#i think ruby can say swears in this au. as a treat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slashmagpie · 2 years ago

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I started writing a 3L fantasy AU forever ago and I think the AU is very cool but it's also A Lot and I have no idea if I'll ever get around to finishing it so uhh here. Have part of the first chapter. As a treat.

(Quick TW for violence, minor character death, description of a corpse)

Dogwarts’ Gate is an ancient, ornate thing, gilded gold and stone and rubies. The walls around it have been rebuilt and replaced, often mis-matched where two sections were refurbished at different points in time, but the gate stands tall and proud despite the progression of time. The familiar glow of redstone sigils emanates from its frame, and track a constellation around the walls of the city. In the courtyard it opens into sits the King’s carriage, roof removed and King sitting in plain view, surrounded by guards as the populace approach him with offerings and gifts and commentary.

“We don’t have to get in line, do we?” Martyn asks, eyeing the long line of civilians waiting for their moment with the King.

“Of course not,” Ren says. “I’m the Prince, I’m not waiting in line.”

“We’ll cut round,” Etho says.

The Red King, Martyn has always thought, is a little uncanny. Ren has always been lively and familiar and dependable, but Martyn can count on one hand the amount of times he’s spoken with his father, and those occasions had never been particularly prolonged. He wears a red fur-lined cloak and golden crown, a dark veil spilling out from it and hiding his face. Martyn has never seen him without it—though one time he had seen the King without his gloves, and caught a glimpse of skin so pale it was basically grey. The man is probably desperately lacking in vitamin D, but Martyn isn’t his doctor, and he doesn’t imagine the comment would go over well if he said it to the king’s face, so he keeps it to himself.

It is strange, though, to see a man most known amongst the royal guard for locking himself in his room and refusing to let his throne room be properly lit sitting in plain view, shrouded in sunlight for everyone to see.

As Etho leads them around the courtyard, there’s a sudden loud crack, and the crowd goes silent as the gate slowly creaks inwards. Martyn pulls his sword, and hears the other guards doing the same as he moves to stand in front of Ren, ready for—

Ready for what?

There’s nothing beyond the walls of Dogwarts but forests and ruins and hordes of the undead. And, now, apparently, the Crastle, but surely they wouldn’t be here this soon—

The gate swings open to reveal a man.

He’s tall and broad, with short hair and skin that would probably be called tan if it weren’t an odd shade of ashen grey. He’s wearing a high-collared cloak that splits into fluttering shreds as it descends and wide-bottomed trousers. Out of his hair twist branches like antlers, the wood clearly old and dead and beginning to rot, hanging with shreds of moss and lichen. A nasty-looking scar splits his handsome face in two. There’s an air about him, something powerful and shimmery and familiar, and Martyn kicks himself for forgetting that the fey exist beyond Dogwarts’ walls as well.

And this fey in particular is familiar in a way that makes Martyn’s breath catch, and his grip on his sword tighten, and his lips form the shape of a name he hasn’t spoken aloud in years.

The square is still for a long, long moment. In the distance, above the steps, Martyn can still hear the distant sounds of the festival, the celebration of people who have not yet realised that the party has been thoroughly interrupted. The guards stand ready and tensed, prepared to leap into battle to defend their king—and then their king stands, making eye contact with the fey lord stood before him.

“Why have you come here?” the Red King demands, voice rough and harsh with just a hint of an accent Martyn has never been able to place.

“Many years ago, you stole something from me,” the fey replies, and Martyn could swear there’s a trace of a pout in his voice. “You’ve had your fun, now; I would like it back.”

The Red King sets his jaw, steadies his stance, and growls, “No."

Scar’s relaxed posture tenses. “Are you sure? I think both of us will sleep better tonight if you returned to me what is rightfully mine. Let’s talk about it—surely we can come to an agreement. Make a deal.”

“I will be making no deals with you, foul creature. Begone,” the Red King spits.

Scar sighs. “I was afraid you would say that. Well, my friend, that right there is a declaration of war. I hope you do not come to regret it.”

The fey lord winks, raises his hand into the air, and clicks his fingers.

The world holds its breath.

And then the world explodes.

-----

There is smoke everywhere, heat and ash and Martyn chokes on it, blinks on it, cannot see or breathe or hear beyond the ringing in his ears and the distant, muffled sound of screams. His body feels heavy. His head pounds. For an endless moment, he doesn’t know where he is.

There’s a hand on his arm. He turns his head, blinking, and sees BigB, mouth moving, saying something that Martyn can’t hear, desperation writ across his face. Martyn reaches up towards his ear, and pulls his hand away to find blood streaked across his fingers. He feels sick.

“—tyn! Martyn, come on, man!”

Martyn blinks. “Sorry,” he chokes out.

The ringing begins to die down, still present, but now he can hear the calamity over it. There are footsteps and the familiar swish of swords and screaming, oh gods, so much screaming, pain and misery on a scale he’s only heard once before.

“My father,” Ren gasps from somewhere behind him, and Martyn jolts as he remembers that he has a job to do and he has not been doing it. He reaches for his sword but it’s gone, dropped somewhere in the chaos, and he flounders as Ren pushes forward past him towards the centre of the carnage. “I need to go to—”

“No!” Martyn cries, grabbing Ren’s arm and stopping him in his tracks. “No, My Liege, we need to get you out of here, get you somewhere safe—”

“Martyn!” Ren cries, voice cracking, and Martyn cuts off, staring at his prince’s face. Ren’s eyes are wide and scared and red, and Martyn can feel him shaking under his grip. “Martyn, that’s my father,” he says. “I need to go to him, I need to be at his side. I need to see if he’s okay. You’re either with me or against me, Martyn, but you cannot stop me. I will not go with you.” He yanks his arm away with a force Martyn is not expecting, and turns to race off into the smoke and chaos. Martyn curses under his breath and takes off after him, BigB hot on his heels.

The closer they get to the king’s carriage, the worse things become. The cobblestone floor of the square is cracked and broken and charred, stained with blood and gore and viscera from bodies Martyn tries his best not to look at more than he has to, stepping over severed hands and shattered skulls. BigB reaches out to grab his hand and Martyn does not protest, simply clings back, trying to keep his breathing steady and his breakfast in his stomach.

They reach the king’s carriage, though there’s not enough left of it to call it a carriage. The smoke is beginning to thin, and it’s easier than it was to take in the damages: splintered wood and broken wheels and red seat cushioning torn to shreds. There are so many bodies, here, now, still, unmoving, and Martyn tries not to look at the faces of the men he’d once known, the men who he had trained with and fought with and laughed with, the men who had scolded him for running in the palace hallways and thumped him on the back and told him to get his head on straight. He blinks, and his eyes sting, and it’s not just the smoke that’s making them water.

Ren is clambering over the wreckage of the carriage to the body in the centre. The Red King’s veil has burned away, and Martyn should be able to see the face he’d never managed to glimpse before, except the king does not have much of a face left. His skin is charred black, his eyes have melted in their sockets, his hair has crumbled to ash. His crown has rolled away, lost somewhere in the debris, his cloak stained with blood and burns.

The Red King is dead. Ren gathers his father’s corpse in his arms and wails.

“Father,” he chokes, shoulders shuddering with sobs and cheeks wet with tears. “Father, father, no, please…” He rocks, sobbing, and Martyn wants to go to him, to say something, to help, but he can’t move. His ears are ringing again. In an act of tremendous effort, he closes his eyes, stares at the blackness of his eyelids, and tries to just breathe.

In the distance, he can hear the echo of a familiar laugh.

“Martyn,” BigB says, pulling on his arm. “Martyn, look. Martyn, look!”

Martyn tears his eyes open and looks up to see the city’s gate, broken and splintered and torn away, a gaping hole to the outside world that threatens everything Dogwarts stands for. His heart drops, and he’s about to turn and grab Ren, corpse be damned, and drag him back to the safety of the castle—

But BigB isn’t pointing at that.

No, BigB is pointing at a figure standing where the gate had been moments prior, shrouded in smoke. He’s facing slightly away from them, but Martyn’s breath still catches at the turn of his nose, the familiar curve of his jaw, the messy mop of blonde hair he’d never quite managed to tame. His shoulders shake with laughter, uncontrollable giggles, and Martyn realises that the sound he’d heard was more than a memory echoing in the ringing of the explosion.

His old friend doesn’t look quite like he remembers: there are red and gold feathers growing from his face, across his eyes like a carnival mask, and even more jutting from his bare arms beneath the floaty poncho he wears. His fingers are twisted and clawed, and there’s a strangeness to his gait as he spins slowly around, marvelling in the chaos he’s caused.

Martyn swallows back bile and blood and ash, wets his lips, and calls out, “Grian?”

Grian freezes, eyes landing on the two of them, and the mirth fades from his face, replaced by unmistakable dismay. Martyn opens his mouth, tries to say something, anything, but the words all die on his tongue.

What could he possibly say?

He doesn’t get a chance to figure it out as Grian reaches into his pocket with red-stained hands and pulls out a small pouch, throwing it down on the ground and releasing a cloud of sand into the air. Martyn coughs, covering his eyes as the particles spray out towards them, and by the time the cloud has cleared enough to see again, Grian is long gone, and any chance of getting answers is gone with him.

#magpie feather quill #3rd life #fanfiction #hopefully i've fixed the issue where it's unreadable to dark mode users?#i think i know what's causing it #it means a little more work for me but eh #anyway i started working on this in like. april.#and it's very low on my priority list of Things To Write so it may never actually get finished #but it's a cool au i like it a lot it has some neat worldbuilding #and i like this scene so i'm sharing it

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howlingday · 3 years ago

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jaune's from a family of raiders

well not quite he's from a culture that puts a lot of stock in capturing and ransoming off their friends and neighbors from other tribes. think of it like a combat sport only some times you're also stealing cattle and horses.

he's a prince of the high king

well again it's more complicated the kingdoms are like city states they don't exactly legislate or collect taxes all the way out into the wilds. but they do send huntsmen to protect the area and then tax the huntsmen.

jaune's dad just happened to be a huntsman who didn't pay taxes because the area his family had lived in for generations also happened to be outside the control of vale. and lots of people wanna live near the huntsmen who can keep them safe. so he has a position of respect among all the tribes. and jaune is his son

he's also required to have a harem

this one is interesting because it's one of those cultural things that seems weird from the outside but makes more sense when you look at it. men are hard to keep alive without a hospital. even with aura. women are part of a protected group like children and so take less risks in life. leading to there being a ton more women than men. and since technology isn't quite to the level of the kingdoms proper,

well more hands to help maintain a house isn't bad right?

but most of all jaune is a man who only wants to do right by his family, whether that be those from the past, or the woman, or women, that he loves.

and this part needs no further clarification

tldr: au where jaune's part of a tribal community and brings his lover or lovers home to meet the family. how does that go for everyone?

P.S: also sorry for the flowery ask, i felt inspired by something

Ooh, do tell the inspiration!

"Unhand me, you brute!" Jaune sighed as the girl in white screeched and squirmed behind him. "Do you know who I am?! When my family hears of this, they will hang you for this! Do you hear me?"

Jaune kept his focus on the road ahead as he gripped the reigns of Valorie, his mare, glancing left and right occasionally to avoid an ambush. His family might have a hold on the territory, but with his father growing in age, so, too, did that grip loosen. A rival tribe or rogue patrol from the kingdoms would easily snatch up an easy target like the lone swordsman and his latest bride.

"Could you at least tell me where we're going?"

"Home." Jaune answered, not looking back.

"Oh, yes, of course! How could I not know? And where exactly is your home?"

"Just up ahead."

"Uh huh, I see, and what are you going to do once you're home?"

Jaune let out a long sigh as he stretched his shoulders a bit. "Well, drop you off with the others, then have you judged, if there's enough time."

"Judged?" Weiss raised an eyebrow. "Judged for what?"

"Wife material." Weiss blushed and her jaw dropped. "Can you cook; can you clean; are you good with children; can you have children; do you have any family illnesses?" He shrugged. "Routine wedding discussions."

"W-Wedding?!" Ah, and just like that, the shrieking began anew. "You savage! You brute! I refuse to be treated like some stock taken to auction, about to be sold to some pervert noble!"

"You're not being sold to a noble." Jaune smiled and looked back. "Just me." Before she could begin again, Jaune let out a sigh of relief. "Finally, we're home."

It may have only been about a week since Jaune had left, but it felt like forever since his departure from the lands of Arcadia. The valleys and hills were as green and lush as ever, and the summer winds carried the calming scent of flowers across it all. He passed the growing crops, where he saw his sisters, their wives, and some of his own watering and tending to them. They waved to him, and he returned one to them.

"Welcome home, Miss Weiss." The girl marveled at the beauty. She had only heard of such places from her studies in the manor, but to see it in person was something else. Before she could admire it more, however, the mare stopped, jostling her from her focus.

Jaune slid down, then pulled Weiss down as well, carrying her bridal style. He then set her onto her own feet and untied the binds on her wrists and ankles. She lifted her leg, then kicked his shin. He yelped in pain.

"That was for the kidnapping!" She shouted.

"Yeesh! Just a kick?" Weiss turned to see a lilac-eyed blonde woman in fieldwork garments smiling at her. "When he dropped me off, they had to get his old man to get me off of him." She looked past Weiss to Jaune. "You going soft on me, or just your taste in women?"

"And who are you?" Weiss spat. "One of his whores?"

Yang laughed and placed a sweaty, mud-encrusted paw on her delicate shoulder. It felt warm at first, then hot as her grip became tight, and her eyes red. "I dare you to say that again."

"Yang, stop it!" Weiss and Yang looked to the younger girl running from inside the house. She was a brunette with red tips and silver eyes, and she wore a red apron that she had to roll up to her shins. She futilely tugged on the blonde woman's arm. "Jaune told you not to hurt anyone else!"

She let go, making the girl yelp as she was lifted with her arm. "Aw, c'mon, Rubes, we were just playing!" She then looked to Weiss, her eyes lilac once more. "Ain't that right, Ice Queen?"

"Ice Queen?!" Weiss balked.

"Yang, cut it out, please." Jaune sighed.

"Fine, fine!" Yang turned around, lowering her arm. The smaller girl let go as she walked away. "Besides, the crops won't grow themselves. I'll go be a good workhorse." She stopped to look back and winked. "I expect my carrot tonight, though, sweetheart~."

"Play nice and we'll see." Jaune responded with a smile. With that, Yang chuckled and resumed walking, swaying her hips for a few more yards before jogging back to the field. He looked to the younger girl and smiled. "And how have you been, Ruby?"

She sighed. "Do you mean after you left, or after you came back?"

"Both."

"After you left, I missed you. It was your mom's birthday, but I couldn't afford a present, so I took on her chores for the week, but I didn't expect her chores included chimney cleaning, so now I have soot so far up my nose, I'm still sneezing black. Then I had to tend to the chickens, but they're so vicious, and I swear they can smell weakness, because the rooster jumped me at least six times. Then Zwei needed a bath, but he somehow tricked me into the tub, so I smell like wet dog a little bit. And then I had to bake her cake all on my own, but there were eggshells in it and it came out both burnt and raw somehow, and I just- Argh!" Ruby collapsed into Jaune's torso. "I really missed you."

Jaune held her and kissed the crown of her head. "I missed you, too, Ruby." He stepped back and held a hand outward towards Weiss. "Ruby Rose-Arc, this is Weiss Schnee. She's going to be my newest bride." He looked to Weiss. "Weiss Schnee, this is Ruby Rose-Arc, my second wife. She and Yang will help prepare you for judging."

"It's so nice to meet you!" Ruby swooped in, snatching the other woman's hands in hers. Her smile was wide and bright. "It'll be nice to have another short girl in our home!"

"No!" Weiss yanked her hands away. "I refuse! When my father hears of this, he'll-"

"Oh, that reminds me!" Jaune walked to Valorie and reached into her saddlebag. Weiss grumbled as she watched him pull out a small, burlap sack. "Here, Ruby. This was part of the dowry, but I want you to have it."

Ruby opened the sack and squealed in delight. "Dust crystals!" She hugged the new woman tightly. "You are the bestest bestie a bestie could ever have!"

"What the-?! Where did you get those?!" Weiss shrieked.

"From your father." Ruby ran inside with her new sack. "In exchange for marrying you, we'll allow him to trade through our lands."

"My father would never-!" Jaune gave her a curious look. "I mean, not to one of his own-!" Her voice grew softer. "I thought..."

"Listen," Jaune placed a hand on her shoulder, "if you don't want to marry me, I understand. Most of the others didn't want to, either. But if you give it a few days, you might learn to love it here. You won't go hungry, you'll be well protected, and I promise you'll be loved every day."

"I just... I didn't think I would be treated like this. By my own family."

"I know." Jaune removed his hand. "Would it be okay if I hugged you?"

"I-"

"JAUNEY!" The two saw a young woman bull rush towards Jaune, carrying a dead boar high above her head. Jaune extended his arms out and caught her, spinning in place at least a dozen times. Blood sprayed around, including onto Weiss and the other two as they embraced. When they stopped, Jaune set her down, giving her a butterfly kiss with his nose to hers. "You're home!"

Jaune chuckled. "Yup!" He peered around her and looked to Weiss. "And I brought back someone new."

Nora turned around and gasped as she looked at Weiss. "Oh! My! Dust! You are so small!" She looked to Jaune and waggled her brow. "Be careful you don't break her!" She then laughed. "I'd shake your hand, but, uh, I'm a little busy. I'm Nora Valkyrie-Arc, Jaune's fourth wife."

"Weiss Schnee." Blood dripped from her hair. "And I was just about to leave."

"Aw! Already?! We were gonna make pancakes tomorrow!"

"I was going to make pancakes, Nora." Weiss turned to the male voice and saw a slim man in the doorway, wearing both an apron and a blank expression. "Just like I do every morning for you."

"Renny!" Nora cheered before tossing the trophy to him. "This is my first husband, Lie-Valkyrie Ren!"

Despite his slim figure, the man held the heavy beast with seemingly no trouble. "A pleasure to meet you." He nodded, before turning to head inside.

"Is he also your husband?" Weiss asked. Jaune chuckled nervously. This was going to be a long day, but they both already knew that.

#rwby #weiss schnee #jaune arc #yang xiao long #ruby rose #nora valkyrie #lie ren #my answer

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unalivejournal · 3 years ago

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u mentioned only reading kripke era fic do you have a reclist 👀👀👀and if not could you link some of ur faves cuz the stuff that gets circulated the most right now is all like late late seasons fic and kripke era is my favorite too but im having trouble finding that many fics for it or even seasons 6-10 era which im fine with also. its just that like. the last five seasons were so bad that it makes fic generally worse too because people have to jump off of just Thee stupidest plot choices no matter how good their prose skills might be. but anyway yea if u have recs that would be awesome :)

hi anon i was thinking abt making a reclist and u just gave me the perfect excuse thank u

jess adamilligan’s kripke era fic recs

from making this ive learned that i never bookmark ANYTHING. sorry all of these r like….. 10k and under. i DO read longer fic but i don’t have any kripke era longfics bookmarked & tbh i prefer short oneshots

season one gen

disclaimer because it’s unfortunately needed: NONE of these are w*ncest! they’re all completely tagged as gen and i did not read them with the intent of consuming ship content.

Coaster Park by fogsrollingin, 10.4k, G, gen

Coaster Park had been experiencing an unusually high frequency of technical difficulties. Dean wouldn't have pulled a shift treating nauseated, heat-stroked, or dehydrated park-goers for that if he could've helped it, but when 'technical difficulties' were accompanied by rumors of things moving and stopping on their own in front of the operators' eyes, Dean had to throw down.

No historical tragedies or disasters in the area, ectoplasm, or EMF. Dean's only lead was a battered-looking kid that'd been coming to the park every day since it'd all started.

really interesting au fic! slightly ‘it’s a terrible life’. dean winchester is a hunter/EMT and sam wesson is a college kid destined to die on a roller coaster ride.

two basic motivating forces by sahwen, 7.8k, T, gen

He can’t cry, it’s not allowed; even as a child he was hushed into silence, whether his tears were from a long car ride or a late night or a raging fever. It’s never been an option, it’s never been an available outlet, and it’s not about to start being one just because he’s having an emotional breakdown on the bathroom floor.

Sam isn't only afraid of clowns.

BIG emetophobia tw (both for graphic depictions of nausea/vomiting and for the fact that this fic is about sam suffering from emetophobia) for this one but it’s my favorite sickfic. portrays anxiety over getting sick really well and is a fascinating examination of the different ways that sam’s fear of loss of control can manifest itself. also has lovely brothers content <3

Let’s Start at the Very Beginning (Remix of Just as Easy as 123) by nwspaprtaxis, 4k, T, gen

Dean’s functionally illiterate and Sam’s determined to remedy it...

PLEASE READ THIS ONE god it’s so sweet. dean never learned how to read properly due to his nomadic childhood and sam teaches him how.

dean/cas

Broadway Musical by Griftings, 9k, M, m/m

This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.

The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.

Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

somewhat of a fandom classic and the humor holds up wonderfully. a very silly fic completed with commentary from angel radio throughout the entire thing.

Sappiest Season by dollsome, 2.7k, G, m/m

In which Dean and Cas have to stop an evil Christmas tree (like you do), and it requires a little fake couple action.

hilarious little s5ish fic. one of the first i read when getting back into spn. i don’t want to spoil anything but this is my favorite pick me up and i still giggle randomly whenever i think about it

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by tuesday

Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this.

another fandom classic. ik this one is recced a lot but how could i NOT include it. dean and cas get married (mostly by accident) and they’re huge cunts about it

the one thing in the galaxy god didn't have his eyes on by prufrock, 2.4k, T, gen + m/m

“Wait,” Dean says. “Let me get this right. You can fly, right—you can teleport—but you can’t drive a car?”

or, after the events of S5E03 "Free to Be You and Me," Dean teaches Cas to drive. Cas finds it stressful

im always a sucker for a good ftbyam fic. also i can’t drive so. resonation

So Says The Sword by komodobits, 85k, E, m/m

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’

Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

NO introduction neede. i think everyone on spntumblr has read this already but still. if you haven’t then i am demanding that you read it NOW. tbh i’m just adding this one so that i have at least one long fic here 😭

the weight by @myaimistrue, 3.5k, T, gen + m/m

“Do you…” Bobby sighs. “Listen, Dean, do you have something you wanna tell me?”

It’s the conversational equivalent of being punched in the stomach.

Or, Dean works through some things with Bobby's help.

WHEN I SAW THE USERNAME I GASPED I HAD NO IDEA THIS WAS U. anyway i Love coming out fics idk why i just do. the world is ending and dean comes out to bobby

canticles by 2street2car, 10.3k, T, m/m

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”

feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

another ftbyam fic that skepticalfrog (i believe?) recommended a while back. made me feel at least 28 new emotions

Epilogue by JayneL, 28k, E, m/m

Bobby is here, swearing somewhere above and behind him; and Dean is here, talking about 2014 like it's a foreign country; and Sam is here, and is not Lucifer. Which means-- Bobby is here, swearing somewhere above and behind him; and Dean is here, talking about 2014 like it's a foreign country; and Sam is here, and is not Lucifer. Which means--

Cas is no longer when he was. Lucifer sent him back.

Coda to 'The End'.

2014 cas gets sent back to 2009, feelings ensue etc. i don’t remember all the details of this one bc it’s been a while but it’s really good

bonus

currently reading

Fragile As We Lie by perilously, 11k, E, f/f

Dragging Bela Talbot out of perdition isn't so much a decision as it is a frantic choice based on gut instinct. Her soul is bright, if fractured, and Anna yearns to do good again after the perversion of free will that immediately preceded her death.

Bela's no ordinary human, though; she's prickly and damaged and beautiful, and Anna doesn't want to leave her side. So maybe they can figure out how to navigate post-resurrection, post-Apocalypse-that-wasn't Earth together.

#sorry i took a few days to answer this haha #asks #anon #fic recs

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justasparkwritings · 2 years ago

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The Littlest Dumpling {10}

Previous: The Littlest Dumpling {9}

Pairing: Min Yoongi x OFC

Genre: Non Idol AU / Author AU

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing! Talking About Sex! Kissing! Making Out!

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: Oo baby gotta love a short ending.

Master List

Tag List: @4ksj, @jagiya, @ot7nem, @knjkitten, @teamtardis-notdead, @canarystwin

Tag List

“I’m sorry,” Lil King Yoongi said, holding Hee-Young’s hand.

“For what?”

“Friends don’t treat each other the way I treated you. I’m sorry.”

“Are you the King right now, or Yoongi?” She asked.

“Yoongi.”

“Well, Yoongi. I accept your apology.”

“Do you forgive me?” Yoongi asked.

“Yes, I do. Do you forgive me?”

“Yes I forgive you.” He answered. “You are the greatest witch in my kingdom.”

“That is true, but I fall second to your power.”

“I am royal, my powers are stronger, but take longer to harness.”

She turned to him, staring into his eyes. “Will you teach me?”

“Teach you?”

“To fight like you.” Hee-Young said.

“You don’t want to fight like me,” Lil King Yoongi warned, dropping her hand and stepping away.

“Why not?” She wondered. What could be more important than learning to fight like he did? He was the greatest wizard and sorcerer in the Kingdom, in all the land. He was the king for a reason.

Yoongi turned to leave but paused at the door out of Hee-Young’s little shack. “The power will destroy you.”

Lil King Yoongi Vol. 4

February

“Have you heard from him?” Seokjin asks, sitting across from you at The Ruby Poppy. Gone is sitting in your booth, snuggled into Yoongi. For now, and you guess maybe the foreseeable future. You haven’t sat in that booth, cozied up to him �� in months. Tonight, it’s staring at you, empty, wanting and wondering when its rightful owners, its lovers, will be returning. Maybe it isn’t wondering anymore, enough time has passed. Maybe now it just knows that you won’t be coming back to it for a while longer. Your booth, your old booth, could be a new couples place to sit and get cozy over winter cocktails and hushed voices. It could be a place for someone else to fall in love.

“Since yesterday?” You ask Jin. “Yes.”

“How is he?” He asks.

“He’s, better.”

“But not whole.”

“I don’t know what whole looks like for Yoongi, and I’m not sure he does either.”

“Was it a mistake?” Jin asks.

“No,” You shake your head. “Going back to Korea was the right choice, spending some time with his extended family, immersing himself in the language again.... it’s what he needed and wanted.”

“The pages he’s sending me are really good, better than I was expecting. Book two might be stronger than book one.”

“Please don’t tell him that,” You request.

Jin stares at you with an obvious expression. “I wouldn’t dare. When is he coming home?”

“Valentine’s Day. At least that’s what he’s planning. If he changes his mind, I don’t really know what I’ll do.”

“You know you can talk to me, about not work things,” Jin says.

“Isn’t that why we’re here? To discuss how my relationship feels like it’s in the toilet because my boyfriend had a slight breakdown over my ex showing up and took himself to Korea for a writing retreat that’s going to have last nearly two months?” You lament.

“I – yes?”

“That I feel like it’s my fault and that I can’t edit Taehyung’s book, which is so good and it’s only the first three chapters. That I’m the one that broke us, because I didn’t see he was barely holding on?”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“No, but this is the second time he’s tried to come back, and the first wasn’t successful so… maybe it is.” You comment, knowing full well it isn’t that Yoongi doesn’t want to be with you, it isn’t about you at all.

“You didn’t cause this,” Jin reminds you. “His brain chemistry did. Yoongi was already falling apart before he saw Taehyung in your office and knew he wanted you to edit his book.”

“Perhaps…”

“Not perhaps, it’s the truth. You know it is.”

“He hasn’t come back though, what if he doesn’t know how to break up with me?”

“You really think Yoongi wouldn’t know how to break up with you?”

“I’d hope he wouldn’t.”

“He doesn’t want to break up, he cares about you.”

You shrug, dismissing the conversation. “I still I don’t know what to do about Tae.”

“You should probably stop calling him Tae, first of all,” Jin comments.

“Fuck off.”

“Tell Taehyung that I’ll edit his book,” Jin says, stilling with his glass in his hands, carefully watching your reaction.

“What?” You ask.

“I’ll edit Taehyung’s book.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and it’s a good career move for me. And, if you’re honest with yourself, do you really want Taehyung’s ego to come between you and Yoongi?” Jin says.

“No, I don’t. But you don’t know him.” You counter.

“No, but I’ve read Two Affairs. I’m sure he and I will get along fine enough, at least better than Yoongi and me.”

“You can’t let him turn it into women becoming gay because men wronged them, you just can’t,” You warn.

“I wouldn’t dare. Is that what it’s about?” He leans forward, curiosity ignited.

“Let me send you the pages, you can do an edit and I’ll present it to him before introducing you both.”

“Has he signed with us yet?” Seokjin asks.

“Yes, he signed the day he sent me his pages.”

“Let me take this off your plate, Y/N,” Jin says.

“Thank you.”

“As for Yoongi,” Jin pauses, thinking back to what his mother had said on the phone the other day. “He’s coming home.”

“Supposedly.”

“You can’t blame him for that.”

“I don’t, I just wish… there’s a lot of things that I wish we’d done differently in the last six weeks. I don’t know if we can fix it.”

“Do you want to?” He asks.

You’ve been asking yourself the exact same question, to the same answer every single time. “I do.”

“Then you can. Or at least, you can try.”

Yoongi arrives at your doorstep on Valentine’s Day. He’d lied and had actually arrived on February 12th, then spent the 13th and today rewiring his body to be on standard time. It hasn’t really worked, but he’s less jetlagged today than when he first set foot in the states and that is a relief. He’s got a basket with him, full of foods you love, drinks, and a few trinkets he picked up in Seoul every time he thought of you. Which was a lot. Probably too much.

He can’t lie though, he’s shitting bricks. So nervous and unsure about what is left of your relationship, where you stand and if he can fight to win you back. That’s what he wants, you. If you want him…. Shit if you want him, he’ll be the happiest man alive, but if you’re done, he will respect it, and be totally crushed.

Yoongi knocks at your door and waits patiently as he hears your feet shuffle towards him. You open it cautiously, staring at him. It’s been six weeks since you laid eyes on your boyfriend, if that word even applies. He looks… he looks good. Hair growing out into waves of onyx, his cheeks a little fuller from his family’s cooking. He looks healthier than when he left, under the cover of night to Daegu. He’d bundled in his winter best, and drug his very large and somehow very empty suitcase past his front door and into the cab, not really saying goodbye to you or Hoseok or Namjoon. He’d just… gone. Taking a cab instead of bothering anyone, and somehow slept almost the entire flight.

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Hi,” You answer.

“I uh, can I hug you?” he asks.

You step aside and let him in, and once he’s taken his shoes off and hung up his coat, he turns to you. The tears you hadn’t expected to shed start pouring down your face as he pulls you into a tight embrace. He hadn’t realized – he didn’t think you would cry. Though what did he expect? You cried when he told you he was going to Korea for an extended period of time, leaving to focus on him and his health. It was the right move, no doubt about it, and Seokjin is correct, The Littlest Dumpling Book 2 will be stronger than Book 1, but that doesn’t negate how much you’ve missed him. Missed cuddling into him, missed the smell of his hair, missed the sound of his voice when he just wakes up, the gravel low as he asks why you’re staring at him for the millionth time. You’ve missed being with him, in any way, shape or form. Him leaving had put a strain on your relationship, but it hadn’t seemed insurmountable until he decided he was coming home and well, didn’t.

Yoongi was at the airport when he had a major panic attack. While feeling like he was having a heart attack, he left Incheon and went back to his aunt’s house. What was worse? Yoongi not telling you he wasn’t coming, not for two days, why he didn’t get on the plane? Or you driving to the airport, all ready to welcome your boyfriend home… to nothing. Or the fear and stress that he had gone missing or died and no one had a way to tell you? They all sucked, but what hurt most was that he couldn’t, he didn’t, he was so debilitated that he couldn’t text you… that’s what hurt. How in pain he was, and how little you could do to help.

It wasn’t and hasn’t been that you don’t understand the pain and inconvenience of mental illness. God knows the number of meetings and outings you’ve cancelled due to anxiety or those deep depressive episodes that have you feeling like you’re walking through a bowl of cement. But yours doesn’t manifest the way Yoongi’s does, and while you can reach out when you’re hurting, Yoongi hasn’t quite gotten to that point in his toolbox. You two spent hours on the phone, and video calls, just breathing together, staring at each other through the screen, nothing to say, nothing to do but find some sort of intimacy together, apart. But asking for help… hasn’t that always been Yoongi’s weakest character trait?

“I’m sorry,” You comment, pulling away from him and wiping your eyes on the hem of your shirt.

“For?” He asks, voice cracking.

“Crying.”

“Don’t apologize for crying, it’s therapeutic.”

“I knew I missed you, but I didn’t realize how much until I saw you… and you’re real, and you’re here,” You comment, wiping the excess snot your t-shirt had missed.

“Yeah, I made it back,” he shrugs, hands still resting on your hips.

“I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I know. I was, though.”

“I really missed you,” you say again, not fishing for him to say it back, but letting him know the deep, abject hurting you’ve been experiencing.

“I really fucking missed you. I wanted to ask you to come to Daegu, but I didn’t, I didn’t know how.” Yoongi shares.

“I would’ve Yoongi,” you answer.

“I know, knowing you would jump on a plane for me… it was overwhelming.”

You nod. “In a good way?”

“In a, she would travel the world for me just to lay in bed and walk around a city she doesn’t speak the language or has never been to before… my god she cares about me, so much, kind of way,” he explains.

“Does that scare you?” You ask.

“A little,” he says. “I would, if you, you know, had a breakdown and went home for two months, I’d come sit in bed with you. No questions asked.”

“Is that what you discovered?”

“Yes, that I think I’m ready and I want that kind of caring in my life, all the time, every day, from you,” Yoongi says.

“You still want to be my boyfriend?” You ask.

“Did you think I didn’t?” Yoongi’s eyes are sad, but he knows why you’re asking. “I know I’ve been … absent.”

“Yoongi, I’ve barely spoken to you in the last three weeks. I know part of that is how upset I was, but still.” You remind him.

“I’ve been a shitty boyfriend.” He says.

“I’ve been a shitty girlfriend.” You reply.

“How do we make this, work again?”

Your hand moves to caress his cheek. “I don’t know. Can we have dinner and keep talking?”

Yoongi cracks a smile. “You’re starving aren’t you.”

“So, fucking hungry.”

“You know, I know he’s never going to say it, but part of my breakdown was, and is, the fact that The Littlest Dumpling book two is better than book one, and book three is… so much better than either of them.” Yoongi says after finishing his drink, a generous pour of the whiskey he brought.

“I don’t know if that’s true, Yoongi. They all can be good in their own ways.” You say diplomatically.

“Yes, but you haven’t read the latest edit of book two.”

“I like that in each book the rhyme scheme becomes a bit more convoluted and complicated,” you tell him.

“Do you think it makes sense? Or sounds okay when read aloud?” He asks.

“I think so, they bounce more in each book.”

“That’s what I was going for.”

“It’s definitely working,” You compliment.

“Hey – what happened with Taehyung’s book?” He asks, treading lightly into the topic that sent him over the edge. He knows if he doesn’t ask, it’s going to eat away at him, and as the one true hurdle in your relationship, he’d much rather ask and get it out of the way than wait and wait while it festers inside of him.

“Seokjin is editing it.”

“Two people I dislike, working together? Are they waiting for the other two horses of the apocalypse, or?” Yoongi asks.

“You’re an ass,” You tease. “I think they will work well together. They’re in the new, smaller section of Serendipity that deals with adult novels, so I don’t really know. I don’t have jurisdiction over them.”

He sighs, relief he wasn’t expecting to feel cascading over him.

“That makes me, so, happy?”

You stare at him, expression clear and precise. “I wasn’t going to let Taehyung come between us, Yoongi.”

“I know you weren’t, but I was,” he admits.

“He doesn’t mean –

“You don’t have to do that,” Yoongi interrupts.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel better. Say he doesn’t mean anything to you, that it’s just work… He did mean something to you, and it’s unfair of me to minimize that because I’m jealous and insecure,” He explains. He’s done a lot of thinking, a lot of confronting the interactions he had with you before he left, and even after.

“Insecure about what, Yoongi?” You scoot closer to him, hand reaching for his.

“That you loved him first, and he’s, fucking Taehyung Kim.”

“Yoongi, honey, he destroyed whatever love or affection I had for him. He does mean something, but it was more a lesson in growth and protecting myself. If he hadn’t, if he hadn’t broken my heart, I wouldn’t be able to be with you.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“No, I wouldn’t know that what we have, what I feel for you, is so much, better, than what I had with him.”

“Is it?” He asks, disbelieving.

“Yes, you goof. Not just because I know you’re only dating me, but because you and I are more, equal. If that makes sense.”

“There’s more of a natural give and take with us,” Yoongi guesses.

“Yes.”

Yoongi smiles. “I think that’s because you hold more power than I do.”

“I think it’s because you respect me, as a person, in my career… you respect my wants and needs.” You say.

When you look back at your relationship with Taehyung, that’s really what it comes down to: respect. He didn’t respect your relationship, or the honesty you kept with him. He didn’t respect the care you gave to your romance, or how you always supported him. He didn’t respect your job, or your work… Or maybe, in his mind, he did. But how he showed it, and how it made you feel, were incongruous. It was about a misalignment of values, or shared and mutual respect, of boundaries. Taehyung, for all his charm and beauty and stunning prose, was a bit of an asshole.

On the contrary, Yoongi, by virtue of being Yoongi, is only similar to Taehyung in the facts that he too is a beautiful author, and he has at one point in time, been somewhat in love with you. Maybe it was how you two met, in your office to discuss signing him to Serendipity Publishing, or maybe it was because you had come out of your relationship with Taehyung hell bent on finding success… It didn’t matter, because Yoongi isn’t Taehyung, and thus he hasn’t mistreated you or disrespected you in the ways you have been before.

“And what are your wants and needs?” He smirks, hoping how close you’re sitting is an indication that maybe your body wants and needs his.

“Yoongi,” You scold.

“What?”

“You think we’re going to have this emotional evening and conversation and then have –

“Make love, say it correctly,” He teases.

“We’ve never once called it that, Yoongi.” You say.

“I know, but I think we should.” He says earnestly.

You stare at him, fully smitten before leaning in and placing your lips on his.

Seokjin paces back and forth, waiting patiently for Violette to come out of the bathroom dressed and ready to go to dinner. Except in his pacing, he’s rubbing the velvet of the ring box painfully hard, causing the box itself to indent as velvet crumbles beneath his sweaty thumb.

He’s so busy in his current state that he misses Violette coming out of the bathroom, eyes falling on him with a worried stare. That is, until she sees the ring box.

“Seokjin Kim, what the fuck is in your hands?” She asks.

He snaps out of his trance, and stares at her. Her multicolored dress compliments her recently dyed red and copper hair, bringing out the natural highlights in her face.

“You look beautiful,” He mutters, staring at her with a slack jaw.

“I know. But what is in your hands?” She asks again.

“I – fuck.”

“No, tell me,” Violette demands.

“I was debating doing this after dinner, or right now, in our home… but I couldn’t decide, and then you came out and I wasn’t paying attention…. So now we’re here.”

“You were going to do what?” She’s becoming annoyed that he won’t just answer her damn question.

“Propose.”

“Propose?” She repeats, her stomach dropping.

“Yes, I was going to propose to you, Violette, and ask you to marry me,” Seokjin explains with painstaking condescension.

“You’re an ass, I know what a proposal is.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Proposing?”

“Yes.”

“I – do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

Jin rolls his eyes, of course this is the level of obstipation he’d have to endure to propose to his love. He kneels and opens the ring box, showing a gorgeous diamond and jade ring that Violette’s mom helped him pick.

“Violette, I love you. Will you marry me?”

“That’s all you’re going to say?” She snaps, eyes wide in horror.

“What could I say? You’ll tease me mercilessly until the day I die if I say anything more romantic than I love you. This isn’t our first trip around the sun, Violette. I know how you are. You’ll hate me forever if I say something mushy.”

“I’ll hate you into eternity if you don’t.”

“Violette, you are the most difficult, stubborn, challenging woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

“Y/N included.”

“Yes, goes without saying. I love you, no matter how frustrated you make me, or how soft and warm your heart is, you never stop amazing me. I want nothing more than to marry you, and to continue building this life we have together. So, Violette, my love, my darling, will you marry me?”

3 Months Later

Clothes are strewn across Yoongi’s apartment, not wanting to wait to get his hands on you after the launch party of The Littlest Dumpling. You’d outdone yourself, a really beautiful celebration of this new chapter in Yoongi’s career. Catered by his favorite Korean place, mandu was overflowing and paired nicely with other traditional Korean foods broken down into bite sized morsels. He did a reading of the whole book, which had at first felt stupid in a room full of adults, but after a whiskey it wasn’t so crazy that he was reading his book for his friends.

All of it led you back here, to Yoongi’s house, with him beneath you as you celebrated his genius, and he the fact that he hasn’t spent more than his allotted 8 hours in bed at one time.

Yoongi, with his lips still tingling from being pressed to yours, pulls way from your skin. His always placid eyes stare into yours, which often don’t mirror his tranquility. For two highly anxious people, it’s a wonder your gaze ever stills enough to lock with Yoongi’s.

“What?” You ask.

“I’m thinking,” He answers.

“About?”

“What you taste like,” he says.

You blush ferociously, had you eaten something weird? Forgotten to brush your teeth? Could gum lose its potency?

“What do I taste like? Regret and Chanel No. 5?” You laugh.

“Of course not,” he shakes his head, leaning into your fingers that still linger on his cheek.

“Then what?”

“It’s not honey but it’s sweet.” Yoongi knows he is failing to describe you to you, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Burrowing his head in the crook of your neck, he suddenly feels embarrassment as he kissed your skin.

“Yoongi,” you mutter, both to get his attention and to signal the tingling sensations that have begun to creep out from the places his lips are landing.

“What?” He asks, blushing cheeks and uncertain gaze finding yours once more.

“What do I taste like?” You ask again.

“I think it’s love. You taste like love,” he says, the usual droll of his voice full of timbre and gravitas.

“Do you love me?” You question, unsure if tasting like love means being in love, or loving you at all. At this point, after all this time, doesn’t it?

“I do,” he says. “Do you love me?”

When the question is repeated back to you, it sounds so odd, so silly and peculiar. What a dumb thing you had asked, because of course you love him. Haven’t you been loving him this entire time?

“I do,” you answer, pulling his hyper pigmented lips to yours once more.

#justasparkwritings #justasparkmaster #the littlest dumpling #min yoongi #houseofddaeng #purplearmynet #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #kpopccc #OT7 series #BTS series #Min yoongi x reader #Min Yoongi x you #lil king yoongi

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seokmingiggles · 4 years ago

Text

peonies.

Prompt: "Going somewhere?"

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, quarantine!au (if that’s what you’d call it?), non-idol!au (this isn’t a typical tag of mine, but I want to make it clear!).

2.36k words

No warnings.

Being cooped up inside for the protection of others can become a redundant routine. Today, your boyfriend breaks that cycle and goes on an unexpected outing—safely, of course.

Alternatively, Taehyung decides that he wants to remind you of his love with the surprise of little gifts. Not that he needs to, but he wants to.

A/N: Here’s a little something I wrote in the span of a couple of hours tonight to separate my Seventeen teacup drabbles. By ‘quarantine!au,’ I mean this one-shot takes place in our current situation with Covid-19 :/ I truly hope all of you are able to stay safe and healthy. Please wear a mask when you go out! We will fight this pandemic!! ♡

•• The distinct metal clinking of keys jingling by the front door catches your attention.

"Going somewhere?"

Taehyung looks up from his feet after slipping on a pair of brown boots. He's got his keys in one hand, along with a slightly crumpled list of something illegible to you from your spot on the couch. A black medical mask is hung haphazardly to the side off of one of his ears.

He stands up tall, "Just got a couple of errands to run. I'll be right back." Your boyfriend flashes you a smile, rounding his cheeks into rolls of puffy dough.

You hum out, "Okay," and return his small wave as he leaves your shared apartment.

There's a slight crisp to the air outside today. It nips on the tips of Taehyung's cheeks exposed from his mask. The boy considers if he should have put on a scarf, too, overtop his jacket. Overtop his mask? It's too late now, he muses. At least his hands are warm inside his fleece-lined pockets, and his round nose is sheltered from the late-winter air. He clutches the piece of paper tightly in his right hand. Writing lists may be obsolete now in the digital age, but Taehyung can't deny how he likes the feel of pen on paper, even if he can recite each written line from memory; crossing off his to-do lists makes him feel accomplished.

His shoes gently click on the sidewalk. The streets are emptier than he's used to seeing. The light snowfall from a few days ago has already melted. Instead, some dead leaves rustle across the dry ground. Someone is walking on the same sidewalk, heading in Taehyung's direction. She's wearing a similar medical-grade mask with hands stuffed deeply into her pockets too. Her hair blows violently in the head-on wind. She looks up from her footsteps, and Taehyung swears he can see what might be a polite smile beneath her mask. The boy's eyes crinkle slightly at the corners in response, continuing on his way.

His first stop is the used bookstore. The smell of old paper and the slight dryness from the dust make their way through Taehyung's mask, into his nose. He doesn't have anything specific in mind. He does, however, know the types of books you like to read. Shelf after shelf, he scans the spines one by one, in search of a title that stands out to him. Stardust, he ruminates, eyes inspecting the plain royal blue cover. It seems simple enough, and if you don't like it, he may consider reading it.

Taehyung weaves through the maze of piled books laid out on the floor; there are far too many for the small shop to accommodate. The owner of the store is sat behind the desk at the side, likewise surrounded by stacks upon stacks of books. Some are dustier than others; some look newer than others.

"Just this one today?" the bookkeeper ponders, face half-masked.

"Yes, please."

The blue-bound book finds a place in the crook of the boy's elbow, pressed to his chest as he returns on his walk. This time, someone is on a run with their dog, jogging on the opposite side of the street. Taehyung never sees his face, only the back of his head as he moves ahead. But he does notice the little elastics of his mask tucked around his ears once he passes by. Muscular, yet lean calves push him to run further; the brown spotted dog seems to skip happily along the sidewalk next to its owner.

The aroma of the bakery is mildly evident before he crosses the street. Located as the first shop on the corner of a new avenue, the little store contains your favourite treats, Taehyung's too. A family-owned business, the boy wants to support their shop during this time of limited sales. Frankly, the boy wishes he could do the same for all of the little stores lining the streets here downtown.

The bell above the door chimes when Taehyung enters the store; the sound resonates in the single room. A rush of hot air smacks his face.

With the sound of footsteps coming down from the upstairs attachment, the shop owner appears in a blue mask. "Welcome!" her voice is jolly, eyes in crescents. "Is it the usual for today, Taehyung?"

The boy in question nods with a smile, fluffy bangs bouncing with the movement, "Please."

The patissier moves to the windowed counter displaying significantly fewer treats than what would have been a year ago.

"Is it a special occasion?"

"No," Taehyung admits. "Just because."

There's a twinkle in the baker's eye. "They're a lucky one."

Taehyung doesn't say anything, and instead, he thinks how he's the lucky one out of the two of you.

He pays with cash, rounding up as an extra tip. The two exchange thanks and other pleasantries, and Taehyung sets back out in the cool air on his way. The paper gift bag holds the two cardboard containers with mouth-watering snacks inside. He slips the novel carefully into the bag, making sure it doesn't rip.

The florist is his final stop on today's little journey.

Blooming buds of each and every colour of the rainbow and then some invade Taehyung's vision. He's sure the fragrant floral scent would be more potent without wearing his mask. He tries to sniff one of the bunches of tulips near the entryway. No, it's mostly neutral with a hint of dust leftover from the bookstore.

"For any reason in particular? Birthday? Anniversary?"

Taehyung is brought from his flower-sniffing, seeing the florist behind the counter bearing what might be an amused grin. The boy hides his frustration at being unable to read people's expressions properly when concealed by the masks.

"Ah, no," his face flushes slightly, "not today. Could I still get some flowers, though?"

"Of course," she beams. "Anything specific?"

The boy ponders, examining each prearranged bouquet laying about. They all look beautiful to him, but Taehyung also doesn't know much about flowers. What's more important to him is how much you like them; that's all he needs to know.

"Surprise me," is his answer, confident in the florist's abilities.

Taehyung ends up leaving the store with a combination of delicate daffodils, carnations, roses, and two large peonies in the center. The bright yellows of the daffodils compliment the ivory carnations and ruby-red roses. The pastel pink peonies, Taehyung thinks, might be his favourite from the bunch. Maybe the two of you are peonies? You're certainly pretty like a flower, yes, so why not a peony?

Taehyung heads in the opposite direction from his travels, starting the walk back to the apartment. The paper bag containing the pastries and the book is still clutched tightly in one hand, while the colourful, decorative flowers are held with significantly more care in his other hand.

The sky is grey today, filled with an abundance of dense clouds. Taehyung swears it had been blue when he had left the house earlier, although now, it looks like there may be another snowfall. More leaves scatter with the wind, blowing in Taehyung's direction. They dance in the breeze, scraping the cemented road and landing in the crook of an alleyway between two shops, both with their lights off and variations of 'Closed' signs decorating the doors.

Sure enough, what can barely be classified as snow begins to fall from the heavens. Tiny flakes of white flutter down, instantly melting as they hit the sidewalk. The only evidence of their existence is when they land on Taehyung's black woollen jacket, but even then, they don't last for very long.

The distinct metal clinking of keys signals your boyfriend's return home. Taehyung takes in your appearance, now off the couch and facing the stove with your back to him. You've changed out of your trusty pair of sweatpants you've been housed in for the past months, opting for something slightly more form-fitting, but comfortable still, nonetheless. Your hair looks washed. Maybe you took a shower in the time Taehyung had been out. You're boiling some water in a pot, from what the boy can tell. Yes, upon moving closer, some pasta swirls around in the churning bubbles, steam escaping only to be swept up in the oven range above.

"You're done with your errands?" you call out over your shoulder, returning your gaze to the cooking pasta as you listen to your boyfriend removing his outerwear by the front door. "How was it out there?"

Taehyung moves his sock-clad feet to where you stand. After washing his hands, a pair of warm arms tenderly wraps around your torso from behind, followed by a brisk peck to your cheek.

"It was quiet out there, as you'd expect," the boy mulls over as he traces some unknown shape onto your hipbone. "Do you want to see what I got?"

You comply with his request, turning the stove's burner down before moving in his embrace as he shifts the two of you to the kitchen island. There, the array of treats are splayed out.

Your eyes immediately land on the flowers: the colours nearly take your breath away. It's been so long since you've seen something so alive. You don't fail to notice the brown paper bag with your favourite bakery's emblem stamped on the side. Something else is peeking out of the bag, something blue that you can't distinguish.

"Why?" you can't help but ask Taehyung. "What's the reason for all of this?" Still held in his arms, you slightly twist so you can glance upwards at your boyfriend.

He's already looking at you with his big brown eyes. Little droplets of melted snow rest daintily in his hair. You reach upwards to brush some aside, also smoothing down some of the astray strands displaced from the wind.

"The reason is that I love you."

"You're too good, Tae," you whisper, hugging the boy properly and burying your face into him. "I love you too."

Another kiss finds your head before you pull away, but only to move closer once again to place your lips on Taehyung's. His nose is cold, but his mouth is hot as you move together with years of practice. You're the first one to part, but staying close enough for noses to brush. Taehyung has a hand cupping the side of your face, thumbing over the roundest part of your cheek from your smile: a shape comparable to a soft bread bun.

Being stuck inside has its downfalls; you and Taehyung are no exception. You've had more arguments in the span of the past ten months than all of the years in your relationship combined. Considering them as arguments may be putting it harshly, disagreements or miscommunication are more accurate depictions of your quarrels. Perhaps the fatigue of being confined indoors is to blame. The worst dispute was a couple of months ago, where you and Taehyung grimly doubted the status of your relationship—if any of it was worth it anymore.

Clearly, you managed to work things out as here you sit on the sofa now, biting into one of the flaky, buttery croissants—one of the few treats adorning the inside of the paper bag. The raspberry preserves on the inside burst across your tongue in a pleasant tartness, complementing the sweet pastry. The pasta on the stove now forgotten, moved to the side and off the burner for another time. You offer Taehyung a bit of the croissant to which he complies, taking a large bite from it. Little flecks of gold decorate the corners of his mouth; one finds a spot on his upper lip beside the dimple of his cupid's bow.

"You're cute," you mumble, gently removing the crumbs from his mouth.

Taehyung disagrees, a voice so soft you'd nearly miss it if he weren't in such proximity, "Not as cute as you, my love." He takes your hand in his, pressing a string of little pecks onto your fingers. Your hand stays in his even after the kisses placed, digits now laced comfortably.

You take another bite of the raspberry croissant until there's one mouthful left. You wordlessly offer it to your boyfriend.

The floral bouquet occupies the center of the kitchen table. It's a fluorescent sight between the dulled walls of the apartment. Like a little piece of sunshine, the flowers provide you with a sense of warmth or energy that you no longer experience trapped in your confined space day after day.

The snow has picked up outside. The clouds have only gotten denser since Taehyung's return home. The sky is gradually growing darker with the hour; streetlamps flicker on one-by-one, lining the streets in glowing amber and putting spotlights on the colourless, falling flakes. Rooftops and tree branches gradually become covered in a dusting of white.

"I love you," Taehyung repeats out of the blue, causing you to remove your gaze from the winter landscape forming outside.

You examine his face as his eyes flutter between yours. A pretty shade of pink blossoms on his cheeks while his mouth lifts into the smallest of smiles.

"I love you too," you say with all earnest. "Thank you for everything today."

"Of course," he nuzzles into the top of your head, pulling you close against him. "I'm sorry we have to stay indoors most of the time."

"It's not your fault, Tae."

The boy hums in acknowledgement. "Sometimes I wish I could solve it all, you know? Like if I wish or pray, or maybe if I believe hard enough, everything will be fixed. Everything will be normal again."

"Things will be normal again," you return. Your thumb strokes over Taehyung's on the hand you're still holding. Your head finds his shoulder.

Taehyung is warm and familiar and possibly the only constant in your life right now. Your eyes reach the flowers in the vase on the dining table once more—vibrant and attractive yellows, reds, and pastel pinks.

You squeeze your boyfriend's hand: a silent thank you; an unsaid I love you.

Taehyung squeezes your hand back.

To do:

live for today

and cherish (Y/N)

••

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fluff #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung scenario #taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung imagines #taehyung scenario #bts #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts taehyung #bts v #bts taehyung x reader #bts v x reader

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queen-ofsunflowers · 4 years ago

Text

Random Thoughts I've had while writing: February 2021

"That's a little gay, dude."

Minato, who is 5'7: I am a little gay dude.

----

Ruby gets to kick two villains in the face during the training camp.

And bite one.

As a treat.

----

Awesome.

After [Persona for an AU I'm working on] decimates a good deal of the Shadows is when All Might shows up to take care of the rest.

Whether or not Midoriya's broken limbs are healed afterwards is up for debate.

"Oh my gosh, Midoriya, what happened to you?!"

Midoriya with a broken arm and two broken legs: ... "Accident?"

----

Ch10 of Falling and Rising is partially just--

Ruby: *being self-deprecating*

Jaune and Todoroki: STOP. NONE OF THAT.

----

The age gap between Touya and Fuyumi is about the same as my sister and me.

Another thing I realized.

Hawks and Fuyumi are the same age.

----

The following does contain a lot of word vomit about v4 ideas for RWBY in My Hero because I was watching it in preparation for season 5~

----

The end of the culture Festival is gonna be like

(Midoriya and Ruby standing in the dorm's kitchen, surrounded by containers full of cookies.)

Ruby: ...I think I might've gone overboard.

Midoriya: Just a little bit.

----

I also realized that when Nighteye started working with All Might would've been the same year Summer was killed.

(First person nighteye ever saw die in their future was summer--)

----

"SUMMER! The hobo's back on the agency's couch!"

"Stop calling Shouta that!"

"Never!"

----

Can I have Ruby kick Overhaul in the face?

...she's gonna kick overhaul in the face. He deserves it.

----

Ruby, waking up from Silver eye coma to see this:

*insert panel from 303 here*

----

Just realized that writing certain parts of Vigilantes is gonna be weird because Tai and Qrow don't have their reason to hate Endeavor yet. They don't know about what's going on with his kids until years later.

----

Ozpin and All Might can be summarized as such

"You're my friend, and I care about you. But I swear to the gods, if you even think about doing something stupid, I will detroit smash you/smack you with my cane."

----

JAUNE: I just think girls are weird.

SAPHRON: You say that, and yet your best friend is your big sister!

JAUNE: Stop! I’m gonna get cooler friends than you. And they won’t be weird girls, either!

Jaune, a few chapters later: *makes friends with Ruby and Yang, aka two weird girls*

----

"Midoriya, kick me!"

"YOUNG MIDORIYA DO NOT KICK HER. DO NOT EVEN KICK IN HER DIRECTION."

"DO IT I CAN TAKE IT."

----

Jaune during Kamino: I'm your big brother now. No ifs, ands or buts. Kirishima, stay with the group or I'll implement the buddy system!

----

I love writing Midnight--

"Ignore the smell on the couch, that's just a mixture of cat hair, my Quirk and Eraserhead."

...

"This is my cat, Sushi. He doesn't bite, I promise."

...

"And that is my girlfriend. She does bite."

"NEMURI."

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bridgyrose · 4 years ago

Note

Infiltration Au. Salem wandering the town with a bunch of hormonal teenagers... Does it feel like a babysitting trip or?

Salem dreaded walking around town with a bunch of… hormonal teenagers. However, at least for now, it seemed to be the only way for her to get closer to Ruby. Which caused problem number one…

Aro stared at Ruby’s cloak, feeling a mixture of fear and anger from the sight of the red. Not only that, but the accented red on Ruby’s outfit was starting to… cause issues. “You… need to get rid of that cloak.”

Ruby looked at Aro curiously. “I… dont think I understand.”

“Get rid of your cloak!” Aro slammed her hand on the table, cracking part of it.

Yang frowned and got between Ruby and Aro. “Her cloak isnt doing anything wrong. What’s your problem with her anyway?”

“My problem is that she shouldnt be here!”

“And for once, I think I found someone I agree with,” Weiss piped up. “...even if she is a faunus.”

“And what’s wrong with faunus, exactly?” Aro’s gaze went straight to Weiss, ready to fight things out.

Xanthic sighed and pulled Aro back. “Aro and I are going to go take a walk. We’ll meet back up with you all in a bit.”

Ruby sighed as she watched Aro and Xanthic walk off, starting to feel like this was all a bad idea. “W-well, at least the rest of us can have a bit of fun, right?”

Sitri nodded, pulling out her scroll and looking at the list of all the sights she wanted to see. “This will be great! Oh, when is team JNPR coming around? I have got to get Pyrrha’s autograph.”

“They’re bailing on us.” Blake got up and started walking. “Seems like its just our teams that wanted to do this today. And even at that… more like just six of us.”

“Aro will be fine… I think. Xanthic seems to have her under control. But lets start by heading to the docks.”

Salem watched for a moment as RWBY and Sitri started walking off, heading towards the docks. She took a moment to make a mental note about Aurora and her dislike towards Ruby’s cloak. Maybe something about the color… she wasnt quite sure. Either way, it seemed like something to keep an eye on. And Xanthic… the way she seemed to always be close to Aro… maybe there was something going on between them. And if that was the case, they’d both be easy to use as pawns. Once a few others have lost their usefulness…

“Sapphire! You coming?”

Salem sighed and looked to see Sitri calling out to her. She slowly got up, not looking forward to this. “Yeah, I’ll be right there. Just… wanted to take in a few of the sights.” That’s what these kids were into now, right? Sight seeing and all that. It didnt matter to her, just as long as she could continue passing as a teenager under Ozpin’s nose. She started walking over to her team leader, keeping an eye on Ruby, waiting for any chance to pull her aside. All she needed was one moment…

Ruby stopped as the group passed a dust shop with a couple cops in front of it. “Seems like another dust robbery. I guess Torchwick is still at it…”

“Or it could just be the White Fang.” Weiss kept walking past the shop, not really caring much about it. “They’re always acting up and causing trouble.”

“The White Fang would never do this. Why would they need so much dust? Ruby’s right, it’s probably Torchwick.”

Salem looked at the dust shop, smirking a bit as she saw the signs of Cinder having been around. Seems like everything was going according to plan so far and better yet, no one was able to pin the robbery on just one person. Seems like her piece was effective after all. “Not much we can do about it, unfortunately. Best to have the cops handle it.”

“Or… we could have a stake out.” Ruby smirked a bit as she looked around the area. “We can find another dust shop to watch and we can prove if it is or isnt the White Fang and then stop them-”

“That’s a terrible idea.” Weiss frowned and grabbed Ruby’s cloak to start pulling her. “We’re just students. This is a job for the police.”

“Not like the police are going to do anything about it. And it’s not the Fang.” Blake stepped up to Weiss, glaring at her. “Ruby’s right, we need to watch one of the shops-”

“And then what? The White Fang are terrorists!”

“They’re not terrorists, they’re just misguided.”

Weiss raised a brow at Blake in disbelief.

“Okay, very misguided. But they’d never stoop to stealing dust!”

Sitri hesitated for a moment as she watched Weiss and Blake, still not quite sure what was going on. “Are… are they always like this?”

“Only recently,” Yang said, starting to sound a bit annoyed. “First it was Weiss yelling at Ruby, now she’s yelling at Blake… I swear she hates everyone here.”

Salem kept an eye on Weiss, starting to get a bit more intrigued by her. First the glyphs, and now she was tearing a rift in her own team… she was starting to sound a bit more like pawn material. All she needed was a little nudge. “You know, I think Weiss is right. The White Fang is to blame here. Along with the rest of the problems this kingdom is facing.”

Blake hesitated for a moment before turning to face Salem. “What exactly are you getting at?”

“All I’m suggesting is that Weiss is right. Think about it, ever since the White Fang became more active with their… violent acts… we’ve seen more grimm attacks. More shops are starting to see break-ins or property damage, especially dust shops. And not to mention all those riots the faunus are causing. If it was me, I’d start looking for a way to take them down.”

Weiss smirked a bit as she looked at Salem, glad someone was on her side. “See? Sapphire is making sense.”

“That’s not at all what’s going on!” Blake turned to Weiss, glaring at her. “All we want is to be treated like people, not monsters! And if a little property damage has to be done to send a message, then so be it!”

Everyone stopped and stared at Blake, not quite sure they were believing what they heard. Salem, on one hand, couldnt believe that all of this was working out in her favor .A rift like this would be hard to mend, splitting the team to allow her a bit more access to Ruby.

Weiss hesitated as she processed everything Blake had said. “We?”

Sitri immediately got between Weiss and Blake, shaking a bit. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation and we just need to hear her out. Right Blake?”

Blake didnt answer, immediately rushing off and using her semblance to make for a quick escape. Everything had gone wrong quickly, all from just a few words.

Salem smirked, keeping an eye on the rest of the team, looking for other ways to divide them. At this rate, getting to Ruby was going to be easier than she thought.

Weiss huffed as she watched Blake run off, putting her rapier away and walking the other direction. “Well… good riddance I say. Once White Fang trash, always trash.”

“That’s no way to talk to our teammate.” Yang started following Weiss, keeping close behind. “We should be going after her and finding out the full story.”

Xanthic and Aro finally arrived after Yang stormed after Weiss, confused about all the yelling. “Did… we miss something?”

Sitri looked towards Ruby, who was already feeling a bit dejected after being left by her team. “I’m… still trying to figure out what went on.”

Salem smiled and started walking back to the dorm, her mission for the day finished. “We just had a chat about the White Fang. Apparently one of Team RWBY was a member. A pity.”

Aro sighed and looked towards Ruby for a moment, starting to feel a bit conflicted. She still wasnt fond of the fact that she lost to the girl, but having a team split like this…

Xanthic walked up to Ruby and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You dont think it was the White Fang, do you?”

Ruby shook her head. “No, I dont.”

“Want to prove it?”

“I do.”

Xanthic nodded and started walking back to Beacon. “Then come with me. I’m sure we can get down to the bottom of this.”

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #salem #rwby salem #aurora glade #sitri evergreen #ashley xanthic #infiltrating witch au #infiltrating witch #drabbles #angsty drabbles

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secret-captain-swan-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 94580/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9 // Ch 10 // Ch 11 // Ch 12 // Ch 13 // Ch 14 // Ch 15 // Ch 16 // Ch 17

Read on: Ao3

Killian is reading in the garden when it starts to rain. It’s not a lot, just drops against the thin pages of his book. He’s nearly to the end of Jane Eyre now. He’s honestly ready to be done with the book. Where it had once been enthralling, it now seems tiresome. The pain of the loss of Alice lingers folded in it’s pages.

He’s wondering if he should seek some refuge from the rain, when he looks up to see Emma running across the field. She’s windswept, her hair falling loose from her ponytail. Yet she’s still beautiful, like a Romantic heroine, her dress sticking to her torso. He can tell there are tears in her eyes.

He rises to his feet, striding as quick as he can to her. They meet in the middle. He wraps her in his arms quickly. Something is wrong, he notices instantly, from the slump of her shoulders and the desperateness she clings to him with. Her hands knots in the back of his shirt, holding on to him.

“Emma, love?” He asks into her hair. “Whatever is wrong?”

It must be the statue, he thinks. It must have gotten into her head. He should not have left her there by herself. She had heavy emotions that he should have been there to help her with.

“Killian, I can’t,” she mumbles, her voice half delirious.

“Can’t what?” He prods, fear trickling through his body.

She sniffles and whispers again, “I can’t.”

It’s windy outside, the rain picking up, and he can’t hear her well.

“Come, love,” he says. “Let’s get you inside. It’s getting bad out here.”

She shakes her head against his chest, “No. I can’t.”

He rubs his hands up and down her arms. “You’re going to catch a cold, love. I want to hear what’s upset you, but some place a bit less damp and cold.”

“No, no,” she says. “We can’t go into the castle. I can’t deal with it.”

“Deal with what, Swan?” He asks, slipping his hands down her arms to take her hands in his. He raises them to his lips to kiss them softly. They are already freezing.

“They’re going to tell me that I’m the lost princess,” she whispers. “And I’m not ready for it.”

He tries to process what she is saying. She’s the lost princess. She’s not ready.

His mind flits through all the evidence that he’s been trying to not point out for so long. The uncanny resemblance between the girl in Killian’s memories and Emma herself. The name. The accent. The right history. The scar on her shoulder. Even the chin. Killian’s spent so long trying to get Emma to remember something. For the connection to hold. And maybe, just maybe this visit to the gardens triggered the very thing that Killian’s been dreaming of. Maybe, even after last night’s fight, she has finally had the epiphany that he knows, he’s certain, must be coming.

But maybe that’s not it? Killian doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Reality rushes through him. Maybe the Queen or Regina just think that Emma is the lost princess and they want her to go public about it for publicity. Maybe now they’re manipulating her, asking her to pose as the princess. For what? For Misthaven Morale?

He’s going to need more information. Emma’s given him such few words, but his mind is spinning with possibilities. He knows, he’s certain, that something fundamental, potentially something he’s yearned for, is changing right here and now.

He brushes his hand against her hair softly, like he would a timid animal. She curls into him more, shivering.

What she needs, he realizes, obviously isn’t to go back into the castle. She needs to talk and in more than one way, unfreeze.

“Come love,” he whispers into her hair.

He leads her out of the castle grounds, the statues and winter garden behind them. Looking back now, he’s uncertain why he thought it was a good idea to take her there when she was in a bizarre state from the night before. As they weave down the cobblestone, she sniffles now, looking a bit less anxious. He thanks the gods for that.

There is a little tea shop in the grey stone shops lining the road. Called “The Castle Gate Cafe,” it’s lace doily sort of place. The counter boasts an assortment of cakes. He situates Emma in a table that’s tucked into a bay window off to the side that overlooks a damp patch of garden.

As he orders an Americano, a cappuccino, and a slice of lemon lavender cake, he glances back at Emma. Her face is distant, as if her thoughts are in another world.

When he comes back to join her, he presses a cappuccinos into her hands. She closes her eyes and takes a sip, her shivering subsiding.

“Sorry,” she says, after another pensive sip. “I must have seemed crazy back there. Or pathetic.”

“Emma, love, you seem traumatized,” he tells her.

She swallows, “I think I am a little.”

He takes a bit of the lemon cake. It’s sweet and soothing. He puts a piece of it on a fork and passes it to Emma. She takes the bite and gives him a smile.

“I was really affected by what I saw in gardens. I felt so ashamed for scamming the queen. I honestly couldn’t take it anymore. I was like in a weird trance or something, I swear. I felt like an out of body feeling, I don’t know.”

He takes a bite of cake and nods at her to continue.

She rambles, ”So, I went into the castle and all of a sudden, Mary Margaret was there and I just had to tell her everything.”

Killian chokes on his cake, “Everything?”

“Yeah, about the opera and our old plan and everything,” Emma manages.

He frowns knowing this means risking her security in Mishaven, her trust with the Queen, and the possibility of her returning to the country- and to him. “What happened?”

“She didn’t care. Killian, it’s crazy. She said that it doesn’t make a difference. She loves me,” Emma admits.

He reaches out to take her hand. Killian knows how much this means to her- to get the Queen’s affection and approval, to be loved by a parental-type figure in the way she’s always yearned to be. He knows it because he’s wanted it too. That’s part of why he’s never taken Ruby’s Granny’s generosity for granted. He rubs his thumb against her palm, part of him so understands and is proud for Emma.

“That’s marvelous, Swan,” he says.

She takes another sip of cappuccino, before she presses her lips together, and looks up at him.

“But then all of a sudden, Prime Minister Mills walked in,” she tells him.

He lets an eyebrow lift in place of a question.

“And she said that she took DNA from us both, without either of us knowing,” Emma says.

Killian thinks back to the week before, the suspected break-in. Of course it wasn’t the hooded man, it was the Prime Minister.

“We’re related,” Emma tells him. “I’m Mary Margaret’s daughter.”

So he was right.

He’s been right all along. It’s her. Emma is the girl from his childhood. It was Emma who he used to play games with in the castle courtyard. It was Emma who he used to eat sweets with in the kitchens when the cook would make them an extra treat. It was Emma who he ran across the field with that dark night. It was Emma who saw his brother right before he died. It was Emma who was now his sovereign. Emma.

“You’re the lost princess,” Killian says.

He feels a weird bit of emotion well up in him, a feeling of completeness that now is crescendoing. The girl who disappeared that night has been found. The lost girl who never had a family has been welcomed home.

When Emma looks up at him and sees the emotion in his face, something changes in her too. Tears spring again to her eyes. He quickly moves from his seat to slide in the booth next to her. His arms wrap around her. His lips kiss her hair. He tries to hide his sniffles, but he can’t.

She wraps her arms back around him, burying her face in his chest.

“We found you, Emma,” he whispers. “You came home to us.”

She sniffles.

“Killian, I don’t know how to react to this,” she murmurs back. “You’re crying, Mary Margaret is crying. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t feel like a princess. I don’t feel like my life is changing. I still don’t remember anything. It’s not like a sudden dramatic flashback or anything. All of these people keep looking at me like I’m supposed to be crying, but I don’t even know.”

Killian tries to be attentive to her. He realizes that Emma isn’t experiencing this moment as he is. He needs to be there for her. Princess or not, Emma is his girlfriend. She needs him to support her through this emotionally cataclysmic moment.

“Don’t know what?” He asks, brushing another hand through her hair.

“How to be a princess? How to be a daughter? I’ve only ever been Emma Swan. I’ve only ever been lost or alone or fighting for myself. I just want to go back to Durham and write my thesis. I don’t want to learn how to curtsey or use dumb shrimp forks or whatever people do in those Hallmark lost princess movies.”

“I’m not quite sure what a Hallmark is,” Killian replies.

“It’s not important,” Emma says, sniffling and sighing. “It’s just. I’m not really sure I ever wanted this.”

“Emma, you have a family,” he says emphatically, tears still in his eyes. “You have a real life fairy tale. You weren’t reading Blanche Neige all these years to run away from that. Princess Emmaline Georgette Analise Charmant Blanchard Nolan, I promise this is everything you’ve ever wanted.”

She smiles and sniffles and nods, “Yeah, I think I know that. Maybe that’s what scares me the most.”

He hugs her tight.

“I still don’t know what to do,” Emma says. “I ran away from the Queen.”

“You ran away?” He laughs.

“Yeah, I didn’t know how to react and she was crying and I absolutely couldn’t be in that room another moment,” she says.

“Oh love. Oh Swan,” He says, amused. His voice is still ragged from tears. “I think we should go find your Mum now. She’ll be wanting to hug you too after all these years.”

They walk back into the castle. Emma has to fight against everything inside her that says to turn her back, head for the Misthaven airport, and take off for North Carolina. But Killian’s hand inside her own helps, a lot actually. She lets it ground her, stabilize her. He’s still looking at her with tears in his eyes that makes her uncomfortable, but she’s managing.

Queen Mary Margaret and Prime Minister Mills are standing in the foyer when they arrive. She realizes that everyone else is gone- the secretaries, the dignitaries and diplomats, or whoever else might be in the castle. It’s just them.

“Your Royal Highness,” Regina says, “I’m truly sorry for springing the news on you in an improper way. I apologize.”

Emma tucks some hair behind her ears. It’s still damp from the rain earlier, which has now turned into a gentle mist.

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’m sorry for running away. It’s an old habit, I guess.”

“Emma,” the queen says finally, her voice choked up.

Mary Margaret takes a step forward, her lips pursed to hold back a sob.

Emma realizes that like it or not, this is her life now. She can keep running from it. Or she can embrace it. It doesn’t mean she needs to give up everything. Those details- her thesis, her livelihood, the dumb shrimp forks- they can be sorted out later. But right now, she’s just found out that this woman who has been nothing but a kind motherly figure to her these last few months is her actual real life mother. The least she can do is hug her.

She crosses the space and steps into her arms. It feels like melting, like comfort. Like a blanket wrapped around you on a cold day. Like turning the doorknob on your apartment door. Like a bowl sized cappuccino made just how she likes it. Like home. Mary Margaret, Killian, Misthaven- this was her home. She has a home. She is home.

“I’ve had a few assistants go out to get some Mamie’s coffee and croissants for you,” Mary Margaret says. “And we’ll call in some take away later for dinner.”

Emma doesn’t say that they just got coffee, because really, she always wants coffee. And it sounds, oh so cozy, to drink more coffee in this castle with the Queen. With her mom.

“I was thinking that I could give you a tour of the castle,” Mary Margaret says. “And then maybe, this is silly, but we’ve got these old home videos David used to take of you as a child. They’ve been too painful for me to ever watch, but maybe, since you’re here- we could watch them together.”

Emma smiles. She could do this. And maybe the home videos might even help her process and visualize and remember.

“That sounds great,” Emma tells her.

“I’ll just see you later then,” Killian whispers from behind her.

“No, no,” Mary Margaret says. “Please, Killian, you are family. Stay.”

Emma turns to smile at him and offer him her hand. “Stay.”

It’s late that night when they make it back to Emma’s apartment. After the long, harrowing, revelatory day, the clean white apartment and cozy house plants are the perfect greeting.

Emma is pretty sure she’s never been so tired. The rain and the emotions of the day have left her past drained. She leans on Killian as they walk in.

“Shower,” she mutters, as she stumbles towards the bathroom.

When Killian doesn’t follow immediately, she turns to him, “You too.”

He chuckles, before following her into the bathroom. She turns on the shower and cranks it up as high as it will go. That’s all she can think of right now- warm water and then a long sleep in her bed.

She strips off her clothes. Despite how tired she is, she glances behind her to see Killian’s expression. It’s something of admiration as he takes her in. She smirks and raises her eyebrows, before stepping in.

He’s inside the stream with her, sooner than she expects. The hot water alongside Killian’s arms wrapping around her lulls her and she feels the stress of the day leave her. She lets her eyes flutter closed as she leans back against his chest.

“What did you think of the evening with your mum?” He asks.

Emma smiles at the fact she has a mother. It’s a fact that is going to take a very long time to accept and set in, but for now she’s honoring her personal intention to embrace it.

“It was good,” Emma says.

“You know you can be honest with me,” Killian tells her, his hands moving to rub her shoulders. She realizes all the tensions she’s held in.

“No, I’m being honest,” she insists. “It was like having a family. A very rich, ridiculous family. But a genuine cozy little family.”

Killian nuzzles her hair, before moving to get her lavender aromatherapy body wash. He dabs it on a loofa and begins to rub it all over her.

“It was weird with those videos,” Emma murmurs.

She thinks back to the happy memory from less than an hour ago: of her, Killian, and Mary Margaret piled on a couch in one of the more comfortable lounges of the hilltop castle. They’d had takeaway pizza, which Emma could process now as a gesture from the Queen to be “chill” and let her ease her way into this.

They’d watched these videos of Emma with her family as a child. Baby Princess Emma waltzing with her father. Baby Princess Emma riding around on Prancer in the woods. Baby Princess Emma giggling as she plays tag with Killian down palace corridors. It’s weird to look at that little girl and know that it was her who did those things.

“I guess,” Emma says, as Killian switches from washing to shampooing, “I’ve been thinking for the last months, since I got here, that Princess Emma is this other person. A person who probably hates me for impersonating her. A person who is far more innocent than myself. A person who is probably dead.”

Killian starts rubbing shampoo into her hair and it’s fundamentally soothing. She lets out a soft sigh.

“It’s just weird to think that she’s me,” Emma says. “We are one in the same.”

She turns to face Killian and looks up at him. “You aren’t saying anything. I’m just monologuing here.”

He shakes his head as he runs his finger along the scar on her shoulder.

“I know, love,” He says softly. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve thought you were her this whole time. I know you don’t want to hear it.”

She takes his hand from her shoulder to bring it to her lips to kiss his palm.

“No, it’s fine,” Emma says. “As much as I wanted to deny it, I knew you had your suspicions the whole time. Even last night, you did. And in the end it doesn’t matter, because here we are anyway.”

Killian reaches behind her to turn off the water. He kisses her softly before opening the curtain. He passes her a towel and she wraps it around her shoulders, following him out of the bathroom.

She pulls on a Duke Writing Studio t-shirt and a pair of underwear, before toweling off her hair and crawling into bed. Killian is already there, arms ready to pull her close.

Her eyes flicker closed naturally and she sighs softly.

She supposes that is another good, but terrifying thing about this whole situation: every obstacle of distance that was between her and Killian has faded. Misthaven is her home now.

She knows that she has plenty of thoughts about that to fret over in the future. A tendril of fear and another of anticipation wind in her stomach, but for now the wave exhaustion crashes over and pulls her under.

The next morning, Emma tries to fall into her normal schedule. She needs routine and hard work to ground her. She always has. It’s a coping mechanism.

Killian is still sleeping when she wakes. She makes coffee in the French Press before heading to her desk overlooking the park. She pulls the soft grey blanket off the couch and wraps around herself, before opening up her thesis materials. She’s just a happy little Emma in her quaint, minimalist Misthaven apartment enjoying her coffee and working on her PhD.

She doesn’t know much about what the future holds, but it has to hold her dissertation. She’s spent so much time on it. She’s put in so much work. Looking at it now, she hopes that she won’t look ridiculous for writing her thesis on her own mother’s work or specializing in the literature from the country she is now sovereign of. But she thinks that if she can keep the Blanche Neige secret under wraps and she can probably pass off a decent thesis.

She smiles fondly at herself as she starts typing- she can be the first Princess with a PhD. She googles it just to fact check herself. Frowning, she realizes that a Japanese princess has already beat her to it.

A princess , she reminds herself. She’s still processing it. If she’s being honest, she’s probably at a sort of denial stage in the process because she’s feeling pretty chill about it. The shock of it has worn off, but she’s certain that the reality hasn’t set in yet either.

“How is my princess this morning?” A groggy voice asks from behind her.

She turns to see a disheveled Killian leaning against the door frame of her bedroom. He’s just in boxers and his hair is sticking up in all directions.

She purrs, “Come here.”

He walks behind her chair and loops his arms around her. She feels the scruff of his beard on her cheek as he leans down to give her a kiss.

She turns her head to kiss him on the lips, her hands cupping his face to pull him down to her. His body curves around hers to deepen the kiss and pull her close. She feels so soft and delicate, like she’s something so precious to him. She’s grown to like that feeling- like she matters.

Her arms lift to his shoulders and he uses his own arms to lift her. Her legs curl around his torso.

“Sorry about the coffee breath,” she whispers, self conscious.

“Dammit Emma,” He whispers, as he falls onto the couch.

She transitions perfectly into straddling him. Her hands dive into his gloriously disheveled hair. His head lowers to kiss her neck, then her collarbone, before he settles to lick at the base of her throat.

She hums in pleasure. All her thoughts, her worries, her cares are gone. All she can think of is Killian, the man she loves- and it’s bliss.

Then a phone's ringtone strikes the air and the spell is broken.

Emma stumbles off of him to head for her bedroom where her phone is lying on her bedside table.

“Hello,” she asks, not pausing to glance at the number.

“Emma, darling,” replies Mary Margaret.

Her mom. The queen. Blanche Neige. It’s almost dizzying.

“Oh hey,” Emma says, sitting on the side of her bed.

“I was wondering if you and Killian would like to join me and Regina for brunch,” she says. “We have a lot to go over- publicity, citizenship, castles, balls.”

Emma can hear a smile in her voice, but her own stomach churns. The denial phase is slowly slipping away into something else, some sort of reality setting in. She can’t have slow and silly mornings with her boyfriend because she has princess responsibilities.

But she feels, alongside of that, a weird sense of duty well up in her. Of course, she must be at this meeting. She can tell that just like the night before, the Queen is trying to make it easier for her. She isn’t throwing her into royal duties, just inviting her to a casual brunch.

“Yes, certainly,” Emma says. “We’ll be there.”

“It’ll be at my place,” Mary Margaret says. “The Summer Palace. I’ll send a car for you in about a half an hour. See you then!”

Killian pokes his head in and she explains the brunch meeting.

“I’ve actually got work this morning, love,” He explains. “I can skip it, for certain, darling, if you want. I don’t want you to go alone if you are nervous.”

Emma can’t believe she forgot that Killian has a life outside of her. But of course he does. She senses that everything for them is going to change very soon. “Publicity” the queen said. It may be one of the last times that Killian will get to work in peace, or work at all.

“It’s fine,” Emma says, rising to meet him and kissing his cheek. “Go to work, Killian.”

They launch into action, mutually displeased to leave behind their moment on the couch, but both busy with their plans. Emma changes into a pair of black jeans and a sweater, hoping that it’s a nice enough outfit for brunch with the Queen. Her hair, messy and tangled from sleeping it in wet, goes up into what she hopes suffices as an elegant top knot. A spritz of perfume, a bit of concealer and mascara, a peck on Killian’s lips- and she’s out the door to meet the car.

The Christmas decorations are up in their full glory when Emma arrives at the summer palace: fairy lights, garland, and wreaths of evergreen adoring the palace. She exits the car and is greeted by a doorman who informs her that the Prime Minister and Her Majesty are in the Forest Room. Emma nods and makes her way through the palace, trimmed with Christmas cheer, before finding the tea room.

“Emma, darling,” Mary Margaret says, crossing the room to envelop her in a hug.

Emma wants to resist, because that is her instinct. Flashes of Ingrid, of other foster parents flash through her mind. People she thought she could trust, but proved her wrong. It’s hard to believe that there is actually someone here who truly loves her and won’t leave. But it’s true. So she lets her mother hug her and lets herself relax into the hug. A part of her that has always been raw and ragged, now feels soothed.

“Did you sleep alright?” She asks.

Emma nods.

“Well there is fruit and patisserie on the sideboard, coffee and tea as well. If you prefer a hot breakfast, you can just order from one of the footmen,” The queen directs.

Not being fussy, Emma takes some strawberries and a pain au chocolat. She fills one of the dainty mugs with coffee and then joins Mary Margaret and Regina at the table.

“Shall we dive into it?” The Prime Minister asks. “We need to decide when to send out the press release. I’ve already had it drafted and you can review it if you please.”

She pushes Emma a piece of paper with the official Misthaven seal on it. Emma tries to skim it, but her mind is too all over the place to focus.

“I think it’s best to do it as soon as possible,” Regina informs her. “It would be disastrous if the information was leaked from someone else. Obviously there will be a lot of commotion about it at first. This is, afterall, a nearly impossible event to happen- lost princess finds her way home. So I expect that we’ll have a fair bit of international coverage. It’ll be best if you lay low during that time, avoiding reporters and the like. However, once it dies down, you should be fine. Misthaven is too small to have the insane paparazzi that English and Swedish royals face.”

Emma nods. The words paparazzi makes her squirm and want to run away. She thinks about the simple pleasure of drinking coffee at Mamies or sitting, editing her paper, in Killian’s pub. She wonders if she’ll ever get that pleasure again. Or at least how long she’ll have to wait to do that again.

“We’ll hire you security as well,” The queen adds. “At least until the hype dies down and even after, so we all know you are safe.”

Emma nods again. She wishes she brought a notebook to take notes.

“You’ll obviously move into the house in the Southern Valley,” the Queen tells her. “And we’ll have to make plans for the Christmas ball. It’s a bit last minute for a dress, but we can figure something out.”

Emma feels her forehead crinkle, all of it hitting her too fast to process.

“But, I’m leaving Misthaven next Thursday to be back in America for Christmas,” Emma says. “I already bought the ticket.”

The only way that Emma could buy the ticket was through her grant and fellowship. There was no way she could afford it on her own. She couldn’t just buy another one because she changed her mind about when she wanted to go back.

“What do you mean going back to America?” Regina asks, perplexed.

“To go back to Duke and finish my PhD,” Emma explains.

“Well clearly that isn’t important now, is it?” Regina says.

“What do you mean?” Emma says, startled. Her mind races with defensive thoughts. She can’t lose her thesis. “That’s everything. My life’s work.”

“Emma will finish her PhD,” Mary Margaret says. “Of course she will.”

Emma feels her pounding heart decelerate.

“It might be in your best interest, however,” the Queen says. “To take a semester off. See if you can take a small leave of absence. I’m sure it’s understandable, just so you have time to transition.”

Emma wants to say no. She wants to say that she spends Christmas with Belle and her father each year. She wants poinsettias in the green house and presents under the tree.

But then she thinks about waking up on Christmas morning with Killian beside her. A Christmas tree in her own house. Emma’s never even entertained the thought of having a house of her own before because it seemed too impossible. But now she’ll have one and a family of her own to spend Christmas with. Yes, she’ll have to stay. It seems silly now to have even thought otherwise.

“What about my flight home?” She asks. “I already bought it.”

“Don’t take it, obviously,” Regina says. “I’m not even sure why we are talking about this. You’ve just inherited a hundred million euros, I’m not quite sure why you’re hung up on this.”

Oh.

Emma tries to process a hundred million.

She thinks about stealing concealer from the drugstore because she couldn’t afford it and she wanted to cover up the bruises.

She thinks of eating a grilled cheese every other day and sleeping in the library.

She thinks of all the opportunities she said no to- studying abroad, nights at the theater, dinners out with professors- because she couldn’t afford it.

And now she has a hundred million euros.

Emma doesn’t realize she is crying until her fat tears fall into her coffee cup, a sob coming out of her chest.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret gasps, coming over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “My dear, what is it?”

Emma tries to breath and chokes on her breath, a hiccup forming.

“I’ve never had money like that,” she says. “Nothing close to that. I’ve always had to scrape and fight for scraps. I don’t know how to have this life now.”

Mary Margaret and Regina exchange a look and the Prime Minister leaves the room. The queen lowers herself down so that she meet Emma face to face.

“Emma,” the queen begins, rubbing her back as tears tumble from Emma’s eyes. “I am terribly sorry that you’ve lived a life you didn’t deserve. I’m so sorry that you’ve had to experience such horrible poverty and so much financial anxiety. I’m sorry for every moment you’ve been lonely. Every moment you’ve wondered where your mum was. I’m sorry that I couldn’t tuck you in at night and take you on nice holidays and buy you new books. I can’t begin to understand what your life has been like, but I can tell you it’s going to be better now.”

Emma sniffles and looks up at her.

“You’ll never want or fret about money. You’ll be able to help others with that money, make a difference in the world. You and Killian will be able to give your kids everything you didn’t have,” The queen says.

The queen beckons Emma into another hug and she obliges.

“You are going to have a good life now, Emma,” the Queen tells her.

Eventually Emma’s tears lull and Regina returns. They start to make plans for Emma’s move, which is to happen in two days. They take her measurements to send to the dressmaker for Emma’s dress for the ball, which will also double as her public debut. And they pass along a debit card for her new royal bank account. Regina advises she starts updating her wardrobe with pieces that are “couture” and informs her that once her move is finished, a stylist will come to help her look a bit more sophisticated.

The comment makes Emma want to roll her eyes, but she decides that isn’t very princess-like and resists.

It’s overwhelming and totally new. But Emma is trying, with all her might, to shove the walls down. If they come up now, she’ll only hurt Mary Margaret and Killian. She hasn’t worked this hard to turn on them.

As the driver takes her back down from the mountaintop palace, she leans her head against the window. She imagines herself turning into a tree, roots growing deep into the ground, branches reaching towards the sky. She tries to think of herself as being unmoved here, firm of purpose and place. Growing a home here in this place, here in Misthaven.

She has the driver drop her off at Mamie’s, where she gets a cappuccino and reads a book of fairy tales. Emma decides she needs to make the most of her last few days of anonymity. It starts to rain again, the weather decidedly cold now, Indian summer behind them. From Mamie’s, she can see Killian’s pub across the street and across the blustery street she can just make him out at the counter. She sends him a text telling him to come over when he finishes his shift.

As she flicks through her phone, she realizes she has a text from Belle.

Sorry to change our usual plans girl, but Will invited me to Misthaven for Christmas to meet his family. Any chance I can convince you to stay in Misthaven for Xmas as well?

Emma taps back.

Haha I just decided today to stay in Misthaven for Christmas too.

Emma smirks to herself and sips her cappuccino as she waits for a response.

Yes, amazing!! Can you stay with Killian then? Is it okay if Will and I take back his apartment?

Rolling her eyes, Emma replies:

In a huge plot twist, I’m actually getting my own place in Misthaven. I’ll explain more later on facetime when I am not at a coffee shop. Loooong story.

#Captain Swan #CS fic #CS fic rec #cs ff #cs ff au #cs modern au #killian jones #emma swan

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fluffi · 4 years ago

Text

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍

pairing: taehyun x reader

genre: 30% fluff, 70% angst, masquerade!au, prince!taehyun, antagonist!reader

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: I know halloween is over but I couldn’t get this out in time (I wrote the entire story in like 2 days) so it’s finally out now! my first time writing such deep angst (i am crazy). Surprisingly, I really like it, so look forward to more works like this in the coming year!

warnings: major character death, descriptions of seizures, mass murdering, mentions of fire, mentions of knifes, soul sucking, ghosts, killing, vague descriptions of dead bodies, feeling of being lonely, detailed descriptions of slashing throats

- - -

6.58PM | FRIDAY | 13 OCTOBER

“So, you finally decided to show up, huh?” Soobin side-eyed the blonde-haired boy, and sighed, shaking his head.

Kang Taehyun wasn’t one to go to balls and parties. He would much rather stay home and read a good book from his own humongous library, while sipping on a good cup of coffee by the fire. He wasn’t interested in the free food, since he could ask for that anytime in the comfort of his own home. Taehyun certainly wasn’t interested in the commoners who would follow him anytime they spotted him, or his father’s obnoxious friends. However, after hearing that tonight’s event was a masquerade, he decided to attend just for the fun of it. Little did he know, this vague decision would change him, forever.

“Well, yeah. I did, Soobin. Is it a big deal?”

Taehyun looked up at Soobin with squinted eyes through his sequined handmade mask, signalling that he was done with the conversation. How Soobin could tell it was him, he didn’t know. He thought that with the mask and different colored hair he could become an anonymous guest, but now, he wasn’t so sure.

“Yes, Taehyun, it's a big deal! You never show up to any party and suddenly, BAM! You pop up out of the blue wearing a velvet red coat and a white ruffled shirt. What’s your ulterior motive, huh?” Soobin squinted back at him.

“I don’t have any motives, Soobin. I’m just here because it's a masked party and no one should’ve been able to tell that I’m Kang Taehyun. However, that seems to have already failed because here you are blabbering to me about how I can’t even show up to one party.”

Soobin sighed and crossed his arms, leaning against the railing behind him.

“Well, since you’re here, I need a favor from you.”

Taehyun groaned. “No, no, please don’t. I’ve had enough of your weird shenanigans. I’m not going to be your model for photography class again, or accompany you to climb Ruby Mountain just so you can pick flowers for your dumb bouquet crafting class.”

“Wow, excuse me! What’s with your petty attitude? Number one, bouquet crafting class is not dumb, it’s a new art form. Number two, this is not one of my ‘weird shenanigan’ favors, I just need you to talk to this girl I’m friends with.”

“I swear, Choi Soobin, are you trying to set me up?” Taehyun grimaced and looked at Soobin in disgust.

Soobin waved his hands in front of him in defense and blurted, “No, of course not! She just wants to talk to you to help her get something? I think? She didn’t explain it to me in detail. If you want to know, you should go ask her yourself.”

On any other night, Taehyun would’ve immediately rejected and made his way home. However, today was a special night, why not give it a go?

7.05PM

Taehyun frowned at the sight in front of him. She looks so out of place here, what is Soobin setting me up for?

“What do you want? Make it quick. I have places to go and things to do.” He tapped his foot and looked at his watch. She probably just wants royal connections, like everyone else..

“Hi, prince Taehyun. Oh wait, I’m sorry, no. Your majesty, good ev- ugh, no. That’s not right. Your highness, I have come to request a favor from you.” You clumsily curtsied, and looked at Taehyun with quivering eyes.

“Okay, cut the crap. Why are you really here? I wouldn’t be surprised if you just robbed me or-”

“Oh, no! I just need your help with...um..how should I explain this…” You glanced at the floor, and fiddled with the loose thread on your cheap tacky gown.

Taehyun sighed. “Look. Talk to me when you’ve figured things out. Otherwise, stop wasting my time.” He was about to stalk off when you suddenly shouted from behind.

“Okay, I’m sorry! Here’s what I need. I need you to sneak me in your chamber lab in the Kang Castle so I can grab...my...uh...things! Yes, my things! I left something there and I want it back!”

Taehyun stopped in his tracks and turned back. “I’m a prince. Out of all the favors you could ask me for, all you want is this? You could’ve just asked someone else.”

You were running out of ways to convince him. “Well, I need your help because there’s something I want to show you too! My new creation!” There, that should work. People like him get intrigued over inventions and such. All they want is money. This will make them money.

That statement alone persuaded Taehyun to let a mere stranger into his castle, his home, and let someone he barely knew into a room full of gadgets and dangerous items.

Kang Taehyun was an intellectual, but he should’ve known that curiosity always kills the cat.

- - -

7.29PM

“I’m so sorry, I never asked for your name.”

“Oh, it’s Y/N L/N! Nice to meet you!” You waved and innocently smiled. It was like you had forgotten that you were talking to a prince.

Y/N L/N. He mouthed the two words carefully. They sounded very familiar, and he felt like he had heard the combination of the two words before somewhere in conversation.

Taehyun expected that he would be going home early at some point in the masquerade party, but not with any girl. He wasn’t interested in courting anyone, but he knew that either way, his time would come and he would be arranged with a princess from a neighboring kingdom. However, he didn’t like you like that. He didn’t even know you, and he didn’t know what took over him when he amenably agreed to taking you with him.

“So, Prince Kang, how-“

“Just Taehyun.”

“Well, Just Taehyun, let’s get to know each other better! I’ve been friends with Soobin for a long, long time. We met when we were ten, in the Fenced Forest outside. We-“

“Wait, I’m sorry. Fenced Forest? Royals aren’t allowed to go there. Wha...how did Soobin manage to get out?”

Taehyun was the king of manners, but curiosity got the best of him and he just had to butt in. Soobin was the second prince of Choi Kingdom, the first being Choi Yeonjun and the third being Choi Beomgyu, who would follow suit after Soobin. Princes are usually kept under high security. There’s no way he could’ve gone out by himself without getting caught. Plus, who is this weird lady? She seems to be a commoner, how did she enter a high-end party without getting caught?

“Oh! About that...I snuck him out!” You proudly exclaimed, acting like it was the best Samaritan deed you had ever done.

Taehyun’s eyes enlarged twice its size. “You...you…” he was at a loss for words. Secretly, he wanted someone to sneak him out as well, but he was never going to say that.

Before you could respond with your weird, quirky remarks. The carriage stopped to a halt and the chauffeur in front got off, opening the side door for the two of you.

He stood at the side and gestured with a gloved hand to the front of the castle.

“Welcome back home, Prince Kang.”

Taehyun expected a similar welcome statement to be said to you, but the chauffeur only bowed at him, and nearly slammed the door in your face as you were exiting the gold carriage.

That’s so weird. Our chauffeurs always greet guests. Why was he so rude to Y/N?

The chauffeur was also wondering why Prince Kang was talking to himself just now on the ride home, but he didn’t dare to confront his dear prince and decided to just let the questionable behavior slide.

The both of you made your way inside, and began climbing the long flights of stairs to the Chamber Lab, which was on the highest floor of the Kang Castle.

- - -

8.38PM

“...right! He called me a buffoon, and then kicked me out! Who even does that?”

The both of you cracked up and a steel door came into view. The entrance to Chamber Lab.

You and Taehyun had been having mindless chatter in the past 45 minutes, and the both of you had bonded over a lot of things the two of you didn’t know you had in common. Alas, you both had reached the top.

Taehyun removed a key from the inner pocket of his coat, which you eyed warily, and he slid it inside the keyhole. With a rusty groan, the door popped open and you cautiously followed Taehyun inside.

Yes! Just as I expected! Everyone is at the masquerade party, so there’s no one inside right now. Plan A is working perfectly, you thought to yourself. In front of you, Taehyun glanced around at the empty lab. He removed his mask and set it aside on an empty table.

Taehyun didn’t really know what to think right now, He had caught feelings for you within the past hour. What are you thinking? You just met this commoner girl, and suddenly you want to court her?

The problem was that he really liked you, a lot. It wasn’t everyday he got to talk to someone without feeling like he was a royal. You completely ignored the social norms of this century and treated him like a friend, like an equal. The only other experience he had with people like this were the Choi brothers. To be frank, he was getting quite sick of them.

You were tinkering with a few buttons on a panel, and Taehyun looked back in shock and panic. “Y/N! You’re not supposed to touch that! Let’s just grab your things and we can go!”

“Well, Taehyun, remember the invention I wanted to show you? Come here.” You walked over to a translucent cylinder, and beckoned him to come over. Taehyun reluctantly shuffled over.

“Hey, Y/N, you forgot to take off your mask. Let me do it for you.” He was about to grab the elastic off your head, when you slapped his arm off fiercely. You tried to mask your angry expression with a small giggle.

“No! I like it, it’s quirky. Leave me alone.” You winked at him and he frowned at you.

The air had shifted, you knew you were running out of time.

“Okay, anyways. You want to see my invention, right? Ta-da!” You jazzed your hands in front of the green cylinder. “Go inside! It’s going to be fun!”

“And why should I trust you?” Taehyun quirked an eyebrow up and stepped back.

“Because! Because we’re friends! I trust you, so you trust me too!”

Taehyun reluctantly stepped into the small opening of the green cylinder. Maybe this thing is fun, it might send me flying. Heck! It could even help dad make some money!

You snickered to yourself and pressed a large red button on the side of the cylinder. The opening flap shut tight, creating an impossible-to-open vacuum seal. Taehyun was trapped inside, he just didn’t know it yet.

“Hey, Kang! You want to see me remove my mask right?” You smirked.

He nodded and shouted through the cylinder, “You look so weird with it!”

Wait till you see me without my mask, then you won’t be laughing anymore.

You slowly slid off your cheap off-brand feather mask, and innocently looked up at Taehyun.

Wait. I recognize her. Isn’’t she on my textbook? The front cover? L/N Kingdom...massacre...L/N Family...royal family killed…

All the memories from what he thought were useless history lessons were all rushing back to him.

“The Kang Massacre. A historical event of mass killing that changed the 5 neighboring kingdoms forever. Taehyun II, your great grandfather, ordered and arranged the burning of the L/N Kingdom’s royal palace. He hadn’t intended to spread the fire any further, but it hit the commoner’s village and in three days, the entire kingdom had burned down.” Taehyun could remember word-for-word what his teacher had said.

“...Y/N L/N was the oldest of the kingdom’s five children. Displaying amazing capabilities, she had the potential to be the next queen. Her body was found in her sister’s nursery room and placed in a special green cylinder for examination and autopsy. She was the only one of the five children to not be buried but cremated. Y/N L/N displayed amazing capabilities and had the potential to become the first queen of L/N Kingdom. If only such a tragic event hadn’t happened. Anyways, moving on! The biggest factor…”

It was all coming back now. He had seen a painted portrait of her on the front cover of his history textbook and he knew that this Y/N L/N was exactly the same as the Y/N L/N he had learned about. Their hair was the same, facial features, the same scar on her left cheekbone never left. He was getting scared, and he wanted to get out of the green cylinder fast.

“Um...uh….this is all fun and whatever, but what are you planning to do?” He was trying to keep his cool, but you could clearly hear the tremble in his voice.

“Cut the crap, Kang Taehyun. I know you know who I am. Let me tell you why I’m here.”

You, finally able to reveal your true self as a ghost, slid over the tables and went through the chairs to float right in front of Taehyun, while menacingly smirking and mocking his frightened expression.

“Let’s see...where should I begin? Ah, yes, the night I died. It was all your great granddad’s fault. All of it. The stupid idiot and my father got into a small argument and he decided to burn us all up into flames. I still remember that night vividly. I was in Aera’s room, playing with her and her new dolls. Next thing I know, smoke enters the room, followed by my coughing mother. She stands in front of Aera’s nursery and mumbles, ‘Y/N, revenge. Y/N, revenge.’ Mother collapses, and I fall into unconsciousness afterwards.”

You sidle up to Taehyun and (attempt to) press your nose against the sealed cylinder. “How is it, huh? Enjoying the story so far?”

Taehyun doesn’t respond. Regardless, you continue.

“When I wake up, I’m not in my body anymore. No, no, no, I’m looking at my dead body, in that green cylinder. It’s at that moment that I realize, I’ve turned into a freaking ghost. A ghost! I don’t have a body and this is my life now! At that point in time, I wished I could’ve ended this, but right now I love it. I have been alive for two hundred years and I will never die, or age. One day, I suddenly remembered about my mother’s last words, revenge. I swore upon myself to avenge for the death of my family and my entire kingdom, and started my plan to kill every single one of your family. Do you know where this is going?”

Taehyun is in the midst of trying to open the vacuum seal when you go through the cylinder and grimace at him. Taehyun shouts in surprise and scrambles all the way back until his body is plastered onto the cylinder walls and he cannot go any further.

You looked down at him with mock empathy and continuing telling your life story. “Well, I started with grabbing tools for my little plan. I was in Fenced Forest one day, and guess who I met? Ho ho ho, I met your dear friend, Choi Soobin. I wasn’t expecting to get so close to him, but when I found out that he was a close buddy of yours, I decided to keep the friendship, thinking that it may come into use later, and it did. I have been waiting for this exact moment my entire life. I was the one who convinced Soobin to ask his father to do a masquerade party, and I was the one who convinced him to invite you, even though he said you would never show up. Guess what? You did. Big mistake.” You enunciated the ‘I’s”, and gleamed proudly at the quivering boy.

“After doing some research downtown, I found out that this green cylinder that you’re in right now has the power to control the souls of mortals. I spent years and years recreating this invention, and now, it’s ready. For you. Do you want to know what will happen to you here?”

Taehyun slowly shook his head and looked down at the ground, trying to see if there was an exit somewhere.

There wasn’t any place to escape, anywhere. Taehyun’s body was stuck inside, and the only way he could escape was if his soul left his body behind, but he didn’t know that yet.

You squealed in excitement. You had been waiting for this moment your entire life, and you wanted to drag it on for as long as possible. “Guess what? I’m going to tell you anyway! I will click this cute little blue button on my right, which will suck out your soul! Did you hear that? Your soul! Then I will enter your empty corpse, and I will become Kang Taehyun! No one will know, because they won’t be able to tell. I can do anything I want when I’m in your body. Do you know what I’m going to do when I become you, stupid Kang Taehyun? I am going to go to your father’s throne room when no one else is around except him, and I will slash his throat, nice and slow. I will watch the life seep out from his dead body and then you know what I, as you, will do? I will burn his corpse in the throne room, and leave. I will walk around every inch of this idiotic palace and set fire to every part of it, until every single part of this castle is lit in flames. Oh, no! Aren’t you scared? Don’t worry, by that time every peasant, merchant, servant, and royal of the Kang Kingdom, will be dead. Fun, right?”

Taehyun tried slowly processing the information you were throwing at him. This is a dream. It’s a nightmare. Ms. Patricia, the housekeeper, will wake me up from my slumber anytime now. Y/N doesn’t exist, you never liked her. He pinched his skin and knocked on the surface of the cylinder.

Sadly, he was still very much alive. “Let me out! You idiotic psycho! I didn’t do anything my great grandfather did! I’m not him. We are two completely different people and the person you want to kill isn’t me, its him, but he’s dead. Give up, Y/N. Your mother’s words have already come to life a long time ago. My great grandfather died from an assassination.”

You tilted your head in response. You didn’t know about this piece of information. However, you had wasted too much time to figure out a way of sucking Taehyun’s soul out of his body that you just couldn’t believe him. You had gone ballistic. You had to end the Kang legacy, just like how his ancestors did for your family legacy.

“Sounds like false information to me. I am not going to stop here just because of one measly statement. I have been working for this for more than a hundred years, and I’m not letting my hard effort go to waste. Oh, won’t poor Soobinnie be so sad to hear that his good friend murdered his own family and kingdom. Whoopsies.” You stuck your tongue out and shrugged.

Taehyun realized that giving you false information wasn’t to get him out of this mess, so he resorted to pleading. “Please, Y/N. This is not my fault. I’m sorry, we can get over this. I can give you anything you want. Money? Rooms? Clothes? Heck, I can even give you love!”

You scowled at his cowering figure. “I want your empty body. I don’t want anything else. You are going to give it to me regardless.” You glided over to the blue button and hovered your arm over it.

“Any last words?”

“I...Y/N…I truly liked you. You were a nice person, and I know you still are. Deep down, you have real emotions and I’m sure you possess some form of empathy. Please Y/N. You can stop now. Is it because for all these years, no one cared for you? Did no one ask you how you were, or what you wanted? Well, I’m here. I can help you. I can give you a better life. You will be able to tell me anything and have everything. Please, Y/N...this is not the real you. You don’t have to do this.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away from Taehyun to hide your vulnerability.

“I don’t need anyone or anything. I just want you gone. You don’t know me. I don’t want a better life. I want to avenge for my family and my kingdom. The Kang Kingdom has to pay for what they have done, and this is the only method that will suffice.”

While you sniffled and sobbed, you turned back to a teary Taehyun, and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

As more floods of tears came rolling down your face, you pressed the blue button, and looked away.

Taehyun’s body contorted back and forth, turning blue and eyes dilating. His corpse rose into the air and his limbs flailed back and forth, as if they were screaming for help. He could no longer control his body, and he couldn’t do anything about the agonizing pains that were seeping in. With one last jolt, his limp body fell back to the ground, returning to its normal color.

You peeked through the hands covering your eyes at the sight in front of you, and immediately, all empathy and sympathy from before disappeared. Taehyun’s soul had been disposed into another dimension, and he was now the least of your worries.

No one had talked to you like that before, no one had understood you so easily. No one seemed to care, until you met Taehyun.

Well, he was gone. You didn’t have to worry about showing your true emotions again.

You floated over to his empty corpse, and with a deep breath, you pushed down a small lever under the deck of the cylinder.

With a whirring noise, the cylinder started shaking, and you felt yourself fall into unconsciousness.

- - -

10.49PM

The guards all wondered what happened to Taehyun. It was like he had changed into a completely different person. He lost all forms of his mannerisms, and was rude to anything and everyone. The only person he treated decently was Choi Soobin, who had come to visit him after hearing about the events taking place. Even then, he had changed drastically within just three hours.

Taehyun walked past the two stationed guards outside the king’s throne room, who politely bowed to him. He completely ignored them and continued sauntering inside.

When the small ray of light from outside peeked through the translucent window, the item in Taehyun’s back pocket could be seen with a metallic shine. The guards should have questioned it, as well as the lit match he was holding when he walked inside.

- - -

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theodora3022 · 4 years ago

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The Outlaw Prince Part.1 (Fanasty AU Shigaraki Tomura x F!reader)

Summary: As the sovereign Queen, you must sign every execution order before the punishment is performed. This give the criminal a final chance to plead for their case. You would summon them into the castle, treat them like guests, and hear their final words. Your grandfather was the one that made this tradition, to show how he is a merciful ruler (he is not, he is only doing this to save his reputation of a being tyrant). If they have some small final wishes, like what kind of coffin they like or some money for their family, you will fulfill that. Always have mercy on the dying, even they are murderers or human traffickers. That is what Grandpapa told you. You seen your father did this many times, but this is the first time you host such an event. Unfortunately, this criminal seems to have peaked your interests.

Notes: You all seem to love Shigaraki, so here I am. Maybe yandere in second part? This has been stewing in my mind ever since I thought about that fantasy AU. The reader is still the new Sovereign Queen, this happens before she takes suitors. Of course I am not going to make Tomura a conventional Prince! I may or may not write a bit nsfw in the later chapters, but don’t get your hopes up lol. I planned three parts, but it could get out of hand and become a multi-chapter project...

The other fics can be found on my master list.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Warnings: Swearing

This is the moment you dreaded ever since you put that ruby ring on. Signing death sentence warrants. You know it is going to come sooner or later, since you watched your father perform these duties, even accompanied him on several trials. It should not frighten you.

So why does this sense of unease have been plaguing you as of late?

Now you are sitting at your desk, studying the file of this unfortunate soul.

“Tomura Shigaraki, Crimes: attempt murder of one of the most renowned mercenaries, All might.” The stunt failed, and this man received the death sentence for it.

You had met All Might back when you were a princess and think of him as that caring uncle everyone wants. He once praised your sword techniques, leaving you flustered. Who would want such a wonderful man dead? Sociopaths, probably. That is what most criminals are, after all.

“Age:21”

He is about your age, although you cannot even begin to imagine what happened. What made a young man commit such immoral acts? There is more to this file, but you want to hear him firsthand without any prejudice. Shutting the folder, you massaged your temples and mentally prepared yourself for the trials. You received a messenger yesterday from the State Prison that they are transferring him here today. You are supposed to greet him in a few hours.

Grandpapa surely knows what he is getting his descendants into. Meeting criminals? Did he have too much time in his schedule? I know most of these people deserves death, but why do I have to be the final judge?

Cursing your grandfather under your breath, you decide to take a little nap before. Such an exhausting activity surely calls for a little rest prior, right?

As the third bell of the afternoon rang, you got up to stretch and yawn, then takes your time to the special dungeon. You had always disliked attendants trailing behind you, therefore you always traveled in the castle alone. Even if something were to happen, the sword in your skirt pocket can be put to use (That is one advantage of such elaborate crinolines). You are your most dependable protector, or so your grandfather said. So far the castle has been peaceful, thanks to the capable guards.

Even though you were supposed to treat them like guests, you cannot just let them occupy the regular guest rooms. Your grandpapa had built a special building in the northeast corner of the castle gardens, especially for this matter.

The door guards bowed to you as you stood in font of the metal gate, contemplating your mindset. Your father usually treated them like official business partners, cold and distant. That approach is prudent, but you want to do something different. You want them to open up to you, get to know them before you send them to their dooms. Maybe you can even get some wronged ones spared!

“This is the room, your majesty. Should I accompany you?” The steward of this building asks you nervously. Ah, your mind had wondered too far. You did not notice how you had followed him to the location.

“Thank you, but I’ll manage. You can sit on the other side of the glass and aid me if necessary.” You smile, though your tone is firm. This is a good chance to prove you are a competent monarch, interrogate a criminal alone.

The room was decently furnished, without a single unnecessary decoration. Except that big mirror that almost covers the entire wall, a mirror made with two-way glass, see through from the other side. Two armchairs, a little tea table in between and a couch.

There he is; the criminal you’re going to interrogate for the next month. He is sitting on the couch, with shackles on his wrists and ankles. His back is facing you, so you cannot see his appearance beside that messy blue hair.

“Finally here? Your Majesty? You certainly took your sweet time.” He did not come kiss your hand, as expected. Gods, how long has it been since he had a proper drink? Those chapped lips did not form within a day. Even with those scars, his crimson eyes still stood out as beautiful. Ignoring his mocking tone, you told the servants to bring tea and refreshments.

“Mr. Shigaraki. I am sure you know who I am, so I will skip the pleasantries. So, tell me about yourself.” Settling on one of the sofas, you start to caress the wooden handle of your sword. Even though this man is in tied in chains only long enough to just move around this room, the best thing to do it stay on your guard.

He laughs, almost sent a chill down your spine, but decides to take a set on the opposite sofa regardless. “Your country is an odd one.” Shigaraki studies you with that unsettling red gaze, with a grin on his lips. “The Queen has to have tea parties with criminals. Do you have nothing better to do?” That is when the maids brought the tea trays. She offers to come in to act as a chaperone, but you took the tea tray and assure her you are doing just fine.

“This is part of my duties. Sugar cube? Honey? Whichever you prefer.” Pouring yourself a cup of your favorite blend, you offer him some as well. Your mouth already started to water at the chocolate cake on the set.

Tomura is stunned, to say the least. He did not expect you to be so...friendly with a lowly criminal like him. He thought this is just another interrogation session, despite the guard had him bathed and dressed him in nice clothes. Sure, he knows this process, but he thought it was just a gesture of the ruling class to appear merciful.

Still, it would be rude to turn the invite from a beautiful lady like you.

He had heard about you before. A spoiled little girl who took the crown due to family tragedies. So why not indulge in some lighthearted conversations before meeting his end?

“...One teaspoon of honey.” Tomura wanted to add please at the end, then remembered the current situation. This tea sure smells good. When was the last time he drank such sophisticated beverage? He honestly cannot recall; it was such a long time ago...

The clear sound of fine porcelain landing in front of him woke Shigaraki from nostalgia. “So, mind introducing yourself, Sir?”

“You already read files about me.” “Maybe, but I want to hear your story from your lips.” You wonder whether it would be possible to let one of the guards apply lip balm on him, by force or otherwise. Taking a sip from the cup, Shigaraki begun to tell you about his hidden past.

“Despite my current situation, I was born to a high station. Although I am also the one who thrown all of it away. I abandoned my old name and took the current one. I have no family left, nothing to hold me back from my goals.” The tea is sweet, almost too sweet for his liking.

A noble fell from grace, then. You seen those kinds before, usually quite well-mannered, but bitter about how fate had treated them. At least you do not have to bear with profanities. You nod to signal him you are listening, stirring to dissolve the sugar cube. “So why would you kill Mr. Yagi? I personally would never do that, for example.”

Of course you would not. You are too good to even think about killing a hero like All Might. Girls born with golden spoons like you would never understand what peasants had to go through just for a mouthful of food.

“The current social order is crooked. Someone must fix it, by whatever means possible. Even if you were to kill me now, there’ still countless others like me. Have fun with them.” Putting down the cup, Tomura turns towards the small window on his right.

“Interesting. What is wrong with the current society?” Taking out a notebook, you begin to scribble with your pencil. “Do you think this continent should have anarchy?”

“Do you wish to give up your crown this badly? I thought you know better, little Queen. I guess I could tell you, you’re curious one.” Most people would spit on him as if Shigaraki is a rat from the sewers, forgotten who he was before descends to villainy. You are one of the few who shows compassion to him, fake or not. He wonders if this is your usual business attitude. Something in your knowledge hunger attitude, your glistening eyes makes him want to open up to you.

Kindness do come from least expected places.

“Those mercenaries, self-proclaimed heroes, disgusts me. They did the same thing as outlaws, taking lives. But they earn all those praises and adoration? Because of what? The f**king greater good.” Scratch the polite part, Shigaraki is clearly not above using swear words.

“Could you refrain from using vulgar language? You said you are of noble birth; you should know the proper protocol for talking to a monarch. Also, what is your place of birth? Which kingdom are you from?”

“I forsaken my status long ago, right now I’m nothing more then a lowlife. It is only fitting that I act like one. How about you tell me a bit about yourself, little Queen? It’s only fair, and I don’t have anyone to tell.” Cracking a wide smile, Shigaraki took amusement of how you shiver a little. Not so fearless after all, unlike the urban legends.

You do not see any harm in sharing whimsical details about yourself. Just treat him like those irritating distant cousins, you told yourself.

You start by how your grandpapa is a cruel tyrant, but you still love him dearly. How he taught you swordsmanship, riding, cooking simple meals, bandage minor wounds and make a fire in the wild. In between you offered Shigaraki some sweets on the tray, frowned when he only took a pretzel, the least sweet one.

That does not sound like a spoiled upbringing at all. That sounds like how an assassin or soldier was raised. One of his formal guards used to said how hard it was.

“Mr. Shigaraki? Are you feeling alright? Do I need to send for a physician?”

“You’re a funny girl. I think I will give you one clue of my past if you are so eager to learn. Others used to refer me as Tenko.” Shigaraki threw out the bait already, now it is time to wait and see if he can catch the big one. Even if he loses this gamble, this should provide him some entertainment in his final days. A fruitful endeavor either way. You wrote that name down, ready to do research on it.

The gentle knocks on the door reminds you it is time to wrap up this little chat. This is...a lot better than you expected. You cannot help but feel he is charming, in his own twisted, wicked way.

“Is there anything that can improve your stay? A change in meals, perhaps?” Putting the notebook back into your skirt pocket, you fetch up the tea tray and ask.

Look at you, being the good hostess, really care for Shigaraki like a guest. So nice and naïve, it would be a shame if some villain like him to take advantage of that.

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

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#bnha fantasy au #yandere bnha #bnha shigaraki #bnha shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura #bnha imagines #bnha self insert #bnha reader insert

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cakesunflower · 5 years ago

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No Need Convincing Me [Tattoo Artist!Calum AU] Part 2

Summary: Elodie Banks hadn’t expected to get so caught up in her best friend’s tattoo artist. But all it took was one meeting with Calum Hood for Elodie to feel herself drawing towards him and the ink on his skin. Maybe once she was rid of a miserable relationship and the insecurities that came with it, she’d allow herself to realize that Calum was just as wrapped up in her.

All Parts: Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Part 2

She was arm candy, only to speak when spoken to. Which was laughable, given that her parents owned one or two hotels in every major city across the country and were the top members of the city’s elite society. Elodie Banks wasn’t arm candy—unless Nathaniel Roman said she was. And she was tired of it.

Their arms weren’t even linked together the whole they had been when they first arrived. Now, they just stood side by side as Nathan talked to some important looking people Elodie didn’t know. She had tried to pay attention, tried to engage, but every time she’d open her mouth, Nathan would brush over her and his voice would overpower hers. So why should she bother? It twisted her stomach uncomfortably, being silenced for ever having an opinion on anything, but she stuck by. She plastered a smile and nodded along as if she understood. Smile and nod. Smile and nod.

“You alright, honey?” Elodie had managed to break away from Nathan, not that he truly noticed as he was too busy schmoozing the men he was talking to, to grab a glass of wine. Her mother had taken that moment to check in on her, blue eyes glimmering with concern.

“Yeah,” Elodie assures her with a smile. She couldn’t exactly indulge in the fact that being with Nathan was suffocating because, well, her parents loved him. Treated him like their own son because they all grew up together. Not to mention, Elodie had a fear if she told them the truth, they’d say the same thing Nathan said: she was being too sensitive. Gesturing around lightly with her glass, Elodie said, “It’s a beautiful collection.”

She could still see the concern in her mom’s eyes, but was grateful that she accepted the change of subject. Mrs. Banks looked around, a smile on her face and hands clasped as she said, “Yes, it is; hopefully we’ll raise a great amount.”

Elodie nodded her agreement. The money from the auction of the artwork was going to a variety of environmental and youth charities, and Elodie hoped they’d raise a substantial amount for them.

Her mother eyed her once more, raising a concerned brow. “Are you sure there’s nothing bothering you?”

Elodie met her gaze, forcing a smile onto her lips she’d become an expert in faking. “No, Mom. I’m great.”

She downed the rest of her wine after her mom walked away, earning a raised eyebrow from Dominique as she had chosen that given moment to approach Elodie. “You going through something?”

Elodie’s eyes cast over to where Nathan was, lips turning down into a frown as she mumbled, “Neglect.”

She watched the way Dominique looked over to Nathan as well, rolling her green eyes and Elodie kind of wished she kept her mouth shut. The animosity between her best friend and boyfriend wasn’t lost on her; she desperately wished the two of them got along. She wished she didn’t have to endure listening to either of them bicker or hear one ridicule the other behind their backs. Dominique only wanted what was best for her, and Elodie was aware of her friend’s dislike of Nathan stemming from the fact that Dominique thought Elodie deserved better. And maybe she did.

Elodie hated that she was so weak. If she was stronger, more like Dominique, then she’d be able to talk herself into breaking up with Nathan and then doing so. But she isn’t. And that’s why Nathan liked her.

“You know what?” Dominique spoke after taking a breath, eyes meeting Elodie’s. She saw the mischief glinting in the green of Dominique’s eyes. “I don’t think I’m feeling too well. How about you, my best friend, take me home before I throw up on the artwork?”

Elodie’s eyebrows shot up, feeling the smile quirk at her lips as she stared at Dominique in incredulity and amusement. She wanted to ditch? To be fair, it wasn’t the first time Dominique talked Elodie into leaving not even halfway through some event their families attended, but every time it was brought up, a shock of nerves and excitement rushed through Elodie. Breaking the rules wasn’t something she did often, and only ever in Dominique’s company. And she never regretted it.

Fooling their parents wasn’t elaborate. Dominique just clutched her stomach and made an expression akin to of someone about to throw up, throwing in the act of having a headache too. Her mom, ever concerned, suggested going to the doctor, but Elodie and Dominique assured them she just needed some rest. And with Elodie offering to take Dominique home, it was said and done.

They were out of the banquet hall, approaching the exit of the hotel when Nathan’s voice spoke, “Where are you going?”

They stopped, Dominique rolling her eyes as Elodie’s stomach flipped, turning to look at her questioning boyfriend. She tried not to shift on her heels, hand holding Dominique’s arm as she said, “Dom’s not feeling well so we’re going back to her place.”

Nathan’s green eyes shifted to Dominique, who didn’t even bother putting up an act, instead fixing him with the glare she had reserved just for him. Scoffing, Nathan took a few steps towards them and said, “Dominique’s a big girl. I’m sure she can take care of herself–no need for you to go.”

Elodie frowned gently at the notion of Nathan trying to stop her from doing something and at the fact that he wouldn’t care if her best friend really was sick and she wanted to help. Moments like these did Elodie realize how selfish he was. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still going with her, Nathan,” Elodie told him, her voice soft and even, because that’s just how she spoke all the time. Especially with him.

She saw the irritation flash across his eyes, tightening his features as he clenched his jaw. Elodie tried not to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat, taking a breath as he said in a forced calm tone, “You’re my date, Elodie. You can’t just leave me.”

“Both of you came with your families, jackass. You’ll be fine,” Dominique scoffed, reaching her hand up to grasp Elodie’s, who pressed her lips together when Nathan’s expression darkened. He was so handsome—Elodie hated when the inside of him didn’t match. “The car’s waiting.”

Dominique pulled Elodie out of the hotel, and she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder as she looked at Nathan. Her throat dried at the scowl he wore, hands curled into fists at his sides, and though her stomach twisted nervously at the sight of him, it was overpowered by the relief and excitement of getting out of there. And away from him, but Elodie silenced that thought immediately.

About fifteen minutes later, around nine-thirty PM, the two of them were sitting in some Halal Guys, waiting for their food, still in their evening gowns and high heels. The two ignored the looks they got, chatting amongst themselves in their booth, when suddenly Ashton slipped next to Dominique and Calum next to Elodie.

“A little snazzy for a place like this, huh?” Ashton grinned, arm going around Dominique’s shoulders as he grinned at the girls.

Dominique snorted, sipping her soda. “We’re classing the place up.”

On the other side, Elodie was more or less frozen, not at all expecting the man sitting next to her. Dominique had asked Elodie if it was okay if she invited Ashton, which Elodie was all up for, but no one had mentioned the dark haired tattoo artist sliding into Elodie’s side of the booth. She glanced over at the wave of cologne that nearly dizzied her, the smell fresh and delightful, and felt her heart jump when she noted Calum’s dark gaze on her.

She watched the way his eyes trailed over her, feeling her skin flush when his gaze met hers once more and he said in a quiet tone, “Red’s a good color on you.”

The warmth on her cheeks intensified, gaze dropping to the color of her dress as if she hadn’t known what she was wearing. It was ruby red, reminiscent of her birthstone, the material hugging her nicely. Finding her voice, Elodie murmured a, “Thank you,” just as the guy at the counter called out both her and Dominique’s order numbers.

“We got ’em,” Ashton said, exchanging a nod with Calum before the two of them got up to go to the counter.

When they were out of ear shot, Elodie looked at Dominique, her eyes widened a bit as she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me Calum was coming?”

Dominique let out a laugh, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I didn’t know Ash was bringing him, I swear.” When her smile transitioned into a smirk, she leaned forward and said knowingly, “He thinks you’re cute, ya know.”

Her words had the expectant reaction from Elodie, her face completely on fire as she pressed her lips together and pushed herself back into the cushion of the booth seat. Elodie wanted to desperately believe that Dominique was just teasing her, playing around, but she knew her best friend never joked about those kinds of things—especially with someone as sensitive and nervous as Elodie. So knowing that there was, to some extent, a bit of truth in Dominique’s words had Elodie’s heart skipping a beat and shoulders tensing when Ashton and Calum returned with their food.

The grateful smile upturned Elodie’s lips easier than she thought, heart fluttering when Calum returned it with a small smile of his own as he placed her plastic tray in front of her, the chicken platter and side of hummus nearly making her stomach growl as she reached for her fork. But before she began eating, she glanced at Calum and found herself asking, “Do you want some?”

His gaze met hers, like he hadn’t expected for her to offer, and the small smile that returned made his eyes glimmer more than the chain necklace did under the fluorescent lights of the restaurant. “Thanks, doll,” Calum hummed, the nickname slipping casually, though there was nothing casual about the way Elodie’s heart lurched as she heard it. Calum reached over, ring clad and tattooed hand picking up a triangle of pita bread and scooping up some hummus with it before taking a bite.

Elodie had to look away in effort of not just staring at the way his strong jaw moved as he chewed, nodding appreciatively at the taste. God. She was so weird.

“So did you decide what you’re doing for your birthday?” Ashton’s question pulled at Elodie’s attention, all eyes going to Dominique expectantly.

She put down her roll, swallowing down her bite and gently wiping at her mouth with a napkin. With a shrug, Dominique responded, “Costume party? My birthday’s always on Halloween weekend so it just makes shit easier.”

After sipping her drink, Elodie asked, “Are you gonna have it at your place or book a venue?”

Dominique hummed as Calum stole another piece of pita bread from Elodie’s plate, shooting her a boyish smile that had her own lips curling. He was undeniably handsome and it was fluttering Elodie’s stomach a bit too much. Handsome and intriguing, a combination Elodie shouldn’t get wrapped up in. “If the Playboy Club is available on my birthday, I’ll book it otherwise I can just throw it at my place.”’

Elodie let out a soft laugh around her fork. The Playboy Club would become readily available once they realized the party was for Dominique Lewis.

The four of them continued with light conversation over the dull buzz of the overhead lights, only three or four other customers in the restaurant as vague conversations occurred around them. Elodie found herself relaxed with the company she had, amusedly watching Dominique and Ashton pressed into each other in the middle of their booth, being the couple they denied they were, as Elodie finished her food with the help of Calum stealing some of her pita bread and hummus. The two of them sat at a respectable distance from one another on their side of the booth, but Elodie could still feel the warmth he radiated, could smell the faint scent of his cologne over the food they ate.

She found herself listening to the sound of his voice as much as she paid attention to the words he uttered; he was quiet, she noted as they sat, listening more so than speaking, but every time he did, Elodie got lost in his voice. A deep timber with a rasp that became more prominent if he spoke between laughter, his broad shoulders shaking as he did so. And for someone who came off as reserved—unlike Elodie’s shyness, Calum’s appeared as mysterious and intriguing—he seemed to smile a lot. Elodie found no fault in that—he had a gorgeous smile, complete with crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes and cheeks pushing up adorably.

It dried her throat, how quickly she was finding these details in him.

“Would you ever consider getting a tattoo?” Calum had asked the question out of nowhere, making conversation with Elodie as, across from them, Ashton and Dominique lazily talked about something she hadn’t been paying attention to.

Elodie blinked as she looked at Calum, head turned towards her as he leaned back in the seat, right ankle resting on his left knee as his right arm rested on the table in front of them. He was making conversation, casual and easy, as he eyed her curiously. Elodie wasn’t quite sure what it was, but the way Calum looked at her, watched her, felt different. Nerve wracking—but in a good way. “I don’t think so,” she told him truthfully, almost shyly because she didn’t want to insult him or his job in some way. With a sheepish smile, she added, “I don’t think I’ve got the pain threshold for it.”

Honestly, Elodie liked tattoos. She liked the way they looked on people’s skin, admired the artwork and precision to detail, and wondered what the stories behind every tattoo was on every person she saw—if there was a deep meaning, if they got it just because they liked the design, if it was some kind of drunken mistake—the curiosity always ate at her. But actually receiving one herself? Elodie wasn’t too sure if she’d be able to sit through that. Besides, she wouldn’t even know what to get if she ever decided on going for it.

Understanding danced across Calum’s features as he nodded. “That’s fair,” he said, fingers tapping on the table top. She wondered what the letters on his hands meant.

Finding the urge to keep the conversation going, Elodie shifted ever so slightly, pressing her right shoulder into the booth to face Calum a bit as she told him, “I’ve always wanted to get my nose pierced, though.”

She watched the way Calum’s dark eyes dropped a bit, looking at her nose, and for some reason that had her smiling. Calum’s own mouth quirked, boyish and far too charming, as he looked at her once more and said smoothly, “You’ve got the perfect nose for it.” Elodie wondered if he was aware how easily he lit a fire in her cheeks. Wondered if she should be worried about that fact. Lazily pointing at her, Calum added, “If you ever wanna get it done, come by the shop. It’ll be on me,” the offer complete with a boyish wink.

Elodie raised her eyebrows, surprised and feeling almost sheepish at his offer. If she was being honest, she was kind of used to getting some things for free or for a valued price—it came with the status of being the daughter of parents like hers. She’d always been grateful for it, yet always offered to pay the full amount because she could afford it, because she didn’t find it necessary to be given things for free—a trait she didn’t quite share with the classmates she had in her private high school.

She often joked about how that’s how the rich stayed rich—by having companies give them free things for the sake of their name being attached to their brand.

Before Elodie could even hope to respond, a new voice spoke up, completely freezing her in her seat and immediately dissipating the easy going mood of their table. “If you weren’t feeling sick before, you sure as hell will now with that shit in your stomach.”

Dominique’s expression darkened as Nathan stepped into view, standing right at the end of their table as. His expression seemed cool, but Elodie noted the storm brewing in his eyes, the irritation trickling upon his features, and she felt her own body tightening in his presence. Her nails dug into her palms under the table, cursing at her instinctive reaction upon Nathan arriving; this wasn’t how she should be feeling around her boyfriend. Why couldn’t she stop?

“Actually, I was feeling great until I saw your face,” came Dominique’s rebuke, tone as icy as her eyes as she glared at the unwelcome guest. Elodie pressed her teeth together, gently nudging Dominique’s foot with her own under the table. Their eyes met, and Elodie silently pleaded for her to not provoke him. Turning her gaze back to Nathan, Dominique demanded, “How’d you even find us? Stalking’s a crime, you know.”

“Our drivers talk, Dominique. It wasn’t hard.” Nathan’s gaze then shifted to Elodie, and she hated that she felt guilty under the weight of his gaze. She knew she shouldn’t have lied to him in the first place, and while she didn’t regret being here, she wasn’t looking forward to Nathan’s anger. With patronizing raised eyebrows, Nathan taunted, “You ditched me for some cheap double date? What the fuck are you doing, Elodie?”

Her lips, long since having lost their gloss, parted to speak, her words caught in a nervous hitch of breath, heart pounding when Calum spoke up out of nowhere. “Are you really gonna speak to her like that?”

All eyes shifted to Calum, and Elodie was too busy taking a soft breath at the sound of him coming to her defense to notice the annoyance that intensified on her boyfriend’s face. Calum was looking up at Nathan, looking at him with an expression that was a cross between challenging and disgust, scrunched together eyebrows raised in question.

Jaw working, Nathan snapped back, “This is none of your business, buddy—”

Calum gave a single shake of his head—more of a sideways tilt of his chin, really—as he clicked his tongue and cut in, “Not your buddy.”

Elodie took a breath, not at all ignorant of the tension brewing between them. After all, it was her doing, wasn’t it? The amount of hostility between the two of them churned her stomach, naively wondering if it all came from this moment. The two men Elodie was sitting with didn’t know Nathan, and he wasn’t giving them the best impression of himself. Silently, briefly, Elodie wondered what that even was anymore.

Instead of responding to Calum, Nathan looked at Elodie once more, telling her tightly, “Let’s go. We’re leaving.”

His demanding tone didn’t settle well with anyone, and even Ashton frowned as he started, “Dude—”

Elodie’s skin felt like it was on fire. She was mortified, upset, angry. Nathan never hesitated on speaking to her like this, always demanded things of her even if it went against what she wanted. And he only ever did it in front of Dominique, yet in front of everyone else, he kept up that charming act that Elodie had fallen for in the first place, never giving the impression that behind the disarming grin, there was a man who had no trouble in being a puppet master to his acquiescent girlfriend.

Elodie hated that almost six months in, he was still working the strings.

“Now, Elodie,” Nathan snapped again, right at her, cutting off whatever Ashton was about to say. His eyes were fierce, challenging her to say no.

Her heart was in her throat, stomach churning and suddenly she wished she hadn’t eaten that entire platter. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, and Elodie unsuccessfully tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she cleared it and looked down at her lap, pretending to dust off crumbs from her dress. They needed to get out of there before Nathan made more of a scene than he already had; somehow, though, she was the one who was embarrassed, never him. There was a familiar sting in her nose, but Elodie ignored it as she asked in a small voice, “Calum, can you let me out, please?”

She didn’t dare look at him, but Elodie could feel the heat of Calum’s gaze burning into her upon hearing her request. Maybe he was wondering if he misheard her. Maybe he was wondering how she could let Nathan speak to her like that. Maybe he thought she was utterly ridiculous for listening to Nathan. God knows Elodie considered those last two options for herself.

Why couldn’t she just say no?

Instead, she was burning under everyone’s gazes—especially Calum’s. She could feel him staring at her, as intense as the lights above, and not for the first time Elodie hated being weak. Hated it for herself, and hated that Calum had to see her this way. And while she wasn’t exactly sure why the second was so strong, why it meant more than it should, but it did. And it made her all the more nauseous.

There was shifting from next to her, and Elodie saw from the corner of her eyes as Calum slid out of the booth without a word, and she swallowed inaudibly before sliding out as well. She felt like a fucking child as she stood next to Nathan, a child who just got reprimanded, and the embarrassment brought a new wave of heat to her skin as Calum moved to sit back down. Her gaze met his then, accidentally, and Elodie noted the frown on his face as he looked at her. His lips were pressed together in disdain—was it towards her? Towards Nathan? Towards this whole situation?—with his hands pressed to the tops of his thighs as if he was bracing himself, and Elodie felt her throat tighten at his darkened eyes.

She quickly averted her gaze to Dominique, who mouthed, “Call me,” as Nathan’s hand grasped Elodie’s. It felt rough, cold against her skin, and she bit the inside of her lower lip as he said gruffly, “Let’s go.”

They sat in the back of his family car, the distance between them noticeable as Elodie sat pressed against the door, gaze out the window as they drove back to Nathan’s place. She just wanted to go home.

The air was suffocating in the back of the town car as Elodie clicked her nails, the sound piercing her ears yet being unable to stop. She was probably pissing him off more. “You know, if you hadn’t lied to me, I wouldn’t have crashed your little double date.”

Elodie suppressed the scoff, the lie a bit too laughable. Instead, she looked down at her nails, throat working as she said quietly, “It wasn’t a double date. We were just hanging out.”

Nathan had no trouble in scoffing loudly, the sound patronizing and derisive that only had Elodie biting the inside of her cheek. “Hanging out,” he mocked. “That dude wants to get in your pants. He’s not your friend. Do yourself a favor and stay away from him.” And then, as if what he’d said hadn’t been enough, Nathan added snidely, “And, really, a nose ring? It won’t look good on you; don’t kid yourself.”

She bit her tongue, hard enough to send a sting through the muscle, as Elodie took a breath and looked back out the window. Nathan’s words and his insults stung, heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. Every time he just. . . Told her to do something, demanded something of her, made her feel like she wasn’t good enough, it felt so defeating. Why she ended up listening to him was beyond her. Why she stayed was another question she desperately sought the answer to.

The tears stung her eyes as she leaned her head back against the seat. Probably because she had no spine. No sense of sticking up for herself. Fucking pathetic.

*****

When Calum stepped through the curtain, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or give into the sudden animalistic urge of throwing a punch. For a second, he debated on turning around and asking Luke or one of the other guys to take over, but Calum wasn’t someone who ever submitted to anybody else—much less people he didn’t particularly like.

So he pursed his lips and kept his expression blank as the curtain closed behind him, jaw tight when Nathan’s disbelieving, derisive laugh sounded in the small space of the work station. He’d been standing by the chair an unfamiliar guy sat in, Calum’s actual client, arms crossed over his chest and looking utterly out of place in his suit, when his gaze landed on the man who would be doing the job.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Nathan scoffed with a shake of his head, lips curled into a sneering grin. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Calum was ready to kick the dude out, his mere presence encroaching on the comforting atmosphere of his store, as the guy seated—Scott, Calum recalled Sierra informing him—looked between the two of them in quiet confusion. Calum’s gaze, dark and fiery as he forced himself to hold back, met Nathan’s demanding one. He fought off the condescending smirk threatening to grow as he walked towards the stool and told him, “It’s my shop. If anyone’s got barely a right to be here, it’s you.”

As Calum settled on the stool, Scott spoke up with a wary, “Am I missing something?”

“This dude’s tryna fuck Elodie.”

Calum wanted to let out a laugh at Nathan’s crude words; he would never be caught dead talking about his girlfriend like that. Calum slipped his gloves on under the two men’s gazes; Nathan wasn’t entirely wrong—Calum had felt himself focusing on Elodie since the moment he met her, but he had more respect for her than that. He would never try anything with her while she was in a relationship—even if it was a shitty one. And, honestly, not out of his own morals—he just wouldn’t do anything because Elodie seemed like the type to let the guilt eat her alive at the thought of cheating on her boyfriend.

Calum was drawn to her, that much was obvious to himself. But he wasn’t going to start anything, if there was an opportunity to do so, when there was the potential of her feeling guilt over anything else.

His glanced up, expression blank under Scott’s raised eyebrows and Nathan’s glare, as he stated flatly, “We’re friends.” Patience wearing thin, Calum braced his hands on his knees and turned his attention solely to Scott, raising his eyebrows in an almost bored sense. “Is this gonna be a problem? D’you want me to hand you off to someone else to get this done?”

Scott blinked, lips pressed together before glancing at a still glaring Nathan. Calum once again felt the urge to kick him out of the shop, especially after how he’d seen Nathan treat Elodie at the restaurant the other night. It had taken everything in Calum not to go after them, to put Nathan in his place for speaking to Elodie—to anyone—the way he did. After he’d taken her, Dominique had cursed and continued to be worried about her best friend, Ashton trying his best to comfort her while Calum, sat opposite of them, ignited a pain in his jaw from how hard he was clenching it. He was furious, disgusted.

It all seemed like a mess, yet another reason for Calum to ignore whatever the hell he was feeling towards Elodie. But he couldn’t ignore it. Not when she looked like she was trying to escape as badly as Calum was wanting to help her out.

Looking back at Calum, Scott gave a shake of his head. “Nah, man. I’m fine here.”

Calum was a bit surprised, but he didn’t question it. The same couldn’t be said for Nathan, who let out a protesting scoff. “Are you kidding me, Scott? He’s—”

“One of the best tattoo artists in the area,” Scott cut him off, throwing an irritated look towards his friend. Calum fought the urge to smirk; he wondered if Nathan’s own parents even liked him. “I’m not going somewhere else just ’cause you’ve got an issue with everyone.”

It was a silent affair, though that’s how Calum normally liked it. He preferred working in silence, only hearing the buzz of the gun and the sound of The Maine playing through the shop’s speakers, as he got everything prepared, grabbing the gun and adjusting the needle and sterilizing the area of application. Calum remained aware yet uncaring of Nathan’s scowl, bitterly amused that he hadn’t dragged his friend out of the shop the way he had Elodie’s. Or was that just because they were around her friends? Did he act that way around other people? Calum had a twisting feeling that kind of behavior was only saved for Elodie, and his dislike and contempt for Nathan started blossoming into hatred.

Calum worked with easy confidence and concentration, feeling just a bit more relaxed once the tattoo gun was in his hand and he was finally working on Scott’s tattoo—a quote his father always says in his handwriting, which Calum thought was dope. It was going fine, the silence inviting and needed as Calum focused on his work, until Nathan decided to speak up.

“You know, I find it hilarious that you think Elodie would go for some dude who owns a tattoo shop when she’s already got a guy already set on Wall Street.”

Calum wanted to snort. He’d been right about the Wall Street angle from the second he’d laid eyes on Nathan the first time.

Instead of Calum responding, Scott spoke up, his tight tone towards his friend as he said, “Dude, can you not provoke the guy who’s tatting me up?”

“’S alright, Scott,” Calum mused smoothly as he leaned back a bit, wiping at some of the excess ink and blood. His tone remained cool because, truthfully, what Nathan meant to be a snide and taunting remark had no effect on Calum. It wasn’t a secret that Calum didn’t give a shit what Nathan thought of him, the man’s opinion meant nothing, so why waste any energy rebuking? “Unlike your buddy, I’m capable of keeping my shit together in public places.”

“What’d you just say?”

But Calum didn’t grace him with a response, instead bit back a smirk and continued finishing Scott’s tattoo. He expertly ignored the tension in the room, the buzz of the gun calming as he finished the quote on Scott’s forearm. Nathan was nothing but another body in the room as Calum wrapped up Scott’s tattoo and gave him the routine after care talk, and any animosity Calum felt towards his friend didn’t translate into his interaction with Scott as they shook hands. “Thank you, man. Appreciate it,” Scott smiled, ignoring the clench of Nathan’s jaw and the impatient exhale of a breath he sounded by the curtain. He looked ready to leave, and Calum was more than willing to kick him right out on his ass.

Nathan’s presence in his shop was pretty anticlimactic, though Calum wished he never stepped foot inside in the first place, yet he couldn’t help but mutter a gruff, “Fucker,” once the door shut behind Nathan, the glare furrowing Calum’s eyebrows returning without a thought.

Sierra, who heard him, raised her eyebrows from where she sat behind the desk, looking up from her phone as she asked with a slightly amused laugh. “Who was that?”

“The blonde with the pocket protector?” Sierra snorted as Calum rolled his eyes, lips curling distastefully. “Elodie’s boyfriend.” He remembered Luke and Sierra had left the bar just minutes before Nathan had arrived that first night; they were lucky enough to not make his acquaintance.

Sierra twirled a pen between her fingers, quirking a brow. “We don’t like him?”

Calum exhaled sharply through his nose, aware of the irritation caused by Nathan’s presence still heating his skin as his gaze met Sierra’s pointedly. “We don’t like him.”

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