for you in velvet, and he reached a hand out to snag the material. "I love this!" Jeff grinned.

You twirled. "I thought you might."

"This is definitely a 9, 9.5." Jeff stroked his hand over your midsection, feeling the velvet. "You look hot," Jeff smirked.

"Thank you, baby. The next outfit is fancier."

The next outfit consisted of wine coloured skinny jeans, a dark red blouse with white hearts and a white blazer. You paired the outfit with a basic pair of white heels and the white shoulder bag.

After making sure that Jeff's eyes were closed, you straightened out your outfit in the camera. "Okay, Jeff."

Jeff pouted at your covered legs but appreciated the way that the jeans showed off your bum. "I don't like this as much as the last one..."

Jeff hummed as you twirled. "It's a good date outfit. I think an 8.5."

"It's would be nice for a casual lunch date." You nodded.

Your next outfit was the first dress. The dress was red with white dots randomly placed over the floaty material. The back was cut out of the dress, and the edges of the material were ruffled. You had been looking for an excuse to buy the dress for a while, and this video and Jeff's credit card had given you a perfect excuse.

You went through the motions again and told Jeff to open his eyes.

"Wow, you look so cute." Jeff grinned as you twirled. "Isn't this the dress that you've had your eye on for a while?"

Nodding, you grinned. "I think it's the perfect dress for valentines day though."

"This is definitely a 9." Jeff gently touched your exposed back.

"I think it's more of a 9.5." You smoothed the material out, looking at the dress in the camera.

Jeff laughed. "Okay, a 9.5."

Your next outfit was a little different, and it made you feel kind of badass. You wriggled into the black, lacy bodysuit, struggling to close the buttons between your legs. Then you pulled a pair of red cigarette trousers up your legs and matched it with a matching red blazer. You paired it with a pair of black heels and a black clutch bag.

"These next outfits are the really fancy evening outfits." You called into the room, giving enough time for Jeff to close his eyes. "Okay, open your eyes."

"Wow, baby, you look fantastic." Jeff's eyes were glued to your cleavage and then your ass as you turned.

"Thank you, my love." You pulled your trousers up slightly. "What would you rate it?"

"A 9.5, definitely. You look kind of like a businesswoman." Jeff nodded approvingly. "Okay, off you go baby." Jeff gently patted you on the ass.

You strutted back to Jeff's room. Pulling out your next outfit, you grinned, Jeff was definitely going to appreciate the way the dress accentuated your curves. The dress was a mid red bodycon dress that flowed out at the bottom and reached your knees. The dress had sort of a plunging neckline and spaghetti straps. You paired it with a white clutch bag and white heels.

You called out for Jeff to close his eyes, arranged yourself in front of the camera and then told Jeff he could open his eyes.

"Wow, baby!" Jeff's eyes went wide as they took in your outfit. His hand came out to rest on your hip and then followed the line of your outfit. "You're making me hard," Jeff muttered under his breath, but you caught it, and you bet the camera did too. You giggled mentally at how Jeff would take your last outfit.

"You like, baby?" You spun around for Jeff.

"This is a 10." Jeff held his hands up. "This is a definite 10, holy shit, baby, you look amazing."

You leant down and pecked Jeff's lips, not missing the way that his gaze went straight down your cleavage. "Thank you, baby. The next outfit is the last one, and then I have something extra too."

Jeff's eyebrow raised questioningly but shrugged to himself as you disappeared back to his room. Your last outfit was another co-ord, consisting of a cropped cami type top and a high waisted skin-tight skirt. You wore the same white heels and added the same white clutch bag.

"I don't like this as much as the last one, baby, I don't think anything can beat that one." Jeff's eyes ran over your outfit. "I do really like it though, it shows your beautiful legs off. I think it's another 9.5."

You wanted to laugh at the idea that nothing could beat the red bodycon dress but managed to hold it in, nodding agreeingly. "Thank you, baby. Okay, just the extra outfit left!"

Jeff stared after you, confusion evident on his face, as you practically ran back to his room. You giggled as you pulled on your extra outfit. You pulled the lacy thong up your legs first and then pulled on the cami, letting the straps hang down. Finally, you pulled the stockings up your legs and clipped the straps to the stockings to keep them up. You pulled a red satin robe over the top and tied it shut.

"Jeff, shut your eyes!" You yelled out and then swanned back into the living room. You stood with your back to the camera, robe closed shut. You didn't have any intention of letting the whole of YouTube seeing you in such sexy underwear, you just thought it would be funny for the video and to see Jeff's reaction.

"Okay, open baby."

Jeff's draw dropped open. "Please tell me that you've gotten something on underneath that."

You nodded, giggling and then pulled the tie open.

"Holy fuck." Jeff's hand moved off its own accord and spread over your thigh. "Baby! You better not have shown the camera this! I'll have to edit it out if you have!" Jeff glared at the camera as if it had seen you naked.

"Just the back of my robe." You nodded.

Jeff let out a deep breath. "You are definitely wearing this tomorrow, just for me."

You giggled. "I thought you might like it."

"I absolutely love it, baby!" Jeff nodded rapidly.

You tied the robe back up and made sure you were covered and sat next to Jeff. "That was a success then. So, what am I wearing tomorrow?"

Jeff cleared his throat and tore his eyes from your body. "That, definitely that. She's killing me guys." He whined at the camera. You glared at Jeff, and he rolled his eyes. "Definitely the bodycon dress."

"And where are you taking me?" You asked, hoping Jeff would be so distracted he'd let it slip.

"Baby, you may look amazing, but I'm not going to tell you that easily." You pouted. "Right guys that's it for today. Don't forget to like, comment and subscribe!"

"Bye!" You both yelled in unison.

Jeff made sure that the camera was turned off and turned to you. "We are going to the bedroom right now missy."

You jumped up and ran to Jeff's bedroom. "Let's go!"

#vlog squad imagine #vlog squad #Jeff Wittek x reader #Jeff wittek imagine #Jeff Wittek

536 notes · View notes

heartfeltheart · 5 years ago

Text

Alchemy: Magic Vs. Science

Chapters: 18/25 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Series: Part 1 of 9. Summary: Magic and Science, are they the same or are they completely different? It just takes one person to point out all up and downs. Along with breaking the stereotypes that come up with being a wizard, alchemist and most of all being human. Thank you, @amynchan! D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

“English and Edward’s accented voice.” “Amestrian or another foreign language.” “Written notes.” ‘Thoughts.’ First Name: Informal Last Name: Formal (Or used to annoy others)

Christmas day.

A day to be around friends and family, being around people you love and care for. To wake up fully energized at the prospect of running over to the fully decorated Christmas tree to open presents. Once that was said and done, go outside and play in the snow. To have snowball fights, build snow forts and perhaps a game of Quidditch. Then go back inside to sit around a fireplace to drink hot chocolate, play Exploding Snap or Chess.

Right now, eight Alchemy students prefer to sleep in as much time as they could before their day could start. All of them are sleeping in a room in the Military Barracks in bunk beds. The room was usually used for Military personnel that do not have a home in Central City and stays in the Barracks when on duty. Their instructors are given their own rooms but would rotate when making rounds to check on the students. The only one that remained awake throughout the entire night is the head of this Field Trip.

He was too busy decorating a decent size pine tree with decorations he had packed up in his suitcase with the help of the Mustang Unit. Edward picked up a giant mug of coffee and took a deep gulp of the bitter drink. Standing there with the said mug in one hand and another on his hip as he took in the sight in front of him. A decorated pine tree standing in the corner of the room, multiple presents underneath it and the smell of apple pie filled the air. About a couple of hours ago, multiple owls flew in and dropped out present after present for his students, Rolanda, Quirinus, and too much to his surprise, Edward also got a few gifts. Every present is placed under the tree to surprise everyone else once they step into the room for breakfast.

"What exactly is this thing again?" Jean Havoc asked once he finished decorated the tree.

"It's a type of holiday tree." Edward responded with a shrug.

"Well...I hope they like it." Jean shrugged his shoulders, he wasn't going to argue with the other's plans. This just showed a whole other side of Edward, something many would have thought he does not have. "It strange, but...let's just hope they like it."

"In the Grand Hall of the school, they have one that nearly touches the ceiling filled with... magical... decorations and it looks whimsical. This might not match up to it, but I hope it is enough for them." Edward explained, he finished his drink and slammed the mug on a table when he felt his tongue burn due to the hot liquid. "Ugh...my tongue...I need to go wake them up before they start wandering around and get lost. Go see if Mrs. Hughes needs anything."

"Got it, boss."

Edward rubbed his face with both hands to ward off any sign of sleep. He hoped despite the fact his students are going to spend their Christmas in a Military Barracks, away from everything they know, they have a good time. Telling them his past with a Military was rather...not awkward, not tense but draining to tell. The result is his students believing he was some sort of Magical Police Officer. Auror? Eh, something like that.

A Magical Police Officer... Nah, sounds too much work.

-.-

Edward walked down the hall that headed towards the rooms his students and fellow instructors. He stood in front of Rolanda's room and was about to knock on it when it opened see said person fully dressed. The Alchemy Teacher took note at how Rolanda is wearing a fancier set than her typical robes, but not over the top and did not have on a robe or hat. She still looked a bit out of place, but at least without the robe, she won't appear completely out of place. In the Quidditch Instructor's arms is a basket filled with small presents wrapped in shimmering paper and ribbons. "Morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Elric." Rolanda responded with a nod, she stepped out of her room and closed the door behind herself. "Have you awoken the students?"

"I was going to wake you and Quirinus before we woke them up and get them ready for today. I have a surprise ready for everyone?" Edward explained with a grin, he and Rolanda walked down the hall to the Muggle Studies Professor room.

"Don't tell me... you have a surprise Christmas Party planned?" Rolanda asked, she raised an eyebrow at Edward when he remained quiet. She only shook her head with a slight shake of her head. "Of course, you did, how did you manage to pull that off with your superiors?"

"I er... My boss is a softy and I am the one that is paying for everything." Edward deadpanned the last part. He stopped in front of Quirinus door and knocked on it. There was a slight shuffle from inside the room before the door opened. What Edward saw made his jaw dropped in horror and shock. Edward could not even describe what he is looking at and even Rolanda is shaking her head Quirinus appearance.

"R-ready?" Quirinus asked, he was about to close the door behind himself when Edward pushed him back into the room. "W-what, are yo-you doing?"

"There is no way you are walking around here wearing that! Wear your regular outfit without your robe." Edward snapped at the older man, he shut the door to Quirinus room and hit the door to get his point across. "Whoever taught you about MuggleFashion has no taste whatsoever."

Edward turned his head over at Rolanda with a questioning look. "And this guy is supposed to be the Muggle Studies Professor?"

"The Magical Community is completely cut off from the Muggle World, this tends to happen due to that reason." Rolanda stated with a pinched expression.

"Even though I had a questionable taste in fashion, I would never stoop that low to wear that!"

-.-

Edward hid his grin at the looks of joy his student gave when Rolanda handed each of them their presents. Each of them received a small box of sugar candies in a decorated tin that had an image of a Golden Snitch flying around the tin. The students are wearing their uniforms, minus their robes and hats. At least their uniforms looked normal here in Amestris compared to what Quirinus was originally going to wear. Edward still cannot get that image out of his head. "We have a busy schedule ahead of us today, very busy day."

"What are we going to be doing today, Mr. Elric?" One of the student's asked.

"I will explain everything once we finish with our breakfast." Edward explained to the student, he along with everyone else was walking down several hallways to their intended location. Several soldiers that they passed by looking at the group with curious eyes but that was replaced with looks of respect and awe at the sight of Edward. The students, Rolanda and Quirinus wondered about the looks and the salutes that were shot at the Alchemy Teacher's way.

"Little brother!" A high pitch squeal filled the hall and the sound of rapid footsteps caught everyone's attention. The only one that did not seem surprised was Edward, he simply turned to face the direction where the squeal came from. Down the hall is a pig-tailed sandy blonde girl running up to them with her hands extended out.

Edward extended his arms out and braced for impact when the girl launched herself into her arms. He swung her around and their laughter filled the hall. Once he stopping spinning them around, the girl went a thousand miles an hour and every occasion, Edward would nod or just smile at her. Once the girl slowed down, Edward placed her down back on the ground and patted her on the head.

Louder footsteps came down from the same direction the girl came from. Looking over, everyone saw two men running down the hall with looks of complete distress. They stopped in front of Edward and the little girl, completely out of breath. They explained something to the Golden Blonde before he waved them off and they ran off in the same direction they came from. Edward scratched his head while he looked down at the girl, who was still smiling at him. With a sigh, he waved a hand towards his class direction. "This is my class, I am a teacher at a school in a different country, Elicia."

"You? A teacher? Hahaha!" Elicia giggled humorously at the notion of Little Brother being a teacher.

Edward pouted, why does everyone laugh at the thought of him being a teacher? Dammit! He hasn't killed anyone yet or maimed anyone for that matter. His students are learning something without the fear of being getting their asses handed to them. Nooooo... it's a flipping joke to everyone that knows him. "Why does everyone keep laughing at me whenever I tell them that?"

"It's funny~" Elicia continued to giggle at the thought.

Edward only shook his head, he motioned for the little give him his hand. "Come on, I'll take you to your mom."

"Okay, little brother!"

"Little brother my..." Edward grumbled under his breath, he looked back at his class and fellow instructors. The students were whispering among themselves about the scene before them. This is a completely new side of their teacher. Is she related to him? It was obvious by their interaction, they know each other to the point of the Alchemy Teacher acting like a doting older brother or even a father. "This is Elicia, the daughter of an a...good friend of mine."

Without saying another word, Edward continued his way to the surprise location. Well, he would nod or mutter something that went along with whatever Elicia was saying to him. The chatter stopped when they stopped in front of metal double doors. On top of the doors is a sign that said, 'Dining Hall' in Amestrian and a poster taped on the door too. Edward turned back to give his class a devious grin. "Here we are..."

Edward opened the door and motioned for everyone to enter. The students saw it was a dining hall, only having the minimal required items and furniture for such room. When their sights landed on the far corner of the room, their jaws dropped. Right there in the corner of the dining hall is a Christmas tree with piles of presents surrounding it. The two tables were pushed together to make one long table and had plates of food on it. There was a woman wearing an apron and oven mitts, holding what appears to be a pie. She smiled at the newcomers as they entered the room. Elicia let go of Edward's grasp and ran over to her.

"Even though we do not celebrate this holiday, all of you do. So... uh..." Edward struggled with his words and made it a point to not look his students. He understood what the holiday means, especially what it meant for his students. Even if the trip is for them to get away from the Magical World and dammit! He wants to make sure they have a decent holiday. Especially seeing and reading in between the lines about his student's lives. "Go do... whatever you normally do."

Without another word, Edward's students ran over to the tree to see what they got. One or two of them hung back and hesitantly approached the others. They ran once their fellow classmates yelled at them when they state there are gifts for them under the tree.

"It is not exactly a party but...it will suffice." Rolanda stated to Edward.

"H-how long h-have you pla-anned this?" Quirinus asked.

"When the trip was approved. I had Zefferus pack the decorations and sent a letter to my superior if he could help me make this happen. He agreed after I told him I would pay for it..."

"You sound like you don't like the man?" Rolanda asked, her eyebrow twitched slightly.

"...It's a long, long... long story." Edward sighed, he scratched the back of his head. He headed over towards the table filled with food. "Come on, I am hungry!"

-.-

"Hmmmm... Pie..." Edward hummed in content. He had just said his temporarily good-byes to Elicia and Mrs. Hughes before they left with a promise of seeing them again before he returned to Great Britain. Glancing over at his students, Edward saw that all of them are eating and looking over their gifts. The only gifts that were left under the tree belonged to him, Rolanda and Quirinus. All in all, it appeared to be a good Christmas in his opinion.

Well, it was until the doors slammed open and Edward did not bother to hide his frown. Everyone sitting around the table looked over to see General Roy Mustang. The General is grinning manically as he headed towards their table. "Good morning everyone, I hope you had a good night rest."

"Ugh...." Edward bemoaned, he ate another spoonful of apple-pie. It no longer tasted the same as it did like the previous bite. "Go away...I am trying to enjoy my breakfast."

"What was that, Fullmetal?" Roy asked, his expression stern as he stared Edward down. This made Edward's students and fellow instructors nudge away from the possible upcoming fight. There was clear tension in the room that started to build up and... are those flames and lightning in the background?

Edward took in a deep breath, berating himself. He wondered is it worth acting like the perfect soldier to keep up appearances. The last thing he needed is his students believing the Amestris Military are a bunch of idiots or worse... have them look like their Ministry. Then again, the last thing he needed is for them to fear the Military to the point of making them fear Alchemy. There are so many pros and cons to the whole situation. Seeing as Roy and the Mustang Unit are going to be the ones representing Amestris during the whole negotiations between Amestris and Magical Great Britain, might as well show them nothing is to fear. "Could you stop calling me that?"

"You will always be dubbed as such, I have the paperwork to back me up." Roy tutted Edward, he reached over and grabbed an entire pie. "Once you are down here take your class to the Library. Captain Hawkeye will be waiting there for your arrival."

"By any chance, has Grumman pass any laws since I've been gone?"

"No... You know what... the entire unit has asked me that minus Hawkeye. What do you know?" Roy asked with a critical eye.

Edward popped another spoonful of pie into his grinning mouth. "I don't know...Why don't you go eat your pie...alone."

"You're just jeal... This would have sounded better if you weren't engaged to your mechanic." Roy muttered under his breath before he left the dining hall.

-.-

Edward hesitantly scanned a brightly wrapped box in his hands. He slowly opened the package to reveal a bronze tea set decorated with sapphires. There was a card inside the teapot and Edward took it out with an eyebrow raised. Once reading over the card, the Golden Blonde let out a soft chuckle. Filius had sent him and his fiancé a tea set. 'Tea...hm... I have to get him something.'

Once packing the tea set back in its box and putting it in his suitcase, Edward picked up another package. He reached for another present that was wrapped in emerald green and silver stripped wrapping paper tied around in a green ribbon. One guess on who sent him that? Edward kept the present at an arms distance in case it might go against him. Once the wrapping paper was removed and opening the box that contained the gift, Edward peeked inside to see a bottle of firewhiskey and two decorated drinking glasses. "I like...I like this very much."

Edward stuffed the present into his suitcase with a chuckle. He picked up his coat, suitcase and headed out towards the door. Once he gets some alone time, Edward would have to do something shopping. The moment he was about to turn the doorknob, the Golden Blonde reached into the collar of his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. 'I have to do this too.'

-.-

"This is it... The National Central Library." Edward announced to his class as they walked up the steps to said building. He ignored the curious looks and whispers, especially if they were giggling females that kept blowing him kisses. Clearing his throat once he stood on the top step, he looked down at his class with a knowing look. "This is the nation's largest literary repository and contains texts and reference materials collected from all over the nation and throughout Amestris history. It is separated in several branches, some are open to the public while others are only open to the Military with proper ranking and State Alchemists..."

Edward glanced over at main entrance of the library, frowning. The library had gone over a complete makeover once Grumman was put into leadership and him putting Edward to rearrange the place while his brother recuperated. Several restrictions and bans were lifted on certain topics, take Alkahestry for example. The topic of human transmutation is something that and several others are still iffy about it, one hand it is to warn other or to get that idea into someone's mind for them to try. The one place that truly changed is the branch that the State Alchemist mainly used. There is a hidden section that showed the complete history of Amestris from a different point of view. The only few know of that location and will only be told if it is necessary to ensure history does not repeat itself. Still, even with the changes, it still felt the same.

"Mom! Is that him? The Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"Not so loud, Selim. Yes, it is him."

A shiver ran down Edward's spine, that voice. That voice sounded so familiar and it irked him to no end. He slowly turned around to see a very familiar boy being held back by Mrs. Bradley. She looked up at the same time Edward looked over and caught his eyes. The older woman shot him an apologetic smile when Selim managed to escape her grasp. She mouthed an apology when her son ran over to him.

Edward froze when Selim latched himself onto him, he clenched his hands onto his side to prevent himself from doing anything to the... child. A three-year-old child that is looking at him like some sort of hero, far more different than the first time he met him some years ago. Taking in a deep breath, Edward grinned at the kid and loosened up a bit. Just a bit. "Hi."

Selim gasped out, his eyes widen in shock before a look of complete admiration overtook his expression again. The fact the kid's eyes are sparkling was sort of helping his case with Edward. His smiled so widely that it made Edward's cheeks hurt just to look at him. His hero just said hi to him. To him! "Coool!"

"Mr. Elric sure is popular."

"What makes you say that?"

"This is like the hundredth persons that hugged Mr. Elric with an excessive amount of sparkles."

"You're overexaggerating."

"People yes. Sparkles...not so much. That is in the thousands."

"...So much sparkle..."

"What is it about this place that has people...sparkling!"

"For your own sanity...do not ask that question."

All of Edward's students, plus their professors, turned around to see a woman dressed in an Amestris Military Uniform standing next to them. She stared up ahead of them to see an exasperated Golden Blonde and his adoring fan. The woman cleared her throat loud enough to catch Edward's attention. "Colonel Elric, are you ready?"

"No...help? Please? Please? Please? Please..."

-.-

"Like I said before... The National Central Library has multiple branches, this is just one of them." Elric said in a low enough voice to not bother anyone else who is using the library for whatever reason but high enough to be heard by his class. He leads them toward the back of the building. "The one we are currently in is primarily open for the entire public."

"Mr. Elric?"

"Yes?"

"If we are studying alchemy, shouldn't we use the one that is open for State Alchemists?"

"What we are going to do today does not involve us going into that Branch."

"What exactly are we going to do?"

"All of you will see soon enough." The Alchemy Teacher grinned at his student with a devious grin.

"My, my... I would have never thought of you becoming a teacher. Considering who your teacher is..."

Elric grumbled under his breath, his cheeks turned pink in embarrassment. "I was bribed..."

"They have a library, don't they?"

"..."

-.-

"What is wrong with his face...?"

"He looks like he just came out of a potion's accident."

"A very terrible accident."

"It is rather rude to talk about someone that is standing right in front of them..." Elric whispered to his whispering students with a stern look. Said students froze in their spots at being caught, well they weren't exactly being quiet either. All of them are in a secluded room that looked like a classroom with a couple of chalkboards. Writing on a chalkboard is an older man in his late fifty's, wearing a lab coat from what Professor Quirrel once stated, and his most notable characteristic is that his face is disfigured beyond recognition. Mr. Elric and Captain Hawkeye did not even flinch at the sight of the old man. If anything, Mr. Elric and said man appeared to be good friends. "For your information... he knows English."

"You just took the fun right out of everything, Edward." Dr. Tim Marcoh grunted under his breath, continuing writing seemingly random things on one of the chalkboards.

"I would say I am sorry, but I am not." Elric snickered at the older man, he passed out several packets of papers to his students. One by one, each student glanced through the packet wondering what exactly was given to them. It appeared to be recipes, information on flowers, plants, recipes, and other random things. Nothing was making sense to any of them. Once the Alchemy Teacher stood in front in front of the room and stared at his students expectantly. "This is Doctor Tim Marcoh... A former State Alchemist, the Crystal Alchemist."

The students sat up in their seats, their attention completely on the Crystal Alchemist. This is will be the fourth person they had met that has or had the title of State Alchemist. The first one will be their teacher, Fullmetal Alchemist, then that half-naked man back at the desert, Strong Arm Alchemist, their teacher's superior, Flame Alchemist and finally the man in front of them, Crystal Alchemist. The only issue they all have is the fact none of them had seen any of them perform alchemy. None what so ever. Perhaps that will change soon.

"Dr. Marcoh will help you figure out those packets I just passed out. Doc...they are all yours..."

"...You are going to leave me here with them, aren't you?"

"I need to run a couple of errands around the city...I'll pay you back somehow."

"...Fine. Go."

"With that said...do not do anything I would not do."

"That is a very short list, Mr. Elric..."

-.-

"We will be leaving Central in two days and take a train to Resembool... Don't worry, Mustang has people patrolling the train stations and the tracks... Yes, I have that... What do you mean Xerxes did that?... Ugh... Stupid owl... Sorry, I'll get you a new one... Winry?... have an apple ready for me?... I'll see you in three days." Edward hung up the phone with a soft sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, a small smile played on his lips. Edward was about to walk off when something caught his attention at the corner of his eye.

Slowly turning around to see what exactly caught his attention. What Edward saw caused him to groan in frustration. Leaning far too close for comfort and grinning frantically, is none other than Roy Mustang. The man is wearing his civilian clothing to oppose his military uniform. At least it was not one of his flashiest set of clothing.

"Hello there, calling your girlfriend?" Roy asked in a sing-song voice.

"Fiancé, thank you very much!" Edward growled out, his good mood just flew out a window and replaced with annoyance at the appearance of the man in front of him.

"Oooooh. Fiancé... Tell me how you managed that?" Roy asked, not at all bothered by Edward's change of behavior.

"What? You need tips on how to get into an official relationship?" Edward asked with a snicker.

Roy sputtered out, his composure gone momentarily. Before he could retort back, the Golden Blonde grabbed him by his collar and dragged him out of the building. "Hey! Watch the suit, it's new!"

"Then you should have worn one of your other ones then." Edward stated he loosened his grasp on Roy just enough for the older man to pull himself away. Once that Roy pulled away from his grasp, the Golden Blond stuffed his hands into his coat's pockets. "Hurry, I left my class with Dr. Marcoh and I don't want him to turn my class against me."

"Hawkeye still with them?"

"Yeah, she'll take the class to a café for late lunch where I am going to meet with them."

"What about me? Where am I in this equation?" Roy asked with an eyebrow raised.

"I...I...ugh... I need you to do me another favor..." Edward managed to say, he shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. It was one thing to ask the Flame Alchemist to accompany him while he ran a couple of errands around Central. The Alchemy Teacher needed a ride and the Flame Alchemist is the only one in the area that owns a vehicle.

"Yes?"

"I...I need your help with... I need your help with my and Winry's wedding." Edward finally said the tension in his shoulders left him at that moment. He avoided making eye contact with Roy and speed forward when he saw said man's car up ahead.

Roy's eyes widen in surprise, he swore his mind momentarily stopped. To think that Edward Elric would ask him for his help for his own wedding. It was one thing to invite him to the wedding, but to be a part of it means a lot to him. There are many more things that could be said about his relationship with the younger man. They have an amicable animosity between them, a mutual dislike and yet have a great deal of respect between them. Many will swear they are father and son with how they interact with each other. No, that title belongs to someone else that is long gone. What he is to the young man is someone he trusts even if it appears quite the opposite. "Do you have a suit? Rings? Please tell me you at least got her an engagement ring?"

"No. No. I talked to Pinako and uhm... Winry has her mother's engagement ring but..."

"But...?" Roy drawled out, he took out a set of keys to open his car.

"Winry misplaced the ring several times and it gets in the way whenever she works on automail." Edward explained, once he and Roy got into the latter's car. "I want to get her earrings."

"Hm... nice. Different but nice. Anything else?"

"...I need to go get something for Ling, the idiot needs something and wants to make sure Lan Fan doesn't find out."

"...Where do we go?" Roy asked while he turned on the car.

"It's this place..." Edward pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Roy.

Roy took the paper and raised an eyebrow at what he was reading. He snorted as he handed the note back. "First stop... The Jewelers of Amestris."

-.-

2 eggs

1 cup vegetable oil

2 cups white sugar

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

4 cups apples-peeled, cored and diced

...

Alpine Rose...

Chamomile...

Cornflower...

Edelweiss...

Fire Lily...

Greenspire...

Silver birch...

Spindle...

White mustard...

Norway spruce...

...

Holsteins

Jerseys

Guernseys

Ayrshires

Brown Swiss

Milking Shorthorns

Dutch Belted

...

Apple Cake Recipe (equals) Mathematical notions

Types of flowers (equals) Formulae of shapes

Types of dairy cows (equals) Chemical formulas

That was just the beginning of the packet Mr. Elric had given to his student to go over with Dr. Marcoh. What appeared to be completely random jargon, there is far more than what it looked like at first glance. Page after page contained hidden information they would have never expected to find in 'original' text. Now it is understood why Mr. Elric had them solve riddles, looking at everything at a different perspective and drive it into their heads that nothing is at it first appears. That was only the easy stuff, the harder part is figuring out how to decode a three-page paper that already appears to be decoded already!

"Time. Pack up, it's time for all of you to leave." The scared doctor/alchemist announced to his temporary class. "Keep working on this, it is due the first day of classes. Follow Captain Hawkeye, she is going to take you to Truth knows what..."

"Where exactly are, we going?" One of the students asked.

"We are too meet with your teacher for lunch. If we hurry, we will get to the designated location before the lunch rush starts." Captain Hawkeye announced to the class, she signaled for everyone to follow her.

"Do you believe Mr. Elric finished with his errands, Captain Hawkeye?" Madam Hooch asked the younger woman.

"I am actually more worried if we have to meet the Colonel in a jail cell along with my superior."

Silence...

"Wha...?"

"Elric and Mustang do not get along, they enjoy to antagonize each other." Marcoh explained while he cleaned the chalkboards with a rag.

-.-

"BASTARD!"

"PIPSQUEAK!"

"How many times do I have to tell you...WE ARE NOW THE SAME HEIGHT!"

"For all I know, you could have put extra padding in your shoes!"

"Gasp-Take that back!"

"Make me!"

Ah... There it is... the yelling and screaming matches between Roy Mustang and Edward Elric. A very common occurrence in Central; Amestris in general. There go that last couple of months of silence...

Tag List Below:

Permanent Tag List: @runestarchild @princesskitomi @fanfictionpromptsblog @souleateralicestein @vixen-uchiha @okami-knight @legendaryneckjudgestudent @weird-homosapien @justafanwarrior @vivilakitty @ravennightingaleandavatempus @if-you-give-a-chat-a-cookie @moonwatcher04 @darkshadowguardian @two-faced-biatch @kris-pines04 @mewwitch @edwardhatori @kuroko26 @tall-and-angry @bloody-no-kissu @crazylittlemunchkin @tbehartoo @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @melicmusicmagic

#Alchemy Series #AU #FMA #HP #HP/FMA #Crossover #Magic vs Science #Fanfic #chapter 18

3 notes · View notes

katymacsupernatural · 6 years ago

Text

A Royal Crush Part 10

Jensen Ackles x Reader

1700 Words

Story Summary: Jensen and Y/N meet at a masquerade ball. Immediately sparks fly, but Jensen isn’t revealing the truth about him. The truth that he comes from royalty. What happens when Y/N finds out?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

After Jensen left to relax in his own room, you sank down on the plush bed, still trying to calm your nerves. Women walked the gardens past your windows, their dresses fancier than anything you had seen. They all seemed so elegant and fancy, and you had never felt more out of place.

A huge part of you wanted to book a flight back home as soon as you could. Back home to the normalcy of your coffee shop, and a tiny shared apartment. But you couldn’t do that. You wanted to be by Jensen’s side, even if it meant being completely out of your comfort zone.

Instead of letting yourself wallow in self-pity, you stood up and made your way to the closet, planning on getting items out and ready for the ball tonight.

Your clothes were hanging on plump, ivory silk hangers. All the wrinkles had already been pressed out, looking nicer than they had in a long time. The closet was the size of your room back home, smelling faintly of lavender with a plush bench in the middle for sitting. Three mirrors lined the far wall, giving whoever stayed here ample opportunity to make sure that they looked their best.

Drawers and shelves lined the other wall, your shoes barely making a dent, looking shabby next to the gleaming pain. Even your clothes looked as out of place as you felt, and you could feel your anxiety rising again.

As you leaned against the cool, plastered wall, there was a sharp knock, before this petite woman stuck her head inside. “Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes?” You asked, wondering who she was. She had some of the curliest hair you had ever seen. Not wild, or frizzy, but beautiful curls that were piled high on her head, a vibrant dark orange. Her eyes were wide, a brilliant shade of blue, while freckles dotted her nose. She barely made it to your shoulder, wearing the same dress the rest of the maids had been wearing.

“I’m Margaret. I think Benson told you I would be coming.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry, that’s just..this is all…,”

“A little overwhelming?” She finished for you. “I understand. I came from a tiny little fishing village, to work in the palace at the age of 16. My first year I felt completely overwhelmed, and wanted to quit at least once a day.”

“And why didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “The pay is nice. And for the most part, everyone is nice to me. Or they don’t notice me. And I get to work with some of the prettiest gowns in the world. Speaking of which, let’s get you ready for the ball tonight.”

“I brought a dress,” you started to say, but she shook her head, guiding you out of the closet and into the bathroom. It had to be one of the fanciest bathrooms you had ever stepped into. The floor was gleaming white marble, so shiny in spots you could almost see your reflection. A large mirror ran one wall, with an antique, dainty vanity perched in front. A walk-in shower was on the other side, with three different shower heads, the walls matching the floor. A claw foot bathtub, probably as old as this whole palace was perched on a pedestal, right in front of the window looking down at a large pond.

“The Queen wanted to make sure you fit in during this ball, so she had one sent in from the finest designer in our country. Along with shoes, jewelry, and makeup. I will be helping with all that,” Margaret assured you. “So all you have to decide is bath or shower?”

You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken a bath. It was such a luxury of time, and you usually were in and out of the shower in a blink. “How much time do we have?”

Margaret smiled at you, and you were grateful such a sweet person had been sent up to help you out. “We have more than enough time for you to relax in a bath.”

Almost an hour later you were wrapped in a silky bathrobe. People had been bustling in and out of your room for the past ten minutes, bring in shoe boxes, clothing bags, makeup, and jewelry boxes. You had looked over to Margaret in exasperation, and she sent a kind smile your way. “Her Grace might have also bought some items for the rest of your stay. She is so excited that her son has brought a girlfriend home.”

“I’m not really his…,” you started to argue, but you thought better of it. After all, you had just traveled thousands of miles to meet his family.

Margaret was busy styling your hair, gently but with more skill than you had expected for someone so young. She wielded the curling iron easily, turning your hair into beautiful trends, piling some high on your head. Your makeup had already been applied. Not enough to make you look like a clown, but she had given you smokey eyes, highlighted your cheekbones, and covered your lips with the creamiest lipstick.

“The two of you make such a beautiful couple,” Margaret continued to talk as she worked on your hair. “He’s so dreamy. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I had such a crush on him. He visited our little village. Just once, with the King and Queen, and he shook my hand.”

You could see the faraway look in her eyes, the blush slightly covering her cheeks. “He is handsome. When I first saw him, he was wearing a tux, and a mask, and I couldn’t look away.”

“You love him, don’t you?” She asked, making your heart stop. You hadn’t even thought about the L word yet. It was too soon, and there was so much…

“I like him,” you admitted. “Even with everything that comes with him, I do care for him more than I thought I would.”

“Well, let’s get you into your new dress so you can dazzle him,” she said, standing back to admire her work. Your hair looked shiny and soft, elegantly piled on top of your head. Standing up, you followed her into the closet, which was now full of items. Flats and heels, brands that you never would have been able to afford were placed next to your Keds. Dressed, slacks and blouses hung next to your jeans and shirts, the price tags still on them. Glancing down at one, your eyes grew wide.

“I can’t except them! Look at these prices!” You exclaimed, immediately dropping the sleeve. “These are more than my rent!”

“You will. The Queen gave them to you. To not wear them would be to insult her Highness,” Margaret argued. “She is just trying to make you feel at home.”

The clothes were gorgeous, and you couldn’t wait to try them on. But still…”I think I’d feel more at home in my jeans and t-shirts,” you muttered.

It was then you noticed the dress hanging up behind the bench. It was dark green silk, just a little darker than Jensen’s eyes. The skirt was full, no doubt with a petticoat or two underneath. “Go on, put it on,” Margaret coaxed.

It felt a little uncomfortable, her standing there while you were expected to slip your robe off and put on the dress. “Oh, I forgot!” She exclaimed. She raced over to the drawers, opening the top one and pulling a couple of items out. “New panties, garters, thigh highs. Oh, and a strapless bra, which is a must for this dress. I’ll leave you to it then.”

She quietly shut the closet door behind her, leaving you to get dressed. The items she had placed out were exactly your size, fitting better than anything you had purchased before. They were lacy and black, and you felt scandalous wearing them, standing in front of the mirror. Wondering if Jensen would like them, wondering if you would ever be brave enough to stand in front of him like this.

Trying to ignore the butterflies flying about in your belly, or the warmth pooling deep in your core at the thought, you unzipped the dress, stepping into it. “Can you help?” You called out, and Margaret stepped back inside, easily zipping you up.

The bodice fit snugly, showing off your cleavage. The sleeves were off the shoulder, scalloped and beautiful. You felt like a princess, which was fitting since your date was a prince. “You look beautiful,” Margaret whispered, before taking a pair of heels from the shelves. “These will go perfect.”

You let her place them next to you, wanting to put them on last. Opening another drawer, she held out a large, velvet box. “These are from the Royal collection.”

Carefully, you opened it, a little gasp escaping your lips as you looked down at the opulence in front of you. Earrings, a necklace, ring and bracelet were sitting on black velvet. Full of diamonds, with the largest emeralds you had ever seen. “I can’t...they’re too much!” You exclaimed, moving to hand them back, but Margaret shook her head.

“You must. They were picked out, just for you.” Taking the box, she settled it down next to you. Handing up the earrings, she waited while you put them on before the bracelet was next. Finally, it was the necklace, and you leaned down so she could clasp it around your neck. It was cold and heavy, and you barely brushed your hand across the emerald before a large knock echoed through the closet.

“I think your escort is here,” she smiled, smoothing out your dress before standing back to let you through.

Hope you enjoyed this update!! Sorry it took so long. Please feel free to reblog/comment to show this story some love!!!

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @bebravekeeponfighting @brindz30 @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @krys198478 @librarygeekery @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

A Royal Crush Tags: @newtospnfandom @linki-locks11 @imascio08 @joseyrw @randomstuff-idontwannatalkboutit @destiel-equals-life @deansgirl215 @mysterious-398 @iamabeautifulperson18 @karouwinchester @meganywinchester @crazysocklovingfangirl @xristina-gkika @ronnie248-blog @missbosstown @topthis808 @closetspngirl @mirandaaustin93

Forever Tags: @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @maui137 @mogaruke @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

#a royal crush #jensen ackles x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes #supernatural au #royal au #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x y/n

120 notes · View notes