#just the sight of them with the rest of my cute sewing pins was a problem

[bitchfitch]

I had a shrink appointment today and while I could not see it I knew my doc was going through the five stages of grief while I explained my fool proof strategy for doing my t shots despite a crippling fear of needles: By abusing my vastly more crippling fear of being an inconvenience.

My mother and I play phasmophobia together every week. she usually has a pretty limited time to do this bc she's like. a doctor and a college professor whos always busy. So I asked her to just. hold me to doing them. We don't start playing until the shot is done. so my needle fear doesn't matter because now it's Wasting™ her time and I have to do it quick. Using one neurosis to defeat another.

It's a horrible coping mechanism because it's feeding the inconvenience fear, but it is definitionally a coping mechanism.

[margindoodles2407]

SNOWBALL

----

“And Omega.”

Mayday lifts his head from the 99’s shoulder. His pale face has taken a sudden pain and yearning, and Mayday wonders if he’ll crumble to tears.

Crosshair doesn’t continue, like he did for the previous names. Instead, he sews his lips, discolored purple with the cold, into a thin, trembling line.

Grunting, the older clone tries to push himself further upright against the gritty surface of the rock at his back. Crosshair shifts with him, shaking arms coming to help.

He squeezes his wrist by way of thanks. “Omega? Like Omega Squad?”

The breath hitches, eyes squeezing shut, mouth twisting with such anguish it reminds Mayday of just how young this clone really is.

“No,” comes the broken answer, “Like my daughter.”

Well then. Kriff.

But that name, Omega; it’s a clone name, a designation, he’s certain of it. No nat-born, respectable or not, would use a designation for their offspring.

His question is preceded by a hacking cough, and something icy tells him whatever droplets flies out of his mouth and spatters the inside of his bucket isn’t merely spit. The slender arm curled around his shoulders shifts up to brace a firm hand on his nape, thumb kneading the neck of his blacks.

“Daughter,” he manages to wheeze nevertheless.

The sloping line is bittersweet, the warm glint in dark eyes like stars pin-pricking the void.

“Not my own, unfortunately,” he says, softer than anything Mayday has ever heard in his short life, “She’s a clone, a 99. We found her when she was only a tubie.”

Mayday feels his frozen skin stretch, the stinging pain unable to reason with the shock of this information. A female clone? But why? What purpose did the Kaminoans create her for?

A sudden, hoarse laugh bubbles out of him. “And you adopted her on sight?”

The line grows into a genuine grin, he even sees a sliver of clamped white teeth. “Don’t tell me you’ve looked at a cadet and haven’t wanted to do the same.”

Crosshair has him there. The vod’ike had an annoying tendency of being far too cute for their own good, all chubby-cheeked and curly-haired and big-brown-eyed. It’s one of the implicit reasons the decanting centers and nurseries are, or were, off limits.

Clones with medic training were the sole vode allowed to traverse those forbidden areas, and rumors galore had spread concerning them, especially when a brother returned with softer voice and kinder eyes and gentleness unknown. These traits had been all but hammered out of the clones by the Trainers and Kaminoans; to find it once more in a vod was disconcerting to say the least.

The one cadet Mayday had the pleasure of meeting happened to have fallen out of the vents, smack in the middle of their barracks, taken one look at the astonished and fully kitted clones playing sabacc, then burst into tears right there on the durasteel floor. Five clone troopers, plus the Commander himself, had not been enough to calm him down.

(Now that he actually thinks about it, Mayday’s half certain they’d made it worse.)

Rill, their medic, had to be commed for. It was only after he’d appeared and taken matters into his own hands — literally; he’d scooped up the kihvod into his arms like a sack of rations — that the poor kid had finally calmed down. The cadet had even giggled when Veetch had handed him a smuggled pudding cup.

“Point taken,” huffs Mayday good-naturedly, the memory spreading a warmth throughout his torso.

He lets the comfortable silence stretch between them, lets the cold turbulent winds fill the air with snow. It’s with quite some concern he’s noted a while back that the vod’ika he’s huddled with wears no helmet of his own. When he’d try to insist he wear Mayday’s, he’d received a caustic refusal, too fierce and indignant to be convinced otherwise.

With this worry in mind, Mayday curls closer, slipping an arm around the kid’s back and pulling him close. Crosshair, to his credit, comes willingly, bows his head to rest against Mayday’s bucket, leans so their bodies are pressed against each other.

A thought comes to mind, just as Mayday tastes metal. He taps a nail lightly against the lip of the storm-grey cuirass, a brief chill travelling through his blacks.

“Tell me about her.” Crosshair’s eyes dart, keen as a jai’galaar’s where it pierces through his visor. “Tell me about your daughter, about…Omega.”

Those sharp eyes slide closed, a hissed inhale and exhale following soon after. Briefly, Mayday wonders if he’s injured, but he recognizes the pain strewn on the gaunt face to be the consequence of a wound deeper than flesh and bone.

In a low, haunted, aggrieved voice, Crosshair recounts the few, inadequate days he spent as father to a child dearer than all the stars. And Mayday finds something this vod’ika has lost, something the clones have fought for all their lives.

At last, he finds peace.

SO THAT'S WHERE THAT LINE'S FROM

I AM. THROTTLING YOU (lovingly)

AUGHHHHHHHHHH I AM NOT OKAY

[oneprompt]

hi! i was wondering if you could write a sanji x female reader where sanji gets jealous because zoro has a soft spot for y/n ? love your writing btw! :) <3

authors note: of course i can , dearest ! thank you for the praise , im glad you can enjoy my work <3 please enjoy ! + now that i review how i wrote this... it seems more poly ;;; but !! i still hope it’s okay ;;

Jealous! Sanji x F! Reader

The sound of your laughter was a sound that usually lifted Sanji off of his feet in delight. But not today, no. Not that your laugh didn’t sound as pretty as it always did, Sanji just hated why you were laughing. That damn mosshead...! Who did he think he was, looking at you all weird?

Sanji had picked up Zoro’s change of behaviour around you rather quick, and so did the rest of the crew. Well, mostly. Zoro would act all... kind and mushy around you. Usually, Zoro would shout at his teammates for getting hurt but whenever you did, he’d wrap his arms around you as softly as possible to protect you, rushing to Chopper to help you. And even on the ship deck, Zoro acted such a way. He’d share drinks with you and constantly chat with you, his tanned cheeks painted red as he listened to you talk.

Most of the crew found that behaviour to be adorable, seeing Zoro act so different was odd but sweet. Sanji on the other hand? Sanji hated it!

Sanji was one to fawn over every and any woman that crossed paths with him but when the Straw Hats invited you to join the crew, Sanji was overwhelmed with a sense of love that he had never felt before. You were sincerely enchanting! From your form that would often linger in his thoughts within the late night or your personality, every word that oozed from your beautiful lips making Sanji squeal out loud.

But you’d never catch on, now would you? Everyone knew of Sanji’s chivalry, he’d even act romantically with the most wicked of girls, women who would end up tearing him apart. Seeing Zoro be affectionate and kind probably seemed more genuine in your eyes, holding more weight in a comparison of a man who would flirt with any woman he met.

“Y/n-kwun!” Sanji had no hesitation to approach you, even as you sat with Zoro. The way you looked at Sanji drove him crazy, your beautiful eyes full of the kindest emotions! Alas, if only you looked at Sanji that way and only him.

“Hi, Sanji,” You smiled, lifting a hand to wave at the blonde. You were currently sun bathing in the beaming sun, leaving you in a bikini and bikini only. Seeing women in such clothing was nothing new, that’s how Nami liked to dress and Robin would dress that way sometimes too. But you? You were a sight to behold! One that could a man in just one look... You were a killer.

Sanji turned his head away, eyes juggling into hearts as blood seeped from his nose. “Oh, Y/n-kwun~! What a bikini!” He cooed, turning back to you as he wiped the blood away quick. Zoro gave Sanji a repulsed glare while you giggled softly, crossing your legs. What beautiful legs...! Such succulent flesh!

“Is-is it really that nice looking? I got it while shopping with Robin.. I was worried it wouldn’t suit me,” You smiled shyly, cheeks tingling as they went red. Gah! What a beautiful maiden!

Sanji clasped his hands together tight, leaning on his toes. “Y/n-kwun! Such a fair maiden...i adore herrr!” He beamed loudly, nearly shouting.

Zoro huffed and interrupted Sanji’s beautiful ‘scenery’, taking a firm step infront of you. He blocked you away from Sanji, for better or for worse. Zoro was never a fan of Sanji’s behaviour and like hell would he let the cook eat you up like a gourmet dish!

“Oi, might want to calm down there.” Zoro said bluntly, raising an irritated brow at Sanji. You couldn’t help but sit there in confusion, puzzled from the sudden change of atmosphere. What were they going on about?

“Eh? Oh, right! Because Y/n belongs to the shitty marimo,” Sanji took a deep inhale of his cigarette, throwing Zoro a mocking grin. “I cant help but love a woman like her~!” He giggled joyfully, breaking back into his love struck self.

Zoro nearly growled. He didn’t like how Sanji acted around you. Zoro knew how things would play out if you and Sanji instigated a genuine relationship. It’d lead to your despair against his behaviour. Zoro was more so worried then jealous about you dating Sanji. What if he hurt you or cheated on you?

“Um- you two don’t have to fight...” You spoke up quietly, now standing beside Zoro. Sanji looked at you, eyes pooling upon the sight of your body. And the face you were making... How cute...!

“Of course we aren’t fighting, Y/n-kwun!” Zoro shot a glare at the other man, huffing in annoyance.

“Right, we totally weren’t.” The swordsman voice was sewed with sarcasm lip by lip. “That dumbass cook is just being perverted but what’s new?”

You pursed your lips together in a sudden frown. Why couldn’t you two get along? You loved both Zoro and Sanji, couldn’t they just be friends? Oh, how thrilled you would be if they could be friends, giving you time to hang out with both of them at once.

“Can’t you two just get along for once? I especially hate seeing you both fight because of me... I love you both a lot, can’t we just settle down?” You smiled at the two men just to be met with two different reactions.

Sanji’s was full of joy, hearts beating from his eyes, almost acting as his pupils. His cheeks were bitten red, infected by the love bug. Zoro was flushed beyond comprehension, eyes wide as he looked at you.

What was their problems?

“Oh, Y/n-kwun! I love you too, my sweets!” Sanji suddenly hugged you tight, feeling his pale hand come in contact with your bare stomach, making his body tremble from his own happiness.

Zoro just stared before shaking his head. “I— gotta got...!” He coughed out before turning his head away from you, leaving red in the faced.

You finally pin pointed the matter at hand and went red yourself, paralleling the expressions of the two men. Oh goodness, they took that declaration of love out of context, didn’t they? You had only meant platonically...! Well- part of you meant romantically, having small personal yearnings and feelings for the two men but you didn’t mean to say such a thing....!

Now things would be far more complicated, now wouldn’t they..?

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

*

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs​

[local-ground-apple]

For inspiration I offer you: "biting becomes a problem" That's all I got I'm sorry ;-;

I’M ALIVE

so i did write sth. finally

@twstsweethearts as I promised after midnight, he’s here😌😌

warnings: biting

,,Mr. Schoenheit, could you perhaps refrain from sniffing my neck and stand still? That would make my job way easier”

You let out an exasperated sigh, as Vil shifted again. Crossing arms on his chest, you felt his violet eyes carefully scanning your figure. Hoping he wouldn’t move anymore, you began sewing the amount of additional fabric on the cuff of his trousers.

,,My, my, I could not, my little rat”

His sultry tone send a shiver down your spine, as cold, slender fingers entangled themselves in the locks of your hair, abruptly tugging it, raising you in the progress. You let out a surprised yelp, as pain spread through your skin. You lost your balance, but firm hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his toned chest.

,,Let…me go, you, you filthy vampire”

Your determined, yet faltering words didn’t cease to made Vil chuckle, as amusement washed over him. 

Weren’t you a cute little rat trying to fight him off? 

Your hands tried to pry him off of you, as you pushed with all your strength attempting to create any distance between you two.

,,Oh, filthy? My, my, since when did you get so, hmm, defiant? Weren’t my bites an absolute pleasure?”

Vil buried his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. His cold fingers brushed over the traces of his previous bite, making a shiver run down your spine. Your hands clutched the cuffs of his jacket. He gently tucked the loose strands of your hair behind your neck, giving you a gentle, soft smile, yet you weren’t deceived.

You knew what was about to happen.

Vil leaned down and licked your neck, teasingly and almost in playful matter as if he was preparing you for his fangs. His sharp teeth grazed over your skin, occasionally applying pressure, yet not piercing your skin.

Not yet.

A wave of pleasure involuntarily washed over you, when his hand gently traced a circles over your thigh, as if he was trying to soothe your sore muscles. 

Perhaps, Vil taught you to associate his bites with pleasure.

Yet, when you felt his nails piercing your skin, as his teeth lingered dangerously close to the previous bite, your vision suddenly became sharper. You desperately struggled in his hold, putting all your force in a futile attempt to distance yourself, yet you were only graced with a click of tongue in response. You could see the displeased look wash over Vil’s deadly pale face, yet his eyes glinting with thirst and bloodlust.

,,Since biting has became a problem! You…y-you absolutely cannot drink any more blood from me!”

,,Oh? And now you’re ordering me? Tsk, what a naughty human you are!”

Vil mused, now purely amused with the amount of fighting you were putting in. He even ignored how your hand equipped with needle and safety pin, which was practically stabbing him, your movement careful not to stain his tailored clothes he had been trying on.

Vil’s shoulders practically touched yours, as his breath tickled your cheek. He leaned closer, his warm tongue licking the trail of violet marks he had left previously.

,,Vil! Look at me! I-I can’t continue…this!”

With the remaining strength you had in your body, you exclaimed, putting every emotion into your voice. At the mere sound of desperation and despair, Vil pulled away slightly, his nose still practically touching yours. His cold fingers grabbed firmly your chin, lifting it up, as his violet eyes carefully scanned over your figure.

Perhaps you were right.

His regular biting became a problem, indeed.

Dark circles adorned your dull and tired eyes, you lower back was killing you and your face was drained from any energy. With every ounce of blood you had lost, you felt as if your vitality was slowly drifting away. Constant headaches and tiredness were killing you, as you were simply too exhausted to continue with your work. At this point you were sure that Vil had given you an anaemia.

,,My, my, little rat~ It seems that I may have gotten a bit overboard”

Vil cooed in almost sympathetic yet mocking tone, as if you were a child. One of his hands left your chin and gently patted your head, as he gave you a gentle smile.

Your eyes widen in surprise, as your lips parted in pure shock. You were stunned. You’ve never expected that Mr. Schoenheit would agree with you on this matter, yet alone admit his mistake. Hope glinted in your eyes, as you expected him to end this bizarre relationship you had been having and stop taking any amount of blood from you.

Perhaps he wasn’t as callous as you had thought.

Oh, how wrong you were.

,,But don’t worry my lovely rat. I always take care good care of my favourite meals!”

His cheerful yet sultry tone made you struggle in his grip even harder than before. Vil let out an amused chuckle at your attempts, as dread washed over your face. His fingers roughly titled your head to one side, giving him a better access to your neck.

Perhaps you were just a meal then.

,,I hope you don’t mind me roughing you up one more time, darling”

Vil leaned down to plunge his sharp teeth into your skin, earning a small yelp, drawing blood, as you were too exhausted to fight him. Vil pulled away almost immediately, right after he had pierced your skin. His lips adorned in crimson liquid parted in displeasure. He frowned, as a wave of disgust washed over him.

,,What the bloody hell is this?”

His curt question made you turn your head to him.

,,I have anaemia”

You responded weakly, shrugging. Vil clicked his tongue in displeasure, as he leaned again to sniff your neck.

You smelled as divine as always, yet the quality of your blood decreased tremendously. His warm tongue run over your skin, licking any traces of the crimson adorning your neck.

,,Your blood isn’t pleasant to drink anymore…”

Vil started, his voice stopping mid-way, as his hand stroked his cheek. He was clearly engrossed in thoughts how to turn you into delicious meal once again, yet a bright smile that crept on your rosy lips, lightening up your face, made his turn attention solely to you again.

,,Don’t get too excited little rat. It may not be as divine as earlier, but it’s still drinkeable”

Your smile faltered rapidly at the mere sound of his words. A grin crept on Vil’s lips as he leaned in again, too close to your face to your liking. His lips ghosted over yours in teasing matter.

,,You can’t have this running in your body. I’m setting up a doctor’s appointment for you”

Vil pulled away abruptly, making you almost fall down from the lack of support his firm arms were giving you. He took the phone from his pocket, dialling a number, not even bothering to listen to your protests.

,,What the bloody hell is this?”

Your tired voice didn’t even have the power at the mere sight of a vampire standing before your door. You tried to slam them before his face, yet Vil was quicker than you and his foot blocked your attempt.

,,My, my. That’s not a proper way to greet your saviour. Weren’t I kind enough to take care of your unconscious form?”

Vil said in pretentious manner, dramatically flipping his hair, as his hand rested on his heart as if that organ could ever get hurt. You raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused, as your patience was rather thin today. You woke up with a headache and your body was drained out of every ounce of energy after his last feeding. Your hand rested on your hip, as you impatiently tapped your feet.

,,I was unconscious because of you. The least you could do was take care of me, you, you filthy blood suc-“

Your voice was cut in your throat, as you felt cold, slender fingers gripping it firmly, not choking you, yet serving as a warning. 

Vil clicked his tongue displeased, as he leaned closer. His blonde locks gently tickled your cheek, as his cold breathe sent a shiver down your spine. You felt a sudden wave of anxiety wash over your body, as your hands gripped his in futile manner to pry them off of you.

,,Now, now, I’m not here to get physical….unless you want me to, little rat”

Vil paused his sentence mid-way, leaning closer to your ear, softly whispering the rest, making your eyes widen in surprise and violently shake your head. A soft chuckle left his violet lips, as he playfully bit your earlobe, his sharp fangs lingering a little too long to your comfort.

,,Take those every day. I will know when you disobey me and trust me, little rat, you don’t want to find out the consequences”

You could swear Vil’s voice dropped an octave lower, as he slipped into your hand a pack of pills high in iron and another pack of vitamin D. You stared at them blankly, rather stunned from sudden proximity of Vil’s cold, dead body, as well as his quaint gift. You opened your lips to say anything, yet the persistent vampire pushed you inside your own house, swiftly locking the door.

The dread washed over your form after hearing a soft click of your lock, as you saw the key disappearing in the folds of his coat, knowing very well that your only way of escape has been cut out. You sighed in defence. Perhaps you were destined to die from blood lost.

Vil waltzed into your living room, as if it was his own, effortlessly dragging you with him. His nails dug into your skin, drawing blood. You hissed, desperately trying to wriggle your hand out of his iron, yet it was futile. You were pushed into a couch and your “fight or flight” instincts finally kicked in. You thrashed in his hold, trying to get up, thinking that Vil was going to drink more blood from you.

,,Relax, little rat. I’m not going to drink your disgusting blood, not until we purify it, of course”

His strong hands rested on your shoulders, pushing you down, so after a while you gave up and sat down without struggling. At the sound of his words, you trembled slightly.

Not until we purify it.

His sultry, yet determined tone echoed in your head. You nervously twiddled your thumb, your gaze fixated on the ground, avoiding the piercing, violet eyes which were concentrated solely on you. Vil towered over your form.  

,,I prepared a rather strict and detailed diet rich in iron and I will be personally checking whether you’re taking the medications. Oh, did I mention that you will be under doctor’s care?”

You blinked two times, trying to better comprehend what Vil had meant. His violet eyes were carefully scanning your form, as his heel tapped on the ground. You raised your head, finally looking at him. A wave of confusion and disgust was written all over your face.

,,Do you get this involved with all your meals?”

You bitterly asked, crossing your arms on your chest, eyeing his slender form. An amused chuckle slipped through Vil’s violet tinted lips, as his fingers surprisingly gently cupped your chin, bringing it closer to his face. His sharp teeth teasingly ghosted over your lips, making you attempt to lean backwards, yet his grip kept you in place. A soft smile adorned his face, as his eyes stared directly at you with a look you couldn’t really name.

,,Not at all. Consider yourself special, little rat! Not everyone has such divine blood. It’s only natural I do everything to preserve it”

[tears-and-lilies]

Chapter 9 – welcome

This chapter means a lot to me. I play it in my head whenever I have trouble falling asleep, of when I just feel bad. From the beginning I knew I would write it down one day.

Tag: @whumpfigure; @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi; @green-eyed-whumpster; @liliability

CW: blood mention, but really just a fluffy chapter

***

Glorien was sitting in a tub filled with lukewarm water. He must be somewhere in the palace where only staff was allowed. The walls and furniture looked simple, without extra decoration. The room was messy enough itself, it didn’t need any. There were layers of fabric, sewing supplies, costumes and wigs scattered everywhere around the room. A woman was looking for some outfit in the other side of the room, throwing even more stuff on the chairs and tables in the process. Two others were cleaning him.

He closed his eyes as one of them cleaned the wounds on his back. The other one scrubbed his upper legs particularly rough. He groaned.

‘I’m sorry, are we hurting you?’, she asked.

Glorien shook his head and pulled his eyes open. The woman looked worriedly back.

‘Are you sure?’

He nodded. It was nice to have a bath, he had felt so filthy from the streets and the dungeon and the blood. He wished he could sit here forever, even if it did hurt a bit.

Yet they were done too soon, helping him out of the tub before drying him and covering him in a towel. They then let him to a chair, having put away the dress that was hanging there first. Glorien pulled the towel closer around him.

‘Look what I found!’ The woman at the back of the room proudly held up an outfit.

‘It only took you this long.’

‘Aha! So we still have the outfits for the younger dancers!’, the woman who had spoken earlier said, ignoring the sneering comment of her colleague. ‘Are you dry, honey?’

Glorien nodded. It was getting cold under the towel. He stood still as they put on the clothing. It was a short chiton, fastened at the shoulder by pins. They fastened a thin black belt around his waist. It was a light garment, and Glorien still felt cold. He didn’t say anything though, and sat down again as one of them took some tools from a box and sat on the ground next to him.

‘I’m going to be careful, okay? It might hurt a little bit at first, but it gets better, I promise. Just sit back and relax.’ She poured some hot wax on his leg and pulled it off with a strip. He flinched.

Another of them took his hand. ‘Let me clip your nails, honey’, she said, and smiled at him. Her smile seemed so genuine, Glorien felt himself smile back at her softly.

‘You have a cute little beauty mark there’, she said and playfully touched the spot next to the left corner of his mouth.

‘Eh, thanks’, he murmured, suppressing the urge to touch the spot too.

It was pretty comfortable here, being cleaned. They waxed his legs, clipped his nails, smeared a crème on his back, combed his hair, and even gave his shoulders a massage. Finally he relaxed a little, allowing himself to lean comfortably back in the chair. He had missed this feeling so much. The loved their flowery scent, and the warm hands that touched him carefully.

He was surprized when he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He was crying a lot lately. This wasn’t like him. He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand.

‘What’s wrong?’, one of the women asked.

Glorien shook his head.

‘Are you hungry? Wait, take a cookie.’ She took a plate and held it in front of him. On the plate lay raisin cookies.

Glorien didn’t like raisins, but his stomach growled at the sight of food. Edible food, not the scraps they had fed him in the dungeon. Hesitantly, he grabbed one, looking at the woman to see if he was allowed. She smiled back, the same way she had smiled before. He took a small bite, and another one, and another one, savouring the taste of sugar. He felt like a child, but it didn’t matter right now. He enjoyed this.

The guard walked in, checking in on them. He blinked at the scene before him.

‘Why are you feeding him cookies? He’s supposed to be dead, and you’re feeding him cookies?’

The women looked at each other. Glorien quickly shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth, afraid the guard would take it away from him. It was an irrational thought, but he couldn’t be sure.

‘Sorry. We won’t do it again’, the woman with the kind voice said.

The guard snorted. ‘How long will it take?’

‘We’re almost done.’

He nodded and walked out of the room. As soon as he was gone, the woman took the plate again.

‘Want another one?’

***

When they were done, the kind-voiced woman led him through the hallways. The guard followed them from a distance.

The woman was carrying a laundry basket with bed sheets. Glorien kept glancing at it, trying to guess where he was going to be taken to next. He hoped they would leave him alone. The tension had mostly gone. Now he was just exhausted.

‘Don’t be so nervous, I’m taking you to your new bedroom. You can even choose your bed, how does that sound?’, she said, putting an arm over his shoulders.

Glorien didn’t understand. Choose his bed?

‘I’m sure you’ll like it. My name is Berta, by the way. I’m always happy to welcome new entertainers.’

They stopped before a double door. The woman – Berta – let him in first before she followed. Glorien curiously looked inside, but froze as eleven people looked back at him.

‘So! This is the dancer’s dorm room! You can come here to relax when you don’t have practice or shows’, Berta said.

The room was rather plain. Light shone through the three windows onto the white walls, where and there, paint was coming off. There were two rows of seven beds, parallel to each other. Some dancers were sitting on their beds, standing around, and one was sitting on a chair by a window. They were curious as to who this new dancer was.

‘There are three beds free. Which one do you want?’, Berta asked him.

Two of the three were close to the doors, next to each other in the row on Glorien’s right side. He shuffled towards the one at the end of the row.

Berta wasn’t too happy about his choice. ‘No, honey, I can’t let you sleep so separated from the rest of the group! Take the bed next to it then’, she said. ‘Who threw their stuff on the bed? Can that person put it elsewhere so the new boy can sleep on that bed?’

The girl sitting on the third bed in the row stood up and began cleaning up her stuff, when another one spoke.

‘He can have the bed next to me.’

Glorien turned his head towards the girl sitting by the window, but was taken aback by the grave expression on her face. Her dark eyes scanned his figure before they met his. He looked away.

‘That’s very nice of you, Aurora.’ Berta walked to the bed in question. It was two beds removed from the windows on the other side of the room, the other end of the same row. Glorien followed.

‘What’s his name? Where’s he from?’, someone asked.

Glorien stiffened. They didn’t know who he was yet.

‘Glorien, son of Darren, will take the pain so many have suffered. I hope, citizens of Koia, that this will be the retribution you were due!’

They didn’t have to know who he was. It was better if they didn’t. So he said nothing.

Berta smiled. ‘I think he’s tired. Honey, will you help making your bed?’

After the task was done, Berta picked up the empty laundry basket and walked towards the door. Glorien heard himself whine softly.

Don’t leave me here.

‘You can rest now. Tomorrow we’ll see you again after breakfast. I’m sure I can count on your colleagues to help you find the kitchen.’ She turned her head towards a blond guy. The guy nodded in response.

‘Of course, we’ll help him!’

‘That’s nice of you. Oh, one last thing: there will always be a guard outside. He’ll follow you wherever you go, until it’s not needed anymore. These are orders of the Emperor.’ Berta lost her smile for a moment, and sighed. ‘Anyway, good luck!’

And like that, he was left on his own in a foreign room, filled with strangers. He cringed at their curiosity. As fast as he could he went to bed and pulled the sheets over his head. He curled into a ball and pushed his eyelids close. He could hear the others talk. He wanted to be alone.

[draconivn]

012 | What Love Gave Us

Summary: It’s a date! Hatsuko tries to figure out what to give to Hideyoshi who always tries to give her everything.  Warnings: Fluff, may have hints of spoilers for his route a little. SFW Pairings: OC x Hideyoshi (IkeSen)  Author’s Note: This is a fic for @thatsmolart that I promised her. Sorry this got posted late!

Just… a bit more… I was lost in my own little world, my hands blindly reaching for my utensils with an instinct that seemed to know where everything was in its mess on my desk. Having colours would’ve made this a lot more interesting and more beautiful, but there was something so beautiful about art in its most rawest form on the hanging scroll in front of me. I had a couple of commissions for hanging scrolls on top of the sewing work I did, but it had been so long since I had been able to let go and draw whatever I felt like drawing.

I know that if I had dared to try attempting one of my commissions again, it just would’ve defeated the purpose of me having a day off.

But here, the art didn’t have to be perfect, yet without a single blemish or a stroke out of place, and it made it all the more beautiful when I raised it in the air to look at it better. Like this, the afternoon sun that poured in through my window danced across the page, making it look truly like a work of art. “Perfect,” I said with a smile, turning my gaze to the sun.

… And then I remembered.

“Oh no!” I was already making quick work of my brushes to clean them up. “Oh man, Hideyoshi’s going to kill me if I end up being late…” I let out an exasperated sigh, trying to put away everything. But it felt like someone was watching me. When I looked up, I saw the very man I had been hoping to meet today, his arms folded across his chest with a fond smile as he leaned against the door frame. I swore the sight of him was enough for my heart to make a funny skip and flutter like he always did.

“About time you noticed me,” he jokes, pushing away from the frame and coming over as I stood to greet him. “You need to be more on guard if I stood there for some time and you didn’t notice me.” His large hand rose up to rest on the top of my head as he started the hints of a lecture, his mothering tone starting to replace his velvet voice.

Without hesitation, my lips pursed into a pout and I tipped my head slightly so I could look up at him shyly from under his hand. “Hi, Hideyoshi.”

He blinks, almost like he’s taken aback before his expression softens, and his hand lowers to stroke through my hair. “Hi, Hatsuko.” 

Sometimes a lecture would launch itself before we had the chance to say hi to each other, so it seemed like our little cue, and of course, my little secret of getting away from one of his lectures. Something about doing this just made me happy even if it was a simple hello.

“You’re being cute again,” he murmurs, his hand drawing me in by the back of my head to his chest for an embrace against his strong chest. 

I’m sure I saw the flicker of pink on his chest before he had done so, like he was trying to hide that he was blushing. “I can’t help it,” I said against his chest, closing my eyes momentarily to inhale his scent. We stood like that for what seemed like moments, but he was the first one to break the embrace to pat my head once more.

“Ready to go?” he asks gently.

“Mhm!”

Hideyoshi kept me as close as he could whenever we had the chance. Ever since we told the other warlords about our relationship, somehow they turned into an army of overprotective brothers that Hideyoshi was before we became official and we hadn’t had much time together. One of them was always trying to occupy my time or his time until we only got to see each other after a couple of days, but I suppose that was the small trade-in sacrifice I had to take in exchange for having Hideyoshi to hold my heart.

Just like today, which would’ve been a full day off for the both of us to go into town, but because Nobunaga had things for Hideyoshi to do this morning, he promised to at least take me out on a date with me for the afternoon in town on top of some sort of surprise he had up his sleeve.

“Can’t you give me a hint of what the surprise is?”

He grins. “If I did, then I’d end up telling you what it is.”

It was busy for the late afternoon, with merchants working the stalls left and right. 

A faint glimmer of colour reflected with the sun, making me slow down in my steps and nearly dislodge our intertwined fingers. “Hm?” It was a pristine hair pin, like it was made of glass, yet colourful with yellow petals and two green leaves behind it. It wasn’t heavy at all, as I had only realized after that I had picked it up. 

“That’s a very fine hair pin, Lady Hatsuko,” the merchant called to us as he approached. His gaze seemed to do a little dance between Hideyoshi and I. You could say that we already knew him from the few times we passed his stall and Hideyoshi’s coin purse fought to open each time, but I had to stop him each time because I didn’t think I wanted the things there that much to buy. “They say that in other parts of the world, yellow is usually a colour of friendship, good news or well wishes, but this particular pin is special.”

“Hm? How?” Hideyoshi asked. The information would’ve probably been enough to discourage him from trying to pull out his coin purse at the fact that I so much as stopped to look at it, but a side glance was enough to tell me that he was curious about what made this hair pin so special.

“This flower in particular is the dahlia flower. It supposedly represents a commitment between two people, particularly marriage.” He cocks his head, as if waiting for a response from us, and he does seem to achieve it with my head looking away, a burn of my cheeks and Hideyoshi scratching the back of his head. The merchant could only chuckle. “Alternatively, it also represents beauty, elegance, and strength. But if it’s not quite the meaning you were aiming for, there are still more to browse through, my Lady.”

“Well…”

“We’ll take it.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “But Hideyoshi– We talked about this. You don’t have to buy me anything fancy.” This time, my protest fell on deaf ears as he handed over the money to the merchant and the object’s smooth texture left my palm for him to tuck it into my hair. 

“Remember what I said? One day I’m going to marry you, Hatsuko. I’m going to make sure the others accept me to be the man for you.” He spoke so gently, so tenderly to me that I had forgotten where we were, or the fact that the man had brought out a small mirror for me to see what Hideyoshi had done with my hair to put in the pin.

There’s no way I can be mad about it when he puts it that way. 

The colour on my cheeks lingered more than it should have, because it made the merchant beam with pride. “I think you made a wonderful choice, my Lord.”

“The pin or her?”

“Hideyoshi!” I don’t think I could handle this embarrassment that much longer with how he teased me, but we were soon left to wander around some more. He was always spoiling me, something that was completely separate from his mothering personality trait, so I wanted to give him something in return. My eyes were already scanning the parameter, hoping that he would stop to look at something that I could buy with the earnings from my commissions. 

We must’ve stopped by many shops, especially the ones where I found my eyes wandering to, and I had to mentally scold myself for it. No, brain, bad! No pretty things! Only gifts for Hideyoshi! 

“–you hungry?”

Hideyoshi’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me out to look up at him and blink. “Huh?”

“You spaced out there for a second. Are you okay?” Worry pulled his brows into a furrow, concern marring his expression as he leaned down to look at me. “Are you tired?”

“Huh? No, no, I’m okay. I was just… thinking.” Quick, brain, think of a lie! Something! 

But he didn’t push for a reason, leaning back yet seemingly unconvinced. After a moment, he pushed it off, and asked the question I barely heard a moment ago. “I was wondering if you were hungry. We stopped at a few places but you didn’t seem to want to eat anything from there.”

“Oh! Uhm…” I looked back at the town behind us. “We did walk quite a bit but I don’t think I have a huge appetite yet? Probably when we get to dinner, I probably will be.”

Relief seemed to cross his features. “Good. C’mon. We have to hurry then.”

“Hurry? Why?” My question landed on the ground in the wake of our steps without an answer, heading in the direction of the castle where we ended up at the stables. “Hideyoshi, are you going to tell me where we’re going yet, or what this surprise is?”

“Not a chance,” he chuckled, helping me onto the horse. His arms wrapped around me securely, hands also on the reins for the horse to start heading off to our surprise destination. His breath fanned against my cheek as he kept me close, his sturdy chest at my back to support me and not once did I have to think about the possibility of falling off. “If you want, you can get some rest until we get there.”

My head craned to look at him. “And miss this view of you?”

The glow of the sunset danced upon his skin, blending his eyes and hair into different shades of sun-kissed gold. The tassels of his robes flapped slightly with the little gallops of the horse, taking us out of Azuchi and across the field. He grinned slyly at my remark, the different colours of light only making his expression all that more handsome. 

Watching him take the reins like this was almost like him taking the reins of our relationship, like he was leading and I followed, yet there were times that he still put me ahead of himself. That was what made me admire him all the more in our ride to our destination, showing him nothing but love in how I looked at him, how I curled up to him on the horse. But eventually, our ride was coming to an end, the horse slowing down its gallop to a gentle trot and Hideyoshi’s hand that was at my back suddenly came up over my eyes. “Wha–”

He chuckled, the sensation rumbling in his chest. “I need you to close your eyes until I tell you to.”

“Can you at least give me a warning first?”

“You would’ve looked if I told you we were there,” he teases. A gentle tug and the horse stops. “I’m going to get off first, and then I’ll catch you.”

“Can I open my eyes at least for that?”

“Not a chance.” 

I had to follow along, waiting for the cue to slide off the horse until he caught me in his arms. The scent of him confirmed that I hadn’t just been taken off the horse by some random man in an odd switch, but it felt like we were definitely walking through a field. The grass wasn’t high, but it was slightly hilly and a number of steps just to get me there. When we came to a stop, his hands left mine. “Hideyoshi..?”

“Hold on a bit longer.”

I felt the wind breeze gently past us, playing with my hair in a gentle tousle, but it wasn’t enough to rouse it from the way the pin kept my hair in. I tried to pick up what he was doing, but the silent noise was hardly anything to hint at, with the exception of the smell of food starting to waft towards my senses. Wait a minute…

“Ready?” Hideyoshi’s voice reached my ears before I could draw my conclusions. “You can open your eyes now.”

When I did, I wasn’t prepared for the sight in front of me. We were on a hill, in the perfect spot to watch the sun slowly fall over the horizon in the distance, a small tree sheltering us from any possible harsh winds, but it was to support us at our backs where the wind was coming from. Beneath it, Hideyoshi had a blanket set up with bento boxes out and lids popped off to let the smell waft towards me. There were also spare blankets, possibly Hideyoshi thinking that we might get cold out here. 

It was beautiful.

I swore my cheeks hurt from how wide my smile had grown, and he reached out to offer me his hand so he could help me onto the blanket. 

“My lady.”

“What a gentleman.”

He smiled, kissing the back of my palm. “I hope you’re hungry. I had Masamune cook all of your favourites.” With his other hand, he gestured to the food that was bare and handed me a pair of chopsticks. 

“I hope he also cooked some of your favourites too.” Cooking wasn’t our strong suit like it was for the one-eyed warlord, but we still enjoyed the times we would cook together and eat together. “Oh! Hideyoshi, isn’t this your favourite too?” I picked up a piece and offered it to him, though it seemed to stun him and flinch his head back slightly. “Is something wrong?”

It took him a moment to recover, like the shock just needed a moment to go away. “Are you going to feed me, Hatsuko?”

He caught me red-handed. Biting my lower lip, I started to retract my hand, but he gently caught my hand so he could lean forward to take the bite I offered him. “We’re not exactly in public, but it’s embarrassing when you do that.”

“Says the one who started it.” He still manages to tease me with a grin, chewing that bite and swallowing it in time to quip back at me. He didn’t seem to let it go as we ate, each of us poking to give a bite to one another every now and then. 

We talked and ate until our stomachs were filled, cleaning up and setting aside everything so we could cuddle and lean back against the tree. The sun had long since set, the moon hanging over us in the night sky with not a single cloud in the air. I was between his legs, my back against his chest as he held me tenderly, our eyes watching the sight of the sky in front of us. In the future of Japan, a sight like this would’ve never been possible with all of the buildings that stopped us from taking in this sight. Here, Sengoku Japan fought to expand its land, while the modern day fought to expand upwards. But I wouldn’t trade it to be away from the man I loved.

“Hatsuko?”

“Mhm...?” My answer was lazy with a gentle hum.

“When you were spacing out earlier, you were trying to figure out what to get me, weren’t you?”

I froze.

He chuckled. “You don’t have to buy me anything. I’m more than happy having you in my life.”

I turned my head to look at him. “You always spoil me, but I can never give you anything in return. I came here with barely anything, and you gave me everything. When I had the chance, I just wanted to be able to repay you for everything you give to me.”

“I still have that kimono you gave me.”

“And I still have the kimono, obi and hair pin you gave me.”

My points didn’t seem to get across to him as he chuckled, one of his hands coming up to trace the hair pin that was now in my hair. “You give me more than you think, Hatsuko. Even with these issues people keep saying I have, you still continue to show me love. You still love me for who I am – unconditionally, too – and haven’t let that step in the way of our relationship. You give me reason to make sure I come home and have a reason to look forward to the end of the day. I still want to have those with you, and that is more than what I have ever been able to give you. My gifts won’t be able to amount to that, so I give you everything that I have. Even my promise to marry you one day. If you want to give me something, then I’ll take all the love you give me, and I promise to return it tenfold because every day you love me, you save me from myself.”

His response left me speechless, the way he spoke with such love and passion that I couldn’t find the words to say. I wanted him to be able to learn his true value, to learn how he means so much more than he thinks of himself. And it was reaching him.

“I love you, Hideyoshi,” I whispered.

“I love you, Hatsuko,” he murmured. His hand slid from my hair to my cheek, and guided me up to him, his lips sealing over mine.

It wasn’t one of those playful kisses or one of those kisses where we greeted each other, but just pure love and joy as just a few of the emotions we wanted to share with one another. Love made us whole despite any brokenness, and our love was unconditional. His forehead touched mine as he gently broke the kiss, thumb caressing my cheek as we looked into each other’s eyes. In the glimmer of our gazes, we caught a stream of light dance across our faces that we looked up.

Streams of stars raced each other across the night sky, colouring the darkness with its bright lights.

We looked at each other with a smile, our eyes closing briefly with our foreheads touching to make our silent wish. When we had finished, we settled back against one another, his arms holding me safely as we watched the shower of stars guide everyone’s dreams of joy and happiness across the land. 

Ours carried love.

[slothgiirl]

shadowplay part 12

It's dark by the time you arrive at the little cabin which is incredibly skewed towards glamping. There's trees flocking every side, and little fairy lights scattered around the porch. 

The sight is enough to make a romantic out of anyone. 

Miles wastes no time, running in, Zack on his heels, to throw himself into the first bedroom he likes, "I call the master!"

"Like hell your getting it," Zack yells, tackling Miles. 

"Should we tell them they're sharing a room," Breana asks, pouting as she takes a selfie in front of the doorway, tilting her head just right. 

Matt snorts, placing an arm around his girlfriend, and throwing the laziest peace sign up in her photos, "Let them have their fun." He smiles down at Breana with a fondness that speaks of years and years of being together. 

"I'm guessing you already know which room you want," you ask Breana whose clearly in charge here which doesn't surprise you at all. Alex doesn't own any pans at his flat and you highly doubt that Miles is any better. There's some hope that Zack isn't completely useless on his own, but then again, he's a single man in the music business. It's not a overly large hope. 

You knew enough rich men from work to know that they're usually helpless even if they're helpless in 10,000 pound suits. 

It evened out. 

"No," Breana says sweetly, having only eyes for Matt. "You take whichever room you want."

"I don't really care," you reply taking in the tastefully decorated living room. You run your hand over the sofa, noting the acrylic fabric, not yet matted down. Probably some Ikea adjacent sofa. It no longer cost an arm and a leg to have nice things, though the vintage technique would undoubtedly last longer. You'd been to many country estates, on last minitue alterations to know that. Hundred year old linens still in perfect forms. 

Estate sales were your best friend. 

"Well if you're sure," Breana replies, leveling her gaze with yours, "I'll take-," "We'll," Matts corrects. 

"We'll," Breana smiles, looking at Matt with the biggest smile on her face, "take the room with the patio."

"For the gram," you grin. 

"Gotta keep up with the algorithm." She'd already told you about her clothing brand, which was just another line of basics that you didn't really think anyone needed. Uniqlo was enough. And she'd shown you her instagram which was exactly what you imagined it too be, bright light californian influencer aesthetic, clearly influenced by minimalism which photographed very well. 

"Does that mean I should post more often than every couple of months," you tease, meeting Alex's heavy gaze, as he leans against a wall, boots still on. You could never wear shoes indoor, but you suppose it isn't your place so it doesn't matter. Your floral embroidered bag in his hand, along with his own bags. 

"Yes! We should work on your instagram while we're here," Breana offers, "there's so many cute pictures we could take."

Matt chuckles, "later."

"Later," she repeats, all heart eyed. 

You tilt your head, watching them. She was easily out of his league. And yet, here she was, actually in love with Matt, who you still couldn't puzzle out. If she was your girlfriend, you'd have pulled over at all her cute and dumb points of interest along the road. It was a road trip after all. A road trip with his girlfriend and friends, not just the lads. 

Alex tilts his head, motioning down the hallway. You can here Zack and Miles in some room fighting over what song to blast through the speakers, Miles upselling the virtues of some obscure 70s band. 

You follow Alex, half walking, half sliding along the wooden floor, artificial pine smell still in the air from when it had last been cleaned. The yeezy socks had been a gag gift from Sam for last christmas. "Isn't Arielle's wedding next month," you ask Alex, still thinking of the strung up fairy lights. 

"Why," he asks, opening the closed room. 

You switch the lights on, taking a second to play with the sliding switch. Definitely something you wanted when you finally bought a house. You'd finally made the appointment with a realtor for the week that you returned. You'd dragged your feet long enough. A thirty minute commute to work wasn't bad if you got a little garden out of it. A place to drink tea. 

"I was just thinking that she'd for sure have fairy lights. A pinterest wedding," you bit your lips, "you think pinterest sponsers influencers."

"How'd you figure she'd an influencer," Alex asks instead, putting the bags down and finally kicking his boots off as he sits down on the bed. 

You close the door, locking it for once because you didn't fancy Miles bursting in if you wanted to change. He was definitely shameless enough to not care, acting without thinking, without meaning any harm. "She had that effort effortless look," you shrug, "its basically a job to look that effortless."

Alex laughs, " 's true. But I don't really want to talk about her."

"Sorry."

"No," he says, leaning back on his hands, watching as you change into a pajama set. You'd have blushed if you hadn't changed in front of him loads of times before. Your mothers solution to body image issues, being a therapist and all, was to make you stand in front a a mirror and repeat 'I'm beautiful' before going to school every day. It had been stupid then, but clearly had worked. You didn't even mind the belly rolls you got when leaning over to pull your shorts on. "I just don't want to bother with the past anymore."

You nod, smiling over at him, "good to hear you move on."

Alex smiles back, red creeping up his cheeks. "I 'fink I've moved on a while ago actually. . .just crept up on me."

"That’s good," you tell him, looking down at the floor, wood like the rest of the cabin which was closer to a chateau. Rich people honestly. You try to shove down the hope ballooning in your chest at his words, as if you'd have any chance. His friends are here. And-you stop your train of thoughts right there, unwilling to go further like a coward. "Guess you can go out and be a proper rock star instead of being a sap at my flat."

"Oh," Alex grins with a smirk that's so fitting with his sleeked back hair and the 50s greaser aesthetic he was so fond of, "Don't lie, you like having me over."

"I like getting free take out," you counter with a grin of your own, laying down on the bed next to him. "And you do have great taste in music, but don't let it go to your head."

"Too late. My ego's the size of the hollywood sign."

You laugh, looking up at him. You really were glad you'd decided to come. "Is your horde of gel the mountain the signs on?"

"Never can win with you can I," Alex smiles, looking down at you, his eyes twinkling in the soft light, dark like a glass of top shelf scotch. Your heart fluttered in your chest, you couldn't maintain eye contact when he looked at you like that, your thoughts surging wildly, sending your pulse racing. It had been happening a lot more lately. 

You liked him. 

Too much. 

You couldn't help it. It was Alex. He was easy to like, easy to let into your life until you couldn't imagine your life without him there, smiling like a dork despite trying to look like John Travolta in Grease, carting a record player to your flat because music just wasn't the same without the scratches in old vinyl records. "Your words not mine." You swallow thickly. 

Alex strokes the side of your face gently, his touch setting your skin aflame, leaving you breathless. There's-there's no excuse. No friends to pretend for. No movie playing to cut the tension. You want desperately to pull away before your feelings are crushed. But you can't his gaze resting so earnestly on you, pinning you to the bed. 

"Can we talk," he finally utters, in that serious stilted way, as if Alex can only approach words from the side, never head on, never as comfortable as he was in writing. 

"Sure."

A knock on the door. 

Loud.

Harsh. 

Jolts you out of whatever trance you'd been in, letting you release a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, letting you look away from Alex. Zacks voice calls out from the hall, "we're going to order food!"

You force your voice to stay stead, unwilling to betray the rush of emotions coursing through you, blood rushing in your veins. Chest full of butterflies as you  answer, "don't tease me like that Zack, just let me know when the foods here." You should've used this as an out. But-it's Alex. That's the whole problem. You care for him, as a friend, as more. 

You'd never just leave him because you're feeling like being a coward. 

"Okay," Zack laughs, "just don't blame me if you hate everything we order."

"I'm sure the spiciest thing you've ever had was salt and pepper," you call back.

You listen to his steps disappear down the hall, eyes trained on the door. Heart beating like a sewing machine making it's way down the line of an inseam. You can't think, all flustered like this. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn to Alex. 

He takes your face in his hands, cupping your cheeks, his touch hot on your skin, his entire body leaning towards you the way sunflowers turn to face the sun, soaking in their rays. You're breathless. 

There's no wavier in his voice as Alex says, "I really like you. I think I might actually be in love with ya if I'm being honest. But right now, I just really wanna fuck you."

Cheeks burning red, you can't-your voice stops working. Brain short circuiting as you look at Alex. Desire pooling in your belly. You're a horny uni student all over again. Not trusting yourself to speak. His body hovering above yours, caging you against the bed. You want nothing more than to reach out and bring him flush against your body.

You don't trust yourself to speak.

When you don't respond, Alex, jaw clenching, adds, "if ya don't feel the same way just tell me tah fuck right off. But I can't-I can't lie next to yah and pretend it don't mean a thing to me."

"What a coincidence," you finally manage, smiling softly up at him, so close you could just reach up and kiss him, "I like you a lot as well." It's in the top ten dumbest things you've ever said in your life. And the most english thing, to keep a stiff upper lip when you're literally laying under the man you haven't been able to stop thinking about. 

"That's good," Alex notes, raising a brow. The little eager school boyish expression on his face making you giggle. 

He shuts you up promptly, smothering your laugh with a deep kiss, so unlike all the other times he's kissed you. None of the hovering and hesitance, none of the stiffness in your body, as you reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing his body against yours, savoring the feel of him. His toned muscles shifting as he shifts against you. 

It's hot and heavy, with a bruising intensity as Alex kisses you. You match him with the same passion, with all the pent up months of tension, of finally getting to show him how much you like him, how you've been thinking of him for weeks now. There's still sugar on his lips from the bubble tea you'd made him try, his tongue exploring your mouth as you moan into the kiss, fingers digging into his shoulders. 

Alex's chest against yours. 

His hand winding its way into your hair, keeping it out of your face as you kiss him. As you loose yourself in Alex. The entire world shrinking until it's just the two of you. And nothing else matters. His other hand running down your side. Fingertips brushing over the exposed skin above the waistband of your shorts, before shoving the fabric aside, his hand griping your side. 

You kiss his lips, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth, leaving you both gasping for air. Eyes glazed over, raging wildly with want. 

"I'm gonna fuck you love," Alex, whispers planting kisses down your neck, his fingers undoing the buttons of your shirt. "Show ya how crazy you've been driving me."

You nod, shakily, your gaze never leaving his, as your shirt falls back onto your shoulders, falls open.

Sam had been spot on, making you pack the nice parisian undergarments that had been at the back of your drawer abandoned. You'll have to buy her something really nice before you get back to the old smoke. 

Alex pulls his own shirt off. 

He shakes his head, smirking, "but you've got to say it love. Can't be the only one baring my soul here."

"You're baring more than your soul Alex," you tease, despite the hitch in your voice, revealing just how worked up you were feeling. But you indulge him, because you really want him. Your skin burning in anticipation of what comes next. "But right now I'm more interested in you fucking me."

Alex laughs, but there's no hiding the hoarseness in his voice. 

Then sits up on his legs, trailing kisses down your chest, down you belly as he works your shorts down your legs, you tilting your hips up so he can leave you bare, taking your nice lingere along with the shorts. It was a shame too. They really were nice, lacy and racy, worth the trouble of wearing. 

Your toes curl as Alex kisses the crook of your leg, your breath hitching as he prices open your legs, an easy move when you were all too willing to let him go down on you. 

Alex presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his hand grasping the skin, all the while his other hand, his fingers brushed over your clit, dipping into your folds, into the wetness. Your eyes fluttering shut, a whimper escaping from your lips. "I wanna hear you love," Alex whispers against your skin, mouth moving teasingly close to your center. "Let me hear you."

You can't stifle the cry as he runs his tongue through your folds, maddeningly slow, before sucking on your clit long enough for your brain to short circuit. He doesn't let up, flicking his tongue against you, your breathe short as you whimper at his ministrations. His fingers digging into your skin.

You clutch at the covers, bunching them up in your palms. 

Alex sucks at your clit, his hand brushing against your folds, before slipping a finger into your core, curling inside you. 

You're on fire, skin hot. Eyes squeezed shut as you're overwhelmed with sensations, Alex's mouth against your center, breath tickling the skin, driving you crazier. The same mouth you'd kissed only moments ago.  

He adds another finger, pumping his hand against your core, eliciting more whimpers and moans from your lips. The wetness in your core growing. The heat in your lower belly growing. 

You can't take it. "Alex," you whimper. Bitting your lower lip. There's no way you'll last longer than a couple of seconds. All edged out. 

"Come for me," he utters, as choked up as you feel, his fingers buried inside you as he shifts, pressing his lips against your collar bone, nipping the the skin. You let go, coming against his hand, and the feel of his skin against yours. 

You're consumed by bliss. Left gasping for breath. 

Boneless as Alex gets up, unbuttoning his tight dark jeans, but not before rifling through his wallet for a condom. 

You can't be bothered to pay him much attention. 

Knocks ring out against the door, loud and insistent. Knocks like light taps that don't stop, a fly in your ear. 

Miles. 

And sure enough, "foods here! Al and Als much better looking bird," he jokes stretching bird as long as the sounds will let him.   

You prop yourself up on an elbow, wreaking your brain for a response as Alex freezes, clad in a pair of boxers, condom in hand. Utterly useless. 

"Matt won't leave us any if we dally," Miles adds, laughter clear in his tone. 

"Actually," you try, not sounding nearly as disheveled as you feel, as you are, "I think the jet lags caught up to me."

"Oh is it like that is it," Miles calls back, voice full of glee, "well let me know if yah need me. Three is a part-eh after all," he crackles. 

You let out a breath in relief, glad to be left alone. Again. 

Really you should've just stayed in LA. Or London. 

You could've done this in either place, uninterrupted. 

"Just focus on me love," Alex cuts in, make short work of getting your shirt the rest of the way off, kissing the corner of your mouth, knowing how easily you could get lost in your thoughts, like him. 

All the easier to understand him. 

He unhooks your bra, hands massaging your tits, the brush of his fingers hardening the peaks of your breasts, as he pressed his lips hard against yours. You eagerly kissed him back, softer than before, still ridiculously satisfied from before, your hands loose as they curled around his neck, letting him shift you both, letting him settle his weight between your legs, finally full naked. His hips hard against yours. 

Your lips eager against his mouth, already yearning for another taste of him. Alex's hand threading through your hair, as he shifts, finding your core with his hard cock, entering you in one swift thrust. 

You cry out into his mouth, you hand gripping his back. Your fingers finding their way into his hair. Soft despite the amount of product. Had to be expensive. 

You hold him against you, loving finally having him the way you've refused to admit to yourself that you wanted. You've been wanting Alex for weeks now. All the parts of of. The man who got pissed drunk at a pub, the man who'd bring you take out and fold your blankets, the man who kissed you. 

He breaks the kiss, nuzzling his lips against the crook of your neck, inbetween moans, your name on his tongue, as he thrusts deeply into you, filling you up to the brim, as you clench around him. "Yah feel so good love," he groans, heady with passion. 

Alex's pace relentless, all pent up want, the frustration of spending nights curled up with you on settees and beds, never being able to do more than look. 

He fucks you, his teeth nipping the delicate skin at the base of your throat. 

You gasp for breath, moaning his name like a prayer on your lips, wondering how the bloody hell you had ended up here. How lucky you were to have ended up here. 

His hips against yours, his body flush against your's as his thrusts become erratic. 

Your fingers digging into the skin of his back, as he comes against you. You’re exhausted. Spent. A day traveling by plane. A drive that lasted the entire day, and now this. You-you're not sure where this leaves you, where you go from here. This isn't exactly a standard way of-this isn't friends to more or strangers hitting it off, but you don't care. You'll figure it out, along with Alex. 

Alex who slumps over on his side, lying next to you, looking completely fucked. 

"I ruined your hair," you smile, completely out of it yourself, unable to summon any bite. 

Alex laughs, unabashedly, his entire demeanor taking on a boyish air, "for once I don't give a damn." 

"Are you going to go get food," you ask, rolling over so you can rest your head on his chest. 

"Don't particularly want to move. Debating getting up for a smoke though."

"Cool," you reply, letting your lids slid shut, "I'm going to go to sleep then."

"I take it ya not hungry," Alex smirks. 

"There's always Mcdonald's. At 3 am." 

[wittystarkk]

The Last Five Years || Bucky Barnes || Part Six

author: wittystarkk

word count: 3.8k

relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader

chapter title: The Shmuel Song

A/N: Hello everyone! So - real quick. This is one of my all time favorite chapters of this fic. It’s cute and dumb and loving. I really hope that you enjoy it and I would love feedback! Thank you for reading. (-:

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Bucky’s head snapped up from his script the moment he heard (Y/N)’s keys in the door, the deadbolt sliding out of action. He stood from his seat on the lumpy, old red couch, throwing his script down onto the table. “Babe,” he greeted with a bright smile, watching her walk into the apartment. She looked pissed off. Her nose was flared and her eyes were narrowed, her shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion. The corners of his mouth pulled down in his best ‘yikes’ expression, looking her over from head to toe. “How was work?” He asked, though he knew the answer. 

“I hated it,” she declared in a voice that radiated the very anger he saw in her posture and on her face. “Stupid fucking bar.” She grumbled, walking around him and past the living room. She removed her jacket from her shoulders, throwing it on the couch just before she had cleared it. He bit his bottom lip, deciding to let her change out of her work clothes before he tried talking to her. He watched her discard her shoes by her side of the bed, his hand in his fist. She was storming around the apartment like she wanted to break something, or punch something at the very least. 

“You look very nice,” Bucky tried. She gave him a glare in response. 

She wrestled the belt out of her jeans and threw it on the floor beside the bed, huffing loudly. He watched her with raised eyebrows, wondering what her next move was going to be. “Did you get good tips at least?” He ventured, being met with a grunt. 

“Are you writing a book?” (Y/N) wondered, resting her hands on her hips. “Cause, if so. You should leave this chapter out.”

Bucky frowned, he hated when his girlfriend was snappily sarcastic with him. The two were at a standstill again. She returned to changing, and he was left standing there feeling kind of bad.

“Are you working on anything tonight?” He wondered, trying again to have a conversation with her. He knew when she got like this that it would be hard to pry her out of her angry mood. 

“Like what?” She asked.

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “Maybe that story you were writing the other night? Or that episode for that show you wanted to pitch? Maybe that scrap book your friend wanted?” He stopped offering ideas when she seemed more aggravated with him. She walked out of his line of sight and he was just about to follow after her when he heard something drop. She let out a scream of anger. Bucky bound towards the bedroom just as she was storming out of the bathroom, yanking a sweater on over her head. (Y/N) didn’t say a word to him, nearly bumping into him on her walk to the couch. She laid down on her side, facing the back of the couch. Bucky’s face fell as he watched his girlfriend tuck her arms against her chest, curling up against herself. He knew her working at the bar would end badly, and he hated that he was right. 

He crossed to the couch, leaning over to pick her legs up, moving them onto his own lap when he sat down. She grumbled something he couldn’t understand. “Don’t you have a thing sometime later this week? A pitch or something?”

“I’m not going,” her voice was half muffled by the couch and the sweater bunching up around her neck. 

Bucky’s brows furrowed, “why?”

“They’re not going to buy it,” she said, adjusting her legs on his lap, rolling over just enough to be able to look at him.

“Don’t say that,” he took a deep breath. “You know that it’s good, (Y/N). You’re just upset because you had a bad day at work.” Bucky began softly rubbing her leg, giving her calve a comforting squeeze. 

“I’m saying it because I suck.”

Bucky sighed heavily, squeezing her calve again. He lifted her leg, pressing a kiss just below her knee. “You don’t suck,” he reassured. He kissed her knee again, a smile on his lips. “Hey! I have a little surprise for you, in the form of a story.” 

“Baby, no, please.” 

“Come on,” he laughed, pushing her legs off of his lap to stand up.

“No, I’ve had such a shitty day,” (Y/N) whined, rolling over to her back. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching him sit down at her crafting table across the room from her. 

“I have been working on this for like, hours. So, you’re gonna sit up and listen to this for five minutes.” Bucky wrapped her measuring tape for fabrics around his neck, picking up a spindle of thread.

“You know,” (Y/N) cleared her throat. “You’re no writer or story teller, babe. You’re an actor. You remember that, right?” 

Bucky mockingly stuck his tongue out at his girlfriend, “I’ve learned a thing or two by being with you. Just. Give it a chance, okay?” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “do I have a choice?” 

He laughed happily, “no. But don’t worry! It’s a Christmas story.. Sort of. You like Christmas. It’s the tale of Shmuel, the tailor from Klimovich.” 

“Is Klimovich a real place?” She snarked.

“Silence from the audience, please. Thank you,” Bucky cleared his throat. He took a second to continue, deepening his voice a tad. “Every day Schmuel would work until a little past ten at night in his little tailor shop -”

“In Klimovich?” (Y/N) interrupted, liking the way the word sounded.

“Hey, this isn’t a kindergarten group reading, babe. Keep it down.” 

She smirked, mouthing the word ‘sorry’.

Bucky nodded his acceptance of her apology, continuing with his story. He turned a little in his chair, fiddling with the fabric (Y/N) had draped over the body form she had standing in front of the desk. 

“Hey, don’t touch my things!” 

He sighed, putting his fingers to his lips. “Shmuel would sew and mend, his fingers knobby and rough from constantly handling pins. He had spent forty-one years in his little shop, creating things few could imagine him possible. He was an expert at his craft, a master some would say. He was showered with praise from anyone who purchased one of his suits, or had him alter someone else’s. He never once received a single complaint. Everyone thought Shmuel, the little old tailor, had everything he had ever wanted. But there was one thing Shmuel missed.”

“Babe,” she whined, wanting the story to end before it really began. Bucky ignored her in favor of continuing the story he’d worked so hard to come up with. 

“It was closing time at his little shop, and Shmuel was feeling particularly down about his life. You know, because when you’re old you get upset about things a lot.”

“Sounds like you,” she teased. 

“‘If I only had time’, old Shmuel said to his empty shop. The lights were all off except for the one above his sewing table. ‘I would give up the suits, and sew a dress. The gorgeous dress I’ve been thinking about for decades. A dress so beautiful it would light a fire in the hearts of any girl from here to Minsk. But I have no more time left to sew. ’ Shmuel hung his head, tears in the old man's eyes. He felt sad and remorseful over not being able to sew his dress.”

She rolled her eyes, “Klimovich and Minsk? Where the hell did you come up with these places?” He glared at her as she shifted from her back to her other side, propping her head on the arm of the couch to watch him as he mimicked what she could only assume were Shmuel’s actions. 

“Stop talking,” he repeated. She sighed, motioning with her hand for him to continue. “Just then, the clock on the wall began glowing. Shmuel grabbed at his chest in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing!” Bucky leaned back against the chair, holding his hand over his heart like an old man being terrified. “The clock cried out to Shmuel, “wait, Shmuel. I have heard your words, and I am going to grant you time. Unlimited time.” 

Bucky stood from the chair, picking up an umbrella. He stretched on arm above his head and held the other out, the umbrella gripped tightly in his hand. “I’m a magical clock,” he supplied for her. 

“I got that.” She looked him over. “You know, I’ve never been more attracted to you?” 

Bucky smirked, “hush.” He took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “The clocks hands began reversing.” He did a spin, conveying the clocks actions. “And it called to Shmuel, ‘go! Sew Shmuel. Sew the dress that’s in your head!” 

He dropped the umbrella to the floor, returning to sit down on the chair. He hunched his shoulders forward a bit to present himself as an older man. “Shmuel, believing he was going mad, shook his head at the clock. ‘No’, Shmuel had said. ‘No, it’s not right. I’ve got to accept the little time I’ve got.’ Shmuel looked at the clock that was on his wrist, seeing that it was once again the exact time to leave the shop. “‘Oh, look.’ Shmuel said. ‘It’s time to go’. And so he stood and began packing his things, but the clock wasn’t ready to give up!” 

He stood again, back hunched. He began picking up a few items from the desk, placing them into a small box. (Y/N) groaned, holding her hand out. “Why do all of my things have to come into this?” She complained. “Use your own stuff if you wanna tell some damn story.” 

He ignored her, finishing his process of packing up. “Shmuel finished packing up, ‘really it’s time I leave,’ Shmuel said again to the shop. ‘Goodnight, old Klimovich.’ Shmuel called out, pulling his coat onto his frail shoulders. He was nearly ready to go when the clock cried out ‘wait! Not yet!”

Bucky bent to grab the umbrella again, standing up straight. “Pretty good right?” He asked (Y/N), winking at her as he put his arms in the position for the clock. 

She scoffed, “I’m riveted.” 

He blew her a kiss, straightening his arms out. “The clock spoke loudly to Shmuel, ‘Even though you may not be the wisest, or the richest, you certainly are the finest man we have in Klimovich. Listen to me, Shmuel. Make the first stitch of the dress, and you’ll see that you will get what I have promised.” 

He dropped his arms back to his side, hiding the umbrella behind his back as he hunched over again, going back into his role of Shmuel. “Shmuel gave a sigh and shook his head, ‘clock.’ Shmuel said, ‘it’s gotten so late. It’s fine. I’m happy. I’ve made peace with my life, clock. I’ve accepted that this is my fate.” 

Bucky once again took on the posture of the clock, “the clock was growing frustrated with Shmuel. It wanted to convince him immediately and was beginning to find his reluctance headache inducing. The clock spoke to him again, ‘Shmuel. Just make one stitch, and you will unlock all of the dreams you have let slip through your fingers.’” 

He hunched over once again, “Shmuel gave in, deciding he was dreaming. That he had fallen asleep at his desk and that he should just entertain this stupid clock dream. He grabbed his thread, and a bolt of velvet, and settled down to get to work.” Bucky sat down in his chair, pantomiming Shmuel gathering his things. “As Shmuel prepared to start working he stopped and turned to the clock saying, ‘I sure hope I took out my teeth before I fell asleep. God, Shmuel. Dreaming of talking clocks’. And he would shake his head, and then for some reason I figured that the clock and Shmuel would dance.”

She shook her head quickly, “there isn’t a chance in hell I’m dancing with you.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I figured.” He grumbled, getting back into character. “Anyway, so Shmuel put the thread in the needle, and he got ready to sew. And the moon was full and bright and it was lighting up the whole shop from the big windows in the front, and there were no stars, which I only note because I saw it all in my head and you need to too.”

“I couldn’t care less, baby. But. Continue, please.”

“Anyway. He began sewing the black velvet into this gorgeous gown that I’m sure women would fight each other for. And the clock was reversing rapidly, minutes rewinding the entire time Shmuel worked. You know, like VHS tapes? That was the clock. And Shmuel was so concentrated he couldn’t even bother looking back at the clock to see that it was real. That time really was going back.”

Bucky sounded a little breathless after rambling but continued nevertheless. “Shmuel cut pieces of lace and attached them to the dress, adding buttons and ribbons in the back to make that - that kind of - what the hell are those things called?”

“Corset?” She supplied and he gave her a big, thankful smile. 

“He added buttons and ribbons to create the corset in the back of the dress, and the entire time the world was continuing to wind back.” Bucky motioned for (Y/N) to sit up, which she did just out of curiosity for what he would do. He gave her a smile as he draped garland around her neck, smiling at his decorated girl. He grabbed bows from the desk that were meant for presents, attaching them to the garland. “I’m decorating you, like the dress.” Bucky explained, kissing her nose. She gave him an amused smile, going along with his weird antics.  

Bucky took a deep breath, delving back into his story. “Anyway. Every single thing Shmuel did to this dress was like it had been destined by God. And it was perfect. Every cut and stitch was made without a single error. Shmuel had never sewn something as effortlessly in his entire life. It was clear to him that this was meant to be. In a fit of amazement, Shmuel realized that time was turning back. He began crying and he shouted to the clock, ‘take me back! Take me back all forty-one years!” Bucky held his hands out in front of him as if he were begging with all of his might. She had to hand it to him, he was a decent actor.

“It went on and on in the small little shop on that silent little street in Klimovich. The clock reversing as Shmuel worked and sweat and cried over his gown. And of course, Shmuel took his time making sure that not a single swatch of fabric or inch of thread went to waste as he perfected his dress.” Bucky turned, removing a sheet from the wall that (Y/N) hadn’t even noticed before. “The sun began rising on that endless night, as Shmuel stretched his body. He was finally finished with this dress, this magnificent dress.” Bucky leant under the desk, plugging in a cord. The wall that had been previously covered with a sheet lit up. Strings of Christmas lights had been tacked up onto the wall in the most hodgepodge of way, and all (Y/N) could do was smile. 

Bucky removed the tape measure from around his neck, dropping it back to the desk. He smoothed his fingers through his hair, breathing in deeply. He could feel his mouth beginning to get a little dry. He reached his hands out to (Y/N), who took a moment before reluctantly giving in, allowing him to pull her up from the couch. He spun her a little before holding her close to him, swaying ever so slightly while he continued his tale. “Shmuel at last was finally happy, finally felt complete. He’d managed to sew 41 years worth of dreams into the seams of that dress. Dreams that Shmuel could feel were beginning to become real, just as the clock promised. He had done it. He’d finally accomplished the one thing he’d always held himself back from. He’d finally made it. His perfect, wonderful dress.”

Bucky kissed (Y/N) softly on the lips, rubbing his thumb over her cheek before letting her go. He motioned for her to sit on the bench before the bed, thankful that their studio apartment was small and practically completely open. She obediently did so, gripping onto the edge of the bench while he busied himself with the rest of his story. “This was the dress that he’d labored over for more hours than anyone would ever know, thanks to the clock of course. A dress that had been in his head since he was a boy. The dress was Shmuel’s true masterpiece. Anyone who looked at that dress would have fallen madly in love.” 

He winked at her, reaching beside the fireplace to produce another string of Christmas lights which he began wrapping around the body form. “And according to the papers this was the very dress that a young girl in Odessa wore on the day she got married to a young man named Shmuel.  A man who she vowed to love for the rest of her life.” Bucky shrugged, “I heard that it was a beautiful ceremony.” He plugged the end of the light strand into the wall, letting the body form light up. 

Bucky stood beside the body form with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling lovingly at (Y/N). She couldn’t help but return his smile, her eyes a little watery at the effort the love of her life had put into this work of fiction. “That was pretty good,” she acknowledged. “A little choppy, but it was fun.” She joked, smiling the entire time she’d spoken. 

“I’m not done yet,” Bucky informed her. “Many had hoped and dreamed and even prayed to any higher power to get out of their small town of Klimovich. Though, they never could seem to get away. Could never get their break, could never escape their home.” Bucky closed the distance between him and (Y/N), kneeling down in front of her. “You know? I think that if Shmuel had been a cute girl, he’d have looked a hell of a lot like you.”

(Y/N) gasped, eyes going wide. “I’m Shmuel?” 

Bucky nodded, laughing a bit. “Oh, yeah.”

(Y/N) glared at him, pointing at her own chest. “I’m not the girl from Odessa?” She asked, having assumed the entire time that Bucky would have been Shmuel. That this story would have ended with him saying that was just his way of telling her he loved her. She felt a tad embarrassed. 

“Maybe it’s because you’re afraid to go out on to a limb-ovich?” Bucky tried, pleased when (Y/N) laughed, her face losing the shock it had just held. “No?” He asked.

“No,” (Y/N) confirmed. 

He shook his hand dismissively. “Maybe it’s because your heart’s completely in it, but you know, maybe your brain just can’t follow through?” Bucky sighed, taking (Y/N)’s hand in his own. “But baby.. Shouldn’t I want the world to see the brilliant, and gorgeous girl that inspires me every single day?” 

(Y/N) bit on her lip, watching him carefully. She knew where he was headed and she was less than prepared. “Bucky,” she whispered, trying to stop the course of this conversation. 

“Don’t you think now’s a good time to be the ambitious freak you are, (Y/N)? C’mon. You can’t keep wiping ashtray’s at the bar. You can’t continue temping, baby. You’re so much better than that. You’re so talented it’s insane. Someone has to see that, acknowledge that. You know? Stop letting yourself get discouraged. Stop getting in your own beautiful little head and telling yourself you aren’t good enough. You’ve got to believe in yourself, babe. You know I do.” He brought her hand up to his lips, placing a kiss to the back of it. “C’mon,” he said, standing up with her. He lifted her by her hips, placing her onto her feet on the bench. “Say hello to (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), a big time novelist.” He held his arms out, mocking the cheers of a crowd. 

(Y/N) laughed, hiding her face in embarrassment. “Bucky,” she said in between laughs, finally giving in. She shook her head, arms stretching out to her sides. She stuck her tongue out at him before bowing to him, pretending to accept a bouquet of roses. Bucky clapped for her, shaking his head at her theatrics. “You’re a ham,” he declared, holding his hands out to her to help her down from the bench. 

When she was on her feet in front of him he pecked her nose. “Here,” he said, turning from her to grab something from atop the dresser to his left. (Y/N) sat back down on the bench, furrowing her brows as she accepted the package from him. She looked at him for permission before tearing the wrapping paper off, smiling down at the package of paper in her hands. “For your printer,” he supplied before she could ask him what it was for. “So you can print out your manuscript.. Though, now I guess you have to finish it.” He winked at her, producing another smaller package from the dresser, placing it atop the package of paper before getting on his knees again in front of her. “And there’s the ink,” he told her while she unwrapped it. 

“Bucky, this is so sweet, but I don’t think I can.” (Y/N) shook her head, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the lips. Bucky shrugged, taking the paper and ink from her lap. He set them beside her leg before reaching underneath the bench, pulling out a small box which he held up to her. 

“Take a breath, take a chance, and take your time baby.” Bucky offered her the box, which she gladly accepted. When the string was untied and the lid was removed she saw a brilliant gold watch situated atop a bed of decorative tissue papers. “You’ve got time baby. You just have to do it.” 

Bucky removed the watch from the box, holding it out to (Y/N). She held her wrist up, allowing Bucky to slip the watch on her and fasten it. He kissed her wrist, just above the watch, before resting his hands on her knees, looking up at her. ��Have I mentioned how lucky I am to be in love with you?”

~

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know!

Tags: @petlaufeyson​, @lovely-geek

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 7 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 7 of UNDONE, our Bitney lesbian AU. (For those of you that have read it before, YES we changed the title. The last one didn’t actually make sense out of context and was potentially triggering.) Anyway, here’s a link the previous chapters. This is a repost from AO3/RGF - once we’re caught up, new chapters will go up.

Summary: Bianca checks in with an old friend, Courtney gets a visit from her sister, and they both start to form a deeper connection.

TW: This story deals with themes of emotional abuse, and since that can be subtle, we’re going to keep a general TW on all of the chapters, even when it seems like it doesn’t apply.

***

Courtney holds Sammy right up to her face, babbling to him in baby talk while Bianca works on Marissa, one of the recurring day players. “Who’s a little monster? Who’s a little gremlin? Hideous little beast? Yes you are! Waaaagh!” She nuzzles his nose.

Bianca glances over, straightening out Marissa’s skirt. “You alright there, blondie?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Thought you might be having a stroke. Carry on.”

Courtney laughs, saying, “Your dogs are so ugly.”

“Courtney,” Marissa scolds. “That’s rude.”

“No, like, ugly-cute. She knows what I mean.”

“I do,” Bianca says. “Plus I plan to stick a bunch of pins in her ass later, so it all comes out in the wash.”

“Here’s a question,” Courtney announces. “How do you know when your friends, who are in a relationship with each other, are trying to invite you into a threesome, and when they are just kidding around?”

Bianca looks at Marissa. “Regretfully, you are done.”

“Regretfully?” Marissa asks.

“Yeah, now I have to be alone with her and her orgy discussion.” Bianca shakes her head.

“Ha! Good luck with that.” Marissa blows a kiss and leaves.

“I’m serious!” Courtney says. “Like, I sort of think that there needs to be an explicit invitation or else major misunderstandings can happen. Right? We shouldn’t be relying on unspoken signals here.”

“Is this a hypothetical situation, or a real situation?” Bianca asks.

Courtney smiles coyly, starting to slip out of her clothes. “Come on.”

“So...was it an explicit invite?” Bianca raises her eyebrows.

“No, but...I think it was an invite. At least, I’m pretty sure.”

“I take it that means you didn’t do it?” Bianca can’t help but feel slightly relieved.

“No,” Courtney says wistfully. “Because I had already planned on hooking up with this really sexy gogo dancer I met a few months ago. So, you know. My energy was pretty focused.”

“What is it with you and dancers?”

“Well,” Courtney thinks for a moment, then says, “They’re usually hot, limber, and eager to take direction.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup.” Courtney winks. “Although, actually, there was this moment on Saturday…This is kind of funny. So we’re in the dressing room, trying to make the most of her fifteen-minute break...”

“Classy.”

“Yeah, right? And like, I know we don’t have much time so - by the way, I got her off first, because I’m very generous like that.”

“The Mother Teresa of Lesbianism,” Bianca adds.

“Exactly,” Courtney laughs. “So I’ve got her by the hair and I’m giving her very explicit instructions. Because seconds are ticking down and it’s a real race to the finish line. Tell me if this is TMI-”

“It’s TMI-”

“Ha, anyway, she suddenly starts like, I dunno, kind of sassing me. Like, doing the opposite of what I’m telling her to do. Can you believe that?”

“The nerve.”

“I know! But the thing is, I kind of liked it. The whole sassy, oppositional...thing. Is that sick or what?” Courtney bites her lip, eyes glittering.

“Yeah, that’s pretty messed up. You should probably see a psychiatrist.”

Courtney smirks at her.

“In fact, I think...” Bianca holds her phone to her ear. “Hello, officer, I need to report a 51/50. Yes, my friend is definitely a danger to herself and others. She...brace yourself...enjoys being teased sexually. We obviously can’t have her roaming the streets like this-”

“Very funny. Are you done?” Courtney asks, giggling.

“Are you done?”

“No...”

“What else?” Bianca asks, throwing her hands up.

“Well...I’m still naked. You haven’t given me my wardrobe for the day,” Courtney says, fluttering her lashes.

“Oh. Right.” Bianca pulls her dress off the rack and hands it over sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Thank you!” Courtney coos, prancing over to the changing room.

***

Bianca emerges from the bathroom, hands twisted together, eyes hopeful and worried.

“I can’t look.”

Jared stands up from the bed and walks towards her.

“Do you want me to look?” he asks, touching her cheek.

“Please.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper.

She steps aside to let him into the bathroom, chewing on her lip and tugging on a lock of hair as he picks up the stick, brow furrowed, expression unreadable.

“Well?” She’s dying.

He doesn’t say anything. Simply chucks the test, box and all, into the trash, and strides back over to her, wrapping his arms around her as a sob catches in her throat. She wilts in his embrace, hands gripping his shirt.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, lifting her onto the bed as easily as a rag doll, holding her in his lap. As if sensing that something is wrong, the dogs race over to nip at his ankles. He shoos them away gently. “We can keep trying, babe,” he says, stroking her hair. “It hasn’t been that long-”

“Almost a year!” she cries, pulling her head away, tears streaking down her face. “It’s been almost a year. I don’t understand...it’s not supposed to be this hard.” She closes her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Right,” she whispers, breath catching in her throat.

He leans in and kisses her gently, brushing the tears away.

“It’s really not, babe.”

Bianca pulls back, opening her eyes and clearing her throat.

“Maybe we should see that specialist,” she says, “The one your mom recommended.”

“I thought you said-”

“I know what I said, but now it’s been almost a year, so. Maybe we should see her.”

“Sure. Whatever you want. I’ll ask my mom to get us in ASAP.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Jared wraps his arms around her again, pulling her close.

“Our kids are going to be so beautiful,” he whispers into her hair.

She buries her face in his chest, nodding.

***

“...so I’m trying to get the band back together, but I dunno, man,” Adore says, shaking her head.

“Remember the time that you guys got into a fight on stage and Raven literally stormed off mid-set?” Courtney begins to laugh.

“Oh god, what a fuckin’ shit show that was,” Adore agrees, burying her face in her hands as Courtney wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Awwww, it wasn’t that bad! Remember the end when you crowd surfed?” Courtney says, still laughing, tickling her in the side.

Bianca observes them giggling together, fork twirling in her pasta, a strange uneasiness in her gut. It’s like a twinge of jealousy - or, if she’s honest, more than a twinge - because they have something she knows she can’t. But at the same time, she knows that what she’s feeling is something she’s not entitled to. Why should she begrudge them their friendship, or whatever they have?

Why does the sight of Adore resting her head on Courtney’s shoulder make her want to throw up? She stabs a tomato violently, and Courtney’s head snaps up.

“B, are you okay?”

“Fine, thanks!” Bianca forces a smile, shoving the angel hair into her mouth.

***

JARED: My mom said that Dr. Silverman will see us for tests on Sat. Is that okay?

Bianca swallows, chest tightening. Is she really ready to do this? Shell out thousands of dollars to have some specialist either tell her the exact same thing that her doctors already have, or worse, find out that something is actually really wrong?

BIANCA: Yeah, that’s fine.

JARED: Everything’s gonna be great. I love you.

BIANCA: Love you too.

“Bianca?”

She whirls around at the light tap on her shoulder to find Courtney, messenger bag around her shoulder, today’s wardrobe in her hands.

“Holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me.”

“Sorry. I just, um, needed to give this back to you.”

“Jamie is doing the checkouts today, Court. Someone should have told you-”

“Yeah, I know,” Courtney says, “But I just...um, you seemed a little off earlier, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“I told you I was fine. You can give your dress to Jamie.”

Bianca starts walking over to her sewing table.

“Okay. I just want you to know that you can tell me if anything is-”

“I said I’m fine! Jesus fucking Christ!” Bianca explodes.

Courtney looks startled for a second, then nods.

“Sorry.” She starts to back away.

Bianca is immediately overcome with guilt. She can feel her cheeks burn and her eyes sting with tears.

“Wait.”

Courtney stops, head tilted as Bianca’s eyes fall closed with exhaustion and shame.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You were just being a friend, and I-”

“No, it’s okay,” Courtney says. “I didn’t mean to push.”

Bianca swallows, taking a deep breath.

“I’m kind of going through a thing. It’s...I don’t really know how to talk about it. Especially here.”

“You’re not dying, are you?” Courtney eyes are full of fear.

“No,” Bianca laughs. “I’m not dying.”

Courtney smiles, relieved.

“Alright. Good. ‘Cause I’m pretty used to your face.”

“Well, that’s your loss,” Bianca replies.

Courtney giggles.

“Anyway, I’m sorry for being a cunt.”

“I’m not that fragile, B. I just...wanted you to know that you can talk to me. If you want. No pressure.” Courtney bites her lip, hugging the dress to her chest.

“Thanks.” Bianca sighs slightly. “Want me to take that for you?”

“Oh, um...sure. But I can take it to Jamie if you-”

“No, that’s fine.” Bianca walks forward and takes the dress out of her hands.

Up close, Courtney can see how tired her eyes look. She throws caution to the wind and lightly clasps both of her hands around one of Bianca’s, gazing up at her. She resists the urge to say something trite and Zen.

“Goodnight, B.”

“Goodnight.” Bianca releases her hand, regret filling her chest as she watches her leave, waiting until the door of the trailer closes gently behind her to let out the breath she’d been holding in. She’s glad the blonde hadn’t tried to hug her - who knows if she’d have been able to hold it together. She brushes away the single annoying tear that had just begun to trickle down her cheek and blinks rapidly, looking down to assess the status of her work for the rest of the evening.

***

Bianca juggles the dry cleaning in one arm, groceries in the other, trying to unlock her car, as her phone begins to buzz in her pocket. “Fuck,” she mutters, quickly popping the trunk, the annoyed expression melting off her face when she sees the name on the caller ID. “Heyyyyy!” she answers happily.

“Hey girl! How’s it going in sunny California?” Latrice asks.

“Pretty good. God, I miss you…” Bianca closes her trunk.

“Aww, don’t get all sappy on me, bitch.” Latrice lets out a joyful laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. How are you? How’s Chris? Did he propose yet or do I have to come kick his ass?”

“Well, since you mentioned it…”

“Wait, really?!” Bianca squeals.

Latrice laughs. “I mean, not exactly, but he’s planning this big romantic weekend and he’s very stressed about it, and if it doesn’t include a ring, I’m prepared to tell him exactly what he can go fuck.”

Bianca throws her head back and laughs. “I’m sure he’ll rise to the occasion.”

“He better. And what about your man? Has he managed to knock you up yet?”

“No,” Bianca says simply, clearing her throat. She doesn’t have the energy to explain that they’re about to spend half their savings on a fertility specialist.

“Don’t stress out, B, it’ll happen.”

“I know.” Bianca closes her eyes.

“Really.”

“I know.”

“Hey...I have an idea. Let’s meet in Vegas for the weekend, before you get all pregnant and boring. Take a Monday or a Friday off or something.”

Bianca swallows. “I can’t. This new job is killing me. My boss is a work beast, she never stops. But she’s been so good to me; she’s even letting me design a few costumes myself.”

“That’s great! Sorry it’s so stressful though.”

“It’s not all bad. There are some...interesting people.” She gazes out the window, watching a young couple walk by, fingers laced together.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t make sense to elaborate. Her feelings are already confusing enough. How can she possibly explain?

“Well, alright then, Ms. Workaholic. I’ll just have to figure out some other way to lift your spirits.”

“That’s not your job,” Bianca says, smiling.

“I know, baby, but I love you. I wanna make sure those dimples never fade.”

“Now who’s being sappy?”

Latrice bursts out laughing, and the sound fills Bianca’s chest with warmth. She closes her eyes again, leaning her head against the back of the seat and sighing.

***

Bianca sits at her sewing machine while Courtney changes behind the curtain, then looks up when she emerges, tugging at the waist. “I think it’s a little loose.”

“Yeah, it’s a rental. Come here, I’ll take it in.”

Courtney nods and steps over to her, assuming a familiar position while Bianca pins the seams down.

“Well, it's Monday, and you haven't yet tortured me with details about your random sexual encounters. Slow weekend?" Bianca teases.

“My sister's visiting," Courtney says with a chuckle.

"Aww, sorry.”

“Yeah, it was awful; she made me take her to straight bars on Sunset, full of aggressive, scene-y douchebags." Courtney shudders. "I downloaded a bunch of pictures of this random LA Laker and started telling guys he was my boyfriend."

Bianca looks at her curiously.

“Why didn’t you just say you’re gay?”

“Men usually just see that as a challenge.”

Bianca laughs.

“Boys are so dumb.”

***

“Okay, so obviously you know Adore, and her whole department is very lesbian mafia,” Courtney tells Kim on their way to set Wednesday. “I think you’ll love the hair and makeup girls. Especially Delta. She’s a real cunt. She reminds me of Vanity.”

“She sounds divine!” Kim laughs.

“Totally. And the cast is great. I’ll make sure you get an intro to all the eligible bachelors. Actually, one of our ADs is pretty attractive too, although I’m not sure if he’s single.”

“Let’s not get too hung up on technicalities,” Kim says.

“Classy,” Courtney laughs. “So, I spend most of my down time hanging out in wardrobe, with Bianca. Omigod, she is so funny, I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s like that perfect combination of sarcastic and playful where she pretends to be nasty but actually she’s got this heart of gold, like I bet she’d give you her last nickel if you needed it. Plus she’s really type A and bossy and needs every little thing to be perfect and of course, it never is, and so it’s super easy to fluster her, which is adorable. And she has these hideous little chihuahuas that she carries around in a purse. They are like, so ugly they’re cute, you know?” Courtney turns her head to look at Kim, eyes glittering.

“Yeah…” Kim says slowly, an amused smile dancing on her lips.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Kim says. “I didn’t say anything. Those dogs sound great. Who else should I know about?”

“Um...Oh! There’s Pete in craft service. He’s everyone’s best friend…”

***

“Kimmyyyyyyy, I’m so glad you’re here!” Adore exclaims, kissing her cheek wetly before sliding onto the bench. “It’s great to finally spend some time with the pretty sister.”

“Hey!” Courtney pipes up indignantly. “Although wait, does that mean I’m the smart one?”

“I’m also the smart one,” Kim laughs.

“What am I then?”

“Lucky.”

“Ha!” Adore laughs, reaching over to give Kim a fist bump as Courtney crosses her arms and pretends to pout.

Bianca approaches the table, lunch in hand, and sits down in her usual spot across from Courtney, who suddenly perks right up.

“Kimmy, this is my friend Bianca.”

“Hi, Bianca,” Kim says, extending her hand and fluttering her lashes. “It’s lovely to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Courtney feels the color rise to her cheeks, suppressing the urge to kick her sister under the table.

“Likewise!” Bianca replies. “I hear you’re a giant cockblocker.”

Courtney bursts out laughing, tossing Bianca a grateful wink and then turning to Kim with a triumphant “I told you so” smirk. Kim rolls her eyes.

“Are you still whining about Saturday? You could totally have found someone if you really wanted to. There were other lesbians there.”

“No one my type,” Courtney says wistfully.

“You don’t have a type.”

“I do so!”

“Please. I’ve known you your whole life. You have two qualifications. Attractive, and breathing.”

Adore snickers into her plate.

“What about funny?” Courtney asks. “And smart!”

Kim laughs. “Sorry love, I’ve seen you let those slide too many times to make the list.”

“Wow, she is calling your shit right out!” Adore cackles.

“I think that last comment was a dig at you,” Bianca informs her.

“What do you mean?” Adore asks, adjusting her ‘¿COMO?’ hat. “I’m hilarious.”

Bianca rolls her eyes as Kim takes a pointed sip of her lemonade.

“You’re a cunt, Kimmy,” Courtney says.

“Maybe so, but I’m also correct.”

Bianca laughs, receiving a glare from Courtney, which quickly dissolves into a giggle.

“Maybe she’s trying to help you raise your standards,” Bianca offers.

“Exactly!” Kim says. “Thank you.”

“My standards are just fine.”

“Oh really? What about your little stalker friend?” Bianca challenges, causing a gaffaw of laughter from Adore.

“Excuse me! What happened to all your feminist ‘don’t blame the victim’ stuff, you hypocrite!” Courtney kicks Bianca gently under the table.

Bianca spreads her arms wide. “Hey, I’m just trying to help you on your journey of self-reflection.”

Courtney sticks her tongue out.

“Very mature.”

“Isn’t it?” Courtney asks, grinning.

“Eat your vegetables.”

Courtney picks up a carrot from her plate and takes a slow-motion, seductive bite, while Bianca shakes her head and pretends not to be amused.

***

“...and honestly, I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that Trump is an immoral, narcissistic, racist, sexist, dishonest, stupid asshole who has fucked over countless people and lied and swindled his way through life, or the fact that at least a third of the country openly acknowledges all of these things but then follows up with ‘but...I just don’t really like Hillary. So...I dunno.’ Like what the fucking fuck is wrong with people?” Courtney rants.

“Yeah, it’s a mess alright. Or, seems that way,” Kim agrees, standing up to help her clear the table.

“Yeah,” Courtney says, then sighs, rubbing her face. “Sorry for going off. I’m just starting to worry a bit.”

“It’s quite alright, I get it.”

After a few moments, Kim picks up her wine glass and begins to swirl it around.

“So…”

“Yeah?” Courtney can tell right away that her sister has a less-than-noble agenda. Mostly because she’s speaking, unprompted, but also because she’s got that look in her eye. That Kim look, where she’s up to No Good.

“I’m just wondering when you’re gonna admit how much you wanna bang your friend?”

“I already have, what do you mean? Although I think she’s dating this like, cute DJ, so we haven’t had sex in like a month or-”

“I’m not talking about Adore, you brainless cunt.”

Courtney stares at her for a second before rolling her eyes and continuing to clean up.

“Come on, Court, don’t act like you haven’t thought about it! It’s painfully obvious. She’s into you, too.”

“Kimmy, please stop. She’s not gay-”

“I thought ‘all sexuality is fluid-’”

“-And it wouldn’t matter if she was, because she’s married.”

“Pfffft,” Kim scoffs. “Minor complication.”

“Kim!”

“What?” Kim laughs. “I mean, seriously. Grow up. You clearly want each other. You were flirting up a storm. So who cares about some dumb husband? Just seduce her.”

Courtney takes a deep breath, determined not to let frustration with her sister’s capricious morals get the better of her.

“Flirting is one thing. That doesn’t hurt anyone. But that’s just...that’s all it is. It doesn’t mean anything-”

“Ha! That’s bullshit and you fucking know it.”

“Fine, a crush. But so what? It’ll pass. Okay? So stop it.” Courtney begins to load the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Alright, fine. But...hypothetically. What if she made the first move?”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“But what if it did?” Kim asks, her tone a playful sing-song.

Courtney turns back around, eyes narrowed.

“Well in that case, hypothetically, it would be different. I guess. But, that’s not going to happen. So...shut up.”

Kim laughs gleefully.

“Well then there’s your answer, love! You just gotta make her think it’s her idea. If anyone can do it, you can.”

Courtney heaves an enormous sigh, closing her eyes briefly.

“I don’t know why I even indulged you in this conversation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because unlike you, I don’t get off on manipulating people!”

Kim bursts out laughing.

“Since when?”

Courtney rubs her temples, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not making a value judgment, Kimmy, I’m just-”

“You know what, you may fleece everyone else with that phony Zen crap, but not me. I see you, I know you better than you know yourself, and you, my love, are one of the most cunning, manipulative people I’ve ever-”

“Go fuck yourself, Kim!” Courtney screeches, flouncing out of the kitchen.

“Namaste, Court!” Kim calls after her, still chuckling.

***

Courtney’s eyes flutter open to the feeling of fingertips trailing up and down her arms. She shivers and bolts upright, clutching her covers, face to face with Bianca, who smiles at her.

“What in the fuck…” Courtney begins, and Bianca laughs, brushing some hair off her face.

“You said it would be okay if I made the first move,” she replies with a wink.

Courtney blinks slowly, taking in the scene. Bianca kneels on the bed, wearing some corseted Frederick’s of Hollywood monstrosity, covered in ruffles and complete with garters and stockings and bows. This is obviously not reality.

“You need to go,” Courtney says firmly to this mirage. This figment of her imagination.

“Aw, why?” Bianca pouts, batting her lashes.

“Because you’re not real. This is not real.” Courtney waves her hand around.

Bianca crawls closer.

“You’re being a real spoilsport, Courtney,” she says with a naughty grin, sliding a hand up her stomach. “Come on...let’s just have a good time. Who’s it gonna hurt?” She presses her lips to Courtney’s throat, sucking gently. Courtney can feel the tug at her core, feel her resolve melting. Her hands move to Bianca’s waist. “That’s a good girl,” Bianca breathes into her skin.

Courtney shivers as Bianca’s hands inch higher, ignoring that nagging voice in the back of her mind, telling her that this is all a lie, just pretty pictures in her sleep. Soft, plush lips make their way up to her mouth, gently brushing against Courtney own lips until they part eagerly with a sigh. Soon their tongues are tangled together and Courtney is gone, the last of her will utterly evaporated as she arches up against Bianca’s warm, soft body, fingers gripping her back, coming up against the hard bones of her corset.

Bianca pulls away, sitting up to straddle Courtney teasingly, licking her lips.

“So...we’re on the same page, yes?” Bianca asks with a seductive tilt of her head.

“Yeah, we’re-” Courtney reaches up, trying to catch her breath. “But can we lose all this? It’s really way too much.” Courtney gestures to Bianca’s attire.

“Jared loves it,” Bianca says, toying with the ribbons hanging from her lingerie.

“I’m sure he does,” Courtney says, “But I really don’t need you wearing constricting undergarments. Or any undergarments.”

“I was trying to make it special,” Bianca says, thrusting out her lower lip.

Courtney rolls her eyes and tosses the brunette onto her back, pulling apart the hooks of her corset.

“I’m sure you were. You’re all about the romance tonight,” Courtney responds. “Now, come on. Naked time.” She unhooks the garters, ripping off the belt.

Bianca giggles, playing with a lock of Courtney’s hair.

“Wow, you’re so bossy. I better behave myself, huh?”

Courtney narrows her eyes, shaking her head as Bianca’s blue eyes dance with laughter. She quickly peels off her stockings and garters, tossing them aside, followed by her panties. Her eyes sweep hungrily up Bianca’s lush curves, finally free.

“Well, this isn’t quite fair,” Bianca whispers. “I mean, you’re still wearing-”

Courtney whips off her top in half a second, then bends down for a slow, deliberate kiss, cupping Bianca’s face and tangling her hands into her hair. She trails kisses down Bianca’s jaw, then back up to her ear.

Feeling the hands wandering down her back, Courtney murmurs, “Go ahead...take them off…”

Bianca pushes her panties down over her narrow hips, sliding them down her thighs, as far as she can reach. Courtney smiles, kicking them the rest of the way off and bearing down against her, eliciting a breathy moan as nails dig into her ass.

“Watch the nails!” Courtney laughs.

Bianca moans again, wrapping a leg around Courtney’s hips.

“Ohhh, god!” she pants, rolling her hips, head lolling backwards on the pillow.

Irritated, Courtney pulls her head up, suspicious, as Bianca’s performance continues unabated, clawing at her ass, writhing and moaning. Courtney sighs and rolls away, rubbing her eyes.

“Baby, where’d you go?” Bianca asks finally, reaching for her, breathless and wild-eyed.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Courtney states simply, staring at the ceiling.

Arms circle her waist as Bianca nuzzles her, rubbing a thigh against her tauntingly.

“Why not?”

“This isn’t you. You’re...this is all wrong.”

Bianca lets out a girlish giggle, licking her plump red lips.

“It’s your dream, honey.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s wrong. I want you, not a sex doll who looks like you.”

Bianca’s mouth twists into a smirk, blue eyes dancing with laughter.

“Oh really? Then what were you doing with Valentina?” she challenges, tongue poking into the side of her cheek.

“Shut up!” Courtney groans, pushing her away. She sits up, holding her head in her hands.

Bianca is silent for a while, then she speaks softly.

“You said that if I made the first move-”

“I said that I knew you wouldn’t make the first move! So none of this makes any sense, does it?!” Courtney turns to look at her.

“You also said that it was just a crush. That would pass. But...that was a lie, wasn’t it?” Bianca’s eyes hold hers in an unwavering gaze.

Courtney swallows. For a second she wishes that the coy porn star would come back. At least that girl didn’t turn her stomach inside out.

“Because…” Bianca continues softly, “it hasn’t gone away…”

“Right,” Courtney whispers.

“It’s not just a crush, is it?” Bianca asks.

Courtney shakes her head, not trusting her voice.

“And it’s not just about sex, either. Because if so...we’d probably have fucked already. Jared or not.”

“Probably,” Courtney agrees with a small chuckle.

“Come here,” Bianca says, and Courtney complies, allowing the other girl to pull her into a slow, tender kiss, sweet and soft and desperate. A kiss that makes Courtney lose her sense of time and space, until the next words out of Bianca’s mouth.

“But you can’t have me like that.”

“I know,” Courtney replies, her voice breaking as she pulls her head away.

Bianca takes her chin and cups it gently, looking into her eyes for a few moments, forcing her not to look away as her vision begins to blur.

“I’m sorry.”

Courtney wakes up with a sob, throat raw and horse, panting and covered in a cold sweat. It takes her a few moments to adjust to her surroundings. Same room, same bed, just a little bit colder, morning light a little harsher and less comforting than the golden lamplight than shone moments ago. And of course, she’s alone.

She sinks back into the pillows, a feeling of defeat washing over her body as her eyes fall closed again. Fuck.

[toloveawarlord]

The Art of Love and War (Ch.11)

You can find all my other works here!

Minori Ishida

1 Month Before the Incident

Day 1

                Nadia returned to her room with tears in her eyes. Her desire to stay in the safety of this castle had been overruled. It isn’t a surprise. Nobunaga might favor her more than anyone and allow her more freedom, but this was different. Nadia slid her hands through her perfect black hair at the back of her head, twisting it around her fists. An exasperated scream escaped, but like usual, no one responded. Everyone here is well acquainted with her temper. She pulled at her hair harder.

              “Nadia! Stop!” I jumped up to grab her wrists. That’s blood running down her neck! She must be putting too much pressure on her stitches. This is how she reacted. Harming herself to get what she wanted.

              Nadia shoved me away, knocking me over. “Shut up, Minori! You don’t understand!”

              No, I don’t. I didn’t lose my mother ten years ago in a tragic attack. Nadia has been through a lot and being the daughter of the most powerful warlord in Japan is not easy. “Please don’t hurt yourself,” I said, climbing to my feet again.

              Genuine tears spilled over this time, not the angry ones from before. This is what is really bothering her. “I’m scared, Minorin.” Her breath caught in her throat. “W-What if something worse happens this time?” She hugged her arms around herself.

              Comforting her is difficult. Since she hasn’t had a stable mother figure in the past years, she has trouble with her emotions. None of the men are really know how to deal with it. “I know, but you’ll be safe, remember? This time we’re prepared for any attacks.” My words seemed to be getting through to her.

              Nadia is not a fighter. She refused to even touch a blade, which I understand. I’m the same way. She wants to be a princess for as long as she can before she has to get married. Most underestimate her, though. She spent time in the kitchen, learning to cook some basic meals. She’s learned how sew a little. Small things that showed she did have skills.

              “Would you like me to fetch Ieyasu to check on your stitches. I think one or two has come apart,” I said, offering a warm smile. That’ll cheer her up. Any chance she has to see him always makes her happy. It’s quite adorable, to me.

              Her eyes lit up and she nodded. “Would you?” She gingerly touched the wound on her neck, pulling back bloody fingers. Her nose crinkled in disgust.

              “Of course, wait here just a moment,” I replied. Slipping out of the room, I roamed the hallways. No one was in the great hall anymore, meaning that the council had ended. It’s possible that he’s already returned home… Turning to return the direction in which I had come from, I jumped in fright. “Oh!”

              Mai laughed and tilted her head to the side. “Oops, I’m sorry Minori, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She had a bright smile on her face. Leaning her body to look around me, she asked, “Are you alone?” She’s the sweet twin, always trying to lend a hand where she can.

              I nodded my head. “Yes, actually, I’m trying to find Ieyasu. Nadia has ripped a few of her stitches,” I said with a sigh. She’s in pain, physically and mentally, and there is little I can do to help her. My father isn’t like Nobunaga. He doesn’t want me near any danger, no matter how strong those around me are.

              “Oooh,” Mai sang. She tapped her finger on her chin twice. “I believe that he and Hideyoshi went down to the archives. Come on, we can go together!” She linked her arm through mine, keeping in step beside me.

              Relieved, I exhaled a breath. “I wouldn’t have thought to check there.” It’s very nice of her to come along, but unnecessary. “I’m fairly sure I know the way.”

              Mai giggled and squeezed my arm tighter. “Yes, but it’s much more fun to have someone along with you, isn’t it?” She proceeded to talk about Nadia, about her injuries. An odd topic to choose. She had her own injuries. Stitches on her forehead. Hikaru had been worried about her. By the time she stopped talking, we had arrived at the archives. “Oh, look at that. I’ve talked all our time away!”

              The door still stood open. The archive room could use a lot of work. It’s messier than it should be. Hideyoshi had a scroll rolled open and both he and Ieyasu were looking at it. Hikaru was the first to notice us. “Mai!” He said her name with excitement, and the cleared his throat. “And Minori. What are you two doing here?” He’d crossed the room in an instant, eyes solely on Mai.

              “Well, I was just chatting with Minori while she came here. I should probably head back,” Mai turned on her heel. For a moment, a sly grin slipped on her lips. It disappeared as fast as it had appeared. It seemed to me like she had come here for his attention. That’s so cute! Does Mai have a crush on Hikaru?

              Hikaru had already started after her. “I’ll go with you,” he said, not giving another though to me. He’s devoted her to. We’ve all noticed it. Hideyoshi must be less than thrilled about it, since Mitsuhide and him fight regularly.

              “Did you need something, Minori?” Hideyoshi asked, bringing me out of my daze. The two of them were staring at me.

              Oh, right. “Nadia accidently pulled a few of her stitches loose,” I said. That’s why I’m here. I’d gotten distracted with Mai and Hikaru.

              “Already?” Ieyasu said. He wasn’t surprised. This isn’t the first time Nadia has reopened wounds due to her temper. He scanned the document one last time. “This will do. Have Mitsunari look over it and report back to me.” It took a moment for him to maneuver out of the mess.

              Ieyasu isn’t one to talk a lot. So, our journey back up to Nadia’s chamber was silent. His irritation showed. It’s a busy time, and now Nadia has caused an inconvenience. And it isn’t like he can say no. She’s Nobunaga’s daughter, and he’s our best doctor. Sliding the door open without knocking, he sighed. “Can you try not to rip these out this time?”

              Even though she was being chastised, Nadia smiled at the sight of him. “Yeah, I’ll try.” She took a hair pin and slid her long, black hair out of the way.

              “I’ll be back in the morning to see you off,” I said, smilingly warmly. Father is probably looking for me by now. It’s past time to return home. It’ll be strange without having Nadia here, especially in light of what has happened. I’m already worried for her safety but knowing that she had extra protection added a little comfort.

              Nadia scoffed with an eye roll. “Don’t remind me. I am not looking forward to this.” She means Iri. Nadia isn’t afraid to throw out insults to just about anyone, she’s never actually said it to Ieyasu. At least she hasn’t made that mistake. Rumors about the two fighting a lot circulated, but none of the adults had ever seen or heard it.

              “Don’t do anything too strenuous on this trip,” Ieyasu interrupted. He’d already completed the task of fixing the stitches.

              “You mean like ride a horse or get into a fight?” She threw out sarcastically. Sighing, she began to chew on her lip. “Can’t you tell him that I shouldn’t go?” This is the last attempt. She’d gone to Nobunaga herself and nothing had changed. If it were possible, he’d have given in to her already.  Since the death of her mother, Nobunaga gives her almost anything she asks for.

              Ieyasu stood and said, “You mean you don’t want to spend a few days with Iri?” He rarely made jokes around us, but it brought a smile to Nadia’s face.

              She laughed. “As appealing as that sounds, I would rather stay here. I don’t think she wants to go either.”

              That made him smile for a moment. “Iri does what is expected of her for the path she has chosen.” Iri had made the choice to learn the art of war, and she had done more than most to earn her spot among all the men. “And this is not the only a part of the plan Nobunaga is working on.” He’s being cryptic again.

              Nadia fell back on her futon, sighing dramatically. “It’s never that easy, is it?” She lifted her head to look at him again. “Thank you for fixing the stitches.”

              My heart smiled at her manners. Nadia can be stubborn, and impolite. I’m glad that she’s taking responsibility for making him come all the way back here so late in the night. Ieyasu left the two of us alone. “Goodnight, Nadia. Please try to rest. I’ll be here bright and early,” I said.

              Nadia yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “Goodnight, Minorin.” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. She pulled the cover up over her, the little mound shaking slightly in the floor.

              I should go, but… I strode over and sat beside her head. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?” Running my hand through the top of her hair, I hummed a lullaby that Mother has been teaching me. It puts my baby brother to sleep quickly. In the quiet of the room, I prayed that Nadia would remain safe on this trip and return to us quickly.

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

I swear that day 1 is about to be over! The story is only going to pick up in time jumps from here!

[quickwrites]

Papa Kitty: What’s A Crush?

Antok thought nothing of it when Keith let himself into his temporary quarters on the ship and sat on the floor behind him. The moment the kit’s back touched his, he started purring softly and felt the soft vibrations of Keith’s humming join him. Neither spoke as the large Galra continued to sew up a hole in a shirt, only the purrs and hum making any sound.

“Antok,” Keith said finally, feeling Antok’s purr pitch up in confirmation that he was listening. “How do you tell if... if you like someone and if they like you?”

Antok raising an eyebrow at the fabric in his hands and didn’t answer right away as he bit through the thread. “That depends what sort of like you mean, I suppose,” he said, holding up his shirt and using the movement to glance over his shoulder at Keith.

The young hybrid had his blade in hand, turning it carefully between his fingers and studying it with a pout. He was always curious why the kit had settled on his blade as a comfort object but he thought the knife was better than the stuffed toy he use to use as a small kit. At least the knife could be tucked out of sight and be used to defend himself.

“I’m guessing you don’t mean just finding someone’s company favorable,” Antok continued when Keith didn’t answer, feeling the humming pitch up slightly. “Why don’t you tell me how this someone makes you feel and maybe that’ll help narrow it down?”

Keith frowned at his knife, nuzzling back into the pillar of warmth from Antok’s body. “It’s... It’s actually two somebodies,” he said, swallowing. 

Antok purred out his question, waiting for Keith to continue without further comment. 

“The... The first someone... Whenever I see him my chest gets tight and my head feels light. It’s not a bad feeling but I feel... it feels awkward sometimes and I try to act normally but when he stands close my heart tries to jump out of my chest.”

“And how does he act,” Antok asked as he set aside his shirt and picked up his knife.

“Kind of... Kind of like you do,” Keith said slowly, his face going red. “He doesn’t say anything about me being weird and is just... he’s just nice and encouraging and gives me advise. That sort of thing.”

“So he treats you like a sibling,” Antok said, pinning down which “someone” Keith meant with ease and wondering if they would drop the pronoun game at this point. 

“I guess,” Keith muttered sagging slowly, all humming stopping as he sat in silence.

Antok pressed backwards a bit. “What about the other one?”

Keith breathed in deeply then let it out. “He... He gives me kind of the same feelings as the first but we also fight with each other sometimes and there’s times he’s really annoying but others where he’s really funny and he doesn’t object to me going into his personal space sometimes but he respects when I don’t want him in mine and he’s got this cute laugh and he seems to really pay attention to how Galra act and tried to learn and-”

“Breathe, Keith,” Antok said, smirking to himself adding the second someone’s name to his mental list. He waited as Keith took a few deep breaths before continuing. “It sounds like you have a crush on both these someones.”

Keith hesitated. “Is... is that okay?” he asked slowly. “To feel that way about two people at once?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Antok replied. “When I was around your age I had crushes on lots of people. I was surrounded by warriors I respected and looked up to and sometimes I felt a little more than just respect towards a few of them. It’s completely normal for young adults to feel that way.”

“What did you do about it,” Keith asked, his back shifting on Antok’s as he looked over his shoulder.

“Me? Nothing,” Antok replied. “All the people I had crushes on were too old and I was too young to be taken seriously but not so young that I was stupid enough to fly off on whims. But,” he added when he felt Keith start to wilt again, “if there had been someone who I felt that way about and treated me like their equal... Well, I wouldn’t have let the opportunity go to waste.”

“So... What would you have done,” Keith asked.

Antok paused, stilling his tongue for a moment as he reevaluated the situation at hand. If Keith had come to him saying that he had a crush on another Galra he could tell him exactly how to strengthen their bond until either a relationship bloomed or they found they were better off as comrades. But he wasn’t saying that. The “someones” were both human and Galra body language was mostly lost on them. Even the Alteans had troubles reading them at times and Coran had diplomatic experiences with the Empire before the Fall of Daibazaal. Telling Keith the wrong thing could create a problem and hurt all parties involved and he couldn’t stand to see Keith hurting again like when they had kept him in the dark about the surprise party.

“Keith,” he said finally, reaching behind him to pick up the smaller lifeform and setting him into his lap like he use to when Keith was younger. “What I would have done doesn’t matter. I can’t tell you what to do about all this because it isn’t the same.” He looked down at Keith’s confused pout. “Humans don’t bond like Galra do. Galra don’t talk about their feelings, we don’t need to. We know without saying a word how to tell someone to back off or to come closer. We can express without a sound our affection or despise for a person and another Galra would see it from a mile away. With a glance a bonded group can know exactly what needs to be done and make it happen.” He leaned down at touched his forehead against Keith’s cheek. “But humans can’t do that. Or at least they don’t do it as well. They need to talk, to discuss, to plan. It’s how they are wired. If you want to find out what you mean to them and for them to know what they mean to you,” he leaned back and smiled in a lopsided away, “well, you’re going to have to sit down with them and have a chat about it.”

Keith frowned at Antok then sighed heavily, burying his face into his elder’s chest and arm.

“I know, it’s a terrible fate you’ve been cursed with,” Antok said, his tone teasing as he nuzzled Keith’s hair and rubbed his back.

-----

Characters belong to Voltron Legendary Defenders

This was going to have a second part added to it but I feel like this is long enough right now so I’m going to just write the rest separate. I could not get to sleep this morning after work because this idea and  the second part kept floating around in my head but like always when I went to actually write it I could barely remember half the dialogue! Ugh, story of my life!

Ah well, I’ll probably write the second part tomorrow as my cat would not let me sleep this morning so I’m super tired. Keep an eye out for more of big brother Antok helping out silly teenagers with their emotions~

[sumisuchan]

Des Fleurs Pour Ma Femme Ch.2

Despite the bare hours of sleep, Yves still woke at eight to take Diana to the theater. With the covers up to her nose, she caught the sight of her wife standing in the bathroom mirror, combing back her snow-white hair and making her cloud of perfume. Diana lifted her chin as she spritzed beneath it and set the bottle with a polite clink back upon the marble surface. Before reddening her lips, she crinkled them, and turned her face to the side, leaning far forward to observe the skin next to her eye. Her index finger touched her eyelid a solid minute before she stepped back, squarely, standing in the mirror and sighing. Diana then applied her red and came out of the bathroom.

“Oh, Liebling,” she took a few steps closer. “You look exhausted. You didn’t sleep at all, did you, you little goose?” She used Yves’s cheek to blot her lipstick. “I don’t mind to take the subway if you want to rest.”

“Absolutely not—” Yves rose from the sheets immediately and began fixing the out-of-place front curls of her pompadour. “I said I would take you and that’s what I intend to do. I only need five minutes.”

“Five minutes? But we have fifteen before we have to go—”

Yves had already begun to dress, standing mostly nude upon casting her night gown to the floor, covered only by a pair of cute black panties. Her precise and picky fingers dove through her wardrobe of sunshine and removed a buttercup yellow dress that she tossed over her head, ruining her hair again. She smeared the print upon her cheek and marched to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Diana watched all the while, fingering her necklace of Pearls.

Yves emerged no more than two minutes later, looking presentable enough with a terrible bite against her neck and the ghost of a kiss upon her raw cheek.

Diana touched the imprint of her canines as she walked by. “Do you want breakfast before we go?”

“There’s no time. I’ll eat when I come home. Let’s go, Diva.”

“Why don’t we take a coffee on the way? No one will care if I’m a little late.”

“‘I vill care.’ Come along now.” She had already began walking down the hallway and to the garage.

“Don’t make fun of my accent! I’m doing my best!” Diana finally followed.

“I love your accent, Schatzi!” Yves had paused at the door and held it wide open as her wife clacked forward on her tall heels, but Diana stopped and pouted before the threshold, standing perfectly in place. “We’re leaving so early. I want to take a coffee and maybe a croissant, please.”

“Tu veux un croissant?”

“Oui, je veux prendre une croissant, et du café.”

“D’accord. Croissant is masculine, by the way.”

“I don’t care,” Diana finally crossed the doorway. “Let’s go.”

“Okay. On y va.”

Yves drove Diana to the coffee shop, through the slow-moving and crowded streets, and after several minutes of waiting in the car and watching as the apathetic blue numbers changed, Diana returned with two coffees in a small carboard tray and an obese brown paper bag, rolled up at the top. She got back into the car and set the clear plastic cups into the cup holders, and Yves immediately started the engine.

“You didn’t have to do that, Schatzi.”

“Do what, Leibling? Both of these are for me.”

Yves took her eyes off the road for just one moment to gently glare at her wife, who had already begun to drink her tan iced coffee. “Are you really going to drink it black? I thought you said it was too bitter.”

“It is. I was only kidding.”

“Well, darn. You got me, hahaha. Golly. What a trick.”

Diana began to laugh, but because her mouth occupied itself with the straw, she kept her joy confined to her body, and every part of her shook while her cheeks turned a little pink, but she did stop for a moment to say, “Yeah, I got you.” Even then, she kept expelling her mirth and leaned forward a bit, filling the car with her playful high notes.

Yves pinched her cheek, “You useless European.”

That only made the sound louder, and they headed toward the theater as Diana pinched off pieces of a croissant and put them into her wife’s mouth.

Upon arriving, Diana kissed Yves goodbye and clacked through the front doors, turning back to wave before entering. In response, Yves simply lifted her hand and drove away, heading directly back home to work on her queen’s dress.

From the car, she called her assistant Pauline.

She picked up after two rings.

“Bon matin, Madame Diamant—”

Yves cut her off with more French. “Pauline, I need your help today.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Are you working at home?”

“Yes. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m heading over right now. I’ll see you momentarily.”

“Thank you. Good bye.”

By the time Yves had pulled into her garage, she had already finished about three-fourths of her coffee and had fixed her pompadour in the short time she spent waiting at the red lights. From the driveway, she saw Pauline waiting at the front door with her big bag of supplies. Even the smallest edge of her purse stretched larger than her tiny waist and all of those possessions made her lean slightly.

Yves let her in immediately and both began walking towards the workroom the moment Pauline’s foot touched the perfect tile floors.

“We’re working on my wife’s dress for the opera she’s going to be in. It opens in two weeks and she’s playing The Queen of the Night. I want her to look fabulous.”

“That sounds excellent, Madame Diamant.” Pauline’s short blond hair bobbed as she attempted to keep up, occasionally breaking into a run. “Have you begun working on it?”

“I have. I might need you to go out and pick up silver flowers, along with a few other things, but I’ve completed my sketch.” Yves opened the door and both of them entered. The taller woman marched straight to the closet and pulled both its sides far apart and took out her mannequin.

Adjusted to stand at Diana’s height and width, it wore a black bodice of lace and glitter, but had yet to possess any skirts.

Yves looked at Pauline after setting it in the center of the room, and found her eyes wide.

“What?”

“Madame, are you alright? What happened to your neck?”

“Diana bit me last night because she’s a damned animal, but let’s focus.” She moved to the machine and the table it sat on and pulled a piece of paper from one of the drawers. Unfolding it, she handed it to her assistant, who released a little breath upon observing the sketch. Yves continued, “I haven’t drawn on the flowers yet, but after a lot of reflection I’ve decided that I want them to come up the skirt from the left and swerve to the right until they stop at the shoulder.” Her serious nail indicated the end of the dress’ right collarbone, and Yves continued, “I want her to have a powdered wig as well—nothing too heavy—and we could put the same type of flowers on there but I’d like them more evenly spaced, like polka dots.”  

“Oh, that sounds lovely.”

“I’ll need to send you to the store, Pauline. If you can’t find decent silver flowers, we’ll have to make them ourselves.” Yves sat herself at the sewing machine and, from one of the stand’s drawers, took a pair of spectacles and set them onto her face. “In fact, I’m sure you won’t be able to find flowers lovely enough. Please come back with two yards of silver chiffon and the receipt so I can reimburse you.”

“Yes, Madame. I’ll return as soon as I can.” Pauline removed an even smaller bag from her enormous sack of supplies and left immediately as Yves began working.

With her gold-rimmed glasses, she manipulated the pile of black, precise fingers securing each piece into place as the needle traced over her work and made it permanent. Every so often she pushed her spectacles back upon the bridge of her nose as one of her prints went for a button on the machine. Yves never took her eyes from the skirt; she merely worked as though she had four arms instead of two, and had nearly finished by the time Pauline returned.

Softly, the assistant knocked upon the door before entering, holding a small paper bag with elegant black words printed across it. She gasped a little when she caught the skirts beneath Yves’s needle and drew closer to take a better look at the frothy and fantastic mountain of fabric.

“Madame, that looks beautiful.”    

“Thank you, Pauline.” Yet again, the designer didn’t move her attention from her work. Those frenzied hands merely kept going. “Show me what you’ve picked out.”

Pauline pulled the chiffon from the bag and brought it to Yves, who finally moved her head to look at it. She adjusted her glasses and, with two of those strict fingers, touched the light, nearly transparent fabric that had a slight metallic sheen.

“Very good. Thank you, Pauline. I’m almost ready with the skirt, so if you could draft a few flowers for me, I would appreciate it. I was considering roses or camellias.”

“Yes, Madame. I’ll get started immediately.”

The assistant sat inside the stiff chair in the corner of the room and went to work with her sewing supplies. Her precise and floral print fabric scissors chewed up perfect cuts of chiffon while she shaped them into flowers and stitched the pieces together. All the while, Yves finished the Queen’s skirts and came to the mannequin to pin them to the bodice. Once properly affixed, she stole the entire garment, attached both halves and brought it back to the naked form in the middle of the room.

Pauline looked up from her camellia and widened her eyes at the gown. Even in the unkind light of the workroom, it sparkled with its flowing fabrics that gently kissed the floor. The light and airy skirts divided into several sections like the petals of a rose and the ensemble appeared almost as a calm wedding dress, but in black, of course.

Yves let out a long breath and placed her hands atop her twice-ruined pompadour. Feeling a few curls out of place from her recent sweat, she amended them and came to Pauline without sparing another moment.

“That looks nice, but I need the flowers to be smaller.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Pauline put the bloom aside and started anew, while Yves stole the scissors to briefly bend the silver chiffon to her will. “Madame Diamant, I think Diana will love the dress. It’s beautiful.”

“I appreciate that, Pauline. I intend on making it even more beautiful by the end of today. In fact—” She put the petals and the scissors down to lift the mannequin and hide it back in the closet. “Let’s just work on the flowers while you’re here today. I can attach them myself.”

“Of course, Ma’am. Whatever you like.”

That was precisely what they did. For hours, both of them sewed together petals they had made from chiffon and tossed them into a large cardboard box Yves took from the closet. The blooms accumulated like ripe camellias dropping from a rich tree and set almost entirely full after the six hours they worked together, including a few short coffee, food, and cigarette breaks.

Pauline left around four, nearly as disheveled as her bite-marked boss with her messy pompadour, who saw her assistant off by waving at her from the driveway.

Then Yves returned to her dungeon and pulled the dress from behind the two doors again, having only about an hour before Diana arrived. With her tired hands, sweat-fogged glasses, and vast basket of sharp silver pins, she went about attaching the loveliest camellias, beginning from the waist and branching out from there, like a path of close stars sitting in the milky way. The blossoms bunched together tightly at the waist and expanded, until more of that black space came between them the further each went, until one sat pinned directly upon the dress’ right shoulder and another would hover above Diana’s left foot. 

Yves stood back and regarded her work for only a moment, taking the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She only watched and remained for a few seconds until hiding the entire ensemble behind the closet doors again, as Diana would come home any second. Yves wrote a note that she fixed to the closet, reading, “Unfinished. Please don’t look,” and finally left her workroom to shower before Diana could find her caked in not only one day’s, but two days’ worth of sewing-hell sweat.                        

[seraphichan]

Haberdasher

Jean was having the worst day ever.

He woke up late. Stepped in dog shit on his jog. And, to top it all off, he tore the sleeve of his only suit on probably one of the most important days of his life.

He had a repair kit - which he dug out from under the sink in his bathroom - the only problem was he couldn’t sew worth a shit.

Why did he move so far away from his mom?

Jean sighed. Well sewing it up, even with his sub par skills, was better than walking around with a flapping sleeve the rest of the day. At least it would make his suit passable.

Or so he thought.

When he was done and went to check his work the sight that greeted him was horrific. He hadn't sewed straight and some of the stitches were so far apart that he was left with holes here and there up the length of the arm. It looked like he sewed it up with his foot while blindfolded.

He opened his phone and searched for something, anything that would get him out of this mess. He quickly found a store that sold suits and the like, and it was only a few blocks away from where he needed to be later that morning.

Score.

He gabbed his wallet and keys and ran for the bus.

+++++

He opened the door of the shop, a bell jingling above his head to signal his entry. It was still early, the shop hadn’t opened but a few minutes ago, so there wasn’t anyone there but him and the employee by the register.

Jean swiftly marched up to the counter. “I need a suit.”

The man - Levi, according to the nametag pinned to his shirt - glanced up from the book in his lap.

“Good thing you’re already wearing one, then,” he said pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“But I ruined it!” Jean said with an unflattering whine, lifting his arm and pointing at his sleeve.

“The fuck?” Levi asked, sneering at Jean’s not-so-handy work.

“Exactly. So I need a new suit. Stat.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Levi sighed. He closed his book with a snap, getting up from the stool he was seated on and coming around the counter.

Jean got a good look at him as he moved. Jet black hair with an undercut, bangs slicked back from his forehead, and behind the delicate frames of his glasses were eyes like storm clouds.

He was pretty cute, but also pretty-

“Short.”

“What?” Levi snapped, glaring up at him.

Shit he had said that out loud. Definitely not his day.

“Uh, short on time! I'm short on time so, um, if--”

Jean cut himself off with a squeak as Levi yanked at his arm and twisted it to get a better look at the suit.

He squinted at it and hummed. “I can fix it.”

“Wait, really?”

Levi nodded, pushed his glasses up again. “The tear’s along the seam so it’ll be easy. After I take out whatever the hell you did to it anyway.”

Jean smiled sheepishly and rolled the jacket off his shoulders, gave it to Levi.

“Thank you.”

Levi grunted. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing at some plush chairs that were placed around the shop.

Jean saw one nestled by the fitting rooms and sat in it. A mirror was close by so he turned to it and practiced smiling. He was pretty charming, if he did say so himself. And he did. But it never hurt to make sure.

Levi came back shortly - at which point Jean stopped looking into the mirror - with needle, thread, and some weird instrument Jean didn’t know the name of, but had seen his mom use before to cut and pick out thread. Levi started to do that to the uneven seam in Jean’s jacket, and it was quiet for a time before he spoke.

“You're fidgeting.”

Jean became aware of his fingers tapping haphazardly on his knees and promptly stilled his hands.

“Nervous?” Levi asked.

“Yeah.”

“Gonna propose to someone?”

Jean felt his face light up. “What? No!”

“You don't need to shout.”

“Sorry,” Jean said, clearing his throat.

Levi shrugged. “So, what is it then?”

“A secondary job interview. This’ll be the one that decides if I make it or not.”

“Oh? Where at?” Levi asked as he threaded the needle he brought and started to sew.

“Dot Smith Conglomerate.”

Levi snorted. “Two of my best customers.”

Jean perked up. “Any tips?”

“Those faces you were doing before in the mirror? Don't make them. You look like you need to take a shit.”

“Pretty sure that’s impossible,” Jean sighed. “I'm scared shit less.”

Levi huffed. It was probably a laugh if the way his lips twitched up briefly were any indication.

“Need to practice?”

“Huh?”

“Questions or anything. Need to practice?”

“Oh uh...it wouldn’t hurt I guess?”

“How do you want to improve yourself in the next year, and how will that improvement help elevate the quality and character of Dot Smith Conglomerate as a whole?”

“Uh…” Jean said, not really processing the question. He was too taken aback by how quickly Levi had fired it off.

“Really? That’s the answer you’re going with? ‘Uh’?”

Jean flushed. “No.” He furrowed his eyebrows in thought. “Any improvement I make to myself, large or small, will reflect well on Dot Smith, as the success of it’s employees are also the success of the company.”

“Not bad. A little stiff, but a decent answer all the same.” Levi stood. “All done.”

“Fast,” Jean marveled. He shrugged the jacket back on and bent his elbow to test the seam. It was perfect.

“Now let’s talk about your tie,” Levi said.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s ugly and doesn’t match.”

“I got this as a gift for graduating.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“...Three years.”

“Let’s add outdated to the list of what’s wrong with it,” he said as he walked toward a display, hand going to his chin as he scrutinized the selection. “Here.” He tossed one at Jean before going to the front of the store.

As he started to put it on Jean had to admit that it really outclassed the one he had.

“And these,” Levi added when he returned. He held cufflinks out in his palm towards Jean. “Nothing fancy, but it’ll pull everything together.”

“I-I, I couldn’t, I’m not, I,” Jean stammered, hands still fumbling with the tie.

Levi rolled his eyes and swatted Jean’s hands away, then he reached up and deftly tied the fabric around his neck. He didn’t even bother giving him the cufflinks, just picked up each of Jean’s arms and attached them himself. When he was done he took a step back, gave Jean an appraising eye.

“You look good.”

“T-thanks, um…”

Levi lifted an eyebrow.

“I still have some time. Do you mind asking me more questions?”

“I thought you were short on time.”

“Uh…”

This time the smile stayed a little longer. “What’s your name?”

“Jean.”

“Alright, Jean, let’s keep going.”

+++++

“How much do I owe you?” Jean asked after about half an hour. If there was one thing he was going to get right today, it was being punctual. Though he did feel more confident about the upcoming interview after the grueling questions Levi had grilled him with.

“No charge,” Levi answered.

“What? But--”

“Unless,” Levi cut him off, “you get the job. Either way, come back and tell me about it, yeah?”

“O-okay.”

“Good luck.”

+++++

“Levi!” Jean shouted as he reentered the shop a few hours later, his voice carrying over the bell that jingled above him.

“Oi, what did I tell you about shouting?”

Jean’s eyes roamed the store - only then noticing that the shop was much, much more full than it had been earlier - until they found Levi. He felt slightly embarrassed by his outburst, but that didn’t stop him from speeding over to him.

“Don’t run.”

“Sorry, but I got it, I got the job!”

“Congratu-oof.”

Jean collided with him, enveloping him in a tight hug. He had a half-baked idea of lifting Levi up and twirling him, like they were in some cheesy romance movie, but had a feeling that would not go well. Not to mention Levi felt a lot more solid than he looked and Jean probably couldn’t lift him anyway.

“Yeah yeah, we can celebrate or whatever later,” he said wriggling in Jean’s arms, “I have a customer.”

“Right.” Jean let go and glanced up at Levi’s customer apologetically. He seemed good humored about the interruption, so maybe Jean wouldn’t get in too much trouble. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

“Maybe a bit. Petra!” he called as he corrected the glasses on his nose from where Jean had knocked them askew.

“Yes?” a red haired woman answered, poking her head above a rack of dress shirts.

“Show the kid to the break room.”

+++++

“You're fidgeting again.”

Jean jumped at Levi’s voice, the leg he had been bouncing stilling as he turned to look behind him. Levi stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, tape measure draped around his shoulders.

“So it went well.”

“Yeah, the stuff they asked me wasn’t nearly as brutal as what you did.”

“I believe what you mean to say is ‘Thank you’.”

Jean snorted and smiled. “Oh and Mr. Smith said I looked very nice. Very smart. Thanks for that, too.”

Levi shrugged. “I know his tastes.”

“Yeah...so what do I owe you?”

Levi didn’t answer immediately. Instead he walked over and took a seat in the chair opposite Jean and stared at him intently with a scowl on his face.

That made Jean nervous. He hadn’t looked at any pricing when he found the shop online. He had been too freaked out at that moment to really think about it. Or maybe that hug he thought was alright actually wasn’t and had turned into an extra fee. It was worth it, he just hoped it wasn’t too much.

“Dinner,” Levi said eventually.

“Dinner?” Jean repeated.

“At seven.” Levi paused and folded his arms over his chest, cheeks going pink. “If you want.”

It took a few moments to sink in, but once it did Jean felt his cheeks go pink too. He beamed at Levi, chest swelling.

Correction. Jean was having the best day ever.

[alexdunkin]

First Draft Series: Looking On

21st April 1999

I saw her today for the first time. I knew immediately that she is the one. I have never been so immediately attracted to someone. There was a purity on her face that shone off her soft cheeks. She was all alone in her small house, occasionally she would bend down to pat one of her three cats. There was a ginger, and two tabbies, all wanting her attention as she worked away in the tiny kitchen.

She was standing by her kitchen sink when she first caught my eye. I was just passing by on the footpath. Her blinds were wide open with her watching vaguely out into the world while mixing together some cake batter. I’m certain she didn’t spot me. She was lost in a dream world of her own. As soon as I knew she was the one for me I ducked behind the large tree trunk that was in her front yard. There was no one else around at that time of day so I knew I could get the extra fleeting look.

Her face has these small freckles on her pale flesh. The cute spots poke out on her nose even though it looks like she barely steps out into the sun. Her garden is over grown. The long strands of lawn match the light brown colour of her hair. Her clothes hang loosely from her. I haven’t seen anything like her top before. I’m sure that she would have made it for herself with the sewing machine sitting on the dining table behind the kitchen.

She is absolutely incredible. I could watch her all day.

 27th April 1999

I finally had a chance to see her again. I could barely contain myself all week. There were so many times I just wanted to sneak over, even if it’s just for a brief glance through the window again. I’m glad I waited though. This evening it was beautiful. I was able to find a spot in the back corner of her garden. There was quite a few thick shrubs that I could rest behind as I watched her go about making and eating her dinner.

When she disappeared away from the down the hall and out of my sight I had a chance to learn her name. The letters in the post box were all addressed to Miss Karen Richards. She receives a single person payment from the government which would explain why she is able to hang out at home all day.

She was quite crafty with her basic pasta dinner. She pulled out so many different spices and herbs from small bottles. I’m sure it tasted delicious.

In the five hours I watched on this evening no one came to her house. She never even looked at a cell phone. Who knows, she might not even have one. Happy to live off the grid, just like me. It’s easier this way than having others constantly seeing your information.

She seemed so happy just being by herself and with her cats. I left only once she sent to bed. I can’t believe I’ve finally found the one for me.

 15th May 1999

After a few weeks of planning I was finally set up to spend some quality time with Karen. With almost absolute certainty she was at home. I had a blanket to keep me warm as things went into the evening. I managed to get there before lunch so I made sure to have a few snacks and thermos so I could eat with Karen. It was all perfect our first full date together but it was cut short.

I didn’t seem them coming from my spot in the garden. There was nothing I could do. There were too many of them. I could only watch as they charged in and took Karen from me. The three men were dressed in all black with rubber gloves and masks walked straight in the front door. There was no one else around. No lights on in the neighbourhood. I never thought Karen would be snatched away so quickly.

They had Karen by the throat before she could let out a scream. The plastic sheet was rolled on the floor by one of the men while the other two pinned her down and slit her wrists. There was so much blood in her body. I couldn’t believe how much came out of her.

The cats watched on from the kitchen bench. They looked bored. I was frozen. The men knew exactly what they were doing.

The men threw cloth down to stop the blood pouring off the edge of the plastic. As soon as she stopped twitching they rolled her up in the plastic and carried her straight out to their van. They were gone before I could snap myself out of it and come home to write this. How could they just her away from me?

 21st May 1999

I stayed clear of Karen’s home for a few days just to be sure. My heart races every time I think about her and then I feel it shatter when I remember that she’s gone. Just like that. There was nothing I could do. I was useless in protecting the one that I had found for myself.

I just got back from her house. Nothing has changed inside. It looks like Karen is still there. There might be a bit more dust around the place and the cats seemed happy ducking in and out the cat flap to catch their dinner. Two of them were snuggling together on the couch when I had the courage to sneak up closer to the window and see inside.

There was no marks left by the men that took my Karen. No drop of blood on the carpet. Not even a slither of plastic from the sheet they took her away in. They knew what they were doing. They must have been watching her as well.

I’m stuck with a dilemma now. There’s no missing person report. It doesn’t even seem like Karen had family to check up on her. That’s part of the reason I liked her. No one knows what happened to her but me. I could report them but that would just add my name to a police record and that’s something I definitely don’t want.

I crave some form of revenge. I want Karen back but if I can’t get that I want revenge. I want them to bleed if I ever knew who they were. I couldn’t identify them from where I was.

I feel stuck. Alone and stuck. All my plans have been ruined and just when I thought I finally found the one for me.

 1st June 1999

I’ve taken a few weeks of solitude and I think I should take steps to move on. I had only known Karen for a few brief weeks and I’m certain that I was caught up in the rush of the moment. There has to be another one out there for me.

I’ve decided that I will return to my routines and wait patiently. Another Karen will appear. I pray that it will happen in just the same easy way when I’m out walking on one of my paths and taking in my observations. I have considered combining those notes with these personal ones so that I can spend longer out in the field and can remove what’s on my mind and can focus better on the task at hand.

That might have to wait until I find the next one for me though. I hadn’t experienced these thoughts before I met Karen and they’re kind of rare now she’s gone. The focus for the task of finding the one seems to let me concentrate more which is good while I’m on the hunt. I know I will find someone to replace what I thought Karen would be. I’m sure I will find that first person for me, the first one that I will kill.

 3rd October 2003.

I found her. It’s finally going to happen.