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griffintail · 4 years ago

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can i request a fic where tubbo and reader both have horns and they headbutt all the time to show affection? bonus points if they try to headbutt tommy lol

The fluff.

Affectionate Headbutts

Pairings: Sibling! Tubbo x Sibling! F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past bullying

A/N: It’s kind of a continuation of The Girl with the Horns because I liked the idea of them as siblings doing this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since Tubbo had brought (Y/N) back to L’Manberg, a lot of happy moments were shared between the two as time passed on. It had taken some time for Tubbo to adjust to taking care of someone else alongside his nation, but once he managed to find a balance, life was brilliant.

Five years had past and (Y/N) was a lot more outgoing than when he first had met her thanks to himself and his friends. Tommy was the biggest help with that because Tubbo told him that people picked on her like that had done to him and Tommy didn’t need to hear anymore before he practically made her his sister as well. It was a relief for Tubbo that his best friend got along so well with his little sister.

She liked to hang out with Tubbo though and the two were able to bond easily. Tubbo couldn’t imagine a world where he hadn’t found those letters.

“Hey, you ready?” Tubbo asked as he shrugged on his suit jacket.

“Yeah! Here I come.” She ran out wearing a cute little dress as a bag swung on her side, her horns poking up taller but she was much prouder of them than before.

“Very nice.” He crouched down, smoothing out the dress for her before head butting her lightly. “Got your notebook?”

“Yes. Thank you for the new one.” She smiled as she headbutted him lightly back.

“It’s no problem. Come on.” He smiled himself before standing.

She followed behind him with most of his daily tasks for the day but sat to the side as he held his meeting with his cabinet. They shared a light headbutt before he went to start the meeting as she sat outside drawing in her notebook.

She had filled up so many and Tubbo gladly kept giving her more after the first time they met. She said she use to only draw in the dirt so he made sure she always had paper and pencils. With the constant supplies and encouragement, her drawing had greatly improved and Tubbo always assured her that he’d make a gallery one day just for her art.

After the meeting, Tubbo sat next to her for a little while, watching her draw before she showed him the finished work for approval.

“Perfect.” He gave her another headbutt. “You’ve been doing better with the hair.”

“Thank you.” She smiled widely.

The rest of the day went on like normal for the pair. They had their lunch, went around the town for a while to just relax as brother and sister before going back home for dinner. Nothing changed till night when Tubbo groggily woke up as he felt (Y/N) crawling into the bed in the middle of the night.

“’ Nother nightmare?” He muttered.

She nodded, small tears in her eyes, and he lightly put his head against hers.

“It’s ok.” He mumbled. “Just you and me little sis. I won’t let anything happen. Get some sleep.”

She gave him a light headbutt and he smiled lightly as he returned it, closing his eyes again.

“Good night.” She nuzzled into him.

“Night.” He said before falling asleep.

The next morning, (Y/N) wore her backpack with her inventory bag on his side today as Tubbo knocked on Tommy’s door. Tommy swung the door open and grinned seeing the pair.

“Adventure day huh?” He looked at the little girl.

“No. Not without me. You promised.” Tubbo reminded him. “Last time she had a cut on her leg.”

“Oh, come on Tubbo, it was one time.” Tommy huffed, crossing his arms. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Please Tommy.” Tubbo sighed.

“Alright, alright. We’ll be boring.” Tommy rolled his eyes jokingly.

Tubbo shook his head before crouching in front of the girl, giving her a headbutt. “Ok, I might not see you till tomorrow so be good alright?”

“Ok, good luck.” She smiled, returning the motion.

He ruffled her hair between her horns as he stood up. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon, love you, sis.”

“Love you too big brother.”

Tommy let the little girl and said goodbye to his best friend, who was off for some long-needed trading, before following the little girl. She sat on a chest in the main room, having put her backpack down next to the bedroom door, and Tommy went back to the other chest he was digging through.

She played with the flap of her inventory bag before speaking up.

“Can I show you something, Tommy?” She asked.

He looked up and smiled, coming over. “What you got?”

Nervously, she pulled out her notebook as Tommy sat on the floor next to the chest so he could look at her properly. After encouraging herself, she opened it and showed him a drawing of him as she went red. He took the notebook before grinning as he looked at the picture of him holding his discs by his side.

“This is awesome! You’re going to have to make another so I can have one in here!”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah. You got more in here?”

She nodded as she smiled.

He flipped through a few pages seeing different pictures of everyone in the land along with just drawings of the scenery around L’Manberg.

“You’re pretty awesome, but since you know me, it’s a given.”

She didn’t think before she gave him a headbutt.

“Ow.” He put a hand on his head. “What was that?”

“S-Sorry! Tubbo and I do it all the time and I didn’t think…” She muttered, looking down embarrassed.

“I know you guys do that; I just want to know why you did it to me.”

“We like to do it to show we love each other or what the other said. You were saying such nice things I did it to you.”

Tommy paused as he watched as she fiddled nervously with the shirt she was wearing today, something he hadn’t seen her do much of recently. He was never going to admit he did this out loud but…

(Y/N) froze as Tommy bumped his head against hers lightly.

“Just don’t do it so hard next time.” He scoffed, before going back to looking at her drawings.

(Y/N) looked up at him and smiled. There was a reason she did like to think of him as her second brother.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #tubbo x reader #dreamsmp x reader

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carnationcreation · 4 years ago

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Can you write a Reggie x reader fic where reader was a part of the band in the 1995 and didn't die with the guys but then by some unfortunate accident, like a car accident or a drunk driver, dies a few months later and has been a ghost for 25 years and know modern slang and stuff? If Caleb could know her but not own her soul because she's superstitious and he reminds her of the fae that would be awesome! Sorry for the long ask and if you don't have the time to write it it's fine.

TITLE: Back for you (JATP Reggie x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Prompt/summary: Reader dies after the boys and finds them in 2020 after years of being on her own.

Word Count: 1,595

Authors note: I’ve done car accidents in like 3 of my other fics so I decided to spice it up a little bit. Sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted, you can always ask if I an rewrite it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wish I could’ve done something to stop them that night.

My life was cut so short, all because of a stupid hotdog. All I wanted in life was to belong somewhere and I finally had that with the band. They had dragged me out to that street dog stand before our biggest show at the Orpheum. Fortunately (but unfortunately) I only had time to take a bite or two of my food before I remembered Bobby and I had to unload the rest of the merch before call time.

I barely made it to the door.

I spent 6 days in the hospital, but the boys died that night. When I saw my body laying on the hospital bed with my family surrounding me I broke down. I still wonder why this happened.

I spent months wandering around LA, doing small jobs for other ghosts in exchange for food I could actually eat. I stole books and snuck into movies to pass my time while I waited to see if I would crossover to... anywhere. Isn’t that’s what ghosts do?

I had so many questions other than that. Why am I still here? Where were the boys? Were they together? If they were, why wasn’t I with them?

Some of those were answered when Caleb found me outside the Orpheum.

“If you shake my hand, I can help you. You can perform at my club for thousands of legends. You’ll get the best foods, equipment, clothes. All that if you just come with me.”

The offer was tempting. I had always wanted to be known as an artist but something didn’t sit right with me. Maybe it was the look on his eye, or the fact I ran into a ghost boy earlier that week with the same symbol on his wrist, regardless I turned it down. Claiming I wanted to explore the world a little more before I settle down. And with that I left.

For the next 20 years I wandered around the US. Poofing only could take me so far, and I could only do it to places I’m familiar with. Eventually with time and power I had gained from being in this realm I managed to open up a shop. Only ghosts could see it of course but everyone was welcome to come and spend time there with me. I gathered books from all over and let people trade them out on the various shelves that spread throughout the room.

The entryway was located in the same alleyway the backstage door to the Orpheum was. Some might say it’s morbid to live right near the spot you died but I say it’s only closure. Closure to the short life I got to live.

The only thing I ask from my patrons is a drink or a song. Once that’s paid they’re allowed to stay as long as they’d like and are free to come and go as they please as long as they make that payment every time they come back.

It made the time a lot less lonely, I spent so much time searching for where the boys could’ve possibly ended up that I forgot I needed to focus on myself for a while.

Willie came by every once in a while, mostly to stop in for a drink and listen to some music.

“The weirdest thing happened the other day (Y/n),” he sat down at the bar as I wiped down my equipment, “I ran into a boy that’s been in the black room for 25 years!”

I had heard of the infamous black room where some souls went until it was their time to come here to our realm, “25? That’s crazy.”

“I know! And he said he and his friends died eating hotdogs,” Willie laughed and my hands froze.

“What?”

“Yeah I know it’s crazy.”

I took a deep breath, “Willie, what’d you say his name was?”

“Uh... Alex,” he said, the look on his face expressed concern, “Did you know him?”

“Willie, I need to know where you saw him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I searched all over our old neighborhoods, the school, even our old spots where we would busk or get gigs to play. I turned up empty handed, no sign of the boys anywhere and I was starting to get worried.

What if Caleb got to them?

No, I can’t think like that. They may not be the smartest group of boys I’ve ever met but they do have some common sense. Or, at least I hope they still did.

It felt like the band happened so long ago, but if they’ve been in the black room for all this time then they probably don’t realize how much time had passed.

Finally I went to the last place I hadn’t checked, Caleb’s club.

I changed my outfit into an elegant dress with a cloak on top. May seem strange now but in Caleb’s place it wouldn’t look anymore out of place than a flapper from the 20′s. I tried my best not to look suspicious considering I wasn’t even a member to Caleb’s cult and was technically direct competition to his business he had going on. I learned quickly from Willie that if he didn’t find any use for you he would exchange your soul for more power. I wasn’t about to let that happen to my boys.

It wasn’t long until I found them stuffing their faces with food at the center table. He must be trying to convince them to join him.

“Guys,” I said, I pulled my cloak down to reveal myself, “It’s time to go.”

“(Y/n)?” they said confused.

“No time to explain. Outside. Now.”

I pulled Luke and Reggie by their collars away from the food as Alex followed close behind. Luckily I got them out before anyone noticed.

“What’s going on? Where have you been all this time?” Reggie asked.

I sighed, “I’ve been here. Traveling and making a place for people like us to go to instead of Caleb’s club.”

“What’s wrong with Caleb’s club?” Luke said.

“Once you join you can’t leave,” I said, “Caleb owns all those poor peoples souls. Once he’s done with them then he exchanges them for power.”

The boys eyes went wide as they looked down at their wrists.

“Oh god, he marked you didn’t he?”

They all nodded and held out their wrists showing the glowing purple tattoo.

“I’ll find a way to reverse it I promise. I just need some time.”

Luke finally saw the time, “Crap, we’re late for Julie’s dance.”

The boys Alex and Luke poofed away but Reggie turned to me, “It’s so good to see you again, I missed you.”

“Who’s Julie?” I asked.

“Our new band members.”

I frowned and swallowed hard.

Reggie laughed before leaning forward to place a kiss on my cheek, “Don’t worry, she could never replace you.”

I smiled and felt my heart hammer in my chest.

“Come find us later. The old garage we used to practice in.”

“I gotta get back to my place. I got customers to serve.”

“Where is it?” he asked.

I smiled, “The alleyway behind the Orpheum. I don’t think Julie can come in cause she’s a lifer but you guys can’t miss it.”

“Awesome,” he smiled, “We’ll be back for you okay?”

“Okay. Now go play at that dance,” I grinned as he placed another kiss on my cheek and turned to poof away with the boys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I went back to the garage to wait. I enjoyed how much it had changed over the years as I walked around. Eventually I sat down at the piano and began to play some of the sheet music that was still there, Julie must’ve left it.

“You still got it.”

“AHHH!” I startled and almost fell off the bench.

“Woah woah, sorry,” Reggie chuckled, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well you did Reginald.”

He rolled his eyes, “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“You’re place. I wanna see it,” he said, holding out his hand to me.

I smiled and took it before poofing out of the room and into my cafe.

“(Y/n)!” I heard some of my regulars cheer. I waved before walking behind the bar to refill drinks for people. Reggie turned in a circle to admire all of the old art and instruments I had hung up everywhere.

“So anyone can come and go?”

I giggled, “If they’re dead then yeah. Haven’t had any lifers wander in yet.”

He smiled and took a seat, “How long did it take to make all of this?”

“Considering how draining it was and how much magic I had to use, probably about 4 or 5 years.”

He sighed, “And I wasn’t here for any of it.”

“That’s not your fault,” I said as I placed my hand on top of his.

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why did I go there while you’ve been here all this time?” he asked.

“None of this makes any sense Reggie. Maybe it’s because you guys died together and I died afterwards or something. Regardless you’re here now. I’m just so glad I found you guys. Maybe once we find a way to release you guys from Caleb, you guys can help me run this place. I need to solid gigs to play on weekdays.”

He smiled before lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles making my face grow hot.

“Of course, I always told you you couldn’t get rid of me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name please message me!

Taglist: @thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @nicolewithasoul @homealone200 @hemmingsness @persephonequeenofthedead @bookfrog242 @peachyxdream @catieiscute2001 @julieandthephantomsblogduh @fangirling-allday @ashleyleblancx @alltimekp @wcnderwoo @unipanda1006 @disgustedchild @aberette13 @dpaccione @whyworry27 @number-0-iz @musicconversedance @owlgirl1209 @angelxfics @hamdehlesmis @marinettepotterandplagg @idkanymoremansstuff @spooky-season-bitch @starkeysgirl @chenellearose @voguesir @thegirlwholikestomanythings @mandiscadelinha @crybabyddl @jasm1nesdragons @daisiesforlacey @khiaraaa-in-spacee @harrys-bitch @bookdealer5 @blue21727 @joshy-obx @mochamiilk @caitsymichelle13 @kiss-themoongoodbye @noncannonships @intoanothermind @etherealexsistence @schnapp-my-neck @ficticiouscreativity @lukeys-giggle @dmcfarland1 @charliessunset

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp reggie #jatp imagine #jatp reggie imagine #jatp reggie x reader #julie and the phantoms reggie #reggie x reader

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timbertumbr · 4 years ago

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Boneafide Gamer (A Reverse Harem Fic)

Chapter 1, Signing In

Quotev Link

Welp- Guess who’s joining the skeleton train?!

Note: When it's in your perspective, it's more than likely going to use the boys Usernames instead of their Nicknames since they legit just met so… here's a list of the usernames I've come up with-

Blue (Underswap Sans): Magnificent Blueberry

Stretch (Underswap Papyrus): Carrot

I'll add more as the boys are introduced. (Also for the horror bros I'm using ratsoh-writes nicknames.)

Finally, after a year of waiting, you have it! Basic MMORPG VR edition! You squeal before thanking the delivery person and closing the door.

You tear open the packaging as you enter the room, open the case and put the disc into your computer. You gently place the case onto the desk before setting up your V.R set. The game boots up as you put on the VR goggles and you begin the intro.

"Welcome to Basic MMORPG VR edition. A world that was heavily inspired by Sword Art Online, but our game is much better in so many ways! Would you like a list?" Snorting, you select yes.

"You do not have to fight any creatures in this game.

There are many skill sets to choose from like cooking, fishing, farming, bounty hunting and many many more!

A world that gets updated throughout the seasons.

Create, craft, or find many items the world or players around you provide.

You are not strictly assigned to a specific class, want to be a mage that wields a sword? You can BE a mage that wields a sword!

There are-" Holy crap, this list is long… you'd review it later, you wanted to get to the good stuff! Gameplay!

You enter the character customization screen and make your persona. Then came the most difficult part of making a character, giving it a name!

You tapped your foot as you thought of what to name them… do you want something funny? Something normal? Or something stupid? Man, this is hard…

You go for the grandest name of all "fart." You snicker as you accept the name, knowing you could change it whenever.

Hitting "confirm," you wait as the game loads on a public server. And when it loads in, there aren't a lot of people on… Wasn't there a lot of hype for this game?

You shrugged and went to the infamous Quest Master to receive your class, first weapon, and first quest.

After all was said and done, you were "fart," jack of all trades (because you couldn't choose just ONE of all these cool classes!) And off you went to the fields to complete your first quest, kill/befriend/collect 5 slimes.

Holding your multiweapon tight, (Again, you were VERY indecisive and basically created a multitool for weapons.) You venture into the fields to see a lot of slime and very few people.

Legit, there were only two people here. Skeletons, one named "Magnificent Blueberry" and the other named "Carrot." Very fitting considering their choice of armor/robes.

Intrigued, you decide to focus on your quest conveniently close to the skeletons, waiting for the chance to jump in their conversation and make friends! Haha! Genius!

While you slashed more than the acquired amount of slimes with your sword, the short skeleton was reading all the features this game held while the tall one was trying to figure out the controls.

"OH WOW! PAPY, DID YOU KNOW YOU COULD MAKE FRIENDS WITH THE CREATURES?!" Blueberry exclaimed using voice chat, turning to his struggling younger brother.

"Really? I think we both know who'd like that," Stretch says amused, Blueberry huffing before helping Stretch with the controls.

"INDEED! OKA WOULD LOVE TO MAKE A SLIME FARM! (THE TRIGGER IS TO ACTIVATE STUFF LIKE GRABBING AND DROPPING ITEMS) AND I THINK EDGE WOULD BE MORE THAT HAPPY TO HAVE A CAT 'ARMY,'" Blueberry exclaims, happy that there's so much to do in this game! (Even if it is a waste of time according to Edge.)

Stretch nods, finally getting used to the controls and thanking Blueberry, who enthusiastically welcomes him.

"What other features are there?" Stretch asks curiously, peering at the cybernetic screen on Blue's arm.

"OH LOT'S! THERE'S HUNDREDS OF FEATURES IN THIS!" Blue exclaims before scanning the list to look for one Stretch may like.

"Oh wow," Stretch comments amazed, he knew there was a lot but HUNDREDS?! It's every gamer's dream! (Red may enjoy that.)

"LIKE THIS ONE! IF YOU HOVER OVER A PLAYER, YOU CAN ADD THEM TO A PARTY! LET'S DO IT!" Stretch shrugs.

"Sure, why not?" With stars in his sockets, he hovers his disembodied hand over Stretch and adds him to a party which Stretch accepted the request for. Blue then renames the party to "THE AMAZING DUO!" Stretch raises a bone brow with an amused smile.

"Really?"

"REALLY! OH LOOK, A POTENTIAL FRIEND!" Blue exclaims, finally noticing you. However you were focused on the slimes.

"They've been there forever though," Stretch points out.

"WHA? PAPY, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!" Blue says sadly, Stretch shrugs again.

"They seemed busy," Blueberry looked at you again and you were still focused on the slimes.

"WELL, MAYBE THEY NEED A BREAK!" Blueberry exclaims before approaching you. Stretch sighs before hesitantly following his brother.

"GREETINGS FART!" He exclaims, causing you to burst out laughing.

"Ahaha! I knew that name was a great choice!" You say before turning to the smiling short skeleton.

"[Insert pun here] MWHEHE!" You hear a groan come from the taller skeleton that just arrived.

"Hehe! That was a good one! As you know, I'm Fart. And you're…?"

"I'M THE MAGNIFICENT BLUEBERRY, MWHEHE! BUT YOU MAY JUST CALL ME BLUEBERRY OR BLUE!" Blue exclaims.

"I'm Carrot," Stretch says afterwards, causing you to snicker.

"Those are great names! Say, what are your classes?"

"WARRIOR OF PEACE!"

"Mage, You?" You chuckle sheepishly at the question.

"I… chose all of them…" You admit, making Carrot snort.

"Couldn't settle for one huh?" Stretch asks amused, you cross your arms and huff.

"Hey! It's not my fault there's so many choices!" You exclaim.

"I THINK IT'S NEAT!" Blue chimes in making you smile.

"Thank you Blue. Hey, are you guys new to the game?" You ask and they both nod.

"Well, so am I! How about we explore together?" You suggest, Blue lit up like a Christmas tree.

"THAT'S A GREAT IDEA! LET'S GO NEW FRIEND FART!" Blue exclaims before leading the way, you and Carrot snicker and follow after.

So you spent the entire day exploring the HUGE town made for beginners and it's also a hangout/meetup area for experienced players. You got witty remarks from Carrot, puns and fun little facts and features from Sans as you explored. Before you all knew it, night had arrived and you had to log off.

"Oh shoot! It's 8 already?! I gotta go guys, thanks for exploring with me!" You announce making Blue jump.

"IT'S 8?!" Blue yelled before quickly logging off, leaving you with Carrot.

"He… doesn't play games a lot. He usually works hard," Carrot explains, you nod.

"Makes sense," You say before you go to log off.

"Wait a minute," Carrot says before you press the logout button.

"Could I get your discord? I have some… cousins that could use some social interaction from someone like you," You smile.

"Is this your way of telling me you want to hang out more?" You ask in a teasing tone, Carrot snorts.

"Yes and no," He answers simply with a smirk. You exchange discord usernames and codes (Cheesepuff ####) before saying your final goodbyes and logging off.

You take off the VR headset and wince from the lack of light and strain on your eyes. You shut off everything and begin your nightly routine. Once done, you scoop up your phone and check your messages on discord.

Cheesepuff: Yo, it's Carrot. I came to wish the jack of all trades goodnight. And to tell you Blueberry says he's sorry he left so suddenly.

You snicker before replying.

(Username): Thank you Carrot. Tell Blue I said it's okay. Goodnight to both of you!

You then go to message your friend hoping they weren't asleep already.

(Username): Dude! I made friends! :D

Totally not the writer: Oh? Do tell.

And so you do, telling them EVERYTHING!

Totally not the writer: Woah. I gotta get that game. And they sound nice but keep on your toes okay? Not everyone is who they seem.

(Username): Don't worry, I will! Good night you night owl. (You better go to sleep once you send YOUR good night.)

Totally not the writer: No promises. Night.

Sighing, you shut off your phone and head to sleep and dream of Slimes, Carrots and Blueberries.

Holy shit! That took a while to write. One pair of boys down, 4 to go… Will the other chapters be as long as this one? It honestly depends but let's hope not for both our sakes.

So we got ourselves a new series! Huzzah! I’ll try and post the chapters here with links to the next as the series goes on but I could also post it onto quotev or something if you guys prefer that.

Next Chapter

#oh god the TAAAAAAAGS #Underswap Papyrus #Underswap Sans #Underfell Papyrus #Underfell Sans #Swapfell Sans #Swapfell Papyrus #Horrortale Papyrus #Horrortale Sans #Undertale Sans #Undertale Papyrus #Sans #Papyrus #X Reader #Reverse Harem #AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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walkerwords · 4 years ago

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“Cartwheels and Key-chains” Jesus x Aaron

Request from anonymous: So it's not an x Reader, but can we get some Jesus x Aaron spending time with Gracie 🥺 pretty please

Word Count: 3999

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Grow Old With Me” by Tom Odell

Note: I love this pairing so much. In the comics they have a relationship and I so wish they would have done it in the show. Jesus was one of my favourite characters and I miss him! I hope this little one shot brings you a bit of joy! Happy Saturday!

--------

The sun was high in the sky by the time Jesus arrived at Alexandria.

Beams of warm light filtered through the canopy of trees that surrounded the town. Jesus had always loved Alexandria. While the Hilltop was his home, whenever Jesus came to visit, he felt like he was stepping back in time.

While the town had lost a lot of its original charm after the Saviors blanketed it with fire, Rick and Michonne had made sure to rebuild it. Even now, with Rick Grimes gone, Alexandria still stood proud and while her gates were currently closed, Jesus always had a way in.

He approached from the South, sneaking through the brush. When he got close enough to the wall, he whistled twice. It didn’t take long for a less than melodic whistle to return. Jesus fought down a laugh as Judith Grimes came out of the shadows with a grin on her face.

The little Grimes had grown up in front of all of them and Jesus couldn’t help but smile every time he saw her. Especially because she looked so much like her big brother now. Carl’s hat, now hers, sat proudly on her head, shielding her young face from the afternoon sun. Her wakizashi was strapped on her back and the colt python was on her hip. Both weapons reminding everyone who her parents were. A Grimes through and through and one of Jesus’ favourite people.

“We need to work on your whistles,” Jesus said walking towards her and giving her a big hug. Judith laughed as he picked her up and held her tight.

“I’m trying!” she said with a giggle as he put her down. “Scott says I’m getting better though,” Judith said proudly. Jesus tapped the brim of her hat with a smile.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, “How are you, Judith?”

“I’m okay,” she said, “How’s Hilltop?” The two of them began walking through the woods, towards the other gate.

“Good,” Jesus said, “Tara says hello and Enid wanted me to tell you that she loved the bracelet you made for her. I haven’t seen her take it off since.” That information made Judith beam.

“Well, I’m glad!” Judith said and Jesus was always surprised at how well-spoken the kid was. Then again, according to Maggie, Carl was the same way at her age. She was quiet for a bit as they walked and then eventually Judith slowed down and looked up at him with those big eyes of hers. “Have you seen my Uncle Daryl?” she asked softly. Jesus knew that she missed her uncle a lot ever since he left to live in the woods and search for her dad. He also knew that Daryl missed her too, as well as R.J. who also frequently asked about him.

Daryl visited Hilltop occasionally to trade and essentially just let them know that he was still alive, but Jesus had a feeling Daryl wasn’t visiting Alexandria as much as he used to. At least not since the Jocelyn incident. Though, he had seen the archer not that long ago when he came into Hilltop to grab some materials to make more bolts for his bow.

“I saw him a couple of weeks ago,” Jesus told Judith. “He’s doing good and he even has a dog now.”

“A dog?” Judith asked, excited. “I wanna meet the dog.”

“Next time I see him, I’ll tell him. I promise,” Jesus said with a smile that Judith mirrored. “Okay, Miss Grimes, we have a mission to complete. Are you with me?” Judith nodded seriously and they picked up their speed towards the gate.

While Jesus knew he wasn’t prohibited from entering Alexandria, Michonne was still wary about people coming and going. And of course, if he just walked in, people would want to talk to him, especially Gabriel, Siddiq, and Rosita and while he loved his friends, there were only two people he wanted to see.

Jesus followed Judith through the woods. Running into a single Walker, Jesus let the little Grimes take it out. With two strikes of her sword, it was down and she finished it off easily. Just looking at her now, he knew that Rick would be so proud of his little girl.

Judith took him along the steel wall and to the gate. Scott was waiting there as always. He nodded to Judith as she slipped through the gates and purposefully turned his head away from Jesus who followed her. Scott was smiling as he joined in on the game. Judith saluted the Alexandrian guard and then took Jesus’ hand and pulled him along the back of the houses.

The two of them crept around like spies, hushing each other whenever their footsteps became too audible. Judith kept low to the ground, stopping dramatically and peering around corners. Jesus watched on with a permanent smile on his face. Eventually, they reached their destination and Judith turned to face him. “Mission accomplished,” Judith said proudly.

“Always a pleasure, Miss Grimes,” Jesus said with a deep bow. Judith curtsied back. “Now get going before we are discovered,” Jesus said in a hushed tone.

“Good idea,” Judith whispered back before hugging him again. Jesus squeezed her back and then she skipped off towards her house, most likely going to find her baby brother. Jesus watched after her for a moment before focusing on the task at hand.

Sneaking around the back of the house, Jesus silently ascended the back stairs and peeked into the window. He spotted her immediately. Gracie was sat at the kitchen table coloring on a piece of paper. Her dad, Aaron, was nowhere to be seen.

Very gently, Jesus tapped on the window. Gracie looked up from her art and instantly spotted him. She grinned wide at him, waving. Jesus pressed his finger to his lip with a wink and Gracie mirrored his movement. Looking over her shoulder, Gracie got up from the table and moved towards the back door. Jesus met her there and she opened it slowly. “Hi, Jesus!” she said in a loud whisper. Gracie stood aside as Jesus slipped into the house. He pulled off his leather duster and draped it over a chair before turning to the young girl.

Kneeling down to her level, he offered his hand to her. Gracie gripped it immediately and shook it twice before sliding it back and then joining their hands again to make a wing shape with both of their palms. The secret handshake finished with a snap and then Gracie was wrapping her arms around his neck. “Good to see you, kiddo,” Jesus said, hugging her.

“Daddy’s in the other room,” she whispered as she stepped out of his arms.

“You wanna help me surprise him?” Jesus asked and Gracie nodded excitedly. Gracie took Jesus’ hand and led him down the hallway of her house.

Aaron had blanketed the walls of their home with Gracie’s artwork as soon as she first picked up a marker. There were also little knickknacks dotted around the home from all the runs Aaron would go on. He always made sure to bring something interesting back for his daughter. Then, of course, there was the wall of license plates that Jesus had always found very endearing. It was just one of those things that made Aaron, Aaron.

Jesus and Gracie were silent as they peeked around the corner, but the living room was empty. Gracie looked up at Jesus, confused. She then let go of his hand and looked towards the small dining area, but Aaron wasn’t there either. Jesus entered the living room, suspicious, and then out of nowhere, he was tackled.

Gracie yelped in surprise as her dad flew at Jesus, taking him to the floor in a single move. She began laughing as soon as Aaron lifted his prosthetic arm in victory while his other held the other man down. “Finally!” Aaron called out with a laugh.

“I heard you coming,” Jesus argued, his voice muffled by the rug he was pressed into.

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” Aaron said with a roll of his eyes. Jesus pushed him back, swinging his leg around, and catching it behind Aaron’s knees. Aaron went down hard and Jesus grinned down at him from his kneeling position. “Letting your guard down once again,” Jesus said, shaking his head in mock-disapproval. Aaron sighed, letting his head fall to the ground.

“My turn!” Gracie yelled as she jumped onto both men, flattening them instantly.

“Oh no!” Aaron cried out. “She got us!” Gracie wrapped her arms around both of them as she laughed and Aaron and Jesus feigned exhaustion as they were taken down by the eight-year-old.

“We surrender!” Jesus called, waving an imaginary white flag. Gracie pushed up onto her knees and looked down at both of them, her hands going in the air just as her dad had done moments before.

“I win!” she exclaimed with a toothy grin.

“That you did, Gracie girl!” Aaron said, sitting up. “And you know what winners get?”

“Lunch?” she asked hopefully.

“Heck yeah!” Aaron said as he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to her feet. Gracie reached for Jesus and he let her pull him up off the ground.

“Okay, when did you get so strong?” he asked her, ruffling her hair.

“I’ve been practicing all the stuff you showed me last time you came to see us,” Gracie said proudly. She dropped into a defensive stance and Jesus mirrored her. She giggled as she jabbed at him and he took the hit clutching his arm dramatically. Gracie giggled at his fake pain.

“The two of you hang out way too much,” Aaron said as he watched them with a smile. Jesus winked at him and then Gracie began skipping towards the kitchen. Aaron nodded his head towards his daughter and Jesus followed.

Gracie sat back down at the kitchen table as Aaron went around the kitchen prepping her lunch. Jesus snatched an apple from the bowl on the table and perched on the kitchen counter to watch Aaron make the sandwich for his kid. Aaron looked at Jesus with amusement. “You know, normal people tend to use chairs, Jesus,” he said, pointing to Jesus’ crossed legs. Jesus, however, just happily munched on his snack.

“So, how’s it going around here?” Jesus asked, fiddling with the fruit in his hands.

“Good,” Aaron said, “got a nice amount of crops growing and everyone has been helping out with the harvest. The kids are doing well in school and I think Eugene is trying to increase the distance for our radios.”

“Sounds promising,” Jesus said, running a hand through his long hair. Tara had been trying to convince him for her to let her cut it, but any time she would come at him with scissors he’d go hide in the attic. Nobody was touching his hair.

“What about you? Is Hilltop still good?” Aaron asked and Jesus sighed.

“Yeah, I mean, we’re managing. Got a good harvest this year as well. And Enid, well she pretty much deserves an M.D. at this point. The girl can fix anything up as you well know,” Jesus said with another wink. Aaron rolled his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. Gracie then interrupted, bouncing on her heels.

“The other day,” she began, “R.J. found a frog and started chasing us with it.”

“Why?” Jesus asked, immediately enthralled by the girl’s story.

“Because Judith said that R.J. was bouncing all over the place and he said that no, he didn’t bounce because he wasn’t a frog. And then I said that frogs don’t bounce and that they hop,” Gracie said.

“Which, of course, they definitely do,” Jesus agreed, biting into the apple.

“Right!” Gracie exclaimed. “So, after I told him that, he still said they bounced and then he ran away and when he came back he had an actual frog in his hand! I don’t know where he found it but then he started to chase us with it. Judith and I had to hide in Rosita’s kitchen until he left.” Gracie shuddered at the memory of the frog and Jesus had to bite his cheek so he didn’t explode into laughter.

“R.J. is acting more and more like his dad every day,” Jesus said. “Did you know Rick did the same thing to me when we met?”

“No, he didn’t!” Gracie said.

“True story, ask anyone,” Jesus said, completely serious. Gracie looked to her dad and Aaron nodded as well.

“It’s true, I was there. But Rick had two frogs instead of one,” Aaron continued. Gracie looked at them in shock while both men nodded to one another.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, suspiciously.

“Believe it or not, kiddo,” Jesus said, “but it’s true.” Gracie looked gobsmacked at the information and it brought Jesus a lot of happiness to see it. It was the little things in life.

“Gracie,” Aaron said, “go wash up before lunch, okay? We’ll talk more about frogs later.” Gracie bounced from the room and up the stairs to do as she was asked. Once his daughter was out of earshot, Aaron put down the food in his hands and turned towards Jesus. “What’s really going on with you? And don’t say you’re fine. I know you, Paul.” Jesus leaned against the wall, looking at the man before him. The humor quickly evaporated from the room as Aaron switched into his “serious mode”.

“I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed,” Jesus admitted. “Tara wants me to be taking charge of all this stuff and I can’t even keep my head on straight. I don’t know why they thought to elect me to lead them.”

“Because you’ve always fought for Hilltop,” Aaron explained. “It was you that convinced Rick to even see that there were other places out there. You were the one who warned us about Negan and the Saviors and you even introduced us to Ezekiel and the Kingdom. Whether you want to believe it or not, Jesus, you were the one to bring us all together. You lit that initial flame.” Jesus smiled softly, looking down at his hands.

“You know, Rick didn’t much care for me when we met,” Jesus said, laughing.

“He punched me when we first met,” Aaron recalled fondly. “He thought I was trying to lead them into a trap.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jesus agreed. “She’s a lot like him, don’t you think?”

“Judith is definitely special,” Aaron said, knowing where Jesus’ thoughts were. “I wish he could see who she’s become.” Jesus reached out and rested his hand on Aaron’s shoulder, rubbing a small circle with his thumb.

“I miss him too.” Aaron leaned into Jesus’ touch, sighing with content. Their sweet moment was then interrupted by Gracie running back into the room announcing she was ready to eat.

The three of them sat around the kitchen table eating the sandwiches Aaron had provided.

They shared stories of what was happening in both of their lives. Aaron mentioned Eugene was doing science experiments for the kids and Laura and Rosita were teaching the kids how to handle horses.

It was odd for Jesus to listen to what was happening in ASZ. He was trying to catch up with everything all at once. These were the days that he wished Michonne would be a bit more lenient with opening up the gates again.

He, of course, knew why she didn’t. Everyone knew something had gone down when Michonne’s old friend, Jocelyn, had shown up, but nobody ever discussed the details. Jesus had once wanted to ask Daryl about it but taking one look at his friend’s haunted face, he dropped it and never brought it up again.

Relationships and friendships of all sorts were being tested in the post-Grimes world, but Jesus was determined to keep the one he had with Aaron and Gracie. They were too important to him to give up.

Looking across the table at the father-daughter duo, warmth swelled in Jesus' chest. It was clear to him then, that not only were Gracie and Aaron family, but they were what Jesus needed to fight for.

Aaron caught him looking and raised an eyebrow at him. Jesus smiled back at the man, kicking him lightly under the table. Aaron's gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer before returning his full attention to his little girl.

"Jesus," Gracie said, "are you scared of the Walkers?" Jesus wasn't surprised by the question at all. These kids, no matter where they grew up, were used to all of the monsters and chaos the apocalyptic world threw at them. Asking about Walkers was just like asking what day it was or what someone's favourite color was. All a part of the new normal.

"It depends, Gracie," Jesus said honestly, "If there are only one or two and I can see them coming then no, but if there are a lot and my friends are in danger, then yes it can be a bit scary." Gracie nodded thoughtfully at his words.

"They scare me," Gracie admitted.

"That’s okay,” he assured her. “It’s never a bad thing to be afraid or tell people you are.” Gracie nodded, happy with his answer, and returned to her food. Aaron was looking at Jesus with admiration and gratitude in his eyes. Since losing so many people, the kids of the communities relied on being raised by the whole village. These moments were what the kids needed the most. All the advice from others and especially people that cared about them as much as Jesus cared about Gracie.

As they finished lunch, Jesus said he had a gift for Gracie.

“Look in the inside pocket of my coat, G,” Jesus said as he popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. Gracie grabbed Jesus’ duster from the back of the chair and hauled it into her lap. It took her a few seconds, but eventually, her small hand curled around a small object tucked away inside the coat.

“Daddy, look!” Gracie said, holding up a small key-chain. Aaron looked at it closely before he began howling with laughter. In her hand was a little souvenir Nevada license plate key-chain Jesus had found in an old house a few weeks back. Jesus had thought it was appropriate for Aaron’s little one to have her own collection of State merchandise.

Gracie had the biggest smile on her face as she twirled the little key-chain around her finger. “I’m going to go hang it up next to yours,” Gracie said to her dad as she got up from the table. She quickly ran to Jesus and gave him a hug. “Thank you, Jesus,” she said.

“You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said with a smile of his own and watched her skip away.

“Where did you even find that?” Aaron asked as he cleaned the table.

“I have my ways, Aaron,” Jesus said and Aaron tossed a dishtowel at him with a laugh.

Once Gracie had added her own little plate to Aaron’s larger collection, she wanted to go outside and practice her cartwheels so that is exactly what they did.

Aaron and Jesus sat on the back steps while Gracie practiced in front of them. Jesus would call out pointers with every cartwheel, somersault, and handstand she did. Anytime the martial arts master would visit her, he would make sure to teach her something new. Aaron was always grateful as he wasn’t ready to start teaching his kid how to handle weapons. This way, Gracie was learning how to defend herself safely.

Jesus had offered to do this when he noticed Gracie kept asking why Judith was training to kill Walkers and protect people and she wasn’t. While Judith was older, she also had Michonne as a mother who was training her with the sword and she had grown up around fighting and weapons.

In Gracie’s case, she was lucky to be born at the start of the war and hadn’t had to see much combat. Aaron was hoping to keep just a bit more of her childhood intact before handing her a weapon, but both men knew that sooner or later, she would have to learn just as Judith, Henry, and every other kid had to.

As they watched her tumble around, Aaron reached over and took Jesus’ hand in his own. Instantly, they both relaxed. “I know you worry about her,” Jesus said softly.

“It’s more than that,” Aaron admitted. “I know that if something happened to me, there are people around that would take her in without question.”

“But?”

“But she’s already lost two parents and if I were to die, physically she’d be okay, but emotionally? I can’t even start to imagine how she would cope with that.”

“Aaron,” Jesus said gently, “you can’t let yourself think like that. Yeah, we all know that every time we leave the gates, there is that chance, but we’ve lived through some pretty screwed up stuff and we’ve always come out alive.”

“Not all of us,” Aaron reminded him and Jesus squeezed Aaron’s hand tighter, well aware of all the losses that came from the war against the Saviors and before.

“Not all of us,” Jesus agreed. “You know I can’t promise anything, but I am going to do my damn hardest to make sure you come home to her every night.” Aaron looked at Jesus and he couldn’t believe he had found someone like him through all of this. After losing Eric, Aaron never thought he would find another person to share his life with and Gracie’s life as well. Paul Rovia had taken Aaron by surprise all those years ago and still, he was fascinated by him every day.

“How did I get so lucky?” Aaron whispered. Jesus shrugged, lifting their hands and pressing a kiss to the back of Aaron’s.

“You are way too good looking to be that corny,” Jesus joked. Aaron snatched his hand back with a laugh and Jesus only followed after him. He grabbed Aaron by the chin and pressed a firm kiss to the other man’s lips. Aaron sighed and smiled into the kiss. When Jesus pulled back, Aaron was still grinning.

“Says the man that goes by the name ‘Jesus’,” Aaron pointed out. Jesus rolled his eyes but smiled back nonetheless. He then dropped his head onto Aaron’s shoulder and watched as Gracie executed a perfect round off, landing with her hands up in a gymnast pose.

“Did you see that!” she exclaimed, beaming at them both. Aaron and Jesus both clapped and cheered at her accomplishment. Gracie ran towards them and jumped onto them, wrapping each arm around their necks and holding them close. Aaron and Jesus held the girl back, looking at each other with love as they hugged her.

It was the little moments such as these that made the trek to Alexandria worth it. It didn’t matter if communities weren’t speaking to each other or that monsters walked outside the gates. Right now, at that moment, all that mattered was Jesus hugging his found family. One he would have never found if he hadn’t of ran into Rick Grimes and Daryl Dixon that day all those years ago and stole their supplies. Without the Saviors, he would have never fought alongside Aaron and they would have never found Gracie.

In some ways, Jesus was grateful for everything they had gone through. Their losses made them stronger, their victories strengthened the camaraderie between their people, and everything else in between was just meant to be.

As the three of them sat on the back steps of Aaron’s home, they listened to the musical calls of birds that sang in the trees, reminding them that while the world tried to die, life was still shining through and that was something worth smiling about.

TAGS: @thanossexual @felicisimor @yes-sir-hotchner

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ahatintimepieces · 4 years ago

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Wake of Stardust

Got a drabble request from EclipsesEnd on AO3! The request was for the song “Boats and Birds” by Gregory and the Hawk! :D Hope this was something you were looking for and thanks so much!

There was something Snatcher couldn’t articulate. But it manifested in the art hanging on the walls of his tree.

There was something Moonjumper couldn’t articulate. But it manifested in the sheets of music with quarter notes dotted with hearts.

Treasure or cherish; there wasn’t a word that measured how much each picture or each song meant. The prince knew, painfully so, how fragile love could be. How even the most careful of nurturing could fail to prevent a sudden break.

The prince knew that holding something too carelessly or too desperately both risked tearing hearts asunder. He knew. But it was so hard to find that balance. What did he need to do? How did he find the textbook, how did he craft the perfect contract, that would ensure his love could only be whatever she needed it to be and nothing more and nothing less?

“Whatcha got, Kiddo?” Snatcher asked as Hattie popped out of his coil, revealing her latest drawing.

It was a family portrait of her sandwiched between him and Moonjumper, holding their hands. It was nighttime in the image, and the moon shone a spotlight on them, making it easier to see Snatcher’s ghostly image against the backdrop of a galaxy pinpricked by bright stars.

“I tried to pay attention to light, like you said!” She beamed, her blue eyes shining. She pointed at herself and Moonjumper. “See? I added shadows away from the light. But I didn’t know how to do that for you.” She furrowed her brows, pensive.

His golden smile stretched, and he let out a cackle.

“Probably because I am all shadow!” He flicked her hat brim, causing it to shift over her eyes.

Giggling, she pushed back the brim.

“Can we hang this one up too?” She pointed at the tree hollow wallpapered with her drawings, each better than the last as Snatcher gave her tips and pointers from his days as a painter.

“Well.” He leaned back and gingerly took her picture in one talon as he ran the other through his mane. Attempting to look serious as he appraised her work, he continued, “The halos of light around the celestial bodies is a stellar effect and brilliantly executed. Drawing the hands as circles is a bit of a shortcut but you’ve gotten better at the arms and legs. And,” he released his mane and held up a talon pointedly, “you did get my good side so it’s a masterpiece.”

Hattie laughed as he scooped her up. She immediately leaned against him, balancing on his arm as he snapped his talons and summoned a new thumbtack. Returning her picture to her, they both examined the walls.

“There’s a spot!” She pointed towards the stretch of bark by the clock.

“Hmm.” Snatcher felt that was too far. It was a rather special portrait… after all. Of his family. He wanted… he wanted to see it. Every time he looked up. “How about we swap it with this one? Of the hourglass?” He floated over to the space directly across from his chair. She seemed a bit confused and he added, “And the hourglass can go by the clock.”

“Okay!” She nodded, letting him hold her up so she could trade the hourglass for the portrait. Once the drawings were in the right spots, Hattie cheered and threw her arms around his neck.

“Whoa!” He stiffened from surprise before relaxing in her embrace. “What was that for?”

“I’m just happy,” she mumbled. “I love you, Dad.”

The ghost’s golden mouth thinned into a tight line. He blinked rapidly, to keep the rising lump in his throat at bay.

“I love you too, Kiddo,” he whispered, hugging her close.

They remained, and Snatcher worked to not let his fear of losing this love cause him to hug her too tightly. Gentle. He had to be ready to let her go.

Moonjumper taught her to read music, later that evening, while Snatcher cooked dinner. They sat perched on the left side of the ramp, and Moonjumper used his violin to play the notes on the page.

“This is a dyad,” he explained in a breathy voice, pulling the bow across the strings.

“Can I try?” Hattie beamed, reaching out. Moonjumper chuckled before handing over the violin and bow that were a touch too large for her. Unperturbed by the size, she tried to mimic the clear sound he had made but it came out as a pained screech.

“Straighten your back and lift your arm,” he instructed, gently guiding her arms into position.

She tried again and managed to draw out a better sound, but the dyad was still shaky. He encouraged her to strengthen her hold on the strings and her next attempt was even better than the last.

“I’m learning!” She perked with excitement and Moonjumper grinned.

“You are!” Moonjumper agreed. “I’m very proud of you, Little Heart.”

“Will you teach me how to play our lullaby on the violin too? And the other songs you wrote?”

“I can,” Moonjumper promised, “though it might take a while.”

“That’s okay!” Hattie preened, puffing out her chest, “I’ll practice a whole lot! We have all the time in the world!” She handed the violin back. Her comment made him pause.

All the time in the world?

“This is an E, right?” She pointed at the sheet music, tilting her head.

“Mmhmm.” Moonjumper played the note on the violin to demonstrate.

She continued studying the music and Moonjumper watched, lowering his arms.

He wondered, vaguely, about the day she might want to go where he couldn’t follow. She would grow up—how special! How grateful he was that his darling daughter lived and could grow—and growing up might mean she would want to set sail beyond the reaches of this planet, further than even the horizon. No doubt she would thrive in any world or time.

But he would miss her. He would miss her so much.

“Papa?” She frowned, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Leaning over, he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. He gave her nose a boop for good measure before pulling back. “Shall I keep playing? Or, if you want to stop, that’s okay too.”

“Keep playing!” Hattie propped her chin on her hands and kicked her legs in the air behind her.

He felt relieved.

Later, that night, the trio sat in the observation deck, stargazing. Hattie had set out a blanket and leaned back against Moonjumper who leaned against Snatcher who curled his tail around Hattie and she held it in her lap, petting its soft fluff absentmindedly.

“That’s the goat constellation,” Hattie pointed to the only star pattern she recognized. “She found enlightenment, right?”

“That’s the story,” Moonjumper hummed.

“Do you think she’s lonely?”

“What do you mean, Kiddo?” Snatcher prompted.

“Well,” she huffed, snuggling deeper into Moonjumper’s chest, “she just… became part of the sky. Didn’t she have friends or family?”

“Maybe,” Moonjumper offered slowly, “but I think the idea of enlightenment is finding your own path. Her curiosity and awe outgrew what the planet could offer.”

“She became a series of stars, with more room to fly,” Snatcher explained, propping his head on his talon.

“But… doesn’t her family miss her?” Hattie’s nose was crinkled, like a sour taste was in her mouth.

“I’m sure they do.” Moonjumper lowered his head onto hers, hugging her gently.

“But part of loving someone is letting them go,” Snatcher whispered.

Silence hung over them for a moment. Each thought about the silence of a cellar, cold and fraught with chains.

Yes, part of loving someone is letting them go, but…

Snatcher and Moonjumper startled when Hattie sniffled.

“I-I don’t want to let you guys go,” she said, voice cracking and ending in an unsuccessfully stifled whine.

“Hattie—”

“Oh, Dear Heart—”

“I’m sorry!” She sobbed as both halves of her father wrapped around her.

“We’ll always be here for you,” Moonjumper muttered, keeping one arm around her while he used his other hand to cradle her cheek, wet with tears.

“We aren’t going anywhere, and we don’t want to,” Snatcher added, lacing the tip of his tail through her fingers while pressing his forehead against hers.

“We just meant,” Moonjumper sighed, unsure what to say.

“If you ever wanted… more than what we could give,” Snatcher finished, “then we would support you.”

“But, being with you,” Hattie blubbered through tears, “was all I ever wanted. You’re my family. I’ve always just wanted to go home. And now I’m here. You’re my home.”

“Kid.” Snatcher smiled, genuinely, as his form relaxed.

“You’re our home too,” Moonjumper finished, the tension falling from his shoulders.

Hattie could only nod, lip quivering as she tried to hold back her tears. The two halves of her father held her, waiting patiently for her smile to shine again.

One day, she might change her mind, as all living and growing things tend to do. She might go on journeys in galaxies farther than the prince would have ever fathomed. But her home would always remain, tethered to her by a wake of stardust. There, she would always be loved and there, she would always love. There, she could always return.

Because the other part of love is returning.

#a hat in time #ahit snatcher #ahit moonjumper #ahit hat kid #song lyric drabbles #my writing #EclipsesEnd #let me know if you'd like me to tag your tumblr! If you want!#Also thank you so much for your comments! I usually just wait until i update to respond on AO3 #BUT I see them and appreciate them always <3 #also this is one of my favorite songs so I hope the drabble captures the softness!#Please enjoy and let me know what you think!#Okay now i must go to bed #night everyone!

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nomoregoldfish · 4 years ago

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Imagine Pacho Sends You as a Gift to (Spy on) Amado 2/3

This is getting out of hand again, smh. (Not really) Warning: everyone loves Pacho. Un-betaed, I’ll post the entire thing on AO3 later. For now, you can find part 1 here.

Amado is occupied with all sorts of business affairs after you land in DF, leaving you to his younger brother Vicente. You quickly learn Vicente is in charge of security of all cartel business, that's something, you assume.

When asked why you don't go to Juárez directly, Vicente tells you Amado has several meetings with some important figures in DF. You have to figure out a way to infiltrate the plaza to learn more about Amado, staying at a luxury apartment owned by the narcos won't get you anything useful.

"She's crazy!" Vicente's whining when Amado finally shows up late that night, "She woke up at 5 in the morning for a fucking jog and dragged my ass to a wet market before it even opened. And that's not the end of it, she bought so much fish and my car still smells like a stinky fish tank right now."

Vicente is a bit exaggerating but you do have a fruitful trip to the local market.

"Yet you finished everything she cooked." Amado points at the empty plates on the dining table, not annoyed at all.

"Do you have some leftovers?" The tall Mexican turns to you. Vicente interrupts, "No, we ate all salmon sashimi because Ryoko said salmon has to be served as fresh as possible, and I ate all wasabi. Oh man, that shit is hotter than serrano peppers. But don't worry, we have a lot of more fish in the jacuzzi." Right, it comes handy to have more than one bathtub in the luxury apartment.

Finally Amado sends away his bratty little brother. Then it's just the two of you.

"I've got something for you." You remember to smile, which seems to work fine as Amado approaches. "All done?" He asks, you haven't figured it out what he's asking about, the dishes? Yes. Then the Mexican lowers your ponytail, running his fingers through your hair.

"You don't wanna hair in your grilled pacific saury." You joke, bringing him another set of hot meal you specifically make for him.

"Tell me more about it." Amado takes a large bite, looking satisfied and more relaxed.

You two are chatting over some mezcal and a plate of edamame afterwards. Amado asks about your day, and trades some anecdotes about Vicente when you tentatively ask about his. The fucker is smart and vigilant.

"I have to tell you something," Okay, you get his full attention, "The bluefin tuna you ate three days ago wasn't served in the best condition. Pacho wanted a show, everything grand and pretty, so I had to cut the red part of the fish and make a bright-colored akami plate right away. It's meaty and chewy, which should have been aged for three days in the fridge to allow the texture to soften and release more flavor," You opens the fridge, showing Amado several chunks of tuna you already cut out, "You can have friends over in three days, I bought enough for a full table."

"What about the pink ones?" He seems genuinely interested. You continue to explain that different parts of tuna offer variable tastes from super fatty pink otoro around the head and collar to chutoro, mixture of fat and meat from the back and belly.

To your surprise, Amado asks for a slice of the fat part, "You said it's the most expensive one. I shouldn't waste your hard-earned money, right?" Both of you laugh.

You take a really fat cut. When you're looking for a plate and the soy sauce, Amado just eats it from your hand. Your fingers are freezing from the tuna and when he swallows them with the slice, the hot and soft sensation around fucking turns you on like nothing else. The sashimi-hater even licks your fingers a few more times, "to clean the fat."

As he claimed, "It's better."

"Now you're gonna show me how you destroy my jacuzzi on day one."

You feel great sitting by the edge of the jacuzzi a.k.a. your temporary fish tank and checking out all the aquatic animals you bought earlier.

"It could've been us in it." What a tease. You laugh then get up, "I don't think it's a good idea to get naked with lobsters and octopuses."

"Wait," Amado turns you around, still sitting by the edge, "Let me make it up for you."

When Amado decides to give you a head, you simply don't say no. It's like sitting on his face because you can barely stand still. He notices then pulls you closer. The lips used to wrap around your fingers now make you feel like in heaven, and God bless his fucking tongue. The Mexican is driving you mad.

"Shh, you wake up the octopus." You're at the tipping point and the fucker pauses. You open your eyes, an octopus is on the move, two tentacles approaching the edge of the jacuzzi, sucker rings very close to your bare legs.

Then imagine Amado gets up and pushes you up against the tiles in the shower, silencing you with a rough kiss. You taste yourself, and something raw, could be the tuna or the cigarettes he smokes. You get even more aroused by that.

You're desperate for more of his touch. So you grab his big hand and put it between your thighs, and he's willing to comply.

This is too much. You cum just after a few rubs against him.

"I'm sorry for the other night. You're a genius." Amado's playing dirty, sweet-talking while he continues to rub against your oversensitive part, "Would you do me favor? I'm thinking about hosting a few guests, somewhere private, the tuna will be ready by Friday, right?"

You can't believe he falls for the trick. This could be an important business meeting and you're gonna be there.

"Sure. Can I ask something in return?" You already come to your senses while giving Amado a painfully slow handjob.

"Anything you want. Flowers? Jewelry? Cars? I have some better collections than Pacho's Corvette C4. Too flashy." Amado offers generously.

You can't help laughing, "Gosh, how could men make everything a dick comparison contest?"

"You saw his dick?" Amado bites your lower lips. He's rock hard, throbbing.

"I thought you did, too. You two seem very close. I mean, Pacho is a gorgeous man." You keep going, and teasing. You enjoy the fact that you just plant something really dirty in Amado's head. You bet he's having an imaginary threesome with you and Pacho. Not a bad idea though.

By the time you make him come, the Mexican almost forgets what you're asking.

"I ask 'Do you have some dumbbells?' I need my daily training and I don't have time to find a new gym here. What? How do you think I'm able to handle a 150lbs tuna in a line of work mostly for men?" You give Amado a little squeeze before licking it off.

You have a dream that night, being penetrated by Amado in some warm water while a giant octopus sucks you off. You wake up with wetness down there.

You visit several Japanese restaurants in town, unsurprisingly boring. You get the idea that local middle-class see Japanese cuisine as an exotic and cultural novelty.

You even invite Amado to have lunch at one of those restaurants during his break. He frowns at the food after the first bite, "You can't do this to me."

What? "Asking me to eat this crap is inhumane. I'm spoiled." Amado makes it sound like you're the bad guy, but these smiling eyes give him away. He looks at you the way that makes you feel wanted.

You two end up eating cheap Mexican street food and that's where you find some early blossoms of jacarandas with excitement.

"You want those?" Amado asks, picking up some dried petals from the street. All you can think of is jacarandas flower could be an interesting alternative to sakura, which adds a domestic touch to the food you're gonna prepare for Friday.

"Yes, please." Amado must find it weird but he just nods.

Once being brought to the outskirt location of the private meeting, you spend more time making rearrangement of the decor, trying to create an authentic Japanese ryotei experience.

You call Amado once for extra resources. It's tricky because you don't know if you're in a position to ask anything when he's away, busy.

"I'm glad you called. I may not be an Asian culture fanatic like Pacho but I promise you will have anything you want. Whatever rare shit he's bought you, just name it. I'll have an entire Boeing 727 team ready to fly it in from every fucking corner of the world." Yeah, the dick measuring thing is still going on.

What you don't mention is that you're also glad to hear his voice. "Will you come over?" You almost let it slip, "I mean, to see if you like everything."

"No. I trust you," Amado pauses, "I'll be an hour early."

"Mind the traffic." Bright laughter breaks from the other end of the line.

And thanks to the highly efficient Carrillo Air Express, stuff you request is brought to you the next day including a whole box of violet jacarandas petals.

You ask for a guest list before starting to set the table. "Just set tables for eight people." Vicente clearly has no idea of being a host. You explain that it's part of your job to make sure no one is allergic to seafood. "How the fuck do I know that?" The young man is still complaining.

"Don't worry. Give me a list. I'll look for their office numbers, call their secretaries and find out."

Vicente is easily convinced. You get what you want, a list of high-up politicians and business executives. Not sure how this is relevant but you memorize the names and companies anyway.

Amado makes his arrival almost cinematic. With a chopper still swirling outside, the man in black steps out from the driving seat on the right and waves to you like a king.

"You're early." You can hide your smile this time.

"Because someone suggested I should 'mind the traffic.' It happens I've owned a few choppers." The fucker looks like a dashing pilot out Hollywood movies.

You joke that he's nothing like what Pacho used to say, "Low-profile my ass."

"Oh, Pacho talks about me?"

"Stop. I'm really not interested in which one of you has a bigger dick."

Later Amado hands you a wrapped frame. "I heard you're looking for some Japanese art for decoration. I don't know anything about art but..."

You can't believe he brings you a shunga, tradition Japanese erotic painting, depicting a giant octopus performing oral on a woman with pink tentacles all over her naked body. "You're ridiculous." You frown, it's too explicit you're not sure if it's appropriate for such an occasion.

"I saw something similar at Pacho's house. Well, minus the woman. Just boys." The cheeky bastard winks at you, "You're also serving octopus sashimi tonight? It's a fit then." That's how a print of the famous Octopus and Girl Diver ends up in the main room.

Dinner starts at 8 and everything is ready. You're asked to briefly introduce each dish to the guests when one's presented. Guests praise everything from the chopstick rest made of porcelain with traditional Mexican patterns, to the floral-shaped bream sashimi slices. The tuna sushi is a hit, everyone loves it. You give Amado a knowing smirk when you catch him taking a few himself. The octopus sashimi is a bit tricky but the guests are so "polite", they still pretend to enjoy the exotic food.

The rest of the time you stay outside the room. You hear things but not in a coherent manner. Amado mentions NAFTA, export-oriented furniture and auto parts factories in Juárez, and two of them are head of the biggest tequila exporters of the country. Nothing makes sense for the drug business. Is the most successful Mexican drug trafficker gonna shift to other legitimate businesses? That might have an impact on Pacho's business.

When dessert is brought to the table, everyone wows — the improvised jacarandas mochi with dried petals is a nice surprise to end the dinner. You tell them the story that instead of the much-anticipated sakura which wasn't well-adjusted to the Mexican weather, how jacarandas was introduced to Mexico City by a Japanese gardener in the 1930s. All the guests finish their plates while giving you a few nods.

Amado seems very pleased with everything you've done. He lowers his voice to ask you to wait for him afterwards.

"Where are we going?" You ask through the headphones. Seems Amado is flying you back to downtown DF.

The Mexican smirks, "To the sky."

You finally land atop the roof of a skyscraper, "This is the tallest building in Mexico." Amado holds you tight when you exit the chopper. The wind at night in early January is insane, let alone you're 700ft above the ground.

It must be some five-star hotel but turns out it's an office building of Pemex, Mexico's state-owned oil company. WTAF? "Put it this way, the biggest exporters of the country hang out sometimes." Amado's sense of humor is something you didn't expect, "Well, I'm not saying they bring as many unattached US dollars as I do, not even close."

When you let the fact sink in — that the Juárez cartel probably earns twice as much as the biggest oil company in the country through exporting "goods," having access to a secret suite on the top floor of the Pemex Tower is not surprising at all.

"You bring people here often?" You ask when Amado pops a bottle of wine. The city view from the 54th floor is stunning.

"I didn't know you're the jealous type." He brings you a glass. You two stand in front the giant window, raising your glasses like you're celebrating.

"You haven't asked what we're celebrating." Amado takes a step closer.

You put index finger on his lips, which are incredibly soft. Immediately remind you last time you kissed, "I don't want to get myself killed in a foreign country."

"Did Pacho teach you that? Not asking questions, just do your thing." Amado starts kissing your hand.

"Oh, my God. You're so obsessed with him, and it's kinda cute."

"Nonsense." The Mexican disagrees, and turns to the window.

You sets both of your glasses aside, then leads Amado to the bed. You get undressed first, lying on the bed, waiting.

"You're sure this is something you want?" You ask, completely stripped. Amado stares at your flat-chested body like the first time he found out who you are.

"You make it sound like I haven't sleep with supermodels. That funny?" The fucker tickles you, "You have no idea..."

Imagine Amado makes you feel adored, marking every inch of your body with his big hands and soft lips. He takes time, mapping your body till he finds the most sensitive spots and makes you moan, shivering.

"Let me warm you up." Amado probably thinks you're cold, so he spoons you. The long limbs of his are like tentacles wrapped around you, fuck, you can feel his erection grinding against you.

You're so wet for Amado. When he finally pushes in from behind, neither of you can resist the sensation.

"Wanted to do this to you the whole week. You're such a fucking tease, aren't you? Dropped at my door in that kimono robe then left without letting me even touch you." Amado pounds into you, with hand reaching your little bean from behind, making you a total mess.

"Why didn't you make me stay then?" You're nearly breathless, "Is it...because it's within Pacho's territory?" You obviously cross some line with that. The thrusts become harder, feels like Amado is gonna fuck you senseless.

You're not sure if Pacho wants to know you are talking about him when you reach orgasm.

You decide to leave it out before you pass out.

#narcos mexico #narcos imagine #amado carrillo fuentes #pacho herrera #amado x reader

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years ago

Text

Shadow’s Birthright | MYG

Chapter 01: Strength of Silence

Plot: Riding in on thunder and lightning, two princes are born. But a crown cannot be shared. It can only be worn by one and one alone. The hands of man have separated the brothers, allowing one to live in wealth and comfort inside the palace while the other grows up among commoners. But Fate cannot be destroyed by the hands of man. A shared destiny reunites the brothers; one to become a king who descends into madness and the other will rise as a dragon whose journey has only just begun in order to claim a crown he does not desire to have.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Lee Yoon) x Female OC (Kalina Shuri)

Warnings: Historical setting, caste system, magic/sorcery, graphic violence, disturbing graphic images, religious tones, angst, slow burn, eventual smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,964

Tag List: @luxekook, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @stillcopingxx, @taevkimchi, @aroseforyoongi, @vivpurple7, @happilystrongthroughthedark, @sw33tnight, @nikkitane,

AN: Sorry this has taken so long for me to get out. With all the madness happening in the world, I just needed a break and decided to throw myself into just writing. I’ve received so much love on the prologue for this series so I’m happy to present you all with the first chapter. It’s a hefty time jump, but who doesn’t like one of those, am I right? If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to drop me a line!

P.S. Please bear in mind that while the historical accuracy will be mostly correct, I am setting this in a time period in Joseon history where there was no such thing as a king who had a twin brother. Obviously that’s where the fiction/creative freedom is going to come in. Everything else will be period accurate, trust and believe.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Silence is a great source of strength.” - Lao Tzu

23 Years Later

Yoongi sat on the edge of a large rock, his eyes peering out over the deep grays and blues of the wide mountainous landscape. Summer mornings were his favorite and while he knew he could get an extra hour or two of sleep, seeing the sun rise above the mountain tops always filled him with a new vigor. There was just something about greeting the day that allowed him to truly feel alive. He could never fully explain it.

A soft whimper issued beside him and he craned his neck to look at the gray and black wolf seated at his feet. Pulling the sprig of barley from his mouth, Yoongi reached down to pet the wolf’s head and it panted happily in response; its thick tail swinging back and forth at the attention it received from its master. It made a small noise from pleasure, the sound of its panting intensifying little by little with each pet.

Chuckling, he scratched the canine between its ears. “You’re so needy, San-ah,” he teased, watching the wolf stand on all fours as he peered his pale blue eyes up at him. “You’ve got to be the luckiest fool in the entire kingdom of Joseon.”

The wolf barked happily, spinning in place, and then plopped his rump back down on the grass. This caused Yoongi to laugh loudly and he waved the barley sprig at the wolf’s nose.

Growing up in the countryside, it wasn’t uncommon for wolves to linger around in the forests and mountains. But for a young cub to get abandoned during the Winter was more than Yoongi could stand. After begging his father to let him take the small wolf pup home, promising to take care of him, the two of them were inseparable. The other villagers were concerned with Yoongi raising a predator. But after being at his side for the last four years, the village came to appreciate San and often showered him with the same amount of affection as he did; if not more.

Yoongi could safely say that San was his best friend in the world.

The wolf leaped up, pressing his large paws into Yoongi’s lap and began licking his face. San’s tongue caressed over the scar tissue on the right side of his face and he gently shoved the animal away. His fingers pressed over the scar, tracing the pads up from his cheek all the way above his eyebrow. Sighing, he tossed the barley sprig away and motioned for San to follow him just as the morning sun crested over the mountains.

“Let’s head back,” he said, reaching down behind the rock to pick up the large wooden pail of spring water, “you know how the old man gets when he doesn’t have his morning tea.”

Again, San barked, before tearing off ahead of him to sniff out the trail. Yoongi could navigate his way through the forest and mountains with his eyes closed, but his companion always insisted on being careful. He’d barely made it twenty paces before the wolf returned and walked patiently at his side.

The trek through the forest and down the mountain path was short, but only because Yoongi knew it so well. San barreled down the expansive green hill just as his father appeared from the doorway, a large axe draped over his shoulders. Yoongi rushed down the hill with hurried steps, cradling the wooden bucket in his arms so he wouldn’t accidentally spill the water in his haste.

“Father!” Yoongi called, to which the broad-shouldered and bronze-skinned man lifted his head just as he finished petting San’s back. “I can take care of that!”

The lower half of his father’s face was covered in facial hair; always well-groomed. His dark eyes, while usually intimidating, always held a certain degree of warmth in them when he looked at Yoongi. Instead of answering him, he simply straightened his posture and proceeded to head toward the side of their modest home to proceed cutting wood for the fire.

Sighing, Yoongi gave up trying to convince his father to let him take care of the more laborious chores again. Instead, he shooed San into the house and started preparing breakfast. It didn’t take Yoongi long to see they were missing quite a few things from the food storage that would need to be replaced soon. Namely eggs, meat, and a few key vegetables.

“I’ll just have to do what I can,” he murmured as he began washing the barley in a small basin. Yoongi frowned. This wouldn’t be an issue if we lived closer to the village.

It wasn’t the first time he bitterly thought of how inconveniently far away they lived from the rest of the world. Yoongi only could go as far as the local village and that was a task and a half trying to convince his father to let him do even just that. When his father left every few years for days at a time to visit the Capital, Yoongi was forced to stay behind. He’d never been to the Crown City, not once. But he wanted to, insisting that he could get better books and even practice a trade or go to school. He could start working to take care of the household for a change.

Every time the matter was brought up, however, his father scowled and forbade him from thinking or speaking such foolishness. But to Yoongi, it wasn’t foolish. He believed he was trying to do his best by his father in wanting to take care of him. What father wouldn’t want that for their son? Why did he have to grow up differently from everyone else?

What little education he received was all self-taught. He kept most of his studies a secret, not wanting to anger or worry his father. But he knew that he would eventually have to marry and raise a family. Since his father didn’t want to pass along his knowledge, he had little choice but to strike out on his own and do what he could. His father wouldn’t be around forever and he couldn’t expect to spend his youth idling around.

The one thing his father did teach him, much to Yoongi’s persistence, was the ability to fight.

A humble breakfast was completed and the two of them ate in relative silence. He watched his father sneak a few pieces of meat to San and the wolf lovingly spread itself across his lap. Yoongi shoved rice into his mouth in annoyance, chewing loudly but knowing that it wouldn’t actually bother either of them into paying him any attention.

“Weren’t you the one who told me to stop doing that?” Yoongi asked mid-chew. “He’s spoiled now because of you.”

His father leaned back and released a hearty chuckle that never failed to warm Yoongi’s heart. “Did I? I can’t recall.”

He scoffed, grabbing some of the spinach out of one of the wooden bowls. “Of course you can’t.”

His eyes caught the scars on his father’s arms as he rubbed his hands lovingly over San’s fur. They were sword scars. Yoongi knew this, even if his father never told him so. Training him in martial arts was a clear enough indication that his father must have been a seasoned warrior in his younger years. The harshness of his training regiment was proof enough for Yoongi.

Min Dojin.

His father never spoke much about his past, or even about Yoongi’s mother. After a childish tantrum, he came to accept that his mother must have died sometime after he was born. Those were the words that the villagers passed on and they never pitied Yoongi. It wasn’t because they were heartless. It was just a factor of life in their country. If anything, he was fortunate to still have his father, freeing him from the shackle of being branded an orphan.

But on lonely nights, Yoongi missed the warmth of a mother’s embrace. Something he wasn’t familiar with, but felt that it was a distant memory that refused to fade from his mind.

“There’s some money in the lock box if you need anything,” his father said suddenly, slicing through his thoughts.

He blinked, realizing that his father already cleared the dishes away. Had he spaced out that much? Scrambling to his feet, he tried to follow after his father and nearly tripped over San circling in between his legs.

“Are you leaving for the Capital?”

A frown touched his father’s features. “Yes.”

Yoongi felt his brows furrow. He knew how much his father despised going to the Crown City and never understood why. Even though he offered to run his father’s errands for him, he was denied every opportunity to travel that far from home. It clearly wasn’t for his own safety. Yoongi could more than take care of himself. But he didn’t have the heart to accuse his own father of keeping anything from him.

“How long will you be gone this time?”

“Two weeks.”

Again, he blinked. This time from surprise. “T-That long?!” His eyes followed after his father as he began gathering his traveling satchel and walking cane. “You’re going to leave me here alone?”

His father chuckled as he turned and raised his brows at his son. “You have San.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he frowned. “You’re just so funny, Father.”

He laughed again. “Kali promised she would come by to check on you if you needed anything.”

“Kali-ssi?” A soft warmth touched his cheeks at the mention of Kali and he quickly averted his gaze. Yoongi cleared his throat loudly as he placed a hand on the back of his neck. “She needn’t bother.”

He could see his father’s cheeky grin without even having to look at it. “I asked her to.” Yoongi whipped his head around to peer into his father’s eyes. “She said she had some interesting stories to share with you.” His grin widened a measure. “And maybe a gift or two?”

Yoongi slid his fingers through his cropped bangs, tugging at them for a measure. “I see,” was all he said as he rubbed his hair between his thumb and forefinger.

With a grunt, his father shouldered his satchel more comfortably and made his way toward the entrance of their home. San followed after him but stopped at the entryway, his tail wagging as he uttered a guttural whine from his throat. Yoongi watched his father lean down to pet the wolf between his ears, his eyes lifting to meet his own.

“If anything happens--”

“I know,” Yoongi replied softly, “take everything in the lock box and abandon the house.” He sighed. “Have a safe journey.”

He felt his father’s large hand fall onto his shoulder and for a moment, all they did was share a silent look. His father’s smile looked noticeably more solemn than usual. He patted Yoongi’s shoulder, then turned and made his way toward the edge of the forest. San barked after him before bolting off to chase a cluster of butterflies. Yoongi waited until his father disappeared from view before retreating back into the house.

No matter how hard he tried, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten with worry.

Yoon sat perched in one of the large magnolia trees in his palace garden. He cradled his plum colored crown in his arms, the rich cobalt of his silk robes reflecting from the sunlight. The silver dragons embroidered in his clothing seemed to shimmer against the morning light and he sighed as he peered through the tree’s canopy. Eunuchs and maidservants alike were running around through his palace courtyard and he remained silent - purposely ignoring their screaming pleas for him to come out from hiding.

He scoffed, sliding his hands behind his head as he leaned back further into the trunk of the tree. No one’s hiding, he thought bitterly, you’re all just too incompetent to find me.

“Cheo-ha,” came a sharp whisper from above him, causing Yoon to sit up abruptly.

“Who’s there?” he called back quietly, glancing every so often down to make sure none of his attendants heard him. “Reveal yourself!”

A long plaited braid suddenly dangled from above as he saw his younger sister’s face flashing an upside down smile. His frown deepened, not sure what her intentions were but Yoon knew he wanted nothing to do with them. She made a satisfied noise before dropping down hard into his lap. Yoon grunted, his arms flailing to both keep his balance and to maintain a hold of his crown. The princess plucked it easily from the air, preventing it from falling.

“You shouldn’t be so careless with your things, Crown Prince,” she said while smiling up at him.

“It’s none of your concern,” Yoon snapped, attempting to snatch it back from her but she stretched her arms up and away from him. He threw her a harsh glare. “Saeryung-ah…” His tone dropped in a clear warning.

Saeryung pouted before she sighed. “Fine. You’re always no fun.” She motioned for him to lean forward a bit. “Let me put it back on for you.”

“Do as you like,” he said, leaning forward so she could replace the crown over his platinum blonde hair. Once it was situated comfortably, he peered at her as she continued to pout, kicking her legs up and down while still in his lap. “Why are you here, Saeryung-ah? Don’t you have lessons to attend to with your teacher?”

The princess puffed out one of her cheeks defiantly while folding her arms across her chest in a completely unbecoming fashion for female royals. “I’ve already memorized The Book of Filial Piety!”

Yoon sighed. “There are other books that you need to study from.” He reached out and pet his sister’s head and she turned to look at him. “Being a princess isn’t just a title. You have other responsibilities.”

“Not nearly as many as you do, Orabeoni.”

The term caught Yoon off guard and he could only blink in stunned silence at her. The Princess must have realized her slipup because she quickly covered her mouth and gasped sharply. However, instead of chastising her, Yoon poked at her nose. Ever since he became Crown Prince, his studies and responsibilities steadily increased. His father was still able to rule the country, but there were disturbing rumors in the palace walls that spoke of his failing health. If that were the truth, then it would only be a matter of time before he was left to ascend to the throne.

Saeryung wouldn’t have any more opportunities to call him “big brother” when that day came.

“Forgive me, Crown Prince! I didn’t mean--”

“It’s fine, Saeryung-ah,” Yoon replied in a soothing tone as he petted her head again, “until I’m King, you can call me your Orabeoni.”

Her apologetic expression melted into one of pure joy. He smirked, then narrowed his eyes and pointed at her nose. She crossed her eyes at the sudden gesture.

“But you can only call me such when it is just the two of us. Understood?”

She nodded happily and was about to hug him when sudden outcries reached them from below.

“Seja Cheo-ha! Gongju-nim!”

“You both must come down from there at once!”

“We will be in terrible trouble if His Majesty finds out we were not at your sides!”

The two of them gazed down at their attendants frantically shifting below them. Rolling his eyes, Yoon scooped up his sister into his arms. Gasping slightly, she clung to his neck as he shifted to a standing position in the tree. His attendants continued to move about fearfully, screaming for him to be careful. He bit back a growl before leaping from the tree and into the air. His robes fluttered around him and he landed easily on the ground, setting his sister down and her servants were immediately at her side to straighten out her hair and robes.

“Princess, you shouldn’t be climbing trees like that!” her maid fussed as she finished tidying up Saeryung’s appearance. “Her Majesty, the Queen, would be appalled if she discovered it.”

Namgil, Yoon’s eunuch, appeared at his side and also adjusted his royal robes. He waited patiently for him to finish, not really listening to the slew of things flying from his attendant’s mouth. However, one particular sentence stood out and caused Yoon to pause, craning his neck to look straight into Namgil’s face.

“What did you say?” he asked, raising a curious brow.

The eunuch bowed his head low, unsure if he’d offended the Crown Prince or not. “Your Majesty requests your presence in his study.”

Yoon was suspicious. His father never called for him in his personal study. Let alone in the middle of the day. The King was fully aware of his itinerary for the afternoon. Yoon was scheduled for martial arts training and riding lessons. Was he supposed to rush through whatever matter his father wanted to speak with him about and make his instructors wait?

If Father is in his study, then it’s a personal matter, Yoon surmised, sighing as he clasped his hands behind his back, which is surprising all by itself.

Narrowing his eyes, he gestured for Namgil to lead the way. He took two steps forward and paused to look around. “...where’s Bidam?”

Just as confused as he was, Namgil spun his body in every direction before groaning. “Curse that Bidam! Leaving the Crown Prince’s side for even a moment!”

Leaves rustled to his right and Yoon quickly pivoted on his back heel to avoid whatever was aimed for him. A sharp whistle tore through the air and he dipped down, his knee crashing to the grass as his shoulders tensed. He was on high alert now after two attacks were propelled in his direction. There would not be a third attempt while he was unarmed.

Namgil screamed after him as Yoon dashed toward the edge of the steps leading to his palace. Reaching underneath the wooden floor panels, he slid a sword from the sheath with one clean motion just as another object hurled itself directly at his head. Lifting the blade up, he blocked the object and felt the handle rattle between his fingers. Something landed at his feet and Yoon recognized it as a throwing knife. Smirking, the Crown Prince took a breath and swept the blade across his body.

Focus, he told himself, you know that he’s here. You just have to pinpoint his location.

The heavy thud of his own heart ached inside of Yoon’s chest. A bead of sweat formed on his brow and he was keenly aware that Namgil and the servants fled the scene. Probably to go fetch the Royal Guard. It was so unnecessary. He wasn’t defenseless. He’d made damn sure of that.

Yoon licked his lips, the flutter of sparrow wings the signal he needed. Launching from his position, he roared at a nearby cluster of bushes. Seconds before he swept his blade down over the hedge, a body leaped from behind. Metal clashed against metal as sword blades made contact. Yoon felt his crown shift on his head before falling to the ground, revealing his pale hair in the morning sunlight. His muscles tensed when the sword clashed against his blade, forcing his boots to skid along the ground and he was now face to face with his assailant.

He grinned. “There you are, Bidam-ah.” Yoon’s voice was slightly strained from the force pushing against him.

Bidam, his bodyguard, grinned back at him. His dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, his thick brows lifting teasingly as he continued to push all of his weight behind his sword. “Good Morning, Seja Cheo-ha,” he said, sweat falling from his temple, “you’re a little slow this morning. Is your mind elsewhere, Your Highness?”

Yoon scoffed, taking a step forward and forcing Bidam to take one back. “My mind is always elsewhere. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

He swung his leg out to kick Bidam but his bodyguard predicted this. He watched as Bidam backward somersaulted into the air. Just when Yoon was going to unleash his counterattack, several sets of feet thundered into his palace garden. He lowered his stance and Bidam immediately sheathed his sword as the Queen and her attendants rushed inside, followed swiftly by the Royal Guard. Yoon bit back a groan at the fearful expression etched over his mother’s features.

“Seja!” she cried, all but running to him. “Are you alright, my Prince?!” He stood patiently as she looked over his entire body to make sure that he was, in fact, free of injuries. “I feared the worst!”

A small measure of guilt welled up inside of Yoon’s heart. He wished his mother would stop needlessly worrying over him. “I am fine , Mother. I was training with Bidam.” He cast a casual smirk to Bidam who met his gaze briefly before lowering his head. “Right, Bidam-ah?”

Bidam immediately fell to one knee, one arm crossing his chest as he pounded his fist into his collar. “Forgive me for stirring up chaos in the Palace, Your Majesty.”

The Queen’s shoulders visibly sank and her attendants were at her side to keep her from losing her balance. Namgil retrieved the prince’s crown and handed it back to him. He held it out to his mother who took it in her trembling hands as she watched Yoon lower himself at the Queen’s feet. Some of the servants gasped and whispered to each other and the Prince continued to stare at the patch of grass around the hems of his mother’s robes.

Hearing her sigh, she gently set his crown back atop his head, her gentle hands framing his face. She lifted his head so that he was now staring up at her. “It is good to train your body and mind, My Prince, but please be careful. You are the future father of this nation. If your body is harmed, your people are harmed. When your people are sick, you are sick. Do you understand, Seja?”

“Yes, Mother. I understand.” Standing to his full height, he let his mother take his hands into hers. Her fingers caressed over his knuckles.

“Your Father was asking for you, wasn’t he?” The Queen looped her arm through his. “Would you allow your mother to accompany you?”

“Of course,” Yoon said with a wide flourish of his arm, “but I thought you were scheduled to have tea with the Queen Dowager and the princesses?”

The Queen hummed and nodded as they moved through the gardens of his palace and out over the bridge leading to the main palace. “I can take the time to escort the Crown Prince to his own destination.”

Yoon’s entourage walked alongside his mother’s and they all chatted together in polite levels so as to not disturb the Queen and Crown Prince’s conversation. The days were peaceful, but mostly in part to how well-guarded the Palace was from the chaos of the outside world. But Yoon was no fool. Ming was growing restless because of Japanese opposition. It would only be a matter of time before Japan would attempt its invasion of Joseon in order to sink their claws into Ming.

He wondered if his father had any contingencies in place if such a thing were to actually transpire.

Arriving at the main palace gates, the Queen released Yoon’s arm and smiled. “Enjoy your time with your father, Seja.”

Yoon bowed, as did the rest of his servants. “Be well, Eomma Mama.” He waited until his mother and attendants were out of sight before turning back to face the main gate. “Let’s go.”

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

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May I request a one-shot where Legolas is sleeping (recovering from an injury and is in Imladris) and Aragorn is sitting next to him, watching over him and like braiding a strand of his hair??? tooth rotting fluff please!!! Thank you xoxo (strictly platonic)

Sorry for the wait, I hope that this wasn’t too long coming! I tried to make this as fluffy as possible, so I hope it’s up to code! I hope that you like what I’ve wrote and thank you for following me and reading what I write.

Ao3 link in reblog

Aragorn was born for many things, so everyone kept telling him at least, but waiting wasn’t one such thing. Whether it’d been for food, information, or even the simplest thing as waiting for the sun to rise on an autumn day, Aragorn found waiting wasn’t in his nature. Thus it should’ve been no surprise to either him, or the rest of the Fellowship, when he found himself sitting in the sickroom, his legs bouncing with unspent energy.

It wasn’t that he wanted to be in this predicament. He didn’t even want to be in Imlandris, commonly known as Rivendell, wanted to be out on the road. But Legolas had taken an arrow in the leg, and the shaft had broken off, requiring the crooked stone arrowhead to be dug out by hand, a dangerous, nearly always fatal procedure, unless done by the kind of specialists and magic wielders as existed in the land of the elves. The surgery had gone smoothly enough, and the elf was most definitely on the mend, out of danger to the great relief of Aragorn and the other members of the Fellowship. However rest was still needed and thus Aragorn found himself sitting, weeks having already drifted past during the elf’s convalescence, wondering why Legolas took so stupidly long to heal. Not that Aragorn seriously considered dragging him out of bed early or leaving him. Legolas was a friend, more than that, a companion, one of the Fellowship, and Aragorn would have no one left behind or put into danger because of his own smothered impatience.

Glancing over at the elf Aragorn pick up a strand of his hair. He liked the long hair of the elves, would’ve grown his own brown locks down his back if it were practical, or even possible, as Aragorn didn’t seem to have to cut his hair to keep it at length, it stayed as it was, sedate and a bit drab. Splitting Legolas’s hair into strands Aragorn was a bit too lost in his thoughts to notice the familiar pattern of crossing hair over hair. Braiding was an old practice for Aragorn, though he wasn’t quite sure where he’d picked it up. Maybe from Arwen. Either way, it was a sort of habit he’d grown into, and now he found himself back at it, braiding Legolas’s hair in all sorts of ways.

How well Aragorn knew Legolas now. How long ago it seemed since he’d run into that young elf. There’d always been a bond of brotherhood between the two, even right at the beginning, and Aragorn now could scarcely imagine a time when he didn’t have the elf to talk to, to trade secrets, wishes, and burdens with. The grateful feeling of relief he’d felt at the news that his brother in all but blood was going to be alright was overwhelming, and had spent him spiraling in thoughts as to how much he really loved Legolas, and how Aragorn had found family in the most unexpected of places.

“I assume my leg hasn’t turned green.” The semi sarcastic voice drew Aragorn out of his ponderings, and he looked at Legolas, who sleepily blinked his eyes. “I’d sit up and check, but I don’t want to ruin the work of art you’re turning my hair into right now.” Aragorn chuckled at this, knowing full well that Legolas didn’t really care one way or another what his hair was turning into.

“You leg has indeed failed to turn green, I’m sorry to tell you but you’re still stuck on this quest with us.”

“Just as well, I couldn’t imagine the frightful looks I’d get from the other elves if I was laid off, I bet even the trees would bow their heads in shame.”

“Never about you, I promise that.” Aragorn replied, smiling, happy that he was bantering once more with Legolas. Surely that meant the elf felt much better, for Legolas only bantered in his good moods, otherwise contenting himself with cryptic musings about nature, musings he’d once admitted to Aragorn he made more incomprehensible to annoy Boromir. “I don’t think anyone could be ashamed or doubt your determination after you nearly killed yourself chasing after an orc like that, you knew it was a trap and the band was going to turn around the minute you were separated.” His expression grew more serious. “Bravado is all well and good elf, but I’d not have you die, especially not from such a foolish act.”

“Perhaps it was a bit reckless,” Legolas admitted, not looking the least bit contrite, “but I honestly thought I could handle it, you’ve seen me take on much more than orcs after all, you know that I’m capable.”

“Not when you’re being reckless, it clouds your judgement, I know those tricks of yours take great skills and concentration.” Aragorn shook his head. “I’m not about to forbid you anything, you’re older than I am, know the risks, but I’m only going to remind you that you’re not alone, and that many would mourn your passing… I first among them.” He admitted after a pause.

“That’s a beautiful braid you’ve made.” Legolas smiled, before taking Aragorn’s hand in his, causing the braid to unwind a bit without the hair being fastened or tied up. “I promise I won’t forget my family, for the Valar have brought us together of that I am sure. But trust my judgement more, after all like you said I am older than you. I’ll not rush into danger like that again since it worries you so much, but you cannot stop my combat antics forever, and you know that. So trust in me, and in destiny, the gods, and in Fate. All will be well. We’ll succeed in our quest, and I’ll not be leaving anytime soon.”

“Thank you.” Aragorn smiled, and Legolas returned the gesture in a mirrored grin.

“Now, since it’s going to be a while, why don’t you get some ribbons and ties and finally show me how the braids you make out of rope translate to real hair. And don’t you dare mess up.” Aragorn laughed and got up to search for such ties, his heart filled with relief and love, grateful to the entire universe and everything in it that this family he found wasn’t going to shrink.

#lotr #lord of the rings #requested #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #platonic!aragorn x legolas #mine #lotr fanfic #anon

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loveburnsbrighter · 5 years ago

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Live In Your Heart

requested by @i-dont-even-effing-know-anymore. hope you enjoy! 💕

read it on ao3

"We're not setting up the wifi yet," Patrick says. He's got his Stern Face on, which usually means fun things, but sometimes, unfortunately, means that David will be required to do work. This seems to be one of those times.

"But babe," he says, wheedling, "how will I order pizza if I don't have wifi?" He brandishes his phone. "I ran out of data in New York last week." He went with Alexis to help her settle in — it's been a strain, her moving right before he and Patrick were set to, and he's frankly exhausted, physically and emotionally. "We promised Stevie pizza," he adds, as if he can convince Patrick that his motivation is purely selfless.

Patrick plucks the phone right out of his hand. "I'll call them," he says. "You remember, how we ordered pizza back in the nineties? By calling?"

"Ugh, don't remind me." David leans back against a towering stack of boxes, ignoring Patrick's pained look, and sighs heavily. "Alright, fine. We might as well get this done. Bedroom first, or kitchen?"

"We can put Stevie on kitchen duty when she gets here," Patrick says. "Bedroom now." He pauses for a moment, and then smiles slowly, like he can't help it. "Our bedroom," he says, and David wouldn't generally describe Patrick as a particularly jovial person, but he looks downright giddy.

David honestly can't blame him, feels that a little bit too, at the words. He's spent a lot of time at Patrick's place, and for the last month or so he's lived there fully, barring his four days in New York with Alexis. But it was still Patrick's place, no matter how at-home David made himself there. (Very.)

This is their place. David and Patrick's home. David and Patrick's bedroom.

"Our bedroom," he agrees, and grabs a box, following Patrick down the hall.

Their bedroom is, thus far, more or less a big empty cube. There's a weird alcove with the window in it that Patrick has been insisting he wants a window seat for, and the master bathroom door is on the wall kitty-corner to the bedroom door. David has been pleased (thrilled) to note that the whole thing comes with a lovely little walk-in closet; it's not huge, but it's easily three or four times the size of the closet back in Patrick's studio.

The movers brought in Patrick's bed yesterday and set it up against the far wall, and David and Patrick slept on the mattress on the floor at Patrick's place. "Okay, first things's first," David says, dropping his box in the middle of the floor. Patrick pointedly pushes it against a wall, and David ignores him. "Where are the sheets? Because we can not sleep on dirty sheets our first night in the new house, Patrick."

"Actually," Patrick says, "about that." He's barely trying to hide a shit-eating grin, and it makes David immediately wary.

"What," he says heavily.

"Okay, don't be mad," Patrick says, which tells David that he probably should be, "I should have talked to you probably but I wanted it to be a surprise," and he rushes through the words to keep David from interrupting. "I used all the money my grandparents gave us for our wedding and bought that flax-linen Pottery Barn set you wanted."

David gasps, because he has wanted that bed set so badly — fair trade linens in gorgeous soft sandy beige — but Patrick has insisted every time David has argued that it's frivolous to spend more than a hundred dollars on sheets. Their current sheets are from Target. "Like, the sheets —"

"The whole bed set," Patrick says, looking inordinately pleased with himself. "The sheets, the duvet and shams — I didn't get the dust ruffle because my bed frame —" But David doesn't get to hear about the dust ruffle because he's quite literally launching himself into Patrick's arms and kissing him.

Patrick makes a soft, surprised noise, not quite a laugh, and lifts his hands to hold David by the waist. He pulls back just a little, letting David kiss down his jaw, to say, "So you're not mad?"

"Linen sheets," David mumbles against his Adam's apple. He pulls back to smile down at Patrick, and Patrick is smiling back, radiant in a way that David never saw him before they got engaged, a way that he's seen more and more since they decided to buy the house. "Okay," he says, schooling himself, because if they do what he wants to do — which is tackle Patrick onto the bare mattress in their empty bedroom and thoroughly christen the house — then they'll never get to all the things they have to do. "Well, where are the new sheets, because they have to be washed before we can use them."

Patrick helps David wrestle the new bedding out of its insane packaging, and then builds a little fort in the tiny laundry room out of all the cardboard while David starts a load. He's relieved every second that the previous owners left their washer and dryer — they're both done with public laundry for the foreseeable future.

They grab another box each to haul into the bedroom on the way back down the hall; the bed and dressers are there already, and a single bookcase. David has already been in to clean the closet and repaper the shelves in there, and they've agreed that they don't want to paint the bedroom; it came a creamy off-white that feels warm and soft, somehow.

David puts on music — he's made a playlist just for this, full of high-energy, multigenerational pop, Tina and Britney and Mariah all sharing space. At some point Patrick logged into their shared Spotify — purely an economic choice; David didn't want Patrick's music fucking up his Wrapped, but that's not really worth ten bucks a month — and added Mumford and Sons and Bryan Adams and the Beach Boys, because Patrick has no sense of thematic or genre consistency. It's fine, he supposes; when you love someone, you're willing to compromise for them.

"'Framed wall art and photos - bedroom,'" Patrick says out loud, reading off the Sharpie label on a box. "Maybe we should save this one until we've got the basics together?"

"Okay," David agrees over an infuriatingly long banjo solo. "This one is your books?" Patrick gestures and David slides it over, watches him produce a knife from his pocket and slice open the top.

By the time Stevie strolls through the door, helpfully using her emergency key, they've mostly got the bedroom together. The mattress pad and sheets are on, with the duvet set in the dryer, and Patrick's books and David's books are commingled on the shelf, which David is alarmingly pleased by — they're married, but the sight of his Virginia Woolf next to Patrick's Agatha Christie makes him feel warm from the inside out.

"I picked up the pizza," Stevie shouts. "You owe me forty bucks in reimbursement!"

David skids down the hall, eager for pizza, with Patrick behind him.

"How in the name of god did you spend forty bucks on pizza?" Patrick wants to know.

Stevie shrugs, hugging him as David relieves her of the boxes. "I got garlic knots."

"And cheese bread," David says gleefully, spreading the boxes on the table. "And one of those big cookies."

Patrick sighs after him but dutifully digs three beers out of the fridge. (They set up all the appliances and TVs yesterday.) (All that's in the fridge so far is beer, a single head of lettuce, and a few bottles of green juice.) David accepts his beer with minimal distasteful nose-scrunching.

They make short work of lunch, and Patrick sets Stevie up in the kitchen with a roll of shelf paper and more boxes than he'd ever thought he could fill with kitchen stuff; the dishes from his apartment, of course, and then they'd gotten a lot of the classic appliance wedding gifts: a brand new blender, a four-slice toaster ("but what will you use?" David had asked), an upright mixer, a block of knives with marble handles that Patrick is actually thrilled with.

David finishes making the bed, and then he just stands and stares at it for a second; he can't wait for Patrick to have sex with him in these sheets in this bedroom, but he also can't wait for Patrick to cuddle with him in this bed. Watch movies with him. Hold him close and fall asleep with an arm slung low over his waist.

Patrick comes up behind him and settles warm hands on his hips, and David leans back into the touch. "Stevie and I want to get started on the living room," Patrick says, hooking his chin over David's shoulder. "You just about done in here?"

David crosses his arms across his own waist and takes Patrick's hands, swaying. One of Patrick's songs is playing from David's tiny speaker. I've been so happy loving you, Dennis Wilson croons into the space, less echoey than it was earlier before they got their pictures up. He looks around at their new room; the receipt from their first date is already on the bookshelf, and there's a framed poster for that first open mic night, and one from Alexis' singles week. These are all things from Patrick's apartment; all this time, he's been collecting little souvenirs for them. Stepping stones tracing the path of their relationship. There's a framed wedding invitation, too, and photos: from the store opening, Patrick's birthday, their bachelor party, their wedding.

Even after David landed in Schitt's Creek without a paddle, if he'd been asked to describe his future, he would have crafted a life more or less like the one he'd left: galleries and parties, a drugged-out A-list entourage, globetrotting in the wake of Alexis' endless stream of near misses. He never could have imagined this: a house in a small town, a business heavily patronized by flannel-clad locals, a single friend who loved him enough to help him move. Alexis settled in one place, his parents settled in another, weekly Facetime calls.

Five gold rings on his fingers, the most beautiful man he's ever seen in Costco jeans, holding him and swaying and singing softly in his ear: "Forever, together my love…" A sedan that clicks in the driveway, blueprints for a vegetable garden. All the Ricky-and-Lucy trappings of a good life, things he never would have expected to love.

"You won," Stevie told him a few months ago, when he brought her here to sit in the driveway and pour out his heart. And David can hear her clanking dishes together downstairs, and Patrick is warm against his back, and the song is fading out the way that slow seventies rock does, and David knows, bone-deep, unshakeably, that she was right.

#david x patrick #fanfiction #rye.txt #stevie budd #schitt's creek

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wonderful-bellies · 5 years ago

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Alright. Honestly hour time.

Warning for those that wanna avoid this sorta thing: This is gonna be a post about depression shit so if you can't handle that atm please keep scrolling. I'll be fine if you don't check in on me ❤️

I know I haven't been active as much lately. My posting has kinda staggered, my art even moreso. And firstly I wanna say I am not giving up. Never through any of this have I once thought about just quitting this blog and abandoning my art and this community cause it has brought me so much happiness and become a little home for me.

Secondly I wanna thank everyone for still sticking around, and welcome to those of you that just followed. I also apologize to you for the lack of content.

Everything really comes down to my life kinda changing and fucking up my depression addled brain immensely. I started this blog in highschool, I was welcomed into an amazing friendly talented community that I adored and I somehow started getting more followers abd attention for my art than I ever dreamed I'd have anytime soon. I was motivated as all hell, I had a stable life structure. Friends I saw nearly everyday, I knew to an extent what the future held. I was content to draw my heart out and go about life as I always had with a lil flash of happiness in the form of a dumb vore and gt blog I'd made on a whim. I even started an ask blog, it wasn't even supposed to be an aso blog. It was supposed to be a seperate blog for same size bellies that just turned into an ask blog. Unfortunately, I haven't posted there in a long time. But I adored every second of it and I hope to one day resurrect it too.

And then highschool neared its end. I was nervous but confident, I had gone through highlschool with depression and anxiety and adhd and I'd convinced myself that once I got into college, everything would be great. I'd be studying on my own terms about topics I loved. But as it turns out, college wasn't exactly like that. I got lonely, I struggled to make friends. My first roommate hated me. I didn't know anyone there, I spent every night falling asleep jext to someone who got pissed at me for stsying in the bathroom to cry for too long. This is when productivity on the blog started to get a liiittle bit wobbly.

After some time I just couldn't take it and I begged to come home. I left that school and enrolled in a local community college while living at home. I found the classes there to be more challenging for me. I failed in more than one course, got bad grades in an art class for the first time in my life. I was costing my family money and I still couldn't seem to make friends. After a long time of trying and just not working, I was put on academic probation. And I made a decision to not come back. This is where my productivity and mental health and the blog itself flopped I think.

I started living at home, simply going about life every day getting up, playing some games, talking to some friends online, and that's about it. I tried to force myself to get a job, a driver's license, an internship, anything to make up for my lack of productivity. But a horrible combination of unpreparedness, depression, and major anxiety made doing those things impossible. I had a job briefly, one that I wasn't told was a holiday job only and I was let go without being told. Simply never scheduled again. It made my anxiety on the matter worse. And on top of it all, it turned out that a stable life structure was a major motivator for my art. I doodled a TON at school. Daydreamed and came up with ideas, had my mind going. It's why I did so much on my blog at that time. But now, with a lack of structure for going on 3 years now, I seem to have lost a lot of that drive. I still love art, I still wouldn't dream of giving it up. But it's so difficult for me to get myself to do it anymore. I've fallen deeper into depression, I've slowly been losing contact with my in person friends, I've started comparing myself harshly and getting pissed at myself for wasting my life and doing nothing. I try to do commissions A: for money and B: because it makes me feel like I'm trying, like I'm worth something. But even that now has come with its issues. I'm finding my lack of motivation is making getting commissions done very difficult for me lately. And in my mind I'm constantly hearing my own voice screaming at me to get shit done. Cause people have been waiting. They're still waiting. They've been waiting longer than anyone should have to wait for art. Especially art like mine.

And with the lack of motivation, comes a lack of practice. And I start to get more pissed at myself. I haven't been happy or prpud of my own art in a long time. And I've started comparing myaelf ruthlessly. I've gotten so bad that sometimes, even thinking about the concept of other artists makes me feel worthless. I can barely look at a piece of someone's art without twisting it to make me feel like I'm not good at art. And it isn't fair to the artists. Because they've done nothing to deserve that form if thinking. I've started avoiding looking at other's art because of it. Because I just don't want to feel bad about myself. And tgat just sends me into fits of guilt. I should be proud of them, I should take their wonderful skill as motivation for myself as well as celebrate their accomplishments. But I can't stop analyzing and hating myself. That's why I haven't been reblogging much, why I'm not online often. And it's bullshit and I'm so very sorry.

Overall, I'm just in a terrible spot in life right now. I don't know how I'm gonna get out of it, if I even ever will, where my life will go from there. I'm tired of feeling this way, I miss my life in highschool so very much. and I'm so sorry my friends. You've all been so supportive and believing and kind and encouraging. And every day that passes I can't help but feel like I've failed you. Every single person I've talked to on this blog or haven't, every other artist in the community, every person I've promised a commission or request or art trade to and still haven't delivered. I'm sorry. I'm trying so hard to find that spark of happiness again, I've taken the steps. But I'm not sure if I'll find it, and if I do it probably won't be anytime soon. I'm sorry. I hope you all know how very much I love you. And thank you for veing here with me.

#medli's sad adventure #sorry for long post at 3am #I do hope I don't other anyone with this #not vore or g/t

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bryan360 · 1 year ago

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Here’s my note before I’ll get started….

(NO COPYING OR PLAGIARIZING FROM ME AND ONE OF MY CLOSEST FRIEND’S WORK! THAT INCLUDES OUR CHARACTERS, DESIGNS, STUFF, ETC. IMPOSTERS AND SEXBOTS ARE NOT WELCOME TO FOLLOW MY BLOG WHATSOEVER! 😡 That will be all….I mean it.)

AT - Hula Family Dance (with Shadow R)

Got another art trade request for @carmenramcat

Had plenty of time before saving my Filipino bud’s request for the last. Do apologies of how often I’d keep my finished stuff in check. I’m promise I’ll be showing that for the right time.

Anyways, here’s a second time this month for 🐰🖌️Maxwell, 🐰👊💥May, 🦊⚽️Sam, and their mother having a luau together. Sure wish their father would’ve like to join in, but he’s been taking a banana break for lunch. 🍌😋

So instead, it’s 🐱Shadow R who’s happily to join in with the Rabbits Family. Look how getting along; even at the most hot weather throughout this year. At least nothing too bad for them; unlike me and family had been staying indoors recently. 😓 Lucky, you guys.

(BTW, I’ve changed up to Shadow R’s adult size. It was a suggestion after asking @carmenramcat and for his recent posts. A bit confused I’ve recently make his appearance in child size from past years.)

Tagged: @murumokirby360 @carmenramcat @alexander1301 @rafacaz4lisam2k4 @paektu

#art trade #art trade 2023 #for carmenramcat #ocs #maxwell #may #sam #windy #shadow r #rabbits #cat #luau #hula #hula dance #beach #summer #summer 2023 #etc.#july 2023 #july 12th 2023

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bigfrozenfan · 6 years ago

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My all-time favorites fan art - part twentyseven - Agnarr/Iduna Special

King Agnarr and Queen Iduna in younger years

I guess many fans asking themselves how Agnarr have met his Queen and how they felt in love to eachother. There is hardly to find any art work about this theme and this one seems to be a rare example how it probably looks like.

It's summer in Arendelle, the dawn has broken and the sun sets slowly, the moon and some stars are be seen and young Agnarr and his Iduna are standing on the balcony of the castle. They are enjoying the fresh air from the coming night and Iduna leans on him with a happy smile. She's the first time in Arendelle and they haven't married yet. It looks like a dream have come true for her.

I really would like to hear what the are talking to eachother in this intimate moment, if they are making wedding plans, what Agnarr has promised to her, or just maybe if she's asking him whereto they will ride out this beautiful morning...but wait...there's a lot more below.

The pictures radiates so much feeling and love, are so emotional and intense. Really amazing! I love them and there should be a storyline in Frozen II about the past of them!

Art by corosuke-kansai Title 1: “Summer of Arendelle” Title 2 (picture below): "I want to be with you forever"

http://corosuke-kansai.tumblr.com/post/176988683037/summer-of-arendelle

I have been in contact to the Artist and i've got the permission to use his art work for this post. The artist has drawn more pictures of the relationship between Agnar and Iduna, take a look!

The artist is - as far as I can judge - the only one so far who deals with the history of Agnarr and Iduna in his works. In my opinion this would have a great potential for an illustrated fan fiction!

I'm not very good at writing stories, especially not with conversation and describing feelings, facial expressions, small plot details, etc., but I would have ideas about that already. I've never written a fan fiction before or any story at all and maybe one or the other of you can help or make a little story out of it. Anyway, i'll give it a try now.

The following story is based on the time before the birth of Elsa and Anna. Imagine the following idea: The small kingdom of Arendelle, maybe 20 years ago, before the story of Frozen begins - a Frozen PREQUEL so to speak!

The story begins with a short review of the kingdom and how it came into being (1). The actual story then begins with Agnarr, perhaps with his coronation, and his diplomatic travels and trade relations to allied countries. On one of these journeys he meets the future queen of Arendelle, Iduna (2). Agnarr falls in love with her at first sight and since he sits alone on the throne of Arendelle, he plans to take her as his wife - of course only if she feels affection for him. Iduna doesn't suspect anything of this yet, but is ready to accept his invitation to Arendelle. It can't hurt to get to know an important new trading partner of her country up close and personal, and he is also very gallant and very attractive. But she doesn't let it show - not yet anyway.

On the long ship voyage - the ship is fully loaded with important trade goods, which Arendelle urgently needs - the two get to know each other better. They talk about themselves and the peculiarities of their countries. While Iduna talks very reservedly, Agnarr raves about the beauty of the fjords in Arendelle and begins very carefully courting her. Now that ship journeys take a very long time and even for a big three-master it is not without danger to defy the wild sea, this voyage becomes quite turbulent for the two of them. When the ship finally lands in the port of Arendelle, Agnarr is greeted with cheers by the population, everyone is glad that the not entirely harmless journey came to a happy end - Arendelle obviously loves his king. Iduna is very impressed by the sight she sees -- Agnarr really hasn't understated it! Arrived at the castle, duly picked up in a magnificent carriage, the two are greeted respectfully by Kai and Gerda, Agnarr's most reliable servants. (3) Iduna is assigned the best suite and on Agnarr's instructions every wish should be fulfilled and Gerda should also take care of the new wardrobe, which is appropriate for Arendelle's climate.

The king then left Iduna with the words "My Lady, ya forgive, but unfortunately I have to take care of important government affairs for a while. You may move freely and every wish of yours shall be fulfilled." Iduna answers with a slightly astonished expression on her face and bends before the king, "Your Majesty, Sire, you are too kind. Thank you." She hesitates a little bit and then continues with "I would like to have a small request, however. I noticed the pretty city with its beautiful roofs and imaginative doors when I arrived in the carriage driving past. Could I also take a walk there". Agnarrr smiles and replies "But of course...you are welcome to have a look around there. If you already like the city so much, you should see it at the Yule-Fest, all inhabitants lovingly decorate their doors and facades with Christmas decorations and make gifts for the children. We have such a special tradition here at the castle. I will instruct Gerda to accompany you and show you everything. Please do not hesitate to express any special wishes." Iduna nods happily and smiles back "You must tell me about your traditions in Arendelle on occasion, Your Majesty, Sire. All this sounds very interesting and is new to me. There is no such thing with us".

While Agnarr has to take care of the most urgent government business, Iduna now has the opportunity to look around the castle and the city. Gerda accompanies her and carries a basket with her for a few small errands. Iduna takes the opportunity and has many conversations with the inhabitants. In this way she learns more about the king and everyday life in Arendelle. They visit several shops and finally end up at a stand where a large and strangely dressed young man loudly praises his goods. Iduna, turns up her nose, leans towards Gerda and asks quietly "What stin...smells here so obtrusive?” She looks up and reads "Oaken's summer sale" on a large sign above his stand, and on a slightly smaller sign next to it "with sauna". Gerda grins and replies in the same whisper "Oaken is a well-known city trader and offers something, let's say, something solid.” As they strolls past the stand, Oaken with a trained eye immediately recognizes that Iduna is new in town. "My Lady!" and a little quieter in Gerda's direction "Hello Gerda.", "May I offer you my speciality of the house?" and he holds out a large glass of a yellowish cloudy liquid with separated fish heads to Iduna. Iduna involuntarily takes a step back. "Lutefisk! Freshly pickled only last year". Iduna, somewhat perplexed, puts on a crooked grin and says "Thank you, but no thank you. I'm not quite comfortable today...". That's the keyword Oaken was obviously just waiting for. "My Lady, I can help against that", pulls out a small bottle from under the table and says in the chest tone of the conviction "A miracle cure against all kinds of discomfort... from my own production". Iduna slowly realizes that she can't get away without buying something. But Gerda saves her from the situation "My Lady, it's already late and I have to do my errands there in the shop". She winks at Iduna. She nods understandingly and says goodbye friendly but definitely to this obtrusive dealer.

As they continue, the two inevitably pass Oaken's Sauna, from which it steams strongly. Suddenly a young man with his upper body naked appears behind the small window and waves out. Iduna opens her eyes wide and quickly turns away. "There's a...", Gerda laughs, "That's Oaken's other specialty and the young guy in there is his partner, as they say." Iduna opens her eyes a bit further and her eyebrows move up in amazement. All of a sudden Gerda recognizes what she has just said out loud and opens her eyes in shock and presses her hand in front of her mouth, while Iduna asks "He is his... wait, WHAT?!", "Oh, My lady, please excuse my unseemly mouth, please don't listen to me, that was a little careless of me to talk about something like this in your presence." Gerda sinks down a bit and is very angry about her faux pas. But then her face brightens up again and she happily turns to Iduna and says "My Lady, I've got something, I'm sure you'll like it!". Iduna is grateful for Gerda's mood and they both enter a small shop where it smells beguiling. "My Lady?", Gerda watches amused as her companion takes a deep breath and lifts her head with her eyes closed. "Hmm...?" She opens her eyes again and looks around curiously. "What is that, Gerda?". Everywhere artfully manufactured small....yes, what exactly...little stones lie in the displays. Some of them piled up as small heaps, in the most different colours and forms. While Iduna is still looking around, Gerda talks to the seller and has her basket filled almost to the edge. After she has pushed two bank notes over the counter she quickly steps back at Iduna's side and asks astonished "My Lady? It seems you don't know any chocolate", a few seconds pass, "Chocolate...". Iduna repeats this strange sounding word quietly to herself. "Would you like a taste, my lady?" First she looks at Gerda, then at the basket with all the delicacies, she nods slowly but surely and carefully fishes one of the brown pieces with her fingertips. She looks questioningly at Gerda, who only nods in agreement. Slowly Iduna pushes the chocolate into her mouth and closes her eyes. In this wonderfully sweet moment she realizes that she could die for chocolate.

Back in the castle there is a lot of activity and all sorts of servants scurry here, carry something there and are in full working zeal. Gerda makes her way to the kitchen apologizing and Iduna stands a little undecided in the big hall, watching the silent hectic. It doesn't take long and King Agnarr walks down the stairs, directly towards her. "My Lady. How was ya day? Ya've been on the road a long time and I very much hope ya enjoyed it in the city". Iduna nods enthusiastically and starts telling stories as they stroll through the castle. At some point they step onto the balcony overlooking the fjord. For a while there is silence and except for a few birds there are no more noises to be heard from below. They both lean against the veranda and enjoy the peaceful view. After a while Iduna lowers her head and quietly, almost inaudibly asks "There is another reason for my presence here in Arendelle, not only because of the trade relations...isn't there, Your Majesty, Sire?". Agnarr quietly breathed in the cool evening air and looked up. The first stars were already visible at dusk. Finally he said "Yes", he turned to her, she lifted her head and looked at him. "My Lady...or may I just say Iduna to you?", she nodded slowly, already suspecting what he would say. "Iduna, I want to be honest with ya...with you. Since I first saw you there, in your country, and since our first conversation, when we were alone...I was...", he faltered. Then he looked up and they gazed directly into each other's eyes. Seconds passed. He took a deep breath and finally asked "Would you like to stay here in Arendelle? Forever? At my side?" She held her breath, trembled slightly all over her body, but held his gaze. "You felt it, didn't you? That I fell in love with you". She nodded barely audibly. Again seemingly endless seconds passed. Then she surrendered to her feelings and leaned against him. She looked out at the fjord, felt his warmth and his arm, which lay tenderly around her, remembered every little detail, every word of him since they met. She smiled as she quietly replied a single word, "Yes."

To be continued...?

---

I know, the story sounds quite clichéd and sometimes a bit pathetic. At a certain point I couldn't stop writing and suddenly certain peculiarities of Anna occurred to me and I thought to myself, she must have it somewhere ;-) Well, it's just an idea of mine. After translating the text from German, I only corrected it superficially, so it may still contain mistakes. The most difficult thing for me in English are the noble forms of address, I hope I did it right.

What do you think?

Notes/footnotes: (1) Keyword trolls and Agnarr's ancestors as link to the picture in the book of trolls (2) here one could already now go into possible predispositions of Iduna to magical powers, of which Agnarr, however, does not suspect anything yet (3) here perhaps a possible hint that Kai and Iduna are somehow familiar?

#frozen #agnarr #iduna #fanart #fanfiction #my fanfic #frozen prequel

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justanotherwannabeclassic · 6 years ago

Text

Shutdown

Killian Jones is in love with the perfect woman, and now he's planning the perfect proposal. Unfortunately, real world politics are getting in his way.

Note: The Shutdown is officially over, so let's celebrate with fic!But first, let me use this platform for a request. 800,000+ federal works went two pay periods without their checks. A considerably number of federal contractors won't get paid at all. Many have turned to food banks, diaper banks, and other organizations that help those in need. Because of this unexpected increase in demand, many organizations of this type are now strapped thin when it comes to available resources. I highly encourage you to donate to your local area food bank, or even those in the DC-area which have a large number of federal workers. Any help is appreciated!

Special thanks to @distant-rose for encouraging me to finish this fic.

XXXXXX

He meets her in the summer only steps away from the White House.

It’s a place he usually avoids. He loathes tourists, and the White House during the Summer is the prime tourist hub. But Liam and Elsa are visiting, and because he wants to be a good brother/tour guide, he takes them to all of the highlights. He joins them on a tour of the Capitol Building, they get lunch from one of the hot dog vendors that line the Mall. They visit two of the Smithsonians -- the American History and Natural History Museums -- before focusing everything else.

By the time they get to the White House, the sweltering heat is messing with everyone, making Liam more irritable than normal, when Killian suggests popping into the Renwick for art and some much-needed AC. Elsa’s eyes light up, and Liam acquiesces, so Killian leads them away from fences and crowds to one of the Smithsonian's lesser-known galleries. There’s an exhibition with art from Burning Man or whatever outdoor festival is now hip with the youths -- maybe there is a reason Belle calls him an “old soul” -- and he wanders with his family for awhile. Just as they are about to go upstairs, Killian receives a call from his realtor about a property he’s considering, and steps outside to talk it over. It’s a quick and disappointing call -- the condo he was interested in already had a cash offer, that the seller was going to accept. To make matters worse, just as he ends the call, someone crashes into him, sending his phone flying into the hard concrete. The person who runs straight past him, dodging tourists and maneuvering down the stairs after someone else he hadn’t noticed before.

Killian, along with a few dozen other tourists, watch the proceedings. His phone forgotten a few yards away, his stands stunned as the blonde woman chases after a man. The person she’s chasing grabs an errant red bike left alone by an unaware tourist -- rookie mistake, he thinks, the tourist will have the pay for that -- and rides along the sidewalk until he can weave into traffic, earning a blare of a horn from a disgruntled cab driver. The woman throws her hands in the air, middle fingers raised high, when she realizes she’ll be unable to catch him.

He’s not sure what compels him to do it, but he walks over to scoop up his phone -- the screen is definitely shattered -- and then makes a beeline toward the woman.

“Are you okay?” Killian asks. She turns at his question, and it takes Killian no time at all to realize that she’s beautiful. Green eyes and golden hair, and Killian’s always been a sucker for nice things.

“I’m fine. Annoyed, but fine.” She runs her hands through her hair, tucking it behind her ears. “That fucking asshole got away.”

“Who was he?” He doesn’t know what compelled her to chase after the man. Did he steal something of hers? An ex? It doesn’t cross his mind to wonder if she’s the problem.

“To me? No one. But to the family he walked out on? Asshole.” At the quirk of his brow, she elaborates. “I work in bail bonds, and he skipped leaving his wife and kids to deal with the aftermath.”

“So what you’re telling me is that he probably deserved to be hit by that taxi just then.”

She cracks a small smile. “Something like that.” They fall silent for a moment, lingering but not quite knowing what to say. “Thanks for checking up on me,” the woman says finally, “you really didn’t have to.”

“Well, it’s not very often a beautiful woman crashes into you,” Killian tells her. He ducks his head, somewhat embarrassed, “I had to find out the reason why.”

Her eyes widen, and for a split-second Killian believes he has said something wrong until she gasps, “Oh shit, that was you? I really should be the one asking if you’re okay.”

He waves her off. “I’m fine. Phone’s a bit cracked, but that’s what insurance is for, right?”

Her face contorts in horror. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not big deal. Truly, I promise. In fact, watching you just now was impressive.”

Her eyes narrow. “Impressive? He got away.”

“And I’m sure you’ll catch your mark,” he says. “Someone who plows down strangers within sightline of the Secret Service doesn’t strike me as someone to be deterred.”

“Well, thanks.” Killian catches a hint of a blush, and considers it victory. “And, uh, sorry about ruining your vacation.”

“Vacation?” He quickly realizes that she assumes he’s here as a tourist. “Oh, no, my brother and his wife are the ones on vacation. I’m simply the one ferrying them around. Well, me and WMATA.”

“Well, then, I’m really sorry,” she teases.

“Hey now, it’s only caught fire once this month.”

“Back to Good, isn’t that the motto? Speaking of Back to Good and terrible taglines, are you sure everything is fine with your phone? I can help pay for a replacement once I catch this jerk.” She shoves her phone into her pocket, and pulls out a rumpled card. “Here’s my card. You can email me an invoice or whatever.”

He reads her name, Emma Swan, printed in large serif font. He like the flow of her name, almost as much as he likes the fire in her pretty green eyes. “Emma, you truly don’t have to worry about it.”

“Just let me, okay?” Emma asks, and he finally relents. There’s no use starting a fight over it. “Look, I have to fill out a report about this, but get back to me, okay?”

He nods dumbly, watching as she runs away -- a flash of red and gold. He considers tossing her card. He has insurance, and certainly doesn’t want to make her pay for his phone -- especially after hearing her qualify “once she catches the jerk.” But there’s something about her that makes him open up his wallet and put her card in his wallet.

He still won’t make her pay for his phone.

-/-

It’s not until well after Liam and Elsa leave and he settles back into his routine that Killian and he forces himself to get his phone fixed. Had it been a simple crack, he might have let it go, but lines spider-web across the front and bits of glass begun to chip off.

Emma Swan’s card has been burning a hole in his wallet, and not because he desires to be refunded. She is stunningly beautiful, and from his brief conversation, he’d gleaned that she was both funny and caring, and also that she appeared to have a code of honor -- something he appreciated.. He’d gone home with different women knowing far less.

But it still takes a few shots of rum on a lonely Saturday night to gather up the courage to send her an email. Even through the haze of alcohol, he knows he likely comes across as a little odd when she sends her a snapshot of him holding his new phone -- taken with his webcam -- with a message saying it’s all fixed.

I know you said you wanted to pay me back, and honestly you don’t need to do it. But if you feel so inclined to make it up to me, how about dinner sometime next week?

In the morning, he instantly regrets it. He has no relationship with this woman beyond a too-brief interaction, but he still feels a sense of loss at the idea of never hearing from her again. Perhaps it’s a sign he’s fully moved on Milah -- as much as one can move on from the untimely death of a loved one -- and that he’s ready to seriously again. Perhaps meeting Emma Swan was the kickstart to his future, and nothing more than that.

But perhaps not, because the following morning she responds.

This is a little be weird. It’s a good thing you’re cute. I’ll let you pick the place, but you have to let me pay. Does next Friday at 7 work. PS -Not creepy sex shit. Dinner only.

Killian smiles.

-/-

He takes her to a place in the Eckington neighborhood, a small restaurant that serves pub fare and where the bartender knows him by name. It’s not expensive, a fact that he kept in mind when suggesting places since she insists on paying. They sit outside, away from my prying eyes of the aforementioned bartender, where they can talk and dine under the stars and glowing lights strung around for ‘ambiance’. They light makes her hair appear more golden, and it’s there where he realizes that she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He doesn’t tell her that, believing it to be too soon to make a confession. Instead he tells her, “You look lovely tonight,” which causes her to blush and reply, “I know.”

He’s beginning to really like Emma Swan.

They trade stories over burgers and beer. She elaborates more about her role as a bailbonds woman, and he fills her in on the inner-goings of his work at the State Department.

“I’ve gotta say, I expected you to be more of a British Embassy kind of guy,” Emma says, a hint of teasing in her voice when she finally makes note of his accent.

“You can take the man out of Britain, but you can’t take the Britain out of man, it seems,” he replies with a wink. It’s only after that he goes on to explain that he’s technically a dual citizen, courtesy of his father.

“I came here for school, and I suppose I never left,” he explains. There’s more to that story, of course, but the tale of his relationship with Milah is not one for first dates. It’s too serious of a topic this soon. He’ll tell her someday, if they progress that far. They stay late, and he almost regrets walking her back to her apartment. But before he leaves, he manages to ensure a second date and steal a goodnight kiss.

So this is what the start of forever feels like.

-/-

The more time passes, the more Killian begins to realize that his life can now be broken into “Before Meeting Emma Swan” and “After”. They go on more dates, and she helps him move into his new place once someone finally accepts his offer, and slowly but surely she becomes a fixture in his life.

He meets her friends -- Mary Margaret, a school teacher in Anacostia, and her husband David, a Congressional Staffer with the idealism that envies the cast of The West Wing. Ruby, the animal rights activist, and Regina, a human rights lawyer. In turn, he introduces her to his people. Belle takes an immediate liking Emma, as does Smee. Robin, the aforementioned bartender, also gives her his approval.

Slowly, but surely, their lives begin to meld together. They fill in one another about their work days. They attend happy hours together, brunches, grab fresh produce at the farmers market, basically doing all the sorts of things couples in this city do. Eventually, her friends begin hanging out at his haunts, and vice-versa. Robin the bartender meets Regina-the-lawyer, and before Killian knows it, everyone is getting coupled up.

It feels right.

Killian doesn’t want it to end.

-/-

It’s not all sunshine and roses, of course, but nothing ever is. They fight -- about going to fast, not going fast enough, over her messiness, and his willingness to just throw money around, they ways in which she is closed off and when he lets his ego get in the way. They work it out though, one of them eventually apologizing to the other. And the fact that they make it through these fights gives Killian just enough motivation to think that perhaps Emma Swan might actually be the one.

-/-

It takes one year and ten months after the day they met, three months after she finally moves into his condo, for Killian to buy a ring. He goes for something simple -- platinum band with a single solitaire diamond. He sends pictures to Liam and Elsa, shows Robin on a night when Emma is hunting down a skip.

“Think she’ll like it?” he asks, tilting the box to and fro so the diamond can catch the light and sparkle. God, he can’t wait to see it on her finger. Assuming she says yes.

She’ll say yes.

She has to say yes.

“It’s not about the ring, but the person asking it, my bean,” Robin replies, with all the sage wisdom only a bartender could have, “but you probably could have splurged on a bigger diamond.”

“You are absolutely not getting a tip tonight.”

Robin rolls his eyes, and gives him a free beer in congratulations.

“I’m tell you I’m going to propose to the woman of my dreams, and all you give me is a pale ale? Really, mate, that deserves something top shelf…”

“The top shelf is reserved for when I see that ring on her finger.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And yet you’re somehow still friends with me. Riddle me that, my friend,” Robin teases. His expression then turns serious. “I truly am happy you, and she will say yes.”

-/-

This is Killian’s plan:

They’ll have lunch at one of her favorite places in Foggy, and then he’ll suggest walking to the Renwick for old time’s sake. There’s apparently an interesting exhibit focused on the portrayals of fairy tale characters in art -- Mary Margaret had been gushing about, and one of his interns had commented about how “everyone is going for the ‘gram” -- so it’s bound to be interesting. And then, when they get there, he’ll drop down to one knee, and ask her to be his wife.

Assuming, of course, everything goes to plan.

-/-

It doesn’t.

-/-

Here’s the thing: Killian enjoys working for State. The benefits are good, and though he knows he’d get paid more as a lobbyist, his hours are stable and he has a better work/life balance than any of the Hill staffers he knows. He’s fine in his little federal government bubble, thank you very much. The biggest downside, along with navigating the bureaucracy of the US Government, is that every now and then his paycheck is affected by the whims of Congress and the sitting President. And, unfortunately, the whims and divided government are not in his favor, resulting in a government shutdown. The first few days he admittedly appreciates some time away from work. He sleeps in, and whenever Emma doesn’t have something to do in the early morning, they laze about in bed together partaking in very enjoyable activities. But as the shutdown lags, he finds himself eager to go back to work. He’s bored, and he honestly enjoys what he does. More importantly, he would also very much like to paid, along with everyone else whose world has been temporarily flipped upside down. Of course, there’s also a bit of selfishness present that has nothing to do with paychecks or the State Department.

“The Renwick is closed,” he sighs to Belle at the start of week two of the shutdown, as they sit on couch and binge the War and Peace miniseries that came out the previous year. The anniversary of him and Emma meeting is fast approaching, the ideal date for a proposal. But the Renwick doesn’t have the funds, and is non-essential, so its doors remained locked.

“You can still go to other museums. The Spy Museum is still open.”

“The Spy Museum is a godawful tourist trap,” he replies, earning an eye roll.

“I’m just trying to help.” She pokes him in the side. Like him, Belle is also furloughed from her position at the Library of Congress. They had originally met via a setup of mutual friends, and though their romantic relationship went nowhere, a friendship had blossomed.

“I wasn’t looking for things to do. It was more about wanting to propose to Emma.”

“I know, I was just ignoring that part.” She gets off of the couch and stretches before heading over to his bookshelf. “How many times do we have to tell you that it doesn’t matter where you propose? It will be perfect no matter what, because you and Emma are perfect couple for each other.”

“You sound like Mary Margaret.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She selects a book from his shelf. “Can I borrow this?”

“It’s Emma’s. You can ask, but I’m sure she won’t mind.” He waves her off, and Belle tucks the book into her side with a smile. “I know logically you’re right, alright? But it hardly changes the fact that I’d like to propose to her there.”

“And I’d like to go work, get paid, and not have to worry about my student loans. But, we can’t always get what we want.” She casts him a significant look, and Killian can’t help but feel like a complete asshole. He realizes then how petty he sounded.

“Shit. I’m was a terrible person just now, wasn’t I?”

“Maybe not terrible, but single-minded.” Belle has never been one to let his idiocy pass by, but she manages to always call him out with tact. He appreciates that about her. “Listen, Killian, you’re a romantic. It’s incredibly sweet, and I know Emma loves it. But don’t get caught up in your head waiting for the perfect moment or perfect place.”

-/-

He goes on a run the next day, forcing himself to get out of the condo. Emma is doing research on one of her skips, and he wants to give her space to work. Someone ought to be getting something done, and he knows she works better in silence.

As he runs, he follows a familiar path by the Potomac. The water always relaxes his mind. Once upon a time, he’d flirted with the idea of purchasing a houseboat, but that had been a dream of both him and Milah. When she died, he couldn’t bear to go through with it. Probably for the best, though Emma enjoys going out on the water with him, he knows she’d be less than thrilled to live on a boat full-time. And, honestly? So would he.

But, he still loves the water. He enjoys watching the way the sun sparkles off the surface and the sound of the gulls and ducks mingling with the light slapping of the waves against the concrete blockades.

On a normal day, he would turn around whenever he reaches the Mall, but he has extra energy to burn and the desire to push through. It’s quieter than normal, no longer overcrowded with families on vacation of eighth-graders gathered around on their school trip. Tourists are still around, but with the museums being closed, there are fewer places on the Mall for them to go. At least, he muses, it’s not like the last go around where they shut down the monuments. The trash, however, might rate as high as the tourists on the list of things he can do without. With the National Parks Service closed, trash has been piling. Volunteers and the local DC government both have stepped in,but it’s still a tenuous task.

Instead of sticking by the river, on whim Killian decides to cut across the mall. As he looks the right, he grimaces when he sees the Capitol Building. Gleaming white under the bright sun, it’s splendor is normally a beautiful sight, but today it only reminds him of dysfunction and everything currently going wrong. Every now and then, he would flirt with the idea of immigrating back to England. That had been an option shortly after Milah had died, but he hadn’t been ready to leave everything behind or the support system that he’d built. Besides, Liam had never been fond of Milah, and returning to London had felt like a betrayal to her memory at the time. Now, it’s not really option. Emma already has a strong support system here, and knowing her history, he’d be reluctant to ever ask her to give it up for him. Besides, even with a marriage, the immigration process is daunting enough. Emma needs to live somewhere where she didn’t need to count on his presence and their relationship to stay.

So in America he stays.

Though with as much whining Liam has done about Brexit…

He’s still unhappy with the mess. To a degree, part of his focus on the closing of the Renwick and the derailing of his engagement plan has been to distract himself from it all. He’s honestly one of the lucky ones. He has some savings -- far less after the purchase of the ring. Emma’s career, thankfully, isn’t tied to the shutdown, and though he loathes the pressure his current lack of income is placing on her, it could be worse. Belle doesn’t have anyone to help share the brunt of the lack of paycheck. He also knows many couples who both work for the federal government. So, he’s lucky. Has hasn’t been able to say a lot about that in his life, but with this he can.

Besides, he will (eventually) ask Emma to be his wife, and once she (hopefully) says yes,he be the luckiest man on the planet.

He runs to the Renwick, and stares forlornly at the closed doors. Technically, they’d met directly outside of those, but something seems off about asking right there. He runs his finger his hand through his hair, both Belle and Robin’s words playing through his head. Why does he want it to be such an event? Because Emma deserves something special. After everything she’s been through -- parental abandonment, bouncing from foster home to foster home, her stint in jail -- she deserves someone to make her feel special and adored..

With a deep sigh, he casts one last look at the Renwick, and turns to head home.

Of course, that’s when everything changes.

-/-

“Emma, love?” The condo is quiet when he walks through to doors. He’s unsure if she’s home. She very well could be scouting locations. Regardless of what she’s doing, he plans to take a shower. He’s sweaty from his run, and knows he probably smells awful. But if she’s home, he might be able to coax her into joining him after he soaps off.

He’s already worked his shirt off as he ambles into the bedroom, and he drops it when he sees her. Her eyes are red and her cheeks are splotchy -- it’s clear she’s crying. It’s then when he notices what’s in her hand.

The ring box.

“I wasn’t snooping,” she says, the words spilling out when she sees his eyes fall to her hands, “not intentionally. My pen ran out of ink, and I knew you always kept a few extra in your bag, and...” She lifts the box. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize. You didn’t know,” he replies. He’s let her rifle through his bag in the past for legal pads, pens, spare chargers, and even gum. He’d been hiding the ring in his bag if only because he hadn’t needed it the past few weeks. Originally, it had been hidden in his sock drawer, but after she had borrowed his socks once -- “they’re warmer,” she’d said -- he’d changed his hiding spot. Perhaps he ought to have kept it in place.

He’s suddenly afraid. The sight in front of him -- Emma, tears in her eyes, holding the ring box and apologizing -- settles on him like a heavy weight. His tongue feels heavy. Did he get it all wrong? They’d talked about their future before. She’d said she wanted this, didn’t she?

“Do you like it?” he asks, because that’s the only thing he can think to say.

She laughs, the effect somewhat lost by the tears in her eyes. “That’s what you want to ask me?”

His heart pounds wildly in his chest, and Killian wonders if she can hear it. “I want to ask you many things.”

“Yeah, but I think only one of them deal with a ring.” She extends her arm, and holds the box out to him. “So, are you gonna ask me or what?”

It takes him a moment to register what she’s asking. He takes in everything about her when it does. The green of her eyes, the upticked quirk of her watery smile, and the trembling of her hand. Even crying, she’s stunning.

Slowly, he takes the box from her, and drops down to his knee. He doesn’t have on a shirt and he smells of sweat, but he’ll do this right, at least.

“Emma Swan, will you marry me?” His voice cracks. He doesn’t care.

“Yes.”

-/-

They celebrate with their friends a week later, two days after the shutdown ends. The mood at Robin’s bar is jubilant -- everyone happy to both celebrate the engagement and the return of their paychecks.

“Wait just a second, you mean after all of that agonizing about the perfect proposal, you went and did it in your bedroom in nothing but your birthday suit?” Robin teases, his smile wide as Killian rolls his eyes.

“I had on pants, thank you very much,” Killian replies, struggling and failing to sound mad. He can’t be too annoyed. Robin carried through with his promise for free top shelf liquor, even after the restaurant took a beating due to the shutdown. Besides, Killian can’t quite take his eyes off the ring sitting on Emma’s finger.

“It was the perfect proposal,” Emma adds. She bumps his shoulder, and if he smiles any wider, Killian is sure he’s split his face in two. “Besides, I happen like him shirtless.”

“It’s true, she does.” He gives Emma a salacious wink, earning a laugh.

“Good thing you’re spending the rest of your lives together,” Mary Margaret chimes in from somewhere behind them.

“Good thing,” Emma agrees, pulling him in for a kiss. A few of their friends cheer. He can hear Ruby shout ‘Get a room!’, but he doesn’t care. Emma Swan is going to marry him.

That’s all that matters.

#CS AU #captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff

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