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no1frogfan · 2 years ago

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Firetender

Tsukishima Kei x gn reader No warnings afaik Word count: ~1.2k

Note: Quiet winter times with a fictional man I’m completely and utterly in love with

“It’s just snow.” Tsukishima’s voice becomes muffled as he wraps a scarf tightly around his neck and mouth. “It literally snows dozens of times a year.”

“But this is the first snow of the year, Kei!”

You rush to pull your boots over your thick wool socks before scrambling out of the apartment. “Look at how big the flakes are!” You run down the stairs to scoop up a handful of snow, marveling as the flakes melt against your skin.

Tsukishima clomps down behind you. “Put some gloves on at least.” He shivers as he watches you scoop another handful. A sly smirk forms as you quickly shape it into a loose ball. You really shouldn’t. You heave it at his face and bolt as soon as it flies out of your hand, not bothering to check whether it hits him or not. For the record, it’s not even close.

“GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE TWERP!” He takes off after you, long legs catching up in all of 4 seconds before he tackles you to the ground. Your “oof” is stifled as you land face-first into a snowbank.

He flips you around, still pinning you down with his body. “It slipped out of my hand! I swear! I’m sorry!” Your laughter is shrill and breathy as you attempt to wiggle free.

“Is that right? Well you should be more careful then.” He grabs two handfuls of snow and presses them into your face, making sure to stuff some down the collar of your jacket. You shriek as the snow melts, icy rivulets running down your neck and under your sweater. “Oops, my hands slipped too.” His golden eyes flicker merrily as his face hovers above yours, his nose and what’s visible of his cheeks are bright pink from the cold, or maybe from your closeness.

You both savor the moment before you finally break the trance. Raising yourself up on your elbows, you plant a kiss on his lips, or where they would be if they weren’t wrapped up. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

A whine emanates from behind his scarf. “Can’t we just go back? I’m already freezing.” Tsukishima picks himself up and holds out a hand to pull you up after him.

“You can go back if you want.” You dust the snow off your jacket, shuddering as more melts and drips down your back.

“You’re so annoying. What if I get frostbite?” He takes off one glove and presses his icy fingers to your neck to underscore his point.

You yelp. “How come your hands are always so freakishly cold?!”

“How come yours are always so freakishly hot?”

“Good genes.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes as he pulls his glove back on. “It’s probably because you’re so short. The heat doesn’t have to travel very far.”

“Oooh ya got me. Who wouldn't prefer to be a spindly icicle instead?” You start trudging up the hill.

“Thank you for the compliment. Icicles are very aesthetically pleasing.”

He falls in step beside you, frowning at your bare hands.

You giggle at his look of concern. “Don’t worry, Kei. I’m fine.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence. Apart from a few brave crows cawing indignantly at your presence, the world around you is also quiet and still. It’s early enough that nobody else has made the trek yet, the fresh powder still soft and pillowy. As you climb, everything melts away except the cadence of your steps - the light crunch of each footfall, the steady puff of every exhale, the rhythmic swish of jacket sleeves with each swing of your arms.

Three-quarters of the way up the hill, Kei breaks the silence. “Where are we going anyway?”

“To the top,” you huff, winded now.

“Are you gonna make it?” He quirks an eyebrow.

You keep walking with a snort, your shallow breaths condensing into a string of tiny clouds. He wordlessly grabs you and tosses you over his shoulder, ignoring your squeals. You flail in revolt, but he’s got an iron grip on your thighs and you quickly tire yourself out, settling for an occasional squirm of protest.

Finally, Tsukishima sets you down gently beside your favorite pine tree, spinning you around to face the view. “Happy now?” He grumbles, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your knit hat as his breathing slows. You hum in affirmation, reaching up to wipe the fog off his glasses before returning them.

Both of you drink in Sendai from atop the hill, its streets and high-rises swaddled in a soft white blanket. Below you, the museum’s triangular roof juts out of the snow. You spent many a lunch break under it, brazenly flirting with Kei before you finally gave up on dropping hints and asked him out on a date point blank. To its right are the ruins of Aoba Castle where he tricked you into kissing him for the first time (you eventually confessed that Yamaguchi told you about the plan beforehand, but you went along with it because you love Kei’s triumphant little grin when he thinks he’s being clever). Behind the castle, the Hirose River flows lazily out to sea, nestled between two paths lined with trees. Their canopies, now brown and bare, were flaming red and orange when Kei first told you he loved you, his cheeks as vibrant as the leaves. Out beyond the city, through the snowy haze, you can just make out the shoreline. Maybe this summer, you’ll convince him to rent a beach house together with all of your friends for a weekend. You let your head rest against his arm as you inhale deeply, the dawn air stinging your throat.

“Can we go yet?” Tsukishima bends down to plead, his breath hot against your neck.

“Just a little longer?” You ask wistfully, your eyes trailing a train as it weaves between the buildings.

He peers at you. Your face glows with a childlike joy at the city before you, eyes glittering, soft lips parted in reverie. Your enchantment is aggravatingly contagious. “Fine, but you have to keep me warm.”

He removes his gloves and stuffs his hands into your pockets. You interlace your fingers with his icy cold ones, letting your body heat steadily flow into him. You feel a pleased hum against your crown as Kei pulls you in tighter. The two of you admire the city, your home together, stirring awake under Kannon’s serene gaze. Above you, the pastel pinks and purples of the early morning meld into a steely blue-gray. The sun catches at the corners of the tallest skyscrapers, glinting off the windows and showering the city with warmth. Under the shade of the pine boughs, you feel no less warm. Each beat of Kei’s heart at your back and every contented murmur that passes his lips float into you like sparks struck off a flint, igniting fires wherever they land, stoking the flames inside you.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #your honor I’m obsessed with this soft boy #froggy scribbles

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i-restuff · 2 years ago

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♪ In the slip of a bolt, there's a tiny revolt the seeds of a war in the creak of a floorboard a storm can begin with the flap of a wing the tiniest mite packs the mightiest sting ♪

#animaniacs #irestuff doodles

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roanofarcc · 2 years ago

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NAUGHTY - MATILDA THE MUSICAL - ST

Jack and Jill went up the hill / To fetch a pail of water, so they say / Their subsequent fall was inevitable / They never stood a chance— / They were written that way / Innocent victims of their story!

Like Romeo and Juliet / T'was written in the stars before they even met / That love and fate and a touch of stupidity / Would rob them of their hope of living happily / The endings are often a little bit gory / I wonder why they didn't just change their story

In the slip of a bolt, there's a tiny revolt / The seed of a war in the creak of a floorboard / A storm can begin with the flap of a wing / The tiniest mite packs the mightiest sting / Every day starts with the tick of a clock / All escapes start with the click of a lock / If you're stuck in your story and want to get out / You don't have to cry, you don't have to shout

Just because you find that life's not fair, it / Doesn't mean that you just have to grin and bear it / If you always take it on the chin and wear it / You might as well be saying / You think that it's okay / And that's not right / And if it's not right / You have to put it right / But nobody else is gonna put it right for me / Nobody but me is going to change my story

#stranger things #steve harrington #max mayfield #el hopper #will byers #joyce byers #jonathan byers #jim hopper #stranger things moodboard #nancy wheeler #willel #stoncy #the party stranger things #matilda the musical #izzy’s collections #st moodboard collection

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caruliaa · 2 years ago

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honestly? in the slip of a bolt theres a tiny revolt, the seeds of a war in the creak of floorboard, a storm can begin with the flap of a wing, the tiniest mite packs the mightiest sting every day! starts with the tick of a clock!! all escapes! start with a click of a lock!! if youre stuck in your story and you want to get out you dont have to cry you dont have to shout!!

#this is so real. an no one talks abt it #/lyrics btw that is the bridge of the song naughty from the matilda musical #which holy shit its so good !! like what the hell !!!#btw this post is a warning. bc i have a lot to have wanted to say abt the matilda musical (based on the film ! sorry i havent seen the #actual live musical though iv listened to the sountrack !!)#but i didnt before now bc i didnt want to spoil it for luce but we watched it together 2day so !!!#jsyk some of it will b like. anaylsis type posts and some of it will just be me posting lyrics GHDFFGDF #flappy rambles

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jusananimehoe · 4 years ago

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can u write something for feitan finding scars from self harm on his s/o? he enjoys torture and pain and its interesting to think how hed react to something like that one someone he cares about/loves

This turned into 1700 words, fucking hell, I got too carried away, but this subject hits very hard with me, so hopefully I did it justice. I absolutely believe Feitan is capable of caring, even loving, but it’d be a very different kind of love than what most would be used to.

So, enjoy, hopefully xxx

warnings for blood, blood kinks, self-harm mentions, mentions of general mental health issues.

Also; feel the need to mention that if any of you are suffering in any way, shape or form, my askbox is always open xxxx

How did I get here? You sighed, sinking further into the empty bathtub, trembling from head to toe as shame threatened to drown you, the horrible, but familiar ball of disgust was swirling wildly in your chest as you eyed the door nervously, praying he wouldn’t find you, like hell. You bit down on your lip as the doorknob turned slowly, you’d locked it, though you’d also known it wouldn’t keep him out, when had anything ever kept him out?

You allowed the smallest of smiles as your mind wandered, to all those months ago when he’d first come over your balcony, on the twenty-fifth floor at your apartment complex, eyes a little wild, hair a little windswept, aura radiating malicious intent. He’d smirked at you like some kind of deviant, eyes raking over your form, taking in the way your legs trembled, barely holding you up, enjoying your fear, perhaps a little too much, but gods, he’d looked so beautiful. Had you fallen in love with him in that very moment? Perhaps, perhaps it had been later, with how patient he had been, how willing to take things at your pace he had been, the space he had given you, it had all been such an experience, especially since you were well aware, he was a complete and total sadist.

He’d wanted to hurt you, you knew he wanted to hurt you, even to this day, and sometimes you even went willingly, more often than not these days, it was you who went in search of him, desperate to feel the stinging bite of his whip, or the wet, burning pain of his claws raking through your skin, like butter. He’d been more than willing to oblige you, of course, losing more and more control as you gave more of yourself to him with every passing day. You were grateful, you realised, laughing softly at the absurdity, grateful that he’d stolen you away in the middle of the night, and locked you up inside this place he sometimes called home, to be his own personal little toy, but what a life it had been so far.

And now I’ve ruined it all.

You whimpered softly and hid your face, pressed firmly against your knees as the door opened slowly, allowing the dark-haired man to slip inside without a sound, eyes locking on your form instantly. You couldn’t see his eyes burning into you, but you could defintley feel that loaded gaze, and a tremor racked your body as you sniffled quietly. It had been a moment of weakness on your part, a lapse in memory of exactly why you had always been so careful, though he’d seen you stripped down on many an occasion, you’d always dutifully covered the hideous marks up with the make-up that he’d supplied you with when you’d asked. The shame that wracked you now was deep, all encompassing at your own stupidity. He’s going to throw me away, no doubt about it

The scars on your legs had not faded over the years, mostly because you were a repeat offender, despite trying to get help multiple times, nothing had really ever made a difference, and you had tired of people always looking down on you, with their pitiful eyes, “oh but we understand what you’re going through”, or, even better, “why would you do something so revolting to yourself”? The scars had eventually just become a normal part of your body, and since you were too riddled with anxiety to ever really connect with anyone, they’d never been an issue, until him, of course. You’d been tired, too tired to remember your morning routine, and now here you were, hiding in a bathtub as he walked slowly towards you, you fought the urge to cry, or laugh at how pathetic you were.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The smallest ones were just pale lines across your upper thigh, the worst, the ones you had done in your most extreme episodes of self-hatred, were raised, bumpy, purple lines, that stood out a mile away, and you shook and cried quietly at the thought that he’d seen them, ghosted a finger over them, even, before your mind had screamed the realisation at you, which, in turn, had led to your very undignified bolt from the bedroom you’d recently begun sharing with him.

A soft touch against your throat had you shivering and biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, will he just get rid of me, or maybe even kill me? The gentle finger trailing down your neck forced a tiny little whimper from your throat, and a low growl rumbled from his chest in response as he swung into the tub with you, landing silently, to sit behind you. His hot breath on your ear had your eyes fluttering as he pulled you back against his cool chest, hands gripping tightly at your thighs even as you made a choked noise of distress at the action. A hot tongue ran slowly over the sensitive skin along your jaw, and you gasped quietly, leaning into him further as his teeth bit down harshly, eliciting a shaky little groan from you as you felt something wet dripping down your neck. His tongue ran over it instantly, shuddering as he cleaned the stinging wound carefully, nails drawing slow circles over your scarred skin even as you watched shakily.

He nuzzled into your throat then, and you turned slightly, before finally lifting your head to meet those eyes you loved so much, shivering at the intensity you found there, shivering when he leaned in to claim your mouth in a slow kiss, tongue surging forward into your mouth as he pulled you closer, tugging you around to straddle his slim waist, nails turning to claws, digging into your hips with a grin as you groaned against his hot mouth, shuddering against him as he clawed at your skin, slowly, with patience, and a care you knew he showed only to you. His eyes burned as he gazed down at your soft figure, eye twitching as he battled with his own self-control, tongue swiping over his lip as he squeezed the bloody claw marks.

His eyes snapped back up to your face then, and seemed to read the uncertainty there, the indescribable terror, at the thought of being abandoned by the only person you’d ever met who seemed to understand your need to be punished, to be hurt, to be pushed to the very limit of consent. His forehead touched yours gently, stormy eyes locked on yours as you breathed him in, comforted by the tangy smell of copper and blood that clung to him, strange to others, comforting to you. You bit your lip and took a risk, eyes flicking down so you didn’t have to see his reaction.

“I’m afraid that if I let you see every side of me, you’ll be disgusted”, whispered so softly you almost hoped he wouldn’t hear it, but judging by the tightening of his grip, the way his claws dug further into your supple flesh as you shivered, he’d heard you just fine. A warm mouth pressed against your jaw then, before moving up your face, across your cheeks, over your nose, pressing against your mouth, before tangling his tongue with yours again, slowly, like he was mapping out the inside of your mouth in intricate detail, leaving you gasping against his mouth when he finally pulled back to look at you, expression unreadable.

His eyes fluttered, his mouth turned down in a slight grimace before he opened it slowly, “I-“, he cut himself off, appearing frustrated by his inability to find the correct wording, his left hand moving up to card his now soft hands through your hair, lost in thought for a moment, considering carefully as you waited with bated breath, body trembling against him even as he tugged you closer, hands running up and down your arms to address the little bumps now appearing on your skin, when had it got so cold?

“I-“, he began again, still looking a touch uncertain as he tilted his head, eyes focusing on you with a seriousness that knocked all the breath out of your chest, “I-like-broken-things”, he managed to say, voice as monotone as it always was, and yet, you could feel the sudden emotion behind it, his desperate desire to get this right. ” Find-them-interesting”, he continued before shaking his head swiftly, looking annoyed with himself, “beautiful”, he amended quietly, “find-them-beautiful”. You trembled, nose brushing against his as your pressed closer to him.

“Maybe-that-is-why”, he began slowly, face scrunched in concentration, eyes a little wider than usual, “why-i-find-you-beautiful”, he finished, averting his eyes instantly, clearly uncomfortable. You shivered, arms trembling as you sat in his lap, hands running slow up and down his bare chest, eyes wet with unshed tears as you took it all in, he wasn’t leaving you. Your mouth found his a moment later, nails digging into his back and raking down his skin as he hissed underneath you in pleasure, claws returning to your hips again.

He claimed your mouth hungrily as you ground slowly down against him, moaning loudly into his mouth as he grabbed your ass, sharp claws breaking the skin with ease, pressing hard enough to leave a scar, for sure. “Only-me”, mumbled against your bare shoulder as he bit down, hard, drawing a desperate little squeal from you as you tugged on his dark locks pleadingly. “Only-I-hurt-you-now”, he finished before biting down viciously again, groaning as the taste of blood filled his mouth.

Your head collapsed against his as you trembled and gasped, body like a live wire against him as you went boneless, too enraptured in all the emotions, all the pleasure surging through you to really pay much attention, though you forced your brain to form a coherent sentence, knowing he’d be expecting a confirmation.

“Yes”, whispered softly against his hair as your breathing grew more laboured, “yes, only you”, enjoying the contented little hum against your stinging shoulder as he smirked slowly against your bloody skin, already bruising a dark purple under the sharp bite of his teeth.

“Only you, Feitan”.

#feitan #feitan x reader #feitan smut #feitan portor #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #hxh #some fluff maybe #slightly soft feitan #but not really #fluff #smut

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papervalentines · 2 years ago

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no bc like in the slip of a bolt there’s a tiny revolt the seed of a war in the freak of a floorboard a storm can begin with the flap of a wing the tinniest mite packs the mightiest sting every day starts with the tick of a clock all escapes start with the tick of a lock if you’re stuck on your story and want to get out you don’t have to cry you don’t have to shout…

#cause even if you’re little you can do a lot you mustn’t let a little thing like little stop you if you sit around and let them get on top #you won’t change a thing #carmen.txt

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 4 years ago

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Blood in the Library

Well, I finished it even though I was planning on posting it tomorrow. Not my grandest piece, but to me it has a delectable taste of whump and a little comfort seasoning. Mmmm yum. You can tell I'm hungry. Anway, this is shorter than normal, but, not to be a spoiler, still has my classic cliffhanger.

Warnings: gorey descriptions of blood, collapse/loss of consciousness, descriptions of murder, begging, descriptions of someone's lack of weight and muscles

Then he just... collapsed?

Fell down the stairs in epic slow-mo, eyes turning white just before his head cracked against the concrete surface. Face growing into a snowy blanch as his injuries caught up to his rapidly tiring body.

Civilian rushed forward in a desperate attempt to catch him, but it was an effort close to pointless. He had already fallen deep into a pit of blackness and painless sleep.

Civilian scooped up his fevered body and hugged him close. His bloody head lolled limply across her chest until it settled in the crease of her shoulder, content to just rest there for eternity.

Civilian's eyes scouted his body, taking in the countless bruises and pools of blood. It was a horrendous sight- one that would make a squeamish person retch with revolting nausea. But she wasn't one for that, so she pressed her hands firmly against the worst of the bubbling blood geysers to staunch the streaming flow.

When the blood flow minimized to a manageable amount, she grabbed her phone and proceeded to call the ambulance, but a weak hand stopped her.

Civilian looked down to see fluttering indigo-colored eyes meeting her own rustic browns. They were, indeed, more than beautiful- dare say, gorgeous to some degree. Civilian couldn't help but admire them. The way green swirled into navy... it was a sight that she didn't want to stop seeing.

But of course, her wish was denied when the poking and prodding of the situation reminded her that the injured man was awake and quite distressed.

"No," he begged. "No...nnn, no stop stop... phsl-phslease please no." His shaky hand floated about aimlessly, but the dark azure eyes guaranteed the intensity of the weakly said plea.

For a split second, Civilian was dumbfounded before realizing that she needed to comfort and soothe the man.

"Hey," she set down the phone. Immediately, the man's anguished features relaxed, looking approvingly at the laid phone.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," she told him, not quite understanding his sudden placidity- the painless look of serenity in those irises. It was as if all agony faded with the simple gesture, but the quivering of his lips and sporadic twitches determined otherwise.

"Not that," he slurred in incomplete syllables, his eyes closing despite his best efforts to stay conscious.

"Okay," Civilian went to pick up her phone again, to call the much needed paramedic, but a sudden outburst from the man made her drop the phone, startled.

"No amb'lanch," he cried, but it was a waste if energy. His head dropped back against her, eyes rolling backwards once again. Civilian shook him to the waking world.

"Who are you?" She asked as if that would give her some clearance about not calling the ambulance.

"Villain..." He mumbled, slurred and incoherent, but Civilian heard it as if it was screamed at her. Then, his eyes shut all the way and he was lost to the world.

Civilian dropped the man and scurried to her feet, hands grappling at her cheeks. It was... Villain. One of the most feared criminals in the whole city. The one who strung people up by wires to slowly kill them in the most gruesome way possible.

The one that even heroes didn't dare to cross.

And he was passed out at her feet, bleeding and barely breathing.

She should've turned him in. Turned him in so that the proper authorities could finally arrest the menace that plagued the city- especially now that he was subdued and probably very compliant.

Yet... he was shivering. Shivering from the cold, exhaustion, and pain. It would be merciless to leave him to suffer- possibly die- alone. Civilian had some morals affer all.

Villain didn't. That much was clear from the way he razed cities to the ground. It was clear from the way he mercilessly slaughtered innocents. And it was more than clear when he threw bombs in front of traffic to kill and destroy everything within a half mile radius.

But he was injured.

But he had killed so many others without even blinking an eye.

No one else had to die.

Now, Civilian was not a model of muscles. She was more accurately described as a "bag of bones". Heck, some people even told her to go to a doctor- she had grown in size since then, but still.

So, linking her arms and dragging the villain a foot unlocked new muscles that she didn't even know she had. Not that she had the muscles, but after walking just a little bit, she was exhausted and sore.

"How?" She sighed and slumped down to the ground. The villain was still asleep, not bothered by the ninety degree turn Civilian maneuvered him in.

The library that Civilian volunteered at was lazily sitting itself against the sunset in a silhouetted painting. The stairs leading up to it- the ones Villain fell down- weren't too tall... ish? No, they towered over the pair, guarding the marbled building. White pillars supported the small tiled canopy with vigor, giving the quaint building a classic Roman Empire vibe.

Inside was a small isolated office where Civilian spent her lunch break. It had an expresso machine to satisfy her zealous cravings for the brunette liquid with white creamer topping.

It also had a couple comfortable bean bags that were perfect for the villain to recline upon until he woke up. It wasn't like Civilian was planning on actually tending to the vibrant red gashes. Dragging him to a heated room was enough- a gifted treasure to the villain, she believed- and it would be unlawful to go any further.

It took maybe an hour until the fit figure and skinny one barged through the glass door- the only portion of the exterior that did not hold that Pompeii look. Civilian was dripping with sweat, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Villain had not moved. His face was still and lubricant.

Civilian laid Villain upon the red castle-like carpet that spread through the hallway of the library before shutting the dark sky out, closing the door and locking it.

She then took Villain to the earlier mentioned office with more ease for the red carpet made him slide like a bolt drenched in WD-40. She opened the office. Thankfully, unlike every other room in the building, the walls barricading it were made of plaster, not transparent diamond-shaped panel windows.

She laid him upon a gray beanbag and assessed his wounds before turning to leave.

But a small whimper made her spin back around.

Villain was awake, taking in his surroundings with dazed interest- not really understanding, but realizing his situation, or dilemma, depending on what his half-delirious mind thought. Finally, after a few slow moments of searching the walls for some hidden answer, those dazzling- and slightly familiar- eyes landed on the tiny body of Civilian.

Civilian didn't know what to say. Any statement her mind conjured was shot down with a contradicting question of "what if he asks this" or "won't that make me seem like I care for him".

So she settled on a simple question that anyone would've ask anyone.

"How are you feeling?"

The villain took a while to make sense of the peculiar question. He was, in fact, never asked that from anyone.

Not even-

He shuddered, not wanting to think of the one person who might've once cared for him.

"Weird," the villain replied, eyes shifting downwards to study the masterpiece done on him. Like paint, once it dried on the flesh-covered canvas, it would be an artist's hard work.

The end result.

"Like how?" Civilian wondered, despite her natural instincts to leave.

"Dizzy? Pain, hurts. Don't know," Villain forced himself to meet those kind looking eyes.

"You lost a lot of blood," Civilian answered, setting her body next to his. "I'm pretty sure these need stitches."

Villain nodded, blue eyes ragged with an uncharacteristic emotion. Fear, almost.

"You... Civ'lian?" Villain slurred, his body threatening to shut down once again.

"Yes," Civilian replied. "I am. And you are Villain." The words tasted like hot sauce in her mouth. She just admitted outloud to herself that she was caring for a villain. The most notoriously evil villain in the city, if that fact wasn't stated enough.

"Know you..."

"No, I think you are delirious."

"No. Know you," the villain asserted.

"Okay... who did this to you?" Civilian asked, watching the rapidly fading Villain's face.

"My boss and m' brother," the villain responded, his eyes slipping shut. "...Hero."

The world seemed to stop as the last word was uttered. Hero?

Those eyes. The familiar captivating gaze held in those blueberry-flavored irises. The notable green swirls, speckles of black dust... those were Hero's eyes.

Those were her boyfriend's eyes.

#villain whumpee #civilian caretaker #hero whumper #villain x civilian #writing #hero x civilian #blood tw #tw death mention #heros and villains

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king-maven-calore · 4 years ago

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Hii,

You once said that you were a theatre kid so I was wondering: if you have to choose a musical song for our RQ characters what would that be? (please justify your answer)

Ps: hope the next two months gets better luv, manifesting good vibes only.

*insert Kim K "I've been dropping hints" jpeg on the off chance someone would ask this* and I can't believe it worked!! 😂 come here and let me hug you!!

Mare: Naughty from Matilda. It's a very cheeky, irreverent song, and I find that despite it being sung by Matilda, it's not naive at all. I think it perfectly fits Mare's attitude about wanting to fight the Silver rule, small or big it didn't matter, but she felt like she had to.

In the slip of a bolt, there's a tiny revolt The seeds of a war in the creak of a floorboard A storm can begin, with the flap of a wing The tiniest mite packs the mightiest sting! Every day starts with the tick of a clock All escapes start with the click of a lock! If you're stuck in your story and want to get out You don't have to cry, you don't have to shout!

Mareven: you asked about character songs but honestly the best part of musicals are duets 😍 and hell if this bit doesn't fit the Mareven dynamic, Our love is god from Heathers, because at first glance it looks like a cute declaration but then it turns out JD literally wants to burn the school down 🥴

You are the only thing that's right About this broken world Go on and cry But when the morning comes We'll burn it down and then We'll build the world again Our love is God

Maven: The twisted desire to be loved, the loneliness, the destruction, the angry pain of Maven's character are encompassed in Meant to be yours from Heathers 🤧💔 (kill me)

I was meant to be yours! We were meant to be one! I can't make this alone! Finish what we've begun! You were meant to be mine! I am all that you need! You carved open my heart! Can't just leave me to bleed!

Or Superboy and invisible girl from Next to normal, in terms of how he feels in comparison to Cal in his father's eyes... and in general

Superboy and the Invisible Girl Son of steel and daughter of air He's a hero, a lover, a prince She's not there

I've been waiting to point this out forever!! Marecal vs Mareven: Heaven's light - Hellfire from the Hunchback of N.D.!! The transition from a "sheltered" man in awe of a woman who made him feel a glimpse of the love he yearns for, to the dark baritone of a man who wants to either own that same woman or watch her burn

So many times out there I've watched a happy pair Of lovers walking in the night They had a kind of glow around them It almost looked like Heaven's light

(...)

Don't let the siren cast her spell Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone Destroy Esmeralda And let her taste the fires of Hell! Or else let her be mine and mine alone

Cal: A bull-headed warrior prince looking for a purpose, trying to return to something (the crown) that can't exist anymore? The impossible dream from Man of La Macha 😭

That one man, scorned And covered with scars Still strove with his last Ounce of courage To reach the unreachable The unreachable, the unreachable star And I'll always dream The impossible dream

Marecal: Tonight from West side story!! mostly bc of the vibes and because of the whole walking home together at night and it becomes a turning point in life. A timeless motif I adore with everything that I am, that can be traced all the way back to fairytales 🥰. "Strangers in the night falling in love" my beloved

All day I had the feeling a miracle would happen I know now I was right For here you are And what was just a world is a star Tonight

Bonus character songs bc this post got out of hand: Farley, every single Enjorlas line from Les Miserables, no explanation needed. King Tiberias - I don't understand the poor 😁

#ask #thank u for providing the excuse to jam to musicals #and talk about it lol #musicals #songs #marecal #mareven #RQ characters #long post #red queen series

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

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It’s over, Gavin, I have the high ground

This was prompted by a lovely anon! Enjoy some shennanigans!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Characters: Elijah and Gavin

Elijah tapped along to the radio of the automatic taxi he had called. He really wanted to take his own for a spin some time, but he knew people would identify it and he would be the centre of attention once again. He also knew Gavin hated attention and wanted to keep their relationship hidden for as long as possible. Elijah grinned. It had been some time since he had visited his brother and he was looking forward to it. The aftermath of the revolution really had him pinned in the office for an inhumanly number of hours, leaving him to fall asleep on the keyboard more often than his back would like.

But for now, everything had been taken care of and he had promptly decided to spend his first free weekend with his brother. Hurrying across the street with a six-pack of beer and slipping through the door into the apartment building he doubted anyone had seen him. He decided to take the stairs not to be crammed into an elevator with people asking for autographs. Gavin lived on the third floor, that wasn’t too far up anyways. He was actually pretty excited as he stood in front of Gavin’s door, even if it was only eating Chinese take-out, drinking beer and watching movies snacking on an ungodly amount of snacks. It would be just like when they were children and their parents were out to work. He smiled at the memory and that smile quickly turned into a grin as Gavin opened the door.

‘Gavin!’, the CEO greeted him with a tight hug and the other man laughed, patting his back. Why Gavin was so averse to hugs he would never know. But he let him inside where it already smelled heavenly. Elijah had the money to go to any fancy restaurant he desired, but it just wasn’t the same. A tiny piece of meat and salad on a plate that was at least two sizes too big for what they decided to call a meal just couldn’t compete with cheap takeout from a corner store, the container filled to the brim. And it tasted just as good, if not better eaten on the old scratched-up sofa of his brother.

He sat down on it after putting all but two of the beers in the fridge. He opened them while Gavin brought over the food and without further ado they started eating. ‘How was your day? Anything interesting on the police front?’ ‘Really? You talking about work?’ ‘Okay, then how’s the motorcycle coming along?’, Elijah changed topics with a smirk. ‘You know what? Let’s talk about work…’ Elijah laughed at that and shook his head. ‘How long are you working on that damn thing already?’ ‘It’s a classic, okay? And some parts are coming from Europe and not everyone is a millionaire! It needs time and a lot of love.’ ‘Then I know what to buy you for your birthday’, Eli commented, grinning when Gavin stared to the ceiling. ‘No. Don’t you dare. That’s my project. You can buy me literally anything else!’ ‘Except for an android.’ ‘Already got two of them at the station, thank you very much.’ A little quieter he added: ‘Also maybe you’ll get your wish in the end. I might have misread something…’ ‘Told you the guy liked you!’, Elijah cheered triumphantly and raised his half empty beer as if to toast.

‘God, I forgot how unsufferable you are’, Gavin chuckled and put away the empty container. He took his bottle and shook it gently, concluding it was already empty. He shrugged and decided to make a trip to the kitchen, putting away their trash and getting himself a new bottle. ‘What are we watching tonight?’, Eli called over from the living room. ‘It’s a surprise!’ ‘More a Dirty Dancing or an Alien 2 kinda surprise?’, Elijah asked and Gavin groaned. ‘A surprise kinda surprise, idiot’, he laughed coming back. ‘I’m not supposed to tell you. And Dirty Dancing wasn’t that bad.’ ‘Because you had the hots for the guy! Sorry for being the only person you know that’s not gay.’ ‘He looks good though, you have to admit at least that.’ ‘Urgh’, Elijah groaned. ‘Can’t we for once see something not absolutely brain rotting?’ ‘Excuse me?’, Gavin asked pushing out his chest. ‘My movies are an excellent selection from-‘ ‘Yeah, yeah, okay. What are we watching then?’ ‘Oh, you will like it, it’s about two scientists!’ ‘Are they gay?’ ‘Not canonically, but like everyone just went with it, even the actors.’

Instead of giving any more hints, Gavin just switched on the TV and handed Elijah a bowl of popcorn to shut up. Elijah indeed ended up liking the movie, although Pacific Rim really wasn’t about the two scientists at all. But he took it as his little brother projecting and huffed in amusement when the man grinned and excitedly told him in all detail why the second part was shit but simultaneously so, so good.

It stopped being funny when they went back to the selection screen and Elijah watched with horror as the curser closed in on a generic looking cover of a white couple staring at each other with a beach in the background. Elijah was able to endure a lot, meetings with angry board members or politicians that hadn’t had a single clue about the tech they were talking about, about the worst of that. But he wasn’t willing to endure that kind of torture once again. Quick thinking he snatched the remote from Gavin’s hand before he could hit enter and jumped from the sofa. ‘What?!’, Gavin revolted and stood up too, reaching for the treasured power in his brother’s hands. But Elijah just laughed holding it up and out of reach of the man.

‘Phck! Why are you so tall?’ ‘Why are you so small?’, Elijah snickered and could barely hold back laughter as he had to take a step back from his angry brother. ‘I’m warning you, I’m ready to scale you, just to get that remote!’ ‘Oh, really? I would love to see that.’ Elijah was briefly concerned, Gavin would actually try, but as the man stormed at him, all he did was snatch his glasses. He blamed it on his confusion about the manoeuvre that he had dropped his hand enough for Gavin to snatch the remote back. ‘Hah! Try to see now!’

Elijah shook his head, blinking at the sudden change. ‘What? I can still see, dipshit, you took my glasses, not my eyes!’ ‘Dipshit?’, Gavin asked, running off and quickly taking position behind the couch to bolt the moment Elijah moved. ‘That’s like my level of insults, you are supposedly intellectual! Step up your game!’ ‘Oh, come here you waste of ape evolution!’, his brother returned and, very agile for an office worker, leapt over the back rest. ‘Pretty sure that’s stolen from Star Trek!’ ‘But still intellectual, now give me the damn remote, I will not watch your stupid rom-coms until you cry again when the girl runs off and the man tries to get her back, what of course will happen! That’s stupidly predictable, boring and a waste of time!’ ‘But I like it! And I won’t watch your weird French-production stuff, okay?’, Gavin shouted back, having the advantage of police training on his side when Elijah already started panting.

Soon the man had to stop running after Gavin around the dinner table and tried to catch his breath. ‘Okay, what about a compromise? Tron?’ ‘The original one?’ ‘No, the one with Daft Punk.’ ‘Okay, deal, that one is awesome.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Gavin Reed #Elijah Kamski #Gavin and Elijah are brothers #Am I funny yet #Honestly thanks for making me write them having a good time I had a good time #I started this one naturally with angst and only then remembered you specifically asked me not to and the story got so much better XD #Also no shit on any movie here except for arte #dunno how many of you know that TV channel but arte what the fuck are you supposed to be I am confusion #watched it a lot when ill back in school and honestly some programs could very well have been a feaver dream #okay back to story I wanna watch tron again because the soundtrack is amazing to write to

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3pirouette · 3 years ago

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Fic: The Honey Trap (9/?)

Title: The Honey Trap

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Peggy’d lost count. She wasn’t sure if she was a double or triple agent at this point, and in the end, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this alive.

A/N: I'm giving you another chapter this weekend because I can. I've got a significant portion of the Epilogue written, and just a chapter or two to fill in the middle, so we're looking at about 12 in total. I'll post as they're written, but no promises on when.

I'm VERY curious to see what you all think about this chapter. We've just had angst, angst, angst up until now, and now? Well, it's a little bit of a departure, and I hope you like it.

Chapter 9: Infiltrating the Lap of Luxury

Three Days Later

Peggy was nauseous. The red and black. The banners. The eagles and swastikas. The double lightning bolts.

They were everywhere.

Just three days in Berlin had reminded her who, and what, they were fighting for. If the concerned well-to-do Nazis of London had confused her, this had shocked her right back to reality.

Wallace had given her practically no notice that they were leaving, to the point where she’d wondered if either or both of them had been found out and they needed to run. She’d had barely enough time to throw the essentials in a bag and finish the letter.

Since they’d started with the letters, she’d had one half written, waiting in the false bottom of one of the drawers in her apartment for her to fill in days, times, and places. She knew one day they’d have to make a hasty retreat, and that came far faster than she had been prepared for.

He’d been manic, not because they’d been found out, but because he’d been offered something he couldn’t pass up: face time with the men who were running everything. They’d been invited to the heart of Berlin for a party, and then to accompany a high-ranking scientist to the Alps.

None of that had made it into her letter.

She was sharing a hotel room with Wallace, and the Agent who had escorted them to Berlin was residing right next door. She wasn’t sure if he was there to keep them safe or to keep tabs on them, but she wasn’t going to press it either way. She played appropriately lovelorn on the plane over the channel, then slowly warmed back up to Wallace. By the time they’d made it to the hotel she was holding his hand and chatting about how excited she was to be invited to such a thing.

Peggy wasn’t sure what Wallace was anymore, where his allegiance fell, or what he expected her to behave as, but she was along for the ride, and that meant keeping him happy.

She still made him sleep on the couch.

In the morning, the symbols all around her were brighter and more apparent, and the charade was harder to keep up. Wallace paraded her around office buildings and at dinners with men whose names she’d only heard about in official communiques. It seemed the information he thought he was stealing from her had made him somewhat infamous, and they didn’t seem to understand, thankfully, that she’d led them into several ambushes at this point.

She found it baffling and sickening, but she let them believe they’d lured her over to their ideology, that she was no longer interested in serving the Allied Powers as they’d done nothing for her.

She had once chance to pass on all she knew. One communique. She hoped they were ready.

~*~

Dugan stood just outside the hotel, pulling down on his deerstalker cap to stay hidden in the twilight. He’d shaved his moustache, to which they’d all laughed, and dyed his hair a glaring blonde, even though he was keeping it hidden under his cap.

There were precious few they trusted for this, and even fewer who could walk into the heart of Germany and potentially not be recognized by either the SS or Wallace. Dugan somehow fit that bill. He worried that he was too early, but being too late might compromise the drop. He stopped and rubbed his knee, feigning pain to buy himself some time. Eyes were everywhere, and they didn’t hesitate to report suspicious people under such a regime.

Peggy was due any minute. Any second.

And there she was.

Laughing.

Dugan looked up, surprised, to see her laughing and smiling with Wallace, dressed to the nines complete with heels and a fur stole and the ever harder and harder to get silk stockings.

She was walking towards him on her way out of the hotel, and the only acknowledgement he got was the casual flicker of her eyes as she neared, the same she’d give any passing pedestrian.

Just a few steps away she stumbled and then stopped, Wallace concerned for her as they both looked down at the ground. “Are you all right, Maggie?”

Peggy stood and smiled, shrugging. “New shoes. I haven’t had a pair of proper dancing shoes in so long I think I must have forgotten how to wear them!” Her tone was light, and she kept Wallace’s eyes at hers with her smile, but Dugan was looking at her feet, where Peggy slipped her toes from her heel and dropped a small slip of paper on the ground before slipping her foot back in again. She kicked her foot up towards Wallace and wiggled her toes. “Should be good to go, dear. To dinner?”

He nodded and set them moving again. “Yes, quite right. Perhaps you should wear your new ones for the party tomorrow when we get back tonight, wouldn’t want you stumbling in that company.”

Dugan waited until they passed, playing up on the rubbing of his knee, and then started limping lightly forward, towards the scrap of paper on the ground. He stopped again, shoe stepping directly on it, and rubbed his knee, before walking away with only the tiniest glance back to tell him that the paper was stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

A block later, he stopped, picked it from his shoe, and continued on his way.

~*~

Stave, Bucky, and Dum Dum hovered over the paper, slowly decoding it by flashlight in their tiny tent in the middle of the German forest.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dum Dum laughed. “How does she think we’re going to do that?”

“We clean up good!” Bucky retorted.

“Yeah,” Steve started, throwing the pencil down and slumping, “but I don’t blend in so well with a crowd here.”

“Well, I’m going. Where do I get my hands on a suit?” Dugan smiled. “You know what kinda women are at these parties?”

“Yeah, Nazis.” Barnes retorted, shaking his head.

“Ok, well, you’re not wrong there.” He shrugged. “I just miss going to parties, and beautiful women all dressedto the nines there.”

Dugan and Barnes shared a moment of agreement before Bucky focused them back on the mission. “And how do you plan on getting in?” Barnes asked cheekily. “We just going to walk in the front door?”

Steve rubbed his face. “It’s going to be guarded, there will be invitations… no. There’s no way we get in the front door play acting like we’re guests without being made.”

“So what?” Dugan asked, reading over the note again. He pointed at the most important detail: “Must get Zola at Black Tie tomorrow night. Last Chance before Alps.” He shrugged. “Maybe it would be easier to try to get him while he’s going over the Alps to the Hydra base.”

Bucky shook his head. “I mean, potentially less guards on one of those trains, but some of those tracks are treacherous. They’re lucky the trains make it through. One wrong move there, we’re not just captured, we’re dead.”

“So what? We go in as the caterers?” Dugan laughed. “I already shaved my moustache for this, I’m up for a good disguise.”

“It’s a mansion, right?” Steve asked, trying to be positive. “Maybe we just need to…” He took a moment, his head twisting and turning as he thought of and discarded ideas. He stopped, throwing his hands out to the side. “I got nothing.”

Barnes just punched him on the shoulder good naturedly. “You know, you’re lucky you’ve got Peggy to do all the heavy lifting in this relationship.”

Steve hung his head, smiling. “Don’t I know it.”

~*~

Peggy did her best to smile, but was still sickened by the excess. She’d seen the state of the German forces, of the men in the field and the men they captured.

It was always revolting to see how the men who ran the wars, but never experienced them, lived.

Champaign. Caviar. Grand dinners and ballrooms full of music and dancing. The war hadn’t touched these people. They hadn’t watched friends and family die. After listening to them, she guessed most of them had probably profited off the backs of the boys in the trenches.

For every man with a gun, the real monster was a faceless man in an office calling his shots.

She hated to admit she enjoyed the luxury of a hot bath, of the silk stockings she hadn’t had in months, of a new green silk dress that hugged her curves and didn’t smell like mothballs, of shoes that fit and hadn’t ever seen a patch of mud. She felt guilty every minute, preening and putting on make-up and rolling her hair just right so that she wouldn’t stand out. The guilt had nearly overwhelmed her, but she had a job to do, and she could deal with the emotional toll of this later.

By the way everyone looked when they walked into the mansion, she and Wallace stood out. Their novelty dimmed, however, as they were slowly introduced around the room. Once they were no longer strangers, they were no longer a unique oddity to be admired or a threat to be monitored. Wallace worked hard to get in front of the generals, in front of the men with the most medals and the stiffest backs in the room, to get some facetime with the people that could get him closer to whatever his goal was.

She only had one goal: Arnim Zola.

He was Schmidt’s right-hand man, and he was vulnerable tonight.

She had three different plans, depending on how the boys were able to make it in. She guessed they weren’t walking in the front door, as the security was heavy and nearly every man in the room wore the swastika on his arm and carried a gun with him. She only hoped they could follow her lead, or she could pick up whatever plan they’d come up with quickly to avoid a disaster.

Step one: meet Zola.

Peggy let Richard pull her around the ballroom for a while, smiling and nodding on his arm, keeping quiet as they traded stories and allegiances. She kept Zola in her sights throughout the night, taking note that he was often alone, and easily flustered. She smiled, realizing that his cheeks reddened every time he talked to a beautiful woman.

Peggy made her excuses and stepped out of the ballroom for a breath of fresh air. She’d hoped she’d be able to make contact with the boys but they weren’t anywhere to be found near or around the small, empty balcony. She took the moment to compose herself, and waited until the doctor was situated between her and Wallace so it wouldn’t look like she’d avoided Wallace, but rather ran into the doctor by mistake.

And run into him she did, literally, bumping his shoulder as she moved past him, covering her face and putting on her apologies before feigning recognition. “I’m sorry, are you Doctor Zola?”

He almost chocked on a sip of his Champaign. He looked her up and down, and Peggy smiled even wider, knowing that her care in dressing had done its job. “Yes,” he choked out as he regained his composure. “And who might you be?”

Peggy put her hand in his and let him kiss the back of it, forcing a blush by imagining Steve. “Oh, me? I’m nobody. But I just couldn’t help but overhear your name whispered here and there, and to have the chance to meet you!” She giggled and shrugged. “Though I am quite sorry for bumping into you.”

“Oh, no matter, my dear. But for such a beautiful creature, I must have a name.” He was earnest, and she almost, almost felt bad for what she was about to do.

“Maggie,” she replied softly, not feeling bad at all as she remembered the thousands of men that had died because of him.

He smiled, not letting go of her hand, and she smiled right back.

~*~

Bucky did not like hiding in the closet outside of the bathroom, but he did it because there was really no other choice than to sit there and wait for Peggy. They’d managed to sneak their way in through the basement early this morning through a drainage ditch, and Steve and Dugan were hiding on the floor below them in a root cellar.

The fact that Bucky was the only one small enough to fit in the dumbwaiter to get between floors was the only reason it was him and not Steve up here. He tried not to swear as yet another woman passed him that wasn’t Peggy.

“One click if you can hear me, Buck.” Steve’s voice came through his comm. It was tinny and buzzed incessantly, but the earpiece radios Stark had made them were far, far better than the bulky blocks they’d carried in the field up until now. Bucky clicked the talk button on the small box on his belt and waited for Steve to continue. “Dugan and I have managed to get our hands on some SS uniforms.”

Bucky clicked twice, acknowledging that he understood. Barnes wondered if they’d knocked people out and stolen their clothes, or if they’d simply found the wash.

He stopped, all thoughts gone out of his head when he saw Carter turn down the small hall, slowly moving towards the bathroom and seemingly absent mindedly turning door knobs.

He waited until she stepped into the small bathroom then slipped in behind her.

“Well, it’s about—” Peggy stopped, putting her hand over her mouth to stop from screaming. “You’re not Steve.”

Barnes shrugged. “He didn’t fit in the dumbwaiter.”

“I’m not going to even ask,” she sighed, sitting her hip against the sink and stepping out of her heels to rub her feet. “We have a small window of time. I’m going to get Zola into the office one hallway down. Do you know it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded.

“I’ll incapacitate him, then you three are up, alright? He should be out for several hours, at least, but please be careful. If you jostle him enough, he will wake up.”

“Wake up?” Barnes asked.

“Wake up,” she confirmed. She looked him over, the black fatigues out of place in the resplendent bathroom. “Do you think you can handle that?”

Barnes smirked at her, “You think we can’t?”

Peggy sighed and smiled. “If I didn’t miss you so much, I’d hit you.” She moved to walk past him then stopped, serious. “One more thing, and you mustn’t forget.”

~*~

Bucky unfurled himself from the dumbwaiter, misjudging the distance and falling to the floor in a heap. “God, I hate that.”

“What happened? How is she?” Steve peppered him with questions as he helped him stand, looking awful Aryan with his blonde hair and blue eyes and the red band brandished across his arm. Dugan, too, fit in just a little too well in the suit now that he’d bleached his hair.

Bucky took them in as he stood, trying to shake the earie feeling seeing them in the uniforms of the enemy. “She’s fine. We’ve got about fifteen minutes to get to the office down the hall from the bathroom. We should be able to take the back stairs.” Bucky had done the interior recon early in the morning, slipping through and learning the layout when the residents inside had all been sleeping. “You got one of those for me?”

Steve handed him a pile. “They should fit.”

Bucky stripped and put the new clothes on, stopping as he buttoned up the jacket. “She- shit.” Bucky looked at Steve, lips pursed tight as he shook his head. “She told me not to forget something.”

“And you forgot it?” Dugan asked, incredulous.

“I mean, it wasn’t that important.” He moved back to buttoning himself into the jacket. “Come on, she’s waiting on us.”

~*~

Peggy rounded the table, pretending to be infinitely interested in the little metal figures that told a story of Aryan supremacy. “I find it all very fascinating, Doctor Zola.”

He smirked, downing the rest of his Champaign. “As I thought you might, fraulein.”

She stepped up to him, close, and played with the edge of his collar. “It’s so hard to find a man of substance these days,” she whispered, letting her nail run down over the buttons on his shirt.

“Ah, my dear, we are all involved in bringing glory to our cause!” He proudly exclaimed, watching her hand and then looking up into her eyes. “I might say, it is… refreshing to have a woman find interest in the matters of the mind. Usually, they are interested in more… superficial things.”

Peggy turned them so he was looking away from the door. She’d left it cracked, and could see shadows. She couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t Steve and the boys, so she made her move. “Ah, yes, well, I am not one of those women.”

She leaned down and kissed him, lips pressed tight to his, for long seconds. He was surprised at first, but began to participate wholeheartedly once the initial surprise passed, gripping her tight with small, sweaty hands that roamed. She counted in her head, and Peggy pulled back as soon as she’d made sure it had been long enough, smiling at his fluster. “You see, I’m a different kind of woman all together.”

He started to reply, but found he couldn’t. Slowly, Peggy lowered him to the floor as his eyes fluttered shut.

She looked up, feigning surprise as the door opened. She’d been ready to call out, concerned that the Doctor had passed out on her from too much to drink when she saw the uniforms, but smiled when she saw the face attached. “Right on time, men.”

“Damn, Peggy,” Dugan whispered. “You are good at getting things done!”

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, stepping over Zola and helping her to stand.

“I’m fine. A little disgusted at the revelry, but fine.” She looked around, watching as Barnes and Dugan lifted the doctor, slinging his arms around their necks. “You’ll be able to get him out?”

“We’ve got a truck waiting half a click south just outside a sewer.” Barnes whispered. “Won’t be pleasant, but we’ve got it.”

“You have to ask him about this Swiss base, Steve.” She held his hands tight and pleaded with him. “They have something there, something related to those energy weapons Howard’s been studying. I don’t know what it is, but it’s big. And it has to be stopped.”

“You do it,” Steve whispered fiercely. “Come with us.”

She shook her head. “We both disappear and that’s a target on us all. Besides, I’m headed to the Alps tomorrow, the base the day after.” She gave him a small, nervous smile. “I don’t know how, but Wallace has arranged an audience with Schmidt.”

“Then here,” Steve shoved a small square in her hand. “Beacon. Turn it on tomorrow. Howard says it should last three days. We’ll track you.”

“Come on, buddy, we gotta go,” Barnes whispered. “Party’s breaking up and they’re gonna find us.”

Without warning Steve grabbed her and kissed her. Peggy pushed him away to his confusion.

“Barnes!” She half yelled, half whispered, shooting daggers over Steve’s shoulder at the man.

“What—” Steve could barely get the word out before he fell to the ground, eyes blinking shut.

“That’s why you didn’t want him to kiss you?!” Barnes looked at her and almost dropped Zola. “You gotta say stuff like that, Carter! I thought you just didn’t want to be messin’ around while on a mission!”

She dropped to her knees and started gently hitting Steve’s cheek. “Yes, Barnes, I didn’t want to be ‘messin’ around’ on a mission, especially when I have knock out lipstick on, you dolt!” She took a deep breath. “Get Zola out, Steve’ll be around in a minute or so and I’ll send him after you.”

“Are you—” Dugan started to question her, but her stern look stopped him. He and Barnes hiked Zola higher and with a glance, moved him out into the empty hallway.

“How much you want to bet he’s done that before?” Dugan whispered as they moved.

“Oh, I’m sure that idiot has done that before.” Bucky paused, hiking the small man higher over his shoulder. “How do you think she knows how long it’ll take him to wake up?”

“Good point.”

#Steggy Fic #Steggy #3P's Fic

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themanicmagician · 5 years ago

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Shipwrecked [3/4]

[AO3]

Summary: When Redd’s boat crashes upon the shore of Bastion Island, Tom reluctantly takes him in while he recovers. Tom despises Redd for his past deceit, but when he has no choice but to spend time with him, Tom is reminded why he fell in love with the wily fox in the first place.

“What is this supposed to be?”

Tom eyed the frilly cocktail Redd had pushed into his hand. It was a swirl of blue and seafoam green, complete with a tiny toothpick umbrella spearing a pineapple wedge.

“Vacation Juice.”

“But we’re not on a—”

“It’s just a name. You’ll like it, trust me.”

Tom took a small sip. It tasted like pears. Very, very sugary pears. He couldn’t even taste the alcohol. As he took a second, larger sip, Redd said: “Told you you’d like it.”

Tom rolled his eyes, not gracing Redd with a response. He swallowed another mouthful of the “juice” as he glanced around the bar. It wasn’t one of their typical haunts. Drinking out in the city was always expensive, so they tended towards establishments with long, generous happy hours, and cheap brews to go along with. The bar they were in now—Tom had already forgotten the name—was a touch fancier. The drinks were all cocktails with themed names. The drinks were served in small portions, and the prices were obscene, but they were celebrating, after all. They could splurge, just a little, just tonight.

The bar was miraculously uncrowded. Tom and Redd had even managed to secure a corner table all for themselves. The lighting was dim, intimate. They were surrounded mostly by other couples, each pair focused on each other rather than a game on TV.

This was Tom’s third drink in under an hour, and he was getting to that pleasant, loose phase of drunkenness. He watched Redd swallow, observed the slow bob of his throat as he drank. He was struck by a bolt of desire. He wanted to trace the movement with his tongue. Tom shifted on his stool.

Redd’s cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket. His cool demeanor slipped, his eyes widened in alarm.

“It’s the landlord for the building!” He told Tom before he hurriedly took the call. “Hi! Phil, how’s it going? No, no it’s not a bad time at all.”

Redd hunched down, pressing the phone close to his ear to listen over the booming music.

“...Really? Oh—Oh no, that’s not a problem at all.”

Redd’s expression twisted briefly in distress. Tom’s stomach lurched with sudden, strong anxiety. What was the landlord saying? It was maddening, only being able to hear half of the conversation. He leaned closer, but could barely hear the tinny voice coming from Redd’s phone.

“Of course. I’ll get it to you tonight. Yes. You too. Ciao.”

Redd hung up, and sighed. When he didn’t immediately launch into an explanation, Tom blurted: “Well?”

Redd combed a paw through the fur on his head with agitation. It made his sleek fur stick up at odd angles, but Redd didn’t seem to notice, or care.

“The landlord, he got another offer on the store. Says if we still want it we’ll have to pay the first six months—up front.”

Tom swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He downed the rest of his Vacation Juice.

“I have some money put away, but not nearly enough for all that time.” Redd frowned. “But if I don’t get it to him tonight, we lose the place.”

“Well, how much is six months’ rent?”

“Everything included—all the fees, insurance, utilities and everything—it’ll be 200,000 bells. And I already went and spent most of my money getting us the stock. I can’t get a refund now.” He laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “We’ll have all this furniture and nowhere to put it.”

“How much do you need?”

“Tom, I couldn’t—”

“Redd. We’re partners, right? How much do you need?”

The fox shifted on his stool.

“...It’s too much to ask of you.” Redd mumbled, eventually.

“Redd.”

“Fine, fine. I only have about 15k bells left in my account right now.”

Tom brought out his own phone. It took a few clumsy tries for him to unlock it. He had just enough in his account to cover the remainder, built up from the months of pitching and selling ideas to businesses. This would drain nearly all of Tom’s savings, but it was an investment. It was worth it. Besides, they’d make it up and then some when their store opened.

“I can transfer it over right now.” Tom smiled. “Though I’m afraid we’ll have to switch to ramen and tap water for a while.”

“I could kiss you.” Redd said.

“What’s stopping you?”

After a sloppy kiss that tasted of pears and apples, Tom drained his account for the deposit. Redd called Phil back to confirm the transfer was a success. Once the landlord confirmed, Redd pulled Tom from the bar, hand in hand. They couldn’t really afford to buy more fancy cocktails, but there was a full bottle of sake at home, calling their name.

~*~

Tom awoke with a thunderous headache. He groaned, pinching two fingers to the ridge of his nose. He warily opened his eyes a few centimeters, then slammed them shut again. Nausea churned in his gut. He took a moment to just lay there, and prayed for his insides to stop revolting. How much had they had to drink last night? It was a blur. Tom had been feeling buzzed already from the cocktails and then the sake had gone and punched straight holes through his memory. He remembered snatches of moments, of sensations. Raking his paws through Redd’s fur, feeling the corded muscles beneath as they shifted. The sweet taste of Redd’s mouth on his, the triumph of finally marking up that exposed throat. The way that Redd, always so perfect and composed, became a stuttering, breathy mess as they made love. Then, a whole lot of nothing.

“Redd?” Tom moaned feebly. The fox handled his liquor a thousand times better than he did. He could entreat his partner to get up and fetch him some water. He flailed out blindly, reaching, but his hand encountered no fox.

Tom opened his eyes again, with heavy reluctance. He was alone in the bed. He swept his paw over the sheets. They were cool.

Tom spilled clumsily over the side of the bed to reach his pants, which were in a crumpled heap on the bedroom floor. He rooted around in his pockets until he found his phone. The time blared at him, like a condemnation: 10:05 a.m. For someone that normally got up for the day at 6, it was sacrilege.

Standing upright was a mistake. Dizziness and nausea slammed into him immediately. He barely made it to the bathroom before he was puking. He hadn’t really had much to eat yesterday, so all that came up was stringy bile. He flushed the mess down and rested his head for a minute against the cool bathroom cabinet.

He was surprised Redd hadn’t come to investigate, considering the amount of noise Tom was making.

“Redd?” He croaked.

There was no reply.

Tom sat for a moment more, until he was certain he wouldn’t neat the toilet again. He levered himself upright, bracing himself on the sink.

He shuffled out of the bathroom, and went into the area comprised of their kitchenette and living room. Redd was still nowhere to be found. And there was something...off. It took him a moment, and then he realized: Redd’s stuff was missing. His artwork that’d been scattered around, his books, they were gone. Tom checked their bedroom. Tom’s things were neatly folded in the drawers, but there was an empty gap where Redd’s clothes had once been.

Had something happened to Redd? Heart pounding with confusion and fear, he dialed Redd’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. He called again; same result.

After the beep, he left a message, his voice audibly shaky. “H-Hey, it’s Tom. Call me when you get this, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

Tom returned to the living room, and paced anxiously until his attention was caught by a white envelope. It was resting on the floor, by the front door. Someone must have slipped it underneath.

The envelope was addressed to Redd, but Tom broke the seal anyway, hoping whatever was inside would provide answers.

Inside was a final eviction notice.

According to it, Redd was three months past due on rent, and had until the end of the week to move out his stuff before it was thrown out by management.

Tom was breathing fast, now. It felt like the walls were closing in on him. This didn’t make sense. Redd had afforded this apartment for years before Tom had moved in. And as soon as Tom began making money he contributed half of the rent. He gave the bells over to Redd and assumed he’d take care of it. Redd had money before they’d poured most of their shared earnings into their store, so why—?

The eviction notice was starting to crumple in his shaking grip. He set it aside on the kitchen island.

He needed to find Redd. He needed to talk to him. There was probably some simple explanation for all of this that Tom just couldn’t see right now. Redd would explain, would tease him for getting all worked up about nothing. Or, or maybe this had been premeditated. Maybe he’d taken Tom’s money for months and then—

Tom yanked on his pants, and a shirt, and dashed out of the apartment. Redd wasn’t home, but there was one other place he might be at this hour.

Tom ran to their store. Animals gave him odd looks as he passed them, but he paid them no attention. He wasn’t built for running, especially not over long distances. He was soon panting and wheezing, sweat slicking his shirt to his back, but he didn’t slow. The walking sign switched to a red hand but Tom kept running, ignoring the resultant yells and curses spat at him from nearby cars as they were forced to swerve around him.

He reached the store at last—and his heart dropped to his stomach. The entire area was roped off. There were large heavy construction machines, including a crane with a wrecking ball at the end of it.

Tom ducked under the tape and tried to run inside, but was grabbed by one of the construction workers.

“Hey, hey!” The bulldog barked. “You crazy? You can’t go in there, they’re about to bust it down.”

“That’s my store!” Tom yelled. “What are you doing, that’s my property!”

“This place has been foreclosed on for over a year now.” The worker replied, bewildered. “It’s been slated for demolition. Gonna squeeze another high-rise in there.”

“But—But—”

The key in his pocket was freshly cut. If the place had been abandoned, it would’ve been relatively simple for Redd to install a new lock on the place. To add a layer of credibility to the entire request, to allow Tom to hope.

Tom was no longer resisting, so the bulldog released his grip on Tom’s shirt.

“You should step back, kid. It’s going to get real dusty here in a minute.”

He threw one last perplexed look at Tom before he rejoined his crew members.

Tom retreated behind the tape, and watched as the wrecking ball swung out, and smashed the front of the building inwards. His eyes watered, then, but not from the resultant dust.

~*~

He didn’t return to the apartment. He didn’t want anything they’d shared, or that would remind him of Redd.

He walked to the train station in a daze, only pausing to chuck his apartment and store keys in the trash.

Tom didn’t have much remaining in his account, but Redd had at least left him enough to purchase a one-way ticket back to his hometown. The train was the same make and model as the one that’d brought him here, six months ago.

Tom sat at a free window seat, and rested his cheek against the window. The glass was a bit smudged and sticky, likely from a child’s hands, but Tom left his head where it was.

The train came alive with a jolt. Soon the skyscrapers gave way to houses. Gradually, the houses became further and further spaced out, and the forest grew denser. He drank in the sight of green foliage greedily, like a man given water after days in the desert. He hadn’t realized, until now, how much he hated the gray of steel, the tan of concrete, the black of asphalt.

The train stopped intermittently. Tom did not pay attention to the conductor’s voice over the loudspeaker, as his was the very last stop on the line.

“Hey, do you mind if I sit next to you?”

It took half a moment for Tom to recognize that he was being spoken to. He pulled his gaze sluggishly away from the window. A blue and white cat stood there, smiling down at him, seemingly unperturbed by Tom’s dour mood. Tom shrugged, not really caring what the cat did. He slid into the seat beside Tom.

“I’m Rover.” He beamed. Tom wanted to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, scream that it wasn’t fair, how dare he smile like that when Tom had been through hell.

“...Tom.” He admitted, eventually, in the expectant silence.

“Pleasure. So, where you headed?”

“Home.”

He understood it now. He wasn’t meant for city life, for a place that cradled you when you could provide it value, then dropped you into the dirt after.

“Took a day trip to the city, eh?”

Tom grunted.

“What a place! Fun to visit now and again, but I’d never live there, personally.”

“Me neither.” Tom agreed.

Rover filled the trip with largely one-sided chatter until he hopped off, three stops before Tom’s.

“Safe travels, friend! I’m sure we’ll meet again someday.”

Tom mustered up a wave for him.

The train pulled into its final station a little after noon. Hardly anyone was left on the train. As Tom left the station, he passed a few elderly couples, some younger animals psyching themselves up for a nature hike.

There weren’t cabs this far out, so Tom walked. It reminded him somewhat of his first day in the city, fraught as it was with exhaustion and confusion as he plodded down street after street. At least this time he walked with certainty. Starved of entertainment as a child, he’d explore the entire town enough times he could navigate it blind.

He wasn’t surprised to discover nothing had changed here. He hadn’t been gone that long, all told, and change came at a glacial pace in his hometown. There were the same trees, unchanging storefronts. Though he supposed there was perhaps a bit more peeling paint on the general store sign than the last time he’d seen it. The store had been owned by Gran Bluebell since before Tom was a kit. It was no great shock she didn’t bother with touching up the hard to reach sign at her age.

People recognized him. Welcomed him. Assumed he was just here for a visit. Tom smiled at them, and exchanged pleasantries but no meaningful information on his side. Humiliation burned his face like a hot brand. He could hardly admit to himself that he’d failed, let alone to them. They’d sympathize, express their condolences—but past their commiserating veneer would be a sick kind of satisfaction. I knew you’d never make it out there. You thought you were better than us? Smarter? We’re all stuck here in this town for a reason.

Had the city soured his optimistic, rosy view of others? Perhaps it had. Could he truly be blamed, though? With pessimism, you expected the worst out of others. You could never be disappointed, only pleasantly surprised.

At length, Tom reached his destination. It was a house on the end of the row. One story, cream-colored. The doorbell had stopped working years ago, so Tom rapped on the door. He heard the shuffle of feet over wood, and then the door creaked open.

Sable’s eyes widened. She shut the door again to unhook the chain lock, and then threw it wide open. Tom could see a slice of the kitchen from his current vantage point. Mabel was strapped into her highchair, gleefully smashing peas into paste on the tray in front of her, babbling nonsense. Label was peering at him with large, dark eyes, half-hidden behind the frayed couch.

“Tom, what are you doing here?” Sable swept a critical eye over him, noting his lack of luggage.

Tom saw telltale signs of strain in his friend’s features. The circles beneath her eyes, the unkemptness of her quills, the stains, fresh and old on her apron. He shouldn’t bother her with his problems. But he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Tom?”

She cupped his chin, lifted his head up so he met her gaze.

“What happened?”

Tom broke. He surged forward, wrapping Sable in a tight embrace. Sable hesitated only the briefest moment before she encircled her arms around him, stroking his back soothingly.

“Sable,” He choked out.

“It’s okay now.” Her tone was soothing and soft. “Let it out.”

He buried his head in her shoulder, and wept.

~*~

Tom was rooted in place. Redd was gone, again. Without a trace, without a word.

He was being stupid. He was overreacting. Where could Redd go, really? The island wasn’t that large.

He knew this, logically, and yet his heart was pounding like a drum, his paws, clammy. He couldn’t help the irrational fear that history was repeating itself.

He managed to break through the panic which had seized him to return downstairs. He entered the Cranny. Timmy and Tommy swiveled away from their conversation with Fang.

“Have you seen Redd?” Tom blurted.

The twins shook their heads in unison, but the old wolf scrunched up his forehead in thought.

“The little red fella?” Fang rumbled. Tom nodded. “Think I saw him on my way in. Headed northwards, cha-chomp.”

“Should we look too?”

“...too?”

“No, boys. Mind the shop. I’ll find him.”

Tom waited until he was out of sight of anyone inside the store before he broke into a jog. He crossed over the bridge that connected the main swatch of Bastion to the smaller crescent of land to the north. Alex had left most of this land to the wilds. There was a grove of multicolored hyacinths, encircled by pear trees. Bastion’s lighthouse was posted on the edge of the water. There was no other sign of civilization out here—save for Flurry’s house.

Tom hurried up to the house, and was about to knock when the door swung open. Redd was exiting, a new book tucked under his arm. Flurry was behind him, wringing her tiny paws.

“You’re sure I can’t carry it for you?” She fretted.

“The book weighs more than you do. I can handle it, no problem.”

Redd was facing Flurry; he hadn’t seen Tom yet. He was speaking in that tone of voice, the same one he’d had with the boys, before Tom interrupted. Something soft, kind.

Then Redd turned to see Tom, and the gentle look on his face vanished, replaced by something charming and fake.

“Come to escort me home? How gentlemanly of you, Mr. Nook.” Redd batted his eyelashes obnoxiously. Flurry giggled.

Tom gave a short nod to the hamster before she shut the door. Tom waited until they were in the hyacinth field, far enough away from Flurry’s house, to speak.

“You can’t just—just leave without telling me.”

Redd snorted. “I’m not one of your adopted kiddos.” A thought seemed to occur to him, and with some annoyance, he added, “What, you can’t trust me to be on my own, is that it? Think I’m always up to no good?”

“You’re hurt and you don’t know the island. You can’t just go off on your own.”

“Please, Tom. Don’t bother with all this. You don’t care about me, you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“That’s not what I—you’re so—!” Tom clamped his mouth shut. He took a deep breath, which didn’t do as much to calm him as he would have liked. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. You were just gone, and I panicked.”

Tom was surprised as that seemed to set Redd off. “Oh, panicked, did you? How do you think I felt when you left New Leaf, without telling me? I had to hear it from Chadder—Chadder, of all people!—that you’ve just run off to some deserted island, on your own. There are tarantulas out here, Tom. Tarantulas!”

“And scorpions,” Tom added, helpfully. Redd glowered at him. “I was expanding my business into travel. Not that you’d know anything about innovation.”

“You learned all you know from me!”

“Hardly!” Tom scoffed. “I taught myself everything after you stole from me. My first shop was made out of scrap metal and wood from the dump, and look at me now. Whereas you, Redd,” He jabbed the fox in the chest. “You just jump from one scam to the next, and don’t care who you hurt in the process.”

Redd flinched back. “I’m not. I’m not like that anymore. I—look. I might have. Lied. Before.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.” Tom said, waspishly.

“Guess I deserve that one.” Redd shifted his weight uneasily. “I’m talking about the art. It is real, like I said. Spent almost every bell I got to acquire it all. But I wasn’t planning to scam anyone with it. I wasn’t going to go island to island to sell people replicas. I just wanted to come here. Where you are.”

Tom’s ire drained, supplanted by confusion. He said nothing, and Redd took that as permission to continue.

“I was going to swing by once a week. Give a new piece of art to that human kid every time, because I know Blabbers—”

“Blathers.”

“—would want them all displayed in his museum. And over time, you’d get used to seeing me around. And there’d be no stories about fakes for you to hear. And maybe you’d…” Redd sighed. He looked up at Tom with an earnestness the raccoon had never seen from him before. “I scammed a lot of guys before you. A lot of them were like you—new to the city, hopelessly clueless, grateful for any scrap of guidance. But you were different. I...I do regret what happened between us. What I did to you. It still haunts me.”

“So why did you?” Tom asked, softly. “You know that I loved you.”

Redd’s face twisted in anguish. “I did know. I hate myself every day for ruining what we had. And the worst part is I can’t tell you why I did it. A part of me, a big part of me, didn’t want to. But it was what I’d always done. I didn’t grow up in a nice place, or in a nice home. I learned how to con, how to lie and cheat and survive. I learned how to take care of myself, because no one else was going to. And then you came along, and you didn’t want to use me, and you were clever, and wanted us to be partners, equals. You thought I could be that for you, that I could be up at as high a level as you are, and, and it scared me. It made me think that maybe I didn’t have to be that way anymore. I didn’t have to trick anyone ever again. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t change. I couldn’t make the leap. I fell into old habits, because they were secure, because I knew I could rely on the results. I knew I’d hurt you, but I did it anyway. Because I didn’t trust you, and I didn’t trust myself.”

Tom felt as if his heart was breaking again, but in a different way. Redd’s confession was a raw, sad thing.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve it. But I’m a selfish bastard, and I...I still want you in my life. In whatever way you’ll have me.”

There was a long silence between them. The hyacinths swayed gently around them in the cool sea breeze.

Redd had hurt Tom deeply. On one level, Tom did forgive him. Redd had suffered the consequences of his actions. He’d gained money, but he’d lost Tom’s affections, lost the chance for an honest living. On another level, Tom could not open his heart fully to the fox again. Redd claimed that he had changed, and he certainly seemed repentant. But they would remain only acquaintances, perhaps friends, at the most. He simply could not trust Redd to the extent he had in the past, and he doubted he ever would.

“What book did Flurry give you?”

“What? Oh.” Redd blinked. He checked the title. “Bark Antony and Kleopawtra.”

“Perhaps you could read it aloud to the kids, tonight. They’d like that.”

A tentative smile spread slowly across Redd’s face.

He accepted the olive branch.

“Fine, but you’re voicing Bark Antony.”

The pair of them returned to the Cranny, walking shoulder to shoulder.

#reddnook #tom nook #redd #ac #animal crossing #animal crossing: new horizons #my fic #also you know flurry was eavesdropping on that drama #with binoculars

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curekibouka-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Blissful Tomorrow Chapter 3 (Pandora Hearts fanfic) (Completed)

Summary: May you reach a blissful tomorrow as you open your eyes. For now, sweet dreams.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

*This fic is also on FF.net and Quotev

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

Chapter 3: Hope

“My lady?” After a tediously long day of work, Break still decided to check on Sharon before turning in for the night. And seeing as her lights were still on at this hour, his judgement was, in all likelihood, correct.

Maybe Sharon was up reading her novels again, he made a hunch as he opened the door, only to realise she was not reading.

There she was, in a white nightgown and a pale pink capelet, curled up like a ball above her blanket, squeezing one of her pillows close to her chest.

“My lady, you will catch a cold if you fall asleep like that.”

Sharon bolted up, “Break! When did you come in?”

“I did knock.”

“S-sorry. I was... ah! I was dozing off, mhmm, so I didn’t hear. Ahhh, it’s this late already, I had better turn in for the night properly.”

She paused, taking notice of how inauthentic her claim was without Break having to call her out for lying.

“Sorry...” she repeated.

“Why must my lady apologise?” Break smiled gently, “You are not in the wrong.”

None of them were ever in the wrong. But all those around him seemed to suffer one way or the other.

Seeing that her hair was quite messed up from all the twisting and turning she must’ve been doing before he came, he retrieved her hairbrush from her nightstand, “Turn around.”

She complied with a silent nod, her hands still tightly secured around her pillow.

“Are you, perchance, nervous about tomorrow, my lady?”

“Well of course I am!” She probably wanted to stand up and throw the pillow at something, but she refrained from anything beyond sulking when her hair was being combed. “It’s a contract! With a being from the realm of madness! How can I not be uneasy?”

“Good point,” Break muttered curtly, it was not a topic he preferred to stay on either way.

On one hand, he knew just how revolting creatures from the Abyss could be.

On the other hand, he was revolted by the very notion that a child like her was obliged to form a contract with such creatures.

“This is absurd! Allowing a Chain to reside in such a tiny body... what is Pandora thinking?!”

“Xer-kun, calm down. I have no intentions of letting it pass either. This is about my own granddaughter after all, I will have a word with the executives. But...”

But in the end, Pandora insisted that another legal contract should be made by a child of the Four Great Dukedoms after the return of the Baskervilles at Oz Vessalius’s coming-of-age ceremony half a year ago. Who knows which house the Baskervilles would target next time, they said. It was to protect the heir themselves too, they said.

The Barma House had no heirs. The many children of Nightray blood had already tried and failed to make a contract with Raven, and their youngest son Elliot was still barely six years old. Ada Vessalius was only eight as well. Therefore the responsibility fell upon the Rainsworth House.

Honestly, Sharon may be a teenager but she was still young. Pandora never had a contractor below the age of 15. But when Sharon heard of the duty pushed onto her shoulders, she calmly put down her teacup and smiled.

“I’m glad to hear that I can participate in Pandora affairs at long last. Grandmother, you and Break and Reim-san are all already well-known within the organisation. I wish to do my part as the heiress of Rainsworth as well.”

It was too soon after Shelly’s passing. Sharon must have been thinking with the mentality of ‘What can I do in my mother’s place?’. Nobody asked her to do it, just like how nobody asked her to stop grieving or stop crying but she still did so.

“Break?” her voice returned to a soft murmur, “Were you nervous too when you made a contract with Mad Hatter? Just for reference.”

“Not really.”

“How come?”

Because it wasn’t his first time. Because as far as the Abyss is concerned, he had already experienced (and created) too much madness to be fazed by a — relatively — harmless legal contract.

Madness that this child didn’t need to know yet.

“When the time is right, I promise I will explain,” he evaded, and Sharon pouted, unsatisfied. He let out a few hearty chuckles, “Haha, please spare me the grumbles, my lady~~ My circumstances would’ve proven useless to you anyways.”

“Why?”

“Ah, have you not heard of the theory that Chains are drawn to humans which share some similarities with them? Unlike my Mad Hatter, surely the Chain you are going to encounter tomorrow will be one that is refined and clever. And gentle, well, most of the time~~” He pulled away from her as he finished brushing her hair.

“Ohoho, now is clearly not ‘most of the time’, is it?” she hurled the pillow right at his head before he went too far off. (She was, however, no longer sulking.)

He let it hit him before catching it and putting it back on her bed, “Clearly not the time for pillow fights either. It’s time to rest your sleepy head, my lady.”

“I suppose so,” sighing (it irked her to let him get away with this without so much as a smack from her harisen), she let Break tuck her in. Yet her thoughts were not so willing to leave her alone just yet. She closed her eyes, furrowed her brows, and opened them again, “What if...”

“Yes?”

“What if mother had been able to form a contract?” her throat was thick as her hand rested on the big ribbon (that her mother never made it in time to attach, in truth) on her capelet, “What Chain do you think would’ve been drawn to her?”

To his luck, a layer of clouds shrouded the moon, draping a veil of darkness over their sight. He did not know what kind of expression he was making, but he did not want Sharon to see it. She was, after all, a clever girl.

In all honesty, he couldn’t picture it at all, be it for her or her mother. No one would ever think a being from hell was befitting an angel or a goddess. But words slipped right off his tongue.

“A beautiful one for sure, and kind. Maybe it wields the power to mend things, abstract things, things that seem beyond repair to anyone else’s eyes. Like a bond, a will... or a heart.”

But like how a Chain this fantastical would never exist, the epitome of human beauty and kindness who had ‘mended’ him had already vanished from this dimension. Even though they had all wished things were different. Even though they had all wished for a ‘blissful tomorrow’ more than anyone had ever wished for anything.

And that had marked the final time he would ever believe in such lies.

Or so he thought at least.

As the veil of darkness retreated from their sight, and he saw the small, frail, trembling, weary smile her lips curved into as she whispered “How I wish mother was here” with her tears flawlessly concealed long before they could escape. He found himself hoping that she would open those eyes glinting with nothing but innocence and joy when she wakes tomorrow.

Hope is a fickle trickster, though it offers the best of deals.

“Cradle of light, cradle of light”

Yes, hope does illuminate, even in your slumber, even in your dreams.

“Blown about by the winds of time”

Though you never know when it would find another witless simpleton to hoax...

“Drifting on waves of dappled sunlight”

...or when it would sail through the dark sea to come prey on you again.

“And, before you know it...”

Still, no matter how you reject it, it has its way to slither into your soul every time.

“It reaches the shores of ‘a blissful tomorrow’” the knight and the lady finished in unison.

Hope dwelled in the light peck he placed on her forehead, and in his words of assurance, “But my lady, she is here. Here in our song and our hearts.”

She lives in you, my lady.

Tonight, the trickster remained undefeated.

Because, the knight reckoned, if it was for her...

A ‘blissful tomorrow’ was worth hoping for again.

“Sweet dreams, Lady Sharon.”

“Sweet dreams, Break.”

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

End of Chapter 3

#Pandora Hearts #xerxes break #sharon rainsworth #paindora hurts #pandora hearts fanfiction #pandora hearts fanart #jun mochizuki #caucus race #cradle song #pandorahearts #ph #mochijun #writeblr #anime fanfiction #xerxes break fanart

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