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pageandpanel · 1 year ago

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(originally posted @ Page and Panel on wordpress)

For my first post on my new attempt to ~have a blog~ I am reposting an old entry into my failed wordpress blog. My attempt to read Marvel Comics start to finish is something I am hoping to get back to in the near future. I have edited this and reformatted it for tumblr so hopefully it's not too much of a nightmare to look at but it is WAY too long.

Why in the world would anyone attempt to read more than half a century of comics? I’m fascinated by the concept of an ongoing continuity and how different writers and artists interpret characters. And the fact that so many hands have touched this project with so many different interests and priorities and yet it continues on as a cohesive (a term we’ll use loosely) and linear story is actually really cool.

There’s a lot of interesting stuff going on here so I’m going to try to write about it at regular intervals that are sometimes strategic and sometimes completely arbitrary. The first chapter of Page Main Lines Sixty Years of Marvel Comics (more clever name tbd, probably) covers the first three years of the Marvel Comics Universe designated 616. This is the main universe that has been ongoing from 1961 to every Wednesday until the world ends, probably.

Just to establish some parameters for what this project is, I’m reading Marvel Comics chronologically starting with the Silver Age, launched by Fantastic Four #1 in 1961 written by Stan Lee and drawn by Jack Kirby. There are some ongoing anthology titles carrying over from the pre-616 era that I’ll be picking up here as well because they introduce key players in the Marvel Universe (specifically Spider-Man, Ant-Man, and Thor). The Golden Age doesn’t really interest me all that much beyond its history and the characters that get carried over to the new continuity (Captain America and Namor the Submariner, most famously). And while I’m trying to read everything, I did make a decision early on to skip out on Strange Tales because I don’t really care about Johnny Storm’s solo adventures.

The format of these posts, like everything else I throw up on this blog is subject to change forever and ever. But for now, I think book by book and then covering some broad themes/connections at the end is the easiest way to tackle this.

We begin, like most stories begin, with a family of four on a trip to outer space...

Fantastic Four

Written by Stan Lee and drawn by Jack Kirby, as all Marvel Books were at the time, Fantastic Four #1 starts off in media res and we are introduced to our heroes as they drop whatever mundane activities they are doing as civilians and respond to the impending thread of Mole Man.

As each member makes their way to the scene, Stan Lee takes a step back to give us a classic origin story that is BEYOND bonkers: Reed Richards is the most brilliant scientist in the world and he absolutely must break into a government facility to fly a rocket into space. He is accompanied by his college roommate, Ben Grimm, his childhood sweetheart, Sue Storm, and her little brother, Johnny Storm. Ben, like anyone hearing this plan obviously thinks it’s stupid and crazy. But Sue Storm is quick to remind him that they, four regular civilians with no real training, absolutely have to do this because if they don’t then the Commies will win the Space Race. Because it truly wouldn’t the 60’s without some good, good anti-communist propaganda. So much more on that to come later.

They make it, miraculously. But cosmic space rays have given each of them incredible powers. Reed is stretchy, Sue is invisible (oh the metaphor), Johnny is on fire, and Ben…

Thanks for that little nugget of a plot line. Ben actually resents Reed because he has a thing for Sue. That will go in a lot of different directions and definitely has more teeth than the time that Professor X had a thought bubble about being in love with Jean Grey, his student, that never gets mentioned again (until it does, unfortunately). But let’s put a pin in that and red string it later.

With the flashback over, our heroes arrive on Monster Isle to find Mole Man who is responsible for several cave-ins across the world. His plan is to unleash his monsters on the world to get revenge on women who weren’t interested in him. Mole Man: confirmed Incel. The Fantastic Four easily defeat Mole Man by sealing him inside a mountain and straight up killing him. I guess. Reed eulogizes their first on page enemy by saying “It’s best that way! There was no place for him in our world…” right in front of his rock monster best friend. Tough look Reed…

Fantastic Four #2 introduces a foe that made their on screen debut in the Captain Marvel movie: The Skrulls! I love Skrulls and truly didn’t realize that they showed up this early in continuity. In part 1, our heroes are engaging in some distinctly unheroic behavior. The Thing attacks an oil rig, Invisible Girl does a jewel heist, Mister Fantastic messes up an energy plant, and The Human Torch melts a statue made of marble. And I know I’m expecting too much from a comic in which four people take a family trip to space and come back with super powers, but it’s important to me that everyone knows that marble is heat resistant and doesn’t melt. The world, who apparently all know that the Fantastic Four exist and are totally cool with them, freak out. Are New York’s favorite heroes breaking bad!? Nah. It’s just shapeshifting aliens attempting to ruin the reputation of the only people on Earth who can stop their invasion.

The US Army, ignorant to a large scale alien invasion, is called in to deal with the threat the Fantastic Four pose. Our heroes hide out in an isolated cabin to regroup and figure out what to do. But the military surrounds them and takes them in.

Each member is put in a cell specifically designed to withstand their powers. Which seems silly because if you put an invisible woman in a regular cell, she’s still there even if she’s invisible. But whatever. This also the first appearance of Asbestos in the Marvel Universe. And if you think that’s a dumb thing to notice, you clearly didn’t grow up in the 90s, seeing commercials for Asbestos lawsuits on every single tv show. I know this stuff was in regular use in the 60s but I seriously hope Johnny was able to get in on some of those pay outs because it’s really his biggest foe in the early FF comics.

Once they break out, the team regroup to plot against the unknown foes turning the world against them. They send Johnny to sabotage a rocket launch in order to draw them out. When Skrulls disguised as Sue and Reed pick up the real Johnny instead of a Skrull, the jig is up. The Fantastic Four take the Skrulls prisoner and Reed, expert level spaceship driver, steals their rocket to travel up into space where the invading Skrull army is waiting. Reed, pretending to be a Skrull, passes off images from Marvel Comics horror/monster books Strange Tales and Journey into Mystery as real photos from Earth. He convinces the Skrull leader that Earth is simply too dangerous to invade and volunteers to stay behind.

As the rocket re-enters earths Atmosphere, they pass through more cosmic waves. This turns The Thing back into regular old Ben Grimm. But, because Ben will never catch a W, he’s a rock monster again before the spaceship lands. It’s not easy being Grimm.

Back on earth, the question remains as to what to do with the remaining three Skrulls that Reed has taken prisoner. In another “though look my guy, Reed” moment, he decides that the only option they have to deal with aliens who can literally turn into anyone or anything is to force them to turn themselves into cows. Reed then hypnotizes the Skrull Cows into thinking they are real cows. Which is pretty fucked up and Reed should probably be considered a war criminal at this point, literally two comics in. But don’t worry. I’m sure there will absolutely never be any consequences for his actions. (Just kidding, this will be one of the catalysts for Secret Invasion in 2005. One of these Skrulls is the Emperor Skrull’s son.)

While FF #2 gave us one of Marvel’s most prominent Alien Invaders, Fantastic Four #3 is a much slower issue that doesn’t bring in much of anything. We open with our team taking in a stage show. They’re here to see the Miracle Man who promptly recognizes them and begins heckling them from stage. At this point, the Fantastic Four are basically celebrities. Though, we’re going to back track on that in a few issues, I think. He challenges The Thing to a test of their strength, which the Thing promptly loses. On their way home from the show, Reed talks about how lucky they are that Miracle Man is not a super villain. Which… you know…

Really, there isn’t a lot that happens in the A-Plot of this issue. Miracle Man brings the monster to life, they rob a jewelry store, and then the team defeats him and everything is fine. What is way more interesting happens between the Miracle Man problem. The B-Plot of this issue is rife with conflict between the members of the Fantastic Four.

This issue isn’t the first time we see the role Sue gets shunted into as the caretaker of the boys on the team. But it is the first time she names it herself. While later interpretations of Sue will have her displaying a lot more power, right now she’s written as the mom of the team. She is the one who sews the team’s infamous costumes that, even today, have barely changed. Though, given that she made them with a material that Reed has coined “unstable molecules,” it seems she’s a perfectly capable scientist as well. Though, we’ll rarely see this aspect of her. There’s only room enough on the team for one Smartest Man in the World.

We also see tensions rise between Ben Grimm and the rest of the team. He has been a volatile figure since day one, prone to outbursts of anger and violence. It’s still unclear as to whether or not this is his pre-rock monster personality. It may also be a side effect of his powers or, justifiably, anger at being the only member of the team to get turned into a rock monster.

But anyway, Fantastic Four #4 is a much more interesting issue with one major and very precious addition to continuity:

Kidding. But this is a bit that I find absolutely hilarious. Actually, the issue opens with Johnny quitting the team after an argument. The three remaining members split up to search for him. Ben is the one who finds him working on hot rods with his friends at a garage. And, because Ben doesn’t have a gentle touch when it comes to Johnny, property damage ensues.

Thankfully before he can actually hurt Johnny, Ben suddenly changes back to his human form. It only lasts like two seconds because Stan Lee loves to torture Ben apparently.

So he’s back to his rocky self in no time. It’s actually pretty in the tragedy of getting to see him constantly being given these moments of hope, only to have them snatched away seconds later. No wonder he’s so angry all the time. But this does give Johnny a chance to escape.

Because he can’t go home, he seeks a bed for the night at what looks like a halfway house or a youth hostel in the Bowrey. Once he has secured a bed for the night, he settles in to read an old comic about the iconic 1940’s Timely Comics hero, The Sub-Mariner. When another patron notices what he’s reading, he points to a disheveled man who claims to be as strong as The Sub-Mariner. And this enters one of the absolute greatest characters in all of Marvel Canon. Just as soon as Johnny gives him a haircut with fire.

The King of Abs-Lantis has arrived and I already love him. But also, the burnt hair smell in that hostel right now… 🤢 Even though Johnny recognizes him, The Sub-Mariner himself does not seem to remember who he is. So, Johnny takes him to the ocean and basically tosses him in. Once in the water, the Sub-Mariner remembers who he is and returns to his home of Atlantis only to find it in ruins. It has been destroyed by atomic weapons testing.

When The Sub-Mariner returns to land, he informs Johnny that he will avenge his home by destroying the human race. Now, Johnny is smart enough to know that this is obviously a problem worthy of getting the team back together. He sends up a flare for the others to find him and while they’re en route, The Mariner summons the “largest living creature in the world” using the Horn of Proteus. Oh, and the monster’s name is Giganto, which is objectively hilarious.

While New York is evacuated and the army attempts to take down the monster, Ben comes up with a fool proof and probably technically impossible plan. With a nuclear bomb strapped to his back, he launches himself into the mouth of the beast. Never mind that nuclear weapons are what got us into this mess in the first place, but okay.

Ben does, miraculously, manage to escape very certain death. With his monster defeated, The Mariner threatens to summon more creatures with the Horn of Proteus, but an invisible Sue Storm sneaks up behind him and steals it. The Mariner tackles her and tells her if she will become his bride he won’t destroy humanity. Sue agrees, reluctantly-ish. But Johnny saves the day with a fire tornado that plunges the Mariner back to the bottom of the ocean. Leaving everyone who is in love with Sue a little confused about where they stand with her, and Sue a little Hot of Mariner. Understandable, Sue. I get it. The Mariner vows to return and he definitely will.

Tales to Astonish

Tales to Astonish #27 is the first appearance and origin story of Henry Pym AKA Ant-Man. The issue opens with Henry making an incredible discovery. He shrinks a chair with a miniaturizing serum and grows it back to normal size with an enlarging serum. Unfortunately, the rest of the scientific community is less impressed with Henry’s experiments.

Fueled by his need to stick it to his haters, Henry tests his serum on himself. Thankfully, it works instead of eating through his skin like acid or something and Henry shrinks himself down to the size of a… you guessed it! An ant! What he doesn’t plan for is leaving the enlarging serum out of reach. The rest of the issue becomes a quest to turn himself back into normal size. As he tries to get to the serum, he is chased by ants into an ant hill where he gets stuck in honey. Which… makes sense. Sure.

He is fortunate enough to befriend one ant willing to help him. Henry is surprised when it works to pull him free from the honey and let him go. But he also torches the ant hill so I guess fuck that ant.

When Henry finally manages to get to his enlarging serum he is so shaken by the experience that he decides that his creation is too dangerous for man kind. He then pours it down the drain. Just because it’s too dangerous for man kind doesn’t mean it’s too dangerous to dispose of properly. And now the Marvel universe is overrun by enlarged bacteria from Henry’s kitchen sink. But as long as he lives, he will never forget the ant who saved his life. Even though he totally burned down that ant’s house. Which especially sucks because I doubt ants have homeowners insurance or anything to cover fire damage.

The Incredible Hulk

And the last issue I want to hit in this first installment is Incredible Hulk #1 because I think it establishes an interesting pattern with our first three protagonists of early marvel comics.

This had been advertised in the previous FF book with “Who is the Hulk?” Printed in the margins of the story, which I think is a pretty cool way to drum up interest for the book. The first run of The Incredible Hulk only lasts 6 issues. But it’s some of Jack Kirby’s best work.

This one, like Tales to Astonish, is a straight up origin story for Bruce Banner and the Hulk. If you’re familiar with Hulk through the movies, this is going to be a story that is familiar in all but one key difference.

On a military base, Bruce Banner is getting ready to test his invention, the Gamma bomb. Bruce fits in along side Reed Richards and Henry Pym in the Smartest Man In The World category. He is also kind of an asshole with little regard to what others in his community have to say about his work. In fact, he has refused to share his work with his colleagues and doesn’t want them to check his work. Seems like a dick move to me.

There’s actually a lot going on here in terms of toxic masculinity. We also have Thunderbolt Ross who doesn’t understand science or anyone who isn’t punching things 24/7 and all he really ever does is yell and tell his daughter to stay out of “man talk!”

Once everyone is done yelling, it’s time to test the bomb. Bruce takes one last look at it just in time to see a wayward teen, Rick Jones, driving through the test field. Bruce chases after him, because it’s perfectly reasonable to assume that he will not only catch a Jeep on foot, but he’ll also be able to do so before the bomb detonates. At least the last part wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t pissed Igor off. Before running after the boy, Bruce tells him to shut down the countdown and Igor casually decides not to. And while Bruce does manage to save the kid, he gets caught in the Gamma explosion.

Hours later, Bruce wakes up at the base where he stays, being monitored for any symptoms caused by the explosion. That night, while Rick watches Bruce, he transforms into a giant Grey monster and breaks out of the base. This is where the origin deviates from what is mostly considered canon at this point. The Hulk isn’t triggered by rage or heightened emotion. Instead, he just comes out at night. Essentially, Bruce Banner is a nuclear powered werewolf.

The monster sneaks (which seems unlikely since he’s a big monster, but who knows) through the base, followed by Rick Jones. He makes his way to Bruce Banner’s cabin, where they find Igor rummaging through Bruce’s stuff. Igor shoots at The Hulk with no effect except to piss him off even more. Finally, Bruce picks up Igor and slams him down into the table where all of his research is scattered. The absolute best part of this is we learn where Bruce hides all of his research and proprietary secrets. Pages labeled “Top Secret Report on Gamma Ray Bomb” are tapped to the bottom of a beaker. Come on my guy. Buy a safe.

When the Hulk finds a picture of Bruce in the cabin, he is appalled to see such a weak creature until Rick reminds him that he is that weak creature. I don’t think triggering an existential crisis is the best way to defeat a radioactive werewolf, but I’ve also never had to calm one down after a rampage, so who am I to judge?

Eventually, the sun comes up and The Hulk is returned his normal Bruce Banner shape just in time for soldiers to storm his cabin, demand to know where the Hulk is and take Igor and the Top Secret Gamma report away. Betty hangs back to apologize, once again, on behalf of her father and suggest that he see a doctor. To which Bruce replies, “Baby, I am a doctor.” Okay, no he doesn’t. But we do get a fun snide commentary from Rick who has no time for Betty’s crush. Bruce tells Betty he’ll call her but also tells Rick that he’s afraid that the will never escape becoming The Hulk.

Meanwhile, Igor has been taken into custody. In his cell, he uses a transmitter embedded in his fingernail to contact the Soviet scientist known as The Gargoyle. Not a great look for the Soviets to have given him that name based on his facial deformities, but what do we really expect? The Gargoyle makes his way to the states via submarine.

Back over in the A-Plot, Bruce and Rick are experimenting with ways to manage the Hulk for the time being. They drive the Jeep out into the desert before nightfall to get him away from the base before he changes again. After a run in with Betty that causes her to faint, the Gargoyle shows up. He shoots The Hulk and Ross with bullets filled with drugs that basically allow The Gargoyle to control their actions. They follow him onto a sub and head back to the USSR but on the rip, sun comes up and Hulk turns back into Bruce Banner.

When The Gargoyle finds him, he begins to sob, saying he wants to be a man and not a monster too. Bruce treats him with radiation which makes him look normal but also takes away his super intelligence. I guess that’s a trade off. Once he’s “cured” Gargoyle reveals that he has hella daddy issues and with the new realization that he has been used by the USSR, he basically renounces the Soviet efforts. Finally, he puts Bruce and Rick on a rocket headed for the US and blows his base up in a final act of defiance.

There's a lot to unpack here...

It’s actually kind of impressive to revisit comics I read as a teenager and thought very little of at the time and come away from them with a lot to chew on. There are a lot of interesting themes here with regard to how the comics interact with real world ideas and politics.

Communism, The Cold War, The Atomic Age, Vietnam

So, these comics are coming out in 61 and 62. The Cold War is in full swing, America is a few years out from entering Vietnam, and a few months prior to the release of Fantastic Four #1, the first man went to space. So much of what what we see happening on the page are consequences of that political climate just as so much of what our characters go through relate back to that central unease. Science was advancing at a more rapid pace than ever before and citizens were being warned of the constant threat that communism posed on their way of life.

There is also A LOT of anti-communist propaganda in the first decade of Marvel comics. Here, we’ve only seen it so far with the Fantastic Four needing to go to space to beat the “commies” and the Igor’s attempts to be the worlds worst double agent. We’ll see a lot more of that once we get to Journey into Mystery, because somehow the book about Norse Gods got turned into the most deliberate and most obvious anti-commie book for a while.

Science and Intelligence as it relates to Toxic Ego and Fragile Masculinity

It’s not a mistake that our three “main characters” so far are Reed Richards, Henry Pym, and Bruce Banner. All brilliant men of science who are exploring new technology in their own ways. The contrast between how Reed is treated, versus Henry and Bruce is fascinating. Reed and his contributions to science, as well as his powers have made him a celebrity. He is celebrated by his fans and his family and is all around viewed as a good guy (despite the fact that he turned three autonomous beings into cows). On the other hand, Pym and Banner are belittled. Pym is belittled by his colleagues who think his theories and his studies are outlandish and impossible. Banner is surrounded by military men who value brute strength over science. Thunderbolt Ross will constantly diminish Bruce as less of a man because he’s smart rather than strong.

The most fascinating part of this, to me, is knowing what becomes of Hank Pym in the future. Jumping ahead a little bit, his reputation in the universe and among fans will be forever tarnished by how he treats his future wife, Janet Van Dyne. In a sequence of events in a 1980s issue of the Avengers, Hank appears to strike Janet across the face. This has been, rightfully, called out as an act of domestic abuse by fans and has utterly ruined Hank’s reputation as a character. At the time, and in future incidents, the creators of that moment have discussed how they had never intended it to be viewed that way. But, even now in his first appearance, you can see the groundwork of a volatile man with a fragile ego and it’s not that much of a leap to see this man committing domestic assault.

Women as Caretakers and House Mothers

Right now, the only woman we see with any regularity is Susan storm. And we see her slotted into that mother role with the rest of the team. She is their caretaker, their costume maker, and the object of two members’ affection. This does not really improve until much later. For now, we have a woman doing woman’s work and not much else.

The only other woman we have to compare her to is Betty Ross. For the first six issues of Hulk, she is less a character and more of a background object. A full table lamp of a person, much like the earliest version of Jane Foster, who we’ll soon meet in Journey into Mystery.

‘Nuff Said!

And that wraps up the first six issues of Marvel continuity. It literally took me two months to write this post so who knows when I’ll cover the next few issues? But if you’re interested in something I update more frequently check out this twitter account I made to clean all the screencapped panels out of my camera roll: @616caps.

I’ll leave you with this incredible cutaway of the Fantastic Four’s HQ because who doesn’t love a cutaway!

#marvel comics #the marvel method

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fandom-collective-writers · 4 years ago

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Not Close Enough (Harr Silver x MC)

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Pairing: Harr Silver x MC

Prompt: masquerade, costumes, candlelight

Warning: Smut!!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 946

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsister/@lordsisterxotome (Click here to support me on ko-fi!<3)

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Revolution or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: I...don’t know how to feel about this one. I really wanted to spend more time on it because y’know Harr, but c’est la vie, I guess.

Harr didn’t know what had come over him. One moment, he had been fine, not standing out for once in his silver mask, given that it was a masquerade ball. A flutter of a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye and the next moment he’d caught sight of her, his lover, her gloved hand placed delicately on the crook of Blanc’s arm. With a beaming smile sent his way, she’d made him forget how to breathe, everything in him suddenly on fire for her.

He could feel his release seeping around where he was still buried deep inside of MC, panting into her neck as he came down from his high. Her breasts heaved in the corset of her gown, the velvet walls of her oversensitive core fluttering in the aftershocks of her orgasm. Nerve endings tingled pleasantly at having fulfilled the basest of human needs, but only one thought ran through both of their minds as Harr leaned away from her neck to meet her gaze: ‘More.’

He couldn’t quite remember how they’d managed to get away from the other patrons of the masquerade unnoticed, only that it involved a solitary carrot, (probably spiked) apple cider, and the mischief of a certain cheshire cat who happened to live with them. A quiet, unoccupied lounge down the hall offered the perfect place for them to forget that they weren’t the only two people in the world, her lips smiling and waiting for his as he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her as deeply as he could muster, feeling the lacey edges of the mask covering her cheekbones beneath his thumbs.

Nearly tripping over each other in their haste, they had bumped against furniture and wall hangings as they bustled through the door, closing it more as an afterthought than anything else. Warmth had swelled in Harr’s chest at the love and desire painted across her face, turning her cheeks rosy as she caught a kiss-swollen lip between her teeth and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. So lustful, so willing, so his, this amazing, brave, beautiful woman who somehow thought him wonderful enough to fall in love with. MC could’ve had her pick of any of the men among both the Red and Black armies and yet she’d chosen him, letting him claim her heart and body for his own. The burst of confidence and the determination that thought brought had made it all too easy to lift her onto a nearby table and force her legs open until the tent in his pants was nestled comfortably against her damp core.

From there, it had been a whirlwind of hands and lips and fabric, pushing away the folds of delicate black and purple fabric that made up her butterfly gown, a butterfly in his colors. In the dim candlelight of the room, he had gone by feel and memory, hiking her long skirts up and tugging her panties down her thighs as their lips had clashed, passionate and desperate for more. Longing to see the gorgeous pleasured look on her face as he circled her clit, he’d drawn away the ribbon holding her mask up, letting the piece of fabric and beading tumble to the floor, forgotten.

“Harr-!” Her voice hadn’t been more than a whisper against his ear, but it sent shivers down his spine, something feral roaring to life in his chest as his heart pounded against his ribcage. Through some grace of control he was able to remain steady as his hands dropped to his belt, fumbling with the clasp as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

He’d felt her body shudder against his, her fingers digging into his suit jacket, as his cock was freed to her bared heat. Stormcloud eyes trained on her face, drinking in her expressions, as the tip circled her clit, and he’d held MC’s hips still as she tried to grind against him, desperate for more. The foreplay hadn’t lasted long, however, the ache in his lower stomach becoming too much to bear.

Harr had shushed her whine as he pushed inside of her without warning, regretting not having prepped her properly before wrapping her legs around his waist and guiding his hardened length inside of her. She felt so good wrapped around him, all welcoming warmth and wet, tight walls sucking him deeper. They stayed like that, letting her adjust for a few moments, until her legs squeezed around his waist and she whined, signaling her desire for him to start moving.

And he was all too eager to please her, fucking her deep and hard until she was crying out for him, begging him for release.

Even though both of them had reached the perfect oblivion of that pleasure though, it still wasn’t enough. Even with his seed seeping past his still hard cock and her core oversensitive to the throbbing length still buried deep inside, it wasn’t enough.

“Please, Harr-!” she mewled, and he swore it was the most delicious sound he’d ever heard. A clench of her inner muscles had him gasping, hand slamming flat against the wall above her head. “More!”

He couldn’t bring himself to care if someone could hear her delighted scream as he pulled back and slammed into her again, lubricated by their previous release. All he could think about was bringing her crashing into those waves of pleasure again and again until she couldn’t take anymore of his love, until she was painted in more than just his colors, and it would be clear to everyone who saw her after what the quiet Joker had done. He wanted, needed, to be closer, closer and closer and still not close enough, until it wasn’t clear where she ended and he began.

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riisinaakka-draws · 4 years ago

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part 5/6

5th part of my Black Sails scraps and doodles from 2016–2021. Not in any particular order.

And of course, please do not steal and repost elsewhere! But if you do get inspired, feel free to make your own interpretations :D

This time I have black and white Walrus study, Monsterman gifs, discarded inktober doodles, vane-jack-anne and jack-anne-max and max-eleanor moments, surprise collars, not-so-relaxing-asmr, daddies, another gazing lesbian, curious tentacles, biker girls, more speed with "black sails" and “oh no!” (I swear these are not as sexy as the list might make it sound...)

Under the cut, because this is a very long post again.

Above is the drawing I made for the Flint on “STAGE” pic (2020), although I think I already fixed some of the perspective mistakes after scanning it. I wanted to study the Walrus’ balcony but didn’t really have proper pictures so had to guess some parts. Also at this point I think I didn’t even want to draw Flint in yet.

I mentioned in the art post that I was listening to Lordi’s “Would You Love A Monsterman” but it was also because it had the same working music and inspiration as my very old project of making a drawn(!) gif serie with the lyrics (because I didn’t want to make a fan vid... lol) and since that has been on hold for a few years (I mean, I started it right after season 2 aired and ended and then continued it while the s3 was going on...) and I really really wanted to share the idea already after sitting on it for so long xD

And I’m mentioning it now again although I won’t share all the notes because there’s just too much stuff... and the timing is off in the gifs and text a bit hard to read at some points, but you’ll probably get the idea!

Here’s a couple of the gif drafts and experiments from the “monsterman-gif” project I had (somewhere between 2015-2016-2017?):

(Also, I copied the menacing Flint from the drawing above when I was planning the set up for the “STAGE” art! :D)

(all of these were pencil / water-soluable graphite sticks + water and black watercolour drafts before I continued them on photoshop)

(hmm, I think I had a different version of this gif somewhere but it’s buried somewhere in the wip folders...anyway)

There reason I didn’t share them earlier is because I wanted everything to be ready and then... just didn’t do it. Also s3 and then s4 aired and I wanted to include something from there but things spiraled into even more complicated so I just left it to brew, lol). The whole thing is like 80% ready with the 10-11 gifs so maybe someday I’ll share the rest of it.

Next, some old inktober doodles (2017):

The prompt was “poison”. I liked the upper part but not Silver’s face and the bottle’s bottom with the spiky crown and pearls (and infinity loop) felt somewhat clumsy. I’m not even sure what I was thinking with this piece...

Another inktober, prompt “underwater” and in this case of course “underwater training” as Vane is teaching Jack and Anne to swim and dive and guerilla attack ships. I liked the idea but not how Vane turned out and I didn’t want to start over, lol.

An early version of the “G’morning, love” (posted in 2019). At first Anne was wearing a shirt but I wanted them all to be bare and open with each other. Although Jack’s scarf stays on, lol! Working title was also “AnneToulouse” because there’s a painting called “Sleeping” by Henry de Toulouse-Lautrec and I wanted to catch that mood a bit. Around the same time I was also working with the “LaundressFlint” aka “Would you still recognize me?” (posted in 2020).

Next, experimenting with “slices”, like how much story can you fit into a tiny slice?

“Betsy come here!” early sketches. Silver peeking under the desk and Flint’s boots as he caught them. There was also slightly NSFW-version, although I shared it only on discord, I think:

(I wasn’t quite happy with Silver’s face and run out energy to fix things...)

Next, the ASMR AU, 2020. (yeah it was my prompt that I submitted to the challenge... and couldn’t resist illustrating... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

The messy idea and further planning:

Still a few more doodles on this post!

Plans for “I will be your Daddy” or The Next Top Daddy for Vane (2019)

The “like, 30 brothers” that Anne mentions here are the other pirates and captains in the room and the nine step moms (or well, ex-step moms?) are the Blackbeards (ex)wives lol.

awww, this was a nice maxanor piece! I actually like Max’ face here more than in the final result (2017)...

Above, the first idea sketch for the Merbutt piece and the original colour scheme (2019).

Above, an early sketch about Eleanor and Max (finished in 2020) and tbh I liked this composition and style a bit more but for some reason I got caught up honing too much and thinking too much about heights, perspectives, where to put their hands etc... Eleanor had a short hair here and this had more a rockabilly mood.

first(?) sketch for the “black sails” shenanigans (finished in 2018). I really liked Flint’s ninja style and in the last pic’s sketch there’s also someone holding Flint’s coat/cape to be an extra-extra “sail” lol. Tumblr flagged the finished art post at the time, because of the Walrus’ figurehead and her shapes but luckily the appeal went through...

Last pic for this post!

draft for the drawing where Flint accidentally cuts Silver’s hair while they are training sword fighting, oh noooo~

So as you can see, sometimes my drafts are very loose sketches and sometimes very heavy with thoughts and inspiration (so much so that they end up in the never-ending-pile).

Thank you for checking this out, I hope you had fun! :D

#black sails #black sails doodles #actual doodles this time #and wips #tag for Block Spoils doodles #<- in case you want to black list these

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ayuuria · 4 years ago

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Yashahime Translation: NewType Magazine December 2020 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

Going Forward Together

The Reason to Fight Despite It All

With reuniting with her elder sister… Setsuna grew up in a world where it was either kill or be killed. Komatsu, who plays her, says “Because of her meeting with Towa, a feeling of wanting to save the people in front of her might be sprouting.” Born with unique abilities as Sesshomaru’s daughter, her only path in this harsh era was to fight but something might change as the 3 (Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha) of them travel together.

Beyond That Gaze-

The Dream Butterfly and Rin The “Dream Butterfly” said to devour dreams. Setsuna is unable to sleep because of the Dream Butterfly and had her childhood memories stolen as well. On the other hand, Rin is sleeping within the transparent tree located at the heart of the Tree of Ages. The Dream Butterfly can be seen around her…

The Tree of Age’s Request Within the Tree of Ages, the 3 (girls) meet the spirit that has taken the form of Kikyou. According to the spirit, Kirinmaru and the “Dog General” (translator’s note: In official translations, they address him as the “Great Dog Demon”) have stood at the top of the demons and ruled over them since ancient times. However, it seems that Kirinmaru, taking Sesshomaru’s relinquishment of his succession as the “Dog General” as a good opportunity, is trying to change the world into one that is destroyed. The spirit asks the “daughters of Sesshomaru” to exterminate Kirinmaru and Sesshomaru but…

The Rainbow Pearls The pearls that each of the 3 girls has that contains a mysterious power. Many demons attack the girls for the pearls. Towa has the silver pearl, Setsuna has the gold pearl, and Moroha has the red pearl.

Setsuna Separated from her elder sister, Towa, at 4 years old, her sleep and memories of her past are stolen by the “Dream Butterfly”. She reunites with Towa but does not accept her way of thinking.

Higurashi Towa Sesshomaru’s daughter. When she was 4 years old, she passed through the Tree of Age’s tunnel and arrived in the modern era. She goes to the feudal era to take back the sleep of her younger twin sister, Setsuna.

Moroha A demon slaying bounty hunter with the nickname “Demon Killer Moroha”. Highly adaptable, she utilizes handy goods from the modern era. She becomes Towa and Setsuna’s support. (translator’s note: 緩衝材 literally translates to “cushioning; packaging” which sounds weird to me in this context, so I decided to go with support instead)

Interview: The role of Setsuna – Komatsu Mikako

A characteristic world drawn with adventure and daily life.

Through the Tree of Ages, Setsuna and Moroha arrive in the modern era and there, they meet Towa. Towa, who realizes that Setsuna is her younger twin sister whom she was separated from, decides to return to the feudal era with the two of them. While passing through space-time, they receive a request from a spirit taking the form of Kikyou to “exterminate Kirinmaru” as the “daughters of the Sesshomaru”. Setsuna and Towa flatly refuse but… the connection with the world of “Inuyasha” becomes steadily obvious in “Hanyou no Yashahime”. We asked Komatsu Mikako, the role of Setsuna, who said “Being a big fan of “Inuyasha”, I want to return to everyone what “Inuyasha” gave to me” what the charm of “Hanyou no Yashahime” was.

— Please tell us what you (Komtasu-san) felt was the charm of “Hanyou no Yashahime”.

Komatsu: While “Inuyasha” had the ultimate goal of defeating Naraku while gathering the shards of the Shikon Jewel, I think a key point in “Hanyou no Yashahime” is that the sisters were each brought up differently. Towa who was raised in the modern era, Setsuna who had her sleep stolen, and Moroha too grew up not knowing much about her parents. It’s a story about them pursuing their backbone. While they do slay demons, the goal of their journey is to solve the mysteries. Also, from what I felt from the recordings up to this point, the way the adventure and friendship of the 3 (girls) is interwoven is an aspect different from “Inuyasha”. While there is a serious side, the friendship among the 3 of them is bright so you can feel a sense of daily life in between demon slaying. You feel a new world opening up.

— How do you grasp the character of Setsuna when you play her?

Komatsu: You can feel traces of Sesshomaru somewhere within Towa and Setsuna. Also, while Towa appears boyish and cool, she’s very friendly and honest. Setsuna is a pair with her and has an eye that doesn’t trust people easily (laughs). At her core, she’s the same as Towa in that she’s pure but she’s the polar opposite of Towa in that she doesn’t let others get close, doesn’t talk much, and doesn’t show weakness. Also, consequently due to her tragic upbringing, she doesn’t smile much which closely resembles Sesshomaru.

— What are you careful of when acting?

Komatsu: When talking with Towa, I almost get swept up in Towa’s excitement (laughs), but I think restraining (emotion) is Setsuna so I’m careful not to get swept away. However, I honestly express the emotions that come out when fighting or the excitement that unintentionally slips out. I get directions for making these allowances, so I express what I personally feel in that moment.

— Among those directions, are there any words that left an impression on you?

Komatsu: In terms of our view of the world, the 3 of us (Matsumoto Sara, the role of Towa, Tadokoro Azusa, the role of Moroha, and myself) love “Inuyasha” so we were told “We have faith in you.” In addition, for my personal directions, “Carry on Sesshomaru” is what I was told (laughs).

— That’s a heavy responsibility (laughs).

Komatsu: I placed importance on Narita Ken’s image so in the beginning I was told quite a bit to “Hold back more”. It’s not as though I’m tracing Narita Ken but when I act, I put in an essence of speaking with an intonation that is profoundly restrained.

— At the beginning, the impression of Setsuna was that she was cold, but as she travels with Towa and Moroha, she’s slowly starting to change.

Komatsu: You are right. While there is the change within Setsuna, the bond between the 3 of them is finally starting to deepen. I think this story has 3 focal points: what happened to Inuyasha and the others, Setsuna’s stolen dreams, and the adventure of the 3 (girls) going between the modern and the feudal eras. I myself imagine while acting that from here on, these 3 focal points will tie into one and the story will become more interesting. Everyone as well, please enjoy the world of “Hanyou no Yashahime”.

#Yashahime #Hanyou no Yashahime #Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon #Translation

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saizoswifey · 4 years ago

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Dream Sequence

{Kageie/MC/Hotaru}

Genre: N//SFW Word Count: 6,575 Description: Kageie and Hotaru have a bond that extends into the bedroom, and MC doesn't mind considering them both her lovers. Especially when Hotaru can learn so much from the way Kageie uses her body. A/N:This is a commission for @/wheresmaryellen on twitter! Thank you so much for commissioning me! AO3 Link: Here! Footnote: Reposted this because I think it was shadowbanned first time ugh.

“Are you okay?”

Hotaru’s blood-red eyes softened at the corners when he repeated the question. How he could look so handsome at times such as this—bathed in cool shards of sharp moonlight— and yet so boyish at others, was still as much of an enigma as Hotaru himself. But that was part of what she loved about him.

Afraid words would fail her again, she nods to her lover, lazily drawing her hands through his soft hair to further ease his worry. The same as she did for him when he crawled into her bed at night, or woke at her side drenched in sweat and still reeling from a nightmare. He purred at her touch, tilting his head to nuzzle into the comforting strokes of her warm palms.

Slowly, a new awareness tickles at the edges of her mind, fizzling into consciousness when a pair of hands slide up her bare hips. Between her legs, the faintest hint of warm breath exhaled against her folds. The heat that blooms only serves to highlight the chill that the night air has brought to the rest of her bare skin. Something about that feeling excites her. But they know that. It’s why they left the shoji slightly ajar, after all. The hands that touch her leave traces of heat, the patches of warmth reminding her where they’ve been and what they’ve done in a way that can only be described as heavenly.

She’s okay, albeit dizzy due to the frenzy of sensations. The sudden vertigo threatens to take her down, but hands from below grip her with firm pressure and hold her steady, as if the man underneath knew what was to come. Soft kisses to the inside of her thighs follow, and she shivers, the anticipation is almost too much to bear.

When she looks down between her legs Kageie looks back up at her through slits of tousled silver hair. He looks handsome. More than that; he looks unbelievably sexy, a carnal desire glinting dangerously in his eyes. The man looking back at her now was a far cry from the one normally slumped dead asleep in the halls or dragging his feet to the training room with a listless fog weighing at his features. The intensity emitted from his gaze was almost palpable, making the air thin, and she felt the quickened pounding of heart against rib.

Slowly, he pushes her thighs open further. Something about the act sucks the moisture from her throat in an instant. He looks too eager, pulling her apart. Inch by slow inch he spreads her, never breaking eye contact. The provocative grin on his face as he does so makes it impossible for her to look away. Heat rushes from its spot on her cheeks now down to her chest. It’s one thing to be in this position with your lover, but to have a second pair of eyes watching—studying…she felt so exposed.

Kageie traces his lips up and down her folds several times then speaks in a cool voice. “She’s fine, she’s supposed to look like that when you know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, okay,” Hotaru replies softly.

Kageie’s brusk way of speaking would be seen as insulting to so many, but Hotaru never seemed to mind. Taking it as mere instruction from someone he dearly admires. And those who know Kageie well know that off the battlefield he harbors all the ire of a milk-drunk kitten. Perhaps this is why the three of them work so well together.

“Come on gorgeous, get down here,” Kageie commands from below. He grips her hips, pressing into the skin to find purchase and quite possibly leave her colored in his impatience. Feeling the strength behind his desire only heightens her ache for his touch.

She sinks down onto his face as she’s told, his lips immediately beginning to work against where she’s been eager to feel him most. His chaste kisses are loud and teasing, just the way she likes it. Her chest tightens when he looks up at her widening eyes just as he begins to lick with pointed tongue, deliberately slow, up and down the center of her crease. She knows all too well the words he’s conveying through his touch, that’s it, beg me for more, beg me to go faster, tell me how much you’re enjoying it.

“Hhah-aah,” she moans. It feels so good to let it out into the open air. The electric feeling of his warm, wet tongue overpowers her senses. She can feel every lazy lap and swipe, and she wants more.

A firm hand grips her chin, dragging her face up from where she had been looking at Kageie to now meet Hotaru’s eyes. The gesture is so manly and unexpected coming from him that her heart lurches. Is he jealous? And although she would never intend to hurt him, it’s hard to deny how happy she is at the idea that he could be possessive as well.

Slowly, he draws them toward one another, until his soft lips press against hers. She feels his warm tongue push against the crease of her mouth. When they finally kiss she can feel the vibration of his moan travel through it. Adorable. He pulls back from her several times, pressing in harder each reconnection. He kisses tenderly at the corners of her mouth and just above her lip, licking the spot before pulling away enough to meet her eyes.

“I like kissing you,” Hotaru speaks, barely a whisper against her now wet lips.

“I like kissing you, too,” She smiles.

His mouth overtakes her once more, powerful and fueled by emotion and lust. His tongue pushes into her mouth, faster this time. At that moment, so perfectly in sync it was as if they had planned it all along, she feels Kageie’s tongue begins to push inside of her entrance, swirling and enticing her hips to rock back and forth in top of his face.

He draws her to his mouth with practiced skill, using his tongue to pry her open and explore her most sensitive spots. Blazing a path then up to her clit which he circles and flicks until she stutters a whine into Hotaru’s mouth.

Now her tongue darts out to meet his, the kiss growing deeper as if she can anchor herself in it. And gods she needs a lifeline, being drowned in this sensation. An ache with an intensity she has never known before begins to build inside of her. Is this what having two lover’s attention is like? She could definitely get used to this. Hotaru is practically melting for her. However, it’s impossible not to focus on Kageie’s mouth, and how his attentions have been drawn to that sensitive bud at the apex.

He knows just what he’s doing. Sucking it as slowly and gently as possible, She feels it. The sensation of his tongue tracing around her pussy, rolling her clit occasionally between his firm lips and flicking it with his tongue. Knowing that taking his time and being soft will draw her sweetness from her. Sometimes she loathes how lewd he can make her feel, and how effortlessly he has her wanting to toss aside all delicacy and simply grind herself on his face until she comes. To give herself over to desire and pleasure until her vision is filled with magnificent stars.

A gentle, reactionary sigh escapes her as she sinks down lower onto Kageie’s face, desperate for more of the sensation his mouth provides. At the same time, Hotaru’s gentle hand sweeps over her breasts. He plays with her nipples, caressing his fingertips over the delicate curves and underneath the swell. His touch is hesitant as if he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing but desires to touch them all the same. The pureness of his desire is sexy in a way she had never known before him. When he flicks and tickles her skin she shivers, nipples hardening in reaction.

Hotaru’s tongue swipes against her lips, slipping inside to tease at the roof of her mouth. He always was a good kisser. His lips were soft and plump, and she could tell he enjoyed the way her mouth tasted. She loved the little noises he made when they kissed, too. Desperate whines of contentment and ecstasy, the thrill of it feeling so good, and yet wanting more, until he couldn’t help but rut his erection against her warm body. He lit her on fire with his kiss, and now she could enjoy the sensation while Kageie enjoyed her pussy. Their combined attention and warmth is almost too much to handle. She feels like a candle lit from both ends, and it takes everything inside of her not to reduce to a puddle of wax.

Kageie’s hands are kneading her thighs as he laps the juices flowing from her. His pace is slowly increasing, the method of attack similar to how she has seen him in the training room. Perfect, practiced form. Relentless against her weakest spots. As if he had been born to do this. What’s even more arousing is the fact that he doesn’t seem to mind when she begins to rock back and forth against his face. In fact, it only seems to fuel his ministrations. His tongue zig-zags and curls into her pussy faster and faster between seductive suckles. When those lips of his latch onto her clit and pull with a wet suck, her body shakes with pleasure at the overstimulation.

“Aah—hahh, Ka…”

Hotaru stills out of concern. “Hey…” he doesn’t know how to ask or what to ask.

“She feels good,” Kageie intuitively pipes up.

“That’s, yes,” she reassures him with a nod when she can’t properly find the words,” It feels really good, aah—“ Kageie nibbles her pussy mid-sentence, cutting off any semblance of words.

“That voice…the sound,” Hotaru looks like he is thinking for a moment before dragging his eyes back to her. “I like it,” he admits.

“Sexy,” Kageie corrects, his words trailing after a lewd pop from his lips. “Wet,” he slaps her ass, gripping the stinging mound of flesh while it blooms strawberry underneath his warm palm.

“Ah! Hey,” She jumps a bit from the slap, ass stinging hotly.

“Don’t get shy now, show the kid what you like,” Kageie pays her no mind.

And he’s right, as embarrassing as it is, she wants Hotaru to know what turns her on…to see every hidden part of her. No secrets. She wanted the man she loved to be able to please her. And in turn, she might find out what Hotaru enjoys, too. Finding out what turns each other on should be the fun of sex, after all, right?

“Kiss her somewhere besides her mouth, Hotaru.”

“Oh?” Hotaru pulls away for a moment. His eyes tell a story, flashing from realizing he had been doing something incorrectly, to understanding what to do next. “Okay.”

He wraps himself around her upper body, clinging, as he feels her breast with one hand and lets his lips work their way down the side of her neck.

“Ho…taruuu,” she melts.

His kisses and nips are cat-like. Small, quick swipes of his tongue against her, his cream the glistening flesh he explores with his mouth. When his teeth bite down at the thin tender spot just below her ear, her whole body tingles sharply in delight. Electricity lights her spine, spreading out like a million tiny branches to her nerve endings. It feels so good, and even better when Hotaru pinches a nipple between his fingers, the action coming so naturally and unprompted that it’s almost shocking to her, seeing him doing these things as though it were second nature.

Her own fingers push through Kageie’s hair, pulling it roughly and reveling in the delighted, muffled moan it coaxes from him. He responds by gripping her hips tighter, pushing her back and forth and pressing his tongue inside until she can’t do much else but shut her eyes, toss her head back and give in to the pleasure.

Her body rolls, grinding down onto that delicious mouth of his. All while Hotaru explores and licks and suckles roughly on her prickling skin. She jumps every time he sinks his teeth into her. It hurts, the animalistic way he pulls her skin into his hot mouth. But not enough for her to stop him. The back of her neck, shoulders, her spine, all would be peppered red and blue and purple by morning.

Kageie wasn’t letting up, either. The sounds of his mouth at her pussy mixed with Hotaru’s panting which traveled in fluffy puffs against the shell of her ear, now.

“Touch me, too…please,” Hotaru finally begs. His eyes are melted, pleading. Lost and swimming somewhere in the depths of lust like an ocean. He’s harder than she’s ever seen him before, cock sprung towards her with weeping tip just begging to feel her warmth. He’s so desperate he’s been rutting it against her skin, she realizes.

Something takes hold of her body, her movements no longer her own. It feels numb, like invisible strings she had never known were suddenly pulled taut. They move her joints for her, manipulating her arm until her hand is around Hotaru’s stiff length.

“Sorry,” he mutters quickly, realizing his mistake.

He releases the kotodama, the control coming back to her in a tingling wave, from her shoulder down to the tips of her fingers which remain wrapped around his stiff cock. If she didn’t trust him as much as she did, she would be terrified over this level of control and the helpless feeling it brings. But this is Hotaru, after all. And she had to admit…it was a bit of a turn on to see him with that much power.

“No, it’s okay. It’s okay. Please…tell me what you want me to do,” she eggs him on.

They look into each other's eyes for a moment. To twist this power that’s only known bloodshed into something else, something pleasurable…he’s never done that before. He’s never thought it could have any uses beyond misery. And he’s hesitant. His insides twist uncomfortably. His plush lips part but he can’t seem to say anything, his own fear strangling the words in his throat.

She sees his worry building in his eyes, and aims to knock it down before it builds too high for their own good. “It’s okay,” she repeats softly for emphasis. It’s okay. She puts a hand on his chest and feels the racing of his tender heart and the way it begins to slow, in kind.

A gorgeous pink blooms across his face, the color of his nervous embarrassment. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth while he thinks it over, and then his entire body releases the tension it’s been holding. He’s aware of her now, and her hand still coaxing him to her through random strokes.

“Touch me,” he commands.

“Now this is getting interesting,” Kageie’s eyes narrow from underneath her, though neither of the other two notice. His dark smirk draws his lips wide for a moment and he suckles the inside of her thigh to leave yet another mark among countless others. Just watching her stroke Hotaru off has his cock springing excitedly.

The numbness spreads once more. The strings reattached themselves to her limbs, or perhaps they never truly leave. He’s so warm in her hand. Despite the lack of control in her movements, she can still feel everything. How rock hard he is, and how he twitches a bit when she runs a finger over the tip.

“M-more…” Hotaru pleads.

When she grips him tighter, he gasps. Her eyes travel down the cut dips of his twitching abs, to his hips, to her own hand stroking fervently at his cock.

Lost already in the pleasure of being touched, Hotaru leans his forehead against hers and they both look in each other's eyes before peering down to watch his kotodama work her hand back and forth and back again.

“…Faster,” Hotaru commands with surprising authority. His sweet breath is so close it tickles her lips.

She’s a marionette, the strings tighten, pulling her strokes faster and faster. He breathes heavy and hot in her ear now, no doubt unable to focus on anything else. His hips snap, fucking himself in time with her swift strokes. With the kotodama doing all of the heavy lifting, she’s able to watch, turned on, and mesmerized by his wanton movements and she imagines just how good he would feel doing the same thing but inside of her instead of her hand. How good it would feel to have this stiff flesh slip inside of her and fill her up…

Kageie, ever quietly observant, must know exactly what she’s wanting for most. “I think you’re ready for this now, huh?” He says.

His finger enters her slowly, squirming around and exploring the feel of her walls. Finally, finally!, she thinks. The sensation of finally being filled brings her to new heights.

“Mm. Jeeze. You’re so wet, I can easily fit two already. You like my mouth that much, huh? And look, your cute little clit…it’s just begging me to suck it some more.”

The second finger slips inside to stretch and massage her. Kageie’s mouth now on her clit, and while plunging into her he teases and sucks the nub just quick and hard enough to cause white haze at the edges of her vision.

“Fu….ahh, yes, more—please, more,” she squirms from his touch despite her pleading for more, but both men hold her firmly in place.

Kageie’s fingers begin to fuck her with the movement of Hotaru’s thrusts into her hand. She closes her eyes and tosses her head back, wading happily in the sensation of her building orgasm. Each plunge of Kageie’s long fingers sink her deeper into the warm waters of her consciousness. He presses them into pleasurable places she never even knew were there. Yes, yes, please just let me come, she thinks.

“You’re gripping my fingers like crazy, gonna come?” Kageie gives a sly grin.

“Y-yeah, I’m almost there,” she replies breathlessly.

“Oh yeah? Go on, then. Come,” Kageie replies in a slow, deep voice, then begins to work her faster and faster.

She was so close, heaving breaths and moaning each second that brought her closer to orgasm. Just when she felt at the edge of release, an unexpected voice filled the space, cutting through the air with the sharpness of a blade.

“Stop.” Hotaru commands.

Even the air around them seemed to freeze at that moment. And before she knew what was going on, Hotaru had pulled her from Kageie and onto her back where he now hovered above.

She could not move, and by the looks of things, neither could Kageie. Under the spell of Hotaru’s kotodama, they were both powerless to break free. From where he kneeled between her legs, Hotaru ran his calloused yet gentle hands up to her bare thighs, an apologetic look growing on his features as he looked down to her.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I just…wanted to be the one…”

With that, she felt the oppressive control over her break, the air becoming clearer and the ability to move her body at will now given back. Kageie, too, took advantage of the life breathed into his limbs and sat back on the floor.

“You coulda just said something if you wanted a turn,” Kageie huffed, sinking back onto his forearms lazily. Despite his words, he still had a sort of amused grin on his face. No doubt he enjoyed seeing this new side of the usually innocent Hotaru.

“Sorry, Kageie,” Hotaru apologized, but Kageie didn’t seem to care one way or the other, only offering a glimpse of a shrug before Hotaru turned his attention back to her. “Is this okay?” He asked. “Can I…taste you too?”

She feels heat gather in her face at his bold words, and all she can do is nod, holding her breath for what’s to come. Hotaru gathers her legs over his shoulders, immediately sinks into her, tongue softly exploring her pussy.

He’s careful and cautious in his movements, unlike Kageie. Gently, he nudges her open for his mouth. His first licks are quick but soft. Looking down, she can see his tongue darting from his lips at lightening speed to taste her and stimulate her. He laps up to her clit and then back down again several times, building that heat and desire, beckoning her to draw closer to his mouth. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was expertly teasing her.

When he moves to dip his tongue inside of her then scoop it out and up, she lets out a loud moan of ecstasy. Her head lulls to the side, and when it does, she sees Kageie leaning back languidly stroking his cock.

“What? I’m enjoying the show,” he smirks. It’s clear he’s doing his best to sound nonchalant, yet the intensity in his eyes as he looks them both over and the way he shivers slightly when he concentrated on the tip makes it apparent he’s enjoying this much more than he was willingly letting on. As she watches him back, every one of Kageie’s suppressed shivers only bring her closer to orgasm.

Her thighs quiver against Hotaru’s head and he brings a finger to her entrance, tracing it slowly. His mouth is so good and hot against her pussy, he even sucks occasionally at the wetness she leaves on his fingers before he finally presses them inside of her.

“She taste’s good doesn’t she, Hotaru?” Kageie says, his smirk pulling itself to one side.

“…Yeah, really good,” Hotaru replies sweetly, mouth glistening.

Warmth rushes to her head when she sees how much enjoyment Kageie is getting from watching them both. He continues to play with himself, composure slowly slipping away with each stroke. His eyes narrow slightly at the corners, “suck her clit and push up with your fingers. Yeah…just like that.”

As soon as Hotaru takes Kageie’s advice she can feel the delicious pressure pushing at her g-spot. Her body jolts with a cry, panting and whining, quivering as she comes at his fingertips. He continues even as she comes down from her orgasm, pulling her frame closer to him.

“Hotaru…please, I need you,” she calls to him.

His eyes fill with tenderness for her. Pinning the legs that were once over his shoulders now against her torso he hovers over her. There’s so much in his eyes. Love, affection, and his own desire flashing in a heated wave reflected back to her.

Soon, she feels him press himself against her entrance. Every bit of him fills her until his hips still. And she wanted it, in truth. Desperate to feel every inch of him push inside of her, from tip to base. He clings to her, his face pressing down into the mess of disheveled hair he finds just around her neck and shoulder and he lets out a shaky moan at the sensation of being inside of her.

She’s greedy, desperate to feel him move against her and inside of her, so she presses her hips up as much as she can with the way he’s got her pinned. She feels him shiver and when he whines in response to her hastiness she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses whatever part of him her lips can reach.

When he finally begins to move, it’s slow. His body seems to roll majestically when he fucks her. He pulls out to the tip, plunging back in deep and pressing hard when he does so, like perhaps if he tried hard enough he could fill her even more. Slap…slap…slap. It’s steady but stimulating. She can hear how turned on she is by the way it sounds when their bodies come together each time. And maybe it’s because she had just come not a moment ago, but the slow pace of his hips feels perfect.

“You’re so warm and wet, I feel like I’m melting,” he pants into her ear just before giving the lobe a sharp bite.

“Ahh…me too, I can’t get enough of you, Hotaru.”

And it’s true. If she could open herself wider and allow more of him to enter her, she would. But it’s enough to know that he’s feeling good because of her. And as much as she wishes she could wrap her legs around him and use her own hips to meet his thrusts, there’s something extra erotic about the way he has her pinned beneath him. Manly. As if he wants her to relax…to let him be the one to guide her through pleasure.

Hotaru hushes her moans with a deep and tender kiss, pulling back finally to look at her face. “You’re so pretty,” he admits proudly.

“Oh, Hotaru…”

She’s never seen this expression on his face before. All the love in the world concentrated in his eyes, swimming above cheeks overshadowed by heated peach blush. He doesn’t stop pressing into her, and that fact makes it all the more intimate. She wants to reach out to him, to kiss his eyes and nuzzle their noses together but he beats her to it. Grips her face in his hands, softly, and parts her lips with his tongue for another kiss. Fingers move through her hair and down her neck, over her chest and the soft skin he finds there. He props himself up further this time when their lips finally part.

“I want to go faster, is it…okay?” He asks, noses close enough to touch.

“Yeah, please, I want you to.” she smiles warmly.

In a surprising move, he slips both of her legs over one shoulder. A wanton slew of whines escapes him when his hips quicken, snapping against her to fuck her a bit harder.

He’s hitting her just right, but with her lower half immobile all she can do is move her hands to pointlessly grip at the floor as she writhes beneath him, occasionally glancing down to see his large cock moving in and out of her. His hips may be slow but the impact of their skin meeting is rough and slick.

He slams into her as if his life depends on it. She can feel him deeper than she ever has and she doesn’t know if its this position he has her in or his eagerness to be buried as deep inside her as he can go, or all of it at once. But the shock of feeling the tip of his cock pressing this untouched space has her vision blurred by dazzling stars.

She doesn’t know how long he keeps this up. Hotaru’s hands tighten their hold around her, his embrace constricting slightly while she feels his hips become erratic. In her ear, she hears him strain for the words to say he’s coming. Then the command for them to come together follows. Perhaps he doesn’t realize his wording, maybe he does. But as soon as she feels the force of his release inside of her she feels the intense wave of her own orgasm roll through. Together, groaning, they both steadily slow their hips until they can’t move.

It’s fulfilling and sweet; this feeling. Hotaru’s heavy breathing expanding his chest in her embrace as she too struggles to catch her breath. When he pulls away it feels too soon, but she doesn’t have much time to dwell on the moment. Kageie’s strong figure looms above her now, and something inside her twitches at the site of his handsomely sculpted figure. The lines drawing down, enticing her eyes to focus where his arousal is apparent. Looking back up, she can see his smirk as he watched her. Hands grip her heels, pulling her across the floor and underneath him, dragging themselves up her skin as if to survey the land they lay claim to.

He flips her by the hips as if she weighed no more than a kitten, bottom propped up towards him in all her unabashed glory. She loved how he handled her, truthfully. It wasn’t overly rough, but communicative. And the look on his face told her he was more than passed the limit of his restraint. He placed her where he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted. The hungry confidence of a wolf. Truly. And below him, stark naked, she had never felt more rabbit. Shivering in anticipation.

He enveloped her. Already sensitive, it was almost too much to feel him even rub himself against her outer folds. That strong chest of his pressed against her back, Kageie’s mouth prepping her with kisses along her neck and cheek, the corner of her mouth. He always knew how to wind her up.

“Stick your tongue out,” he told her.

When she opened her mouth, he met her. His own tongue flicking devilishly over hers. He sucked her tongue, pressing the kiss deeper into her mouth and roughly handling her breasts. She felt taken care of, being touched and kissed, the ache building between her legs as she felt his cock thrust back and forth against her clit. When she began to whine, his smile drew like moonlight over a dark lake. He kissed down her neck, a promise, holding her jaw in one large hand and she could feel the scratch of callouses. The proof of his hard training. Proof of his strength and power, and the dedication to come home to her in the end. It was, admittedly, a turn on.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, and I won’t be as gentle,” he whispered like a secret. But she already knew.

“I don’t care,” she whispered back. And it was true. Her mind was lost, she was already pushing back into him, begging to feel more than just the sweat of his skin. The tease of feeling his incredible length drag against her yet not inside of her was making her crazy. Or at least, she felt a little crazy. Like a reed in a storm wind her arms wavered underneath the weight of her want and weakness.

“That’s a good girl. But first, open your mouth and clean the mess you left,” Kageie instructed, pulling her head straight by the jaw and not letting go until she opened wide, sticking her tongue out to lazily sit atop her bottom lip.

Hotaru seemed to need no instruction, positioning himself in front of her so that she could take him into her mouth. She didn’t mind; their tastes mingled together. He had been a bit soft, but as she continued to suck to the base and back again it was impossible to miss how he twitched and grew between her lips. Meanwhile, Kageie continued to rile her up from behind.

Her decency was now adrift, anchor-less. Hotaru’s hands were playing in her hair as she moved to tease his cutting hips with warm kisses. She was practically drowning in the low moans and overstimulated twitches, moving on instinct, tantalizing his every nerve by letting the soft skin of her cheeks brush against the bounce of his tip as he desperately tried to get her mouth back where he needed it most.

She was drunk on his desperation. On his lust. She wouldn’t deny him forever, but she did enjoy his pitiful cries every time she afforded him contact. It was so rare to hear Hotaru like this, after all. He was always vulnerable. But not like this. He looked at her differently, now. Like a man looked at a woman. She could see a million different urges flashing in his eyes, chest heaving, and prominent veins in the strong hands that gently guided her head like a delicate flower despite the obvious quelling desire to force himself into her mouth and use her for a fuck.

Finally she slid him over her wet tongue and towards her throat once more. Hotaru’s body shivered, and Kageie’s hands slithered up to grab her breasts.

“You’re just a dirty girl with a naughty little mouth, aren’t you?” Kageie remarks, pinching her nipples between his fingertips.

She winces in response, mouth still full of cock but she manages to muffle an admission of guilt, “mmfhm.”

He straightens her hips, scooping the head of his cock up to her hole and, gods, how she felt the anticipation like electricity up her spine. She knows she’s still slick with Hotaru’s come, and she loves Kageie for not caring. In fact, she’s positive it only serves to further turn him on. And, though she can’t admit it out loud, she is so turned on at that thought that by the end of the evening she’ll be filled with both their seed.

With expert skill Kageie fills her in one motion, forceful and greedy and rough. He’s thicker than Hotaru, and the way she stretches to fit him inside of her has her eyes rolling toward the back of her head.

There’s a gorgeous noise escaping Kageie behind her. The sound of his fulfillment and ecstasy betrays him in the best way. He slaps her ass with his right hand, just to hear the echo and watch it bounce against his own skin that’s pressed against her. The red print of his hand has him biting his lips.

“How does her mouth feel?” Kageie asks.

Hotaru can barely keep his eyes open, he looks as if his knees might give out at a moment's notice. Still, he tries to answer. “Amazing…warm, wet…it f-feels so good,” he whimpers.

“Do you hear that? He’s enjoying fucking your mouth. Let him feel your throat, too.”

Kageie slams into her, purposefully, sending her face into Hotaru’s pelvis and his cock deep down her throat. And much to her surprise, when she chokes, Hotaru’s body quivers in pleasure. His hips stutter in time with his shaky moan and she can feel his hard length dance in her throat, letting her know he’s close to coming. She thinks he’ll pull away, as he usually does. Perhaps fist his swollen cock and pump his seed on her waiting tongue.

Instead, she feels him wrap around her head like an embrace, continuing to thrust up into her now dripping mouth. He speaks like a whisper as he holds her. “I’m sorry…it just feels so good, I can’t stop.”

He uses the kotodama to relax her, to keep her breathing and comfortable, and she closes her eyes and succumbs to the feeling of two pairs of hips pushing into her from each end. It sends a wave of satisfaction and hunger through her as she listens to both men enjoying her body and giving her pleasure in return.

Then, Hotaru’s hips still, and as soon as he finishes he pulls away from her slippery mouth and practically collapses onto the futon below. His cheeks are flushed and his body is as relaxed as she’s ever seen.

But Kageie isn’t finished. Just as soon as she’s wiped her chin he picks up his pace again behind her. It’s so inhumanly quick, as if he’s waited a thousand years to fuck her and he’s eager to release all of that pent up arousal. He forces her back into a deep arch and sends her on her forearms, unable to contain the staccato stream of yelps he pushes out of her with his cock.

“Nn, damn…let me hear more of your voice. I warned you, there won’t be an inch of you left that hasn’t known the feel of me,” Kageie remarks, almost breathlessly. He means it. He intended to seize and cherish every sigh, every gasp, every pleasured cry of his name that floated from her kissable lips.

At one point he grasps her arms, pulling them back towards him and using the position to arch her back like a reed in wind, penetrating as deep as he can. He truly is a beast, but she is just as depraved, for when he slows down its the rough treatment and quick thrusts of his she craves. The hands that know where and how to touch her and the feel of his cock rubbing against her walls and between her clenched thighs.

Hotaru has moments where he looks as if he is about to reach out and touch her but refrains. His gaze is admiring and studious, retaining all these new ways to use and touch her. How Kageie stops at one point, pressing his fingertips into her ass cheeks as if he were squishing two steam buns and guiding her to do the work herself. She doesn’t know where she musters the strength, but she’s so turned on and desperate to feel him that she pushes back and forward and back again, fucking herself on his stiff cock.

A few times he has to pull out. Slap himself against her clit or ass, because the sight of her so desperate and needy, using him to get off, makes him want to blow right then and there. He bites his lip but it doesn’t stop the moans from escaping his mouth. He guesses he doesn’t really care, anyway.

And when she looks like she can barely hold herself up he pulls her towards him to lean back against his chest. How he supports them both, she can’t fathom. She feels like a puddle. His resilience and strength a continued wonder. But it feels good to lean on him, to feel the heat of his arms wrap around her torso as she’s locked in his embrace.

He tilts her chin to the side and kisses her. It’s soft and tender. She can taste his love and fire. His hand snakes down her torso like water to the mouth of a river and then she feels the titillatingly sharp slapping at her apex. Immediately she squirms from the sudden stimulation on her clit, whimpering into his mouth because it feels so fucking good—his kiss, his cock, his hand touching her just right. She feels a small, sadistic laugh vibrate in Kageie’s chest pressed against her back, and then he whispers, “cute,” into her ear before nibbling it some.

His hand continues its work on her clit and it’s so much pleasure that her eyes press closed, her head tosses back into the crook of his neck and she comes over his thrusting cock.

“Hnngh, hells, you’re tight,” he pants in response. His hands press her squirming hips back down so she is fully taking in his cock, and he comes inside of her with a low, effortlessly sexy moan. She hates how easy it is for him to sound this way. She places her hands over his as if he might understand that it means she adores him so.

They’re not connected much longer. The length of a few more languid thrusts and a shaky kiss to her crown. She collapses next to Hotaru and Kageie follows, hot limbs draping over her and eyes already closed for sleep. He’s predictable. She kisses his hand, then kisses Hotaru’s cheek, just underneath his right eye where the skin is plush like mochi. Their blanket the milky moonlight.

#slbp #samurai love ballad party #slbp hotaru #slbp kagetsugu #slbp fic #kirigakure hotaru #kakizaki kageie #kageiexmcxhotaru #my writing #my commissions

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thatmultifandomhoe · 5 years ago

Text

A Lifetime under Moonlit Nights

Word Count: 5,289

Overview: It was a love story that began when Gods roamed the Earth, and lasted over the course of several centuries, always under the beauty of the moonlit sky. But when one life is cut too short, you realize how tiresome it is to constantly be reborn.

Pairing: Seokjin and Reader

Genre AU/Rating: God AU - Fluff - Angst - Past Lives - Reincarnation - Rated: PG-13

Warning: Character Death - Greek Mythology - brief mention/appearance of Jungkook and Seonghwa.

Master List:

Pinterest Mood Board:

A/N: Part of the Bulletproof Bingo Event hosted by @ficswithluv

©thatmultifandomhoe 2020. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The sun had long since fallen for its slumber, allowing the moon to grace the world with its silver beauty. Millions of stars were intricately stitched into the sky overhead, and the dew from the grass leaving small wet patches on Seokjin’s clothes, but he didn’t mind.

It was in the early hours of the new day that he waited for you. The meeting spot was far from the world he called his home, but he went out to the country side where the grass reached his knees and the purple wisteria tree you loved so dearly created a veil between the two worlds.

Every night when he came to this spot, you were already there waiting from him, hidden within the branches and their petals, that ever-patient smile painted on your lips. Only on rare occasions did he find himself arriving first.

On those nights, he’d usually hide behind the tree until you arrived, cheeks flushed red and chest heaving, worried that you’d been too late. It was then that you’d sigh, allowing yourself to catch your breath as you sat on the ground, fingers running along the blades of grass as if they were a dear friend. He’d then wait, a gentle smile always present as he listened to your soft mutterings for a few moments before suddenly appearing.

Sometimes there would be the clanking of glasses, an occasional treat hidden within the picnic basket you’d bring along. Then the kisses would be rich with sangria stained lips, but Jin would always say that he’d get drunk off you and not the wine. You’d laugh, possibly even call him corny, and the stars would shine brighter in the midnight sky.

Tonight however, he laid on the grass in front of the trunk of the wisteria, recalling the day it had been planted. That had been a different time and way of life. Easily over a hundred years and was yet just as beautiful as the day it grew, unknowingly from his magic.

Magic that sadly, many have forgotten.

These were now the days of lore and myths, stories told to wide eyes souls and used for lessons to navigate life, but everyone seemed to forget that perhaps, once upon a time, were the very fabric of everyday life. Gods and Goddesses once roamed the Earth before retiring to their new homes in the heavens. Only a handful remained and lived in modern society.

As God of the moon, Seokjin slept his mornings away and spent his nights making sure that the moon stayed in the sky until dawn. Whether or not he was in a good mood or not, was reflected in how dull or bright the stars appeared.

Most of the time, the stars were easily seen. When he was with you underneath the wisteria tree, they gleamed liked freshly polished diamonds. For living as long as he had, it was hard to be affected by the on goings on mortals and he had all but managed to turn a blind eye to their antics. Sometimes on his travels, he’d spy someone walking alone or a couple out on a late night adventure and he’d be reminded of you, and partially amused, he’d bless the rest of their night or offer them protection with the moonlight, ensuring a safe journey to wherever they wandered.

You were the only human that he cared deeply about, and when you were sick or hurt, the stars would dull, and remain so until you were yourself again. Jin was a God and yet, the very thing he was in charge of, was really controlled by you. He was wrapped around your precious fingers, wanting nothing more than to please and treasure you.

“Jin?”

Tilting his head, his lips curled into a smile when seeing you standing in front of him, the wisteria petals parting like a curtain for you. The scarf you wore to cover your head was silver, glowing every so faintly that one might mistake it for a reflection of the moonlight up above. For a brief second, the light surrounding it grew brighter in his presence before disappearing.

“What are you doing here so early?” you softly asked, letting the branches slide from your palm as you joined him.

Jin raised an eyebrow as he stood, slipping his hands into yours as he gave a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Is there another who you meet here?” He teased.

“Ah, but you’d know if I was meeting someone else,” you shot back, unfolding the blanket on to the ground by the tree.

“That is true, the moon sees all.”

His smile softened as you laughed, the sound reminding him of the music that Jungkook played to soothe the other Gods when things didn’t go their way. But yours was better.

You carefully lowered yourself to the ground with his help, sighing when you leaned backwards against the trunk. For a brief moment, his smile faded at the sight of your face scrunching up, knowing that it wasn’t because you had sat on an awkwardly placed root.

“Darling,” Jin said, settling next to you on the blanket. “I can come to you so you don’t have to walk this far out.”

But you shook your head, choosing to lean against his chest as he curled his arm around your waist. “I’m fine. I swear, these trips are the only time I get to leave the house these days.”

He knew that. Which was why he had asked Jungkook to check on you when he made his journeys with the sun. Some days were better than others, but according to him, you spent the days sleeping more often than not. It worried Jin greatly, and even his brothers were showing their concern. With the modern age and new medicine, mortals had begun to live longer than before.

However, this mortal body was already failing, and you were barely halfway to your thirty years.

Inhaling the sweet scent of the wisteria, he laced his fingers with yours, trying to ignore how they had a shake to them that didn’t used to be there.

“Please,” he whispered, kissing your cheek once, twice. “I’d hate for you to get hurt on your way.”

“Jin—”

“If you won’t let me take you to see Jungkook, then at least let me visit you at home.”

You pressed your lips together in silence, choosing to focus on the flowers instead of meeting his gaze. This wasn’t the first time the two of you had this discussion. Ever since that fateful day two years ago, all he wanted to do was make things comfortable for you, but that wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted life to go on as normal. Like you always have.

But how could he do that when the life you were supposed to live was only a small fraction of what it should be?

“Do you remember the first time we met?” You suddenly asked.

He frowned at the change of conversation, slightly frustrated that once again, you were choosing to ignore your safety. Despite his worries, he leaned his head against the tree, able to recall the memory with ease.

“I had been a so young,” he simply said.

A warm breeze drifted into the area, the purple branches swaying as both of you recalled a simpler time.

“And so handsome,” you teased, squeezing his hand.

The indignant sound that left his mouth would have sent his brothers laughing from their homes in the heavens, but it had you giggling. “I am still handsome,” he argued. “In fact, I’m even more handsome now. I’ve aged like fine wine over the centuries.”

Rolling your eyes, you settled your free hand on his leg. There was a twinkle in your gaze that was strong tonight, glowing brightly as you stared at the grass in front of you like it held all the secrets in the world.

“Still so full of yourself,” you joked, relaxing once again upon feeling his other hand settle on top of yours. “And that was how I knew you were a God. So cocky.”

If any other mortal had said that – and it was a couple centuries earlier - they would have been cursed without a second thought. Coming from you, Jin simply chuckled. “Usually you’re praising me for that darling,” he murmured, kissing your temple as you elbowed him.

Blush tinted your cheeks but you ignored his comment. “If you told me back at our first meeting that I’d be spending the rest of eternity being reincarnated, a new body, a new life, to be with you – a God nonetheless – forever…I wouldn’t have believed you.”

Your voice had softened, piquing his interest as he recalled that fateful day himself. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be in the clearing, especially in the middle of the night, but there you were, standing alone and hugging yourself as you stared up at the stars. The plain dress hadn’t done anything to emphasize your figure, but the fire in your eyes was alive, daring him to do the wrong thing.

One gaze was all it took for him to be interested, and with your smart remarks, he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. Every night he went back to that spot hoping to see you again. Sometimes you weren’t there, but more often than not, you waiting for him with a witty remark.

“Do you remember our first kiss?” He asked, resting his head against yours.

Closing your eyes, you hummed in agreement.

Back then you thought it was impossible for the two of you to be together. He was a God, destined to live forever while your existence was numbered by the Fates.

The idea had been silly, but you had been concerned with what would happen after you passed away. A young woman who was in love with Jin, you knew that unless you became pregnant with his child, your legacy was going to die with you since you refused to love another. You wanted something to live and prosper long after you had left this world.

The sapling had caught your attention one day at the market, the idea that it would have bloom purple and grow into a massive tree was what you sold you as you handed over the coins to the seller, eagerly carrying it back to your home where you waited until the stars came out to plant it. You had been digging the hole when Jin arrived, curious as to what you were doing.

“This is my legacy,” you told him, stopping to wipe your brow.

He frowned while smiling, amused that you were concerned with such a simple thing. “A tree?”

“Yes, a tree. But it’ll grew tall, and beautiful, outshining everything in this clearing forever.”

Not wanting to waste time, you continued to dig, only needing to go a little further until it’d be deep enough.

The air was warm that summer, and as you dug, he took the chance to admire you. You weren’t like the Goddesses he knew, who demanded to be pampered and chased after by multiple partners, vying for everyone’s attention but never satisfied when someone specific wasn’t looking their way. Dirt didn’t scare you, and because you lived in a small home by yourself, you did the work that men usually did, thus making your hands rougher and leaving aches in your body from the day’s work.

“Won’t your legacy live on with your children?” He forced himself to ask, his chest aching at the mere thought of you being with another.

Hesitating, you barely glanced at Jin. “I…I don’t plan on getting married,” you said instead.

Deciding that the hole was big enough, you tossed the shovel to the side and got on your knees to remove the cloth wrapping from the base of the tree.

This was news to Jin however. He had always thought that you’d one day marry someone who was your equal. “Why not?”

“I won’t marry someone who I don’t love.” With delicate touches, you carefully undid the twine that held the wrapping together, setting it to the side for later use.

“Do you love someone?”

“Yes…but it’s not possible for us to be together.”

You hadn’t planned to say that, but the words spilled out of your mouth before you were able to stop them. It was too late now.

The wrapping was finally removed, but you didn’t hurry to plant it into the ground. Instead, you kept it in your lap, the dirt staining the cloth of your dress. There was a longing within to tell him the truth, wanting to say that you loved him so much that it hurt when he hugged you goodbye, or how during the day while doing the simplest of tasks, your mind wandered to what it would be like to kiss his plush lips, even delving into fantasies of sharing a bed with him. Of being by his side as more than a friend.

With every daydream, your heart swelled with love only to get beaten when you remembered what you both were. There just was no possible way it could work out.

Your vision blurred and stung as you sniffed, reaching up with the back of your hand to wipe away the tears, but a hand stopped you from doing so. Lifting your head, you saw Jin on his knees in front of you, the sapling in one hand while he caressed your cheek with the other. He quietly wiped away the tears, took your hand, and placed the sapling into the hole. Together, the two of you pushed the dirt back over it, gently patting the mound it made once it was securely planted.

“You know,” Jin softly spoke, lacing his fingers together with yours. “Anything is possible, if you’re willing to take a chance.”

He was closer than you originally thought, your gaze darting down to his lips before looking into his eyes. They were as dark as the night, timeless even. A soft breeze rustled his black hair, his bangs covering his forehead and without realizing it, you were reaching up to brush them out of the way.

As if under a spell, you leaned forward when he did, his lips gently touching yours in a sweet kiss. And then another, and another. He released your hand to cup your face, allowing him to add pressure to the kisses, drawing them out to make each one last.

It was the moment the two of you had been holding yourselves back from, and now that it happened, there was no going back. Jin hadn’t even realized that he was crying himself until your fingers gently touched his face, forcing him to pull back at the wetness on his face. Seeing that you were in a similar state, he brought you into his arms, being mindful of the newly planted tree.

Caught up in your emotions, neither of you saw the silver moonlight outlining each branch and leaf of the sapling, the tears of two lovers mixing together and sinking into the tree itself, going all the way down to the roots to help anchor it to the clearing. Forever.

“I miss those days,” you murmured, resurfacing from the memory.

Jin simply kissed the side of your head, trying to ignore the tightening in his stomach. “They were simpler times.”

You tilted your head back against his shoulder, gazing up the wisteria tree. It had grown so beautifully since the day you planted it, and while no one else remembered who had been the one to do it, the legacy you had so desired back then was fulfilled.

“Jin, are there any wisteria trees where you live?”

He froze, the tightening of emotions traveling to his heart as he recognized the longing in your voice. It was the same one he had heard all those years ago when you brought up being with him always, but wanting a mortal life at the same time. Reincarnation had been the answer to solve both problems.

“Yes,” he answered, licking his lips as his arms tightened just the slightest around your frail body. “This exact one in fact is in my garden. Why do you ask Darling?”

“I’m tired,” you said.

There was no easy way to say it, but it was true. For the first time in all your reincarnations, the body you were given for this life was not going to die of old age like the others had. You were sick. The treatments and medicines made you worse and you ached everywhere. When you weren’t at the hospital you were stuck in your bedroom, your parents always there to help you move about and get you things, hovering by the doorway in-case you needed something else. It was overwhelming and tiring. The only time you felt like yourself was when you managed to sneak out while they slept, taking these stolen hours with Jin to relax and be yourself.

Now that you tired out more easily, you took naps often and each time you closed your eyes, a memory from before replayed itself out. Whether it was from your very first life, or your fortieth, to all the weddings you and Jin had, you got to relive them all. There were just so many. It was truly a gift to be able to live so many lives and remember them, but it wasn’t until now – diagnosed and dying from cancer – that you realized how simpler it all would have been, had you only joined Jin’s side in heaven the first time.

Yes, the two of you had been so young, so in love, but you had also been so wrapped up in finding a solution – him wanting you to be with him forever, and you not wanting to have more than a mortal life – that you had been blind to the consequences.

Until you were able to truly understand your memories and locate the wisteria tree, Jin spent years alone, waiting for you appear once again. The reunions and the years together were always worth it, but he also saw you grow older, watched as strands of hair turned white and grey, and the wrinkles became more defined. He stayed by your side through it all, the good and bad, and he was always the one to suffer when the day came where you wouldn’t open your eyes.

The weight of living so many lives wasn’t a light burden either.

“Darling, I can bring you home –”

You shook your head though, carefully reaching up to remove the scarf that Jin had given you the night after you shaved your hair off. It had been thinning and falling out in clumps, and this way, it was easier to manage. “No Jin, we both know that’s not what I mean.”

He pressed his lips together, feeling his eyes sting at the possibility of what you were implying. “What do you want to do then?”

Heart racing, you turned to face him, unable to keep your own tears at bay upon seeing his face. Jin, your lover, husband, hadn’t age at all since the day you met. He was exactly the same, while you felt like a stranger with the memories of a million different versions of yourself.

“I don’t want to be reborn after this,” you said. “I want to go home, with you to the stars. As grateful as I am for all these lives I’ve lived, it’s exhausting and not worth having, when we could have had one life together this entire time.”

For a split second, Jin was prepared to argue your request, to give multiple reasons for why you shouldn’t let this go, and then the fight was all gone. Gods were always giving. Whether they were gifts, blessings, curses, punishments, they gave and gave, but rarely did they take it back. You were the love of his immortal life. He didn’t want to lose you, and the idea of you not being reborn again was terrifying.

“I can’t take you straight to heaven with me,” he softly explained. “Your soul will go to the Underworld where it’ll be judged. Only then can I try and plead our case, but it won’t be up to me.”

“I know Seokjin,” you said, using his full name for the first time in so long. “Just because I’ve had more than my fair share, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten our ways.”

He didn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. Only you would reprimand a God. Cupping the side of your face, his smile reappeared when you leaned into his touch, sighing as he ran his thumb across the skin. There had been so many rebirths that he had lost count of which life you were on, and while your physical features were not always the same, the littlest things from your first life were still there. Like the small scar on your chin from when you had been sharpening an arrow. Or the slight curve in the middle of your nose, a result from when he suggested taking a swim in a lake after midnight. How was he supposed to know that you’d slip and land on a rock?

Jin leaned in and kissed your chapped lips, the scarf slipping from your hands as it landed on the blanket underneath you.

“This will be your last mortal life,” he firmly said, pulling back to see the relief in your eyes. The power of his words rippling in the air, the stars dulling as his heart ached. How long have you wanted this but not said a word to him? “After this, your soul will go to the Underworld to be judged by Seonghwa, just like everyone else.”

You gently smiled at him as you watched Jin take the scarf you always wore and loosely tie it around your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin but he remained quiet, the moon light dimming when he felt how cold you were.

“Thank you,” you said.

He shook his head, bringing you to his chest and hugging you. Whether or not releasing you of being reborn hurried up what time frame you had left, he wanted to enjoy this moment. The last thing he wanted to think about was the fateful day to come. All he wanted was to pretend that he wasn’t a God, because instead of healing you like any other would have done, he had taken away the one thing that guaranteed you a future.

All because you asked, and he loved you too much to say no.

Jin held your hand to his lips, refusing to look anywhere else but at you.

It was the moment that he had been dreading, the one you had been looking forward to.

Jungkook had woken Jin up in the middle of the day – something that no one would ever do – and it was only when he mentioned your name that Jin listened to what the sun God had to say. Apparently, your illness had taken a turn for the worse, and the doctors now had morphine in your IV drip.

“It’ll make her comfortable,” Jungkook explained, having followed after Jin to the hospital room that you were staying in.

It had been a few days since then, and Jin had taken to staying by your side as long as he could. The only time he left your side was when he was needed to make the moon rise and descend, but even then, it was a half-hearted effort. Like always when your time came to an end, his emotions bested him, dulling the stars to smudged glass and cloudy nights.

Normally, he’d be able to find hope within his heart at the prospect of you returning to him in your next life, sometimes even making a game out of it to see where you might come from, what language you’d speak, how’d you look, but it was all different now.

Lowering his gaze, he kissed the back of your hand, a small smile appearing at the sight of the silver wedding band on your ring finger. While the two of you hadn’t been able to get married in this life, it had been his one request that you eagerly said yes too, sighing when he had slipped it on for you. He always wore his, having refused to take it off after the first wedding because in his eyes, no matter how many lives you lived or centuries passed by, you had never stopped being his wife.

He had thought that he’d get used to seeing you grow ill and passing away by now, but it never got any easier. Usually it was when you reached your older years, so it was jarring to see you so young but so ill and fragile. The sight of you in pain made him collapse to his knees, begging you to take back your last wish so that you’d be reborn again. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

But you had simply shook your head, even daring a slight smile as you offered your hand for him to take.

The heart rate monitor was slow, consistently beeping in the otherwise silent room. Both your parents had gone for the today, having been convinced by the nurse that they needed to go home and get some sleep even if it was just for a few hours.

Even without Jungkook’s expertise in the area, Jin knew that by the long paces in-between each beat, your heart was slowing down. This was not a battle you were going to fight this time. Although, with a fond smile, he recalled how well you once fought with a sword when you had to defend your home from thieves back in Greece.

Or that time when in Paris, some fool thought that he could run off with your purse when the two of you had been walking along Le Mur des Je t’aimes in Montmartre in Paris at dusk. Not only had you made the French raise an eyebrow at your choice words – spoken perfectly might he add – but you had even made the police nod in approval.

“Oh darling,” Jin whispered, kissing your hand again as his eyes watered up. “You have lived so many beautiful lives. I just wish I had been there more than I was.”

Tears dripped down his cheeks as he bowed his head, sending a silent prayer that your soul would reach the Underworld without any trouble, and another to Seonghwa personally, pleading for him to take care of you until he decided your fate.

When he lifted his head, your hand slumped in his while the glimmer of silver light that had been surrounding your body disappeared. Gently, he placed your hand back on the bed, the nurses rushing in when a single long beep echoed from the heart monitor.

But Jin was gone by then.

It had been weeks since the funeral. Not a word had been heard from Seonghwa about his decision, there hadn’t even been a heads up to let Jin know if your soul arrived to the Underworld or not.

As a result, the night sky had been cloudy. With the exception of when he visited your grace and he made the moon and stars glow brightly just for you, the nights had been dark and dreary, just like how he felt. The other Gods were used to him being emotional after your deaths, but this hit harder for Jin, and the longer he went without knowing where you soul ended up, he was starting to think that he’d never see you again.

He had centuries of memories with you, and as wonderful as they all were, there was nothing better than being able to hold and kiss you all over again.

He hadn’t been back to Earth since then. There was no point, you had been the main reason for all his visits. He had debated on going down to visit your wisteria tree. It was your meeting spot, a sacred place the two of you shared, but it wouldn’t be the same if he were to arrive and not see you there with a smile.

Instead, he had taken to walking around his garden more often than not, isolating himself from the other Gods and choosing to be by himself. The night the two of you had planted the sapling on Earth, in his own personal garden up in heaven, the wisteria sapling appeared even though he hadn’t planted one. Over the years it grew alongside yours, a perfect replica that reminded him of you that he visited often when you were in-between lives.

It was to the wisteria tree that he found himself walking towards, hands crossed behind his back, the moon high in the sky. His mind drifted away, barely even thinking about the duties he had to attend to. There were already plenty of council meetings that he had missed and as lenient as Namjoon was, Jin needed to get his act together soon or there’d be consequences. His brothers knew how much he loved you, they themselves all had their own experiences with their own special human, but he had gotten more time with you than any other.

The time to move on was drawing near.

Gently separating the branches, Jin entered the hideaway that the wisteria tree created, it’s petals and branches acting as a veil from reality for the time being. Perhaps he would stay out here and reminisce on the past, at least until it was time for the moon to descend.

“Hey there handsome, you’re late.”

Jin’s eyes widened as he suddenly looked towards the trunk of the tree, staring at the woman standing there.

Your eyes twinkled brighter than the stars, a subtle silver laurel wreath style crown was placed gently on top of your hair, and you wore the white cloth dress with the silver belt that you had worn on the day you two got married. Your first wedding to be exact.

“What?” You asked, your smile widening as you stepped closer to your husband, unable to help yourself from teasing him a little bit. “Do you usually meet up with another woman here?”

In his chest, he felt his heart warm up and begin to beat again at the sight of you. Not wanting to risk you disappearing from him, Jin hurried to your side and swept you off the ground, your laughter echoing throughout the garden as you hugged him back just as a tightly, both his and your bodies glimmering with a silver outline in the darkness.

“Darling, I’ve missed you,” Jin cried, not wanting to speak anymore to kiss your shoulders and neck. Everywhere and anywhere he could, he kissed before finally reaching your soft lips, not letting you get a single word out as an explanation because to be frank, he didn’t care anymore.

You were by his side once again, and without either of you breaking from the sweet reunion, the stars began to illuminate in the night for the first time in months. The moonlight bathed the world in silver stardust, protecting the humans who walked in the night and granting safe journeys to wherever they went, and a blessing for lovers all around.

Even the Gods themselves were stepping out of their homes, all admiring how beautiful the moon and stars looked tonight.

Jin would no longer have to mourn the loss of you, or only have one life at time with you. Now…now the two of you had an eternity of moonlit nights to be together.

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thescentoflavender · 5 years ago

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MLQC CN: Easter Eggs from the Art team

This was released as part of the 2nd anniversary commemoration from MLQC’s production team on Weibo a while back! It’s amazing how they put so much effort into making sure that every detail is perfect.

N.B. For karmas referenced in this post which may have been released in the MLQC EN server, their titles may not correspond to those used here. I translated all karma titles from scratch because 1) it’s easier for me and 2) I’ve never quite liked some of the MLQC EN karma titles anyway.

Other easter eggs can be found by searching the tag “#mlqc easter eggs” on my blog. I’ll update when I have the time.

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~Please don’t repost this translation in any way~

Part 1: Xu Mo • Always By Your Side

The background in Xu Mo’s birthday karma is actually the chibi house cutout!

Part 2: Li Zeyan • Heart to Heart

We intentionally drew a heart on that poker card. It means that he wants to steal your heart. (≧∇≦)

Part 3: The Secret Behind Bai Qi’s Earrings

One of the presents for Bai Qi’s chibi house is a pair of hoop earrings. We’ve hidden a set of Morse codes on the inside of the earrings! Try to solve it ^ω^

My notes: I solved it! The Morse codes say “Love You”.

Part 4: Zhou Qiluo • One Step Away

The bracelet is intentionally coloured both silver and gold!

Part 5: From the jiejie who shed blood, sweat and tears in designing the main route karmas

My Notes: jiejie is a term that refers to a relatively young female who is still older than the speaker.

The hardest character to draw was Old Li*, and his clothes were also very hard to design—they always came back to suits. In terms of karmas, the main route ones were a lot harder to draw than the normal ones. Because I had already drawn quite a lot of karmas, in order to make the designs interesting and outstanding, I needed to spend a lot of time brainstorming and discussing with the Writing team to produce a karma that would truly impress the gamers. For a single card, I would discard many drafts; sometimes I would even pass over 7 or 8 drafts in one go... Though it was painful, I felt very accomplished when you all sent in your praises!

*N.B. “Old Li” refers to Li Zeyan. It’s a bit like an affectionate term.

Part 6: From the jiejie who sings

It’s MLQC’s second anniversary, it’s getting harder to draw the men, it’s nearly impossible to think of new catchphrases for the karmas, and we’ve used all our composites. Any more of this and the result might be disappointing— But we will continue to do our best, relishing in the process no matter how painful it may be. Even though we’re continually tortured by those four men, looking at each of your comments motivates us to strive for the best, so thank you for your support all this time! Every drawing is our blood, sweat and tears; we pull our hair out over it, but it seems to become better. In this new year and the coming years, please continue to love these few men~

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The original image can be found here: https://bit. ly/2Mk9tRb

#mr love: queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc #mlqc cn #恋与制作人 #anniversary commemoration #mlqc easter eggs #art team #thescentoflavender translations

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rosesloveletters · 4 years ago

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self-ship reference

this is a repost from my old blog and the self-ship tag I filled out quite a while ago, but I’d like to keep this as a reference on here for my main self-ships with J and Pat. I have added more onto the original post and tweaked some things - I truly enjoy sharing about them now❤❤ I will probably add to this from time to time to update things, just so I at least have some record of it somewhere; I wouldn’t want to forget them❤

I now also have ship names for J, Pat and I:

J / Jack x Rosie = Jaie

- first two letters of his name and last two letters of my name❤ (literally pronounced as ‘J’)

Patrick Verona x Rosie = Verose

- first three letters of his last name combined with my entire legal name (Rosie is just a nickname of mine.)

last updated: november 29, 2020

please do not read if you are not interested in or comfortable with self-shipping.

word count: 3,568

Date you got together?

J: 10/22/19. I was aware of J when I was 8-9 years old but we never had a relationship or anything. He and I “found each other” again last October. I feel like he found me when he knew I was ready for a relationship with him. I had a whole lot going on when I was younger and I still do, but I think I’m in the best mentality I could be and I’ve grown up a lot in the past couple of years. I was not where I am now and I am strong enough to handle his persona.

Pat: 3/30/20. Pat and I got together a few months after J and I, but it seems almost like the same amount of time. We really didn’t get to become too close because J overpowers him and monopolizes my time whenever he can. We only started to get closer a few months ago because J was distant enough to let Pat come closer. The two used to find it difficult to coexist, but they’ve been able to work it out. Now, Pat and J are almost as close as each of them are with me. They still bicker and call each other names, but it is done with love rather than malice.

Favorite personality trait?

I love all of their personality traits, but for the sake of being succinct I’m only sharing one for each.

J: His ‘devil-may-care’ attitude. I heavily admire that J can do whatever he wants regardless of the rules - he’s untouchable and nothing can hurt him. I wish I could have a taste of that and perhaps that is one of the reasons I’m drawn to J; he gives me an outlet and a way to experience that kind of freedom that is unattainable within my real life.

Pat: His independence and how he isn’t affected by what others think of him (I know I said only one for each but I admire both of these qualities equally). I always admire independence because I am very independent as well. And as someone who used to be very concerned with how others saw me, I admire the lack of that quality in Pat because I strive to be that way every single day. I don’t want to be defined by what people think of me. Watching Pat be a good person in spite of his reputation inspires me so much - that is the exact sort of person I’d like to be.

Favorite physical trait?

I love all of their physical traits, but for the sake of being succinct I’m only sharing one for each.

J: His hands. I can always tell when J is touching me, rubbing my back or holding my hand. His hands are so distinctly him. They’re calloused and rough, but I love the way he softens from the inside out when his hands are on me and the gentlest touch is almost ironic coming from him.

Pat: His smile. Pat’s smile is brighter than the sun and more inviting than a hot bath or a warm cup of cocoa. I would do absolutely anything to see his warm smile, anything.

Couple song

main songs:

Faithfully - Journey

Lover - Taylor Swift

Daylight - Taylor Swift

Your Song - Elton John

Pet peeves…

J: If I have food he’ll just kind of grab off my plate, he never fully washes the shampoo out of his hair so he comes out greasier than when he got in, he’ll drink after me because he knows I hate that and won’t drink any more so he gets the rest, he won’t just get in the bed normally he’ll flop down and kind of mess around or bounce obnoxiously until he’s “comfortable”, gets crumbs in the bed, (J annoys me a lot, can you tell?) He also has this new habit of waking me up by digging his fingers into my hair and scratching the back of my head really obnoxiously and it is terrifying when I’m not prepared for it lol.

Pat: Pat doesn’t annoy me half as much as J. The only thing is that he tends to be very clingy and I’m pretty independent and, when I get in a certain mood, I do not want physical affection and it can get under my skin a bit. Most of the time this is not an issue because I love affection; it’s only the rarest of occasions. If I’m in a rotten mood, sometimes I won’t want him near me because I know he’ll try to hug me and I’m not wanting it.

Favorite outfit on them?

J: his normal, hexagonal patterned shirt, vest and suspenders make me feral, but seeing him in a regular t-shirt is quite a treat. He gave me one of his shirts and I’ve got it in my closet. I wore it on Valentine’s Day which is what got me through the day (J and Pat both know I hate that day). When J’s got me on his lap, I like to play with his suspenders while he’s wearing them; he is amused but doesn’t know why I like them so much.

Pat: his gray, striped, long-sleeve top and dark jeans. I love and live for the simplicity of it. He has a silver chain around his neck and it peeks out beneath his shirt collar and I like to play with it when he’s holding me. J thinks I just get bored, but Pat thinks the reason I have to be playing with something is more of a nervous habit (Pat’s right).

Favorite meal?

J: he likes meat and rarely cares what kind it is. He is partial to steak, but he’ll eat pretty much any meat you put in front of him.

Pat: tomato soup and grilled cheese. This is our go-to comfort meal and Pat and I make it for each other often.

Early bird or night owl?

J: It depends. J doesn’t ever sleep a whole lot, but he leans toward being more of a night owl because he’s more active and alert under cover of darkness. We see less of him at night because of this but he still will lay down with us and rest for a couple of hours at a time. He’ll take cat naps during the day if need be.

Pat: Pat used to be a night owl before he met me and when he used to go to bars and play pool. Now he’s an early bird like me; he likes to stay in because he can’t wait to get into bed and cuddle every night. He also does a lot during the day and he gets tired so he will go to bed early because he really needs the rest.

Snorer or sleep talker?

J: he usually doesn’t make much noise in his sleep because he rarely gets into a deep sleep. There are very rare occasions when his body needs a deep sleep and is threatening to give out unless he does so. During those times, he snores so freaking loud. Pat and I usually leave the room because it’s so loud we can’t get any sleep. Fortunately when he needs a heavy sleep he does so during the day when we aren’t around so he doesn’t feel like he has to stay awake to make sure we’re safe.

Pat: Pat doesn’t snore but he sometimes mumbles in his sleep a tiny bit, especially if he’s dreaming. He’ll mumble under his breath and press his whole body against mine (it’s my favorite thing ever).

Do you have any pets together?

We don’t, mainly because J wouldn’t help me with any pets because he’s not around enough and none of us would want the same kind of pet. My pets are my own thing, even though they are both are nice to my pets and have no problem with them at all.

Pet names! (Both from them and yours for them)

J’s for me: (My) Rosebud/thorn, (My) wild red rose (J knows that I hate my name but he still insists on variations of it. He says that he admires roses because you have to accept being poked by a thorn or two to admire their beauty. It makes sense but I don’t know if he actually believes that or not), prickly pear (another thing with thorns - I’m seeing a theme here, J), sweets, doll, little one (occasionally)

Mine for J: I mostly only call him J or Jack (we worked through me calling him by his real name and now he’s not as bothered by it.) Pat and I both call J either soldier or sergeant sometimes. On rare occasion, I call him Jack-Jack.

Pat’s for me: Strawberry (because of a comfort item I own), Buttercup, baby, babygirl, sweetheart, girlie, hazel eyes (occasionally), wallaby.

Mine for Pat: Pattycake, lover-boy, Koala, Kangaroo Boy (he used to hate being called this, but we made it into a joke and now he likes it though only if I am the one using it.) J also calls him ‘brat’ or ‘kid’.

How often do you fight? What starts fights?

J: J and I bicker a lot but our fights are pretty rare. When we do fight, it’s usually my fault. I confront him with the fact that I don’t think he cares or that he’s here with me for some ulterior motive. Most of the time he will fight back because it’s just his nature to do so. We’ve spent time apart in the past because of this and I’m still learning that he does care, but the way he does so is much different from what Pat does. J gets pretty pissed off when I tell him I think he hates me.

Pat: Pat and I have never had a fight (this used to be because we didn’t spend as much time together - J is very overbearing when he’s around and he pushes Patrick away from me; he doesn’t like sharing - but now it’s because we just get along really, really well.) If we ever did have a fight I don’t know what would cause it or why we’d result to petty arguments and disagreements. Pat can be rather gruff and dismissive when he needs to be, but he is only that way to strangers (and J, occasionally). He is very open and loving towards me - he isn’t a big talker to others but to me I can’t ever get him to shut up.

Who apologizes first?

J: I do, unless J has done something severe, then he’ll come into my room at night and slip in unnoticed just so that he can give me the closeness I want. I found myself having to apologize for pushing him away because I do that a lot and he doesn’t deserve it. He is caring in his own right and I am hard on him for no reason sometimes. He forgives me and eventually starts coming around again. J apologizes with subtle touches. He might put his hand on my thigh or brush the back of my hand with his thumb or put a hand on the small of my back. He knows how much I crave little touches like that and it’s his way of saying sorry.

Pat: As I’ve said, Pat and I haven’t ever fought but I like to think we’d apologize at the same time. Pat and I don’t really hold grudges so when we do fight or argue, we’d be fine ten minutes later. We also know how to talk through our disagreements so it never goes so far as arguing. Pat doesn’t let me push him away. When I try to do that he just cuddles harder and tries to make me smile (it works and I hate him for it, just kidding).

Big spoon or little spoon?

J: Big spoon, always. He lays on the far side of the bed near the windows. He doesn’t worry about being as close to the door since it’s locked but he likes being close to the windows since they’re right next to my bed. He’s always firmly pressed up against my back with his arm around my stomach. J has an aversion to having anyone at his back; he feels much too vulnerable in that position.

Pat: Big or little spoon, depending on his mood. Pat loves to love and be loved. If he’s feeling soft and gentle he might want to be the little spoon. Most often he’s the big spoon when J’s not around. Pat and I get tangled up in each other when we sleep. Sometimes he’s on top of me or vice versa. However we’re sleeping we’re always touching somehow. We don’t have the typical sleeping arrangement of big spoon/little spoon. We are a mess when we sleep in the same bed.

Dom or sub?

J: Dom. It isn’t in his blood to be anything but. He watches out for me and Pat, deeming that since we’re both significantly younger than him that we need care and protection. Our sex life is much the same - J is dominant. J is also the more…sexually driven of the two.

Pat: Pat is a switch. He’s a sub for J and a dom for me. He’s hotheaded and gets under J’s skin, but J will not relinquish control. It took Pat a while to accept that he would be J’s sub and we are still working on it heavily, even now that they are close. He isn’t completely comfortable doing everything (J is fine with that) and so they’re still taking it very slowly. It took Pat a long time to even let J get close to him in the bed while we’re sleeping. Pat sticks to me a lot more than he does with J. Their personalities clash somewhat and Pat still wants to get to know me better without J getting in the way. We’re working on teaching J the definition of sharing. Pat and I have only been intimate a few times and we cherish those times.

What are their kisses like?

J: long, intense, fiercely passionate, burning, hot-blooded, daring, bruising, boundary-breaking (sometimes; J gets really carried away). He likes to cup my cheeks in his hands when he kisses me hard. I like to think he enjoys my soft skin, almost like he’s comparing the softness to his rough and mangled flesh. There’s no malice or jealousy to be had; J likes his scars because I like them and he is never apologetic for who he is. Fire courses through my veins when we’re kissing - J’s lips make me forget my own name.

Pat: voluptuous, sensual, shameless, delicate, universal, intimate, lingering, and sometimes tentative. Pat’s kisses are all-consuming and turn my brain to mush. His lips are soft and inviting and are where I always lose myself. He isn’t as experienced with physical affection or sensual intimacy like J and I, so he sometimes kisses with an innocence about him, but his kisses are fierce and forceful because of how much love there is to be had. It’s new and refreshing; He is never overbearing or comes on too strong (even though he kisses so hard sometimes). Fireworks go off in my heart every time our lips meet.

What do they smell like?

J: aside from gasoline, greasepaint, gunpowder and sweat, he smells like sandalwood, black coffee, flames, burnt embers, smoke and (sometimes) rainwater.

Pat: Cinnamon and cinnamon buns (one of his favorite snacks), spicy cologne, apples & his breath smells (and tastes) like peppermint.

What are their hugs like?

J: J’s hugs are strong, bear-like but affectionate, protective and resilient. Sometimes they’re stiff but still heartfelt in a way only J is capable of. J’s type of hugs keep me in the here and now. Whenever he hugs me I can be nowhere else but in the moment, grounded, holding onto him for dear love.

Pat: Pat’s hugs are tight, warm like the sun on a cool spring morning, they’re sometimes spontaneous and end in a gentle wrestling session and other times they’re adamant of love and of care. His hugs are just as protective and convey safety and comfort as much as J’s do. When Pat hugs me it is like the personification of a cloud: snuggly, soft, cushiony; love unfurls in my chest every time his arms come around me.

Who is more protective?

J. He takes the liberty of protecting Pat, William and I even though we’d obviously do the same for him. He doesn’t like to hear that though. We’re all younger than he is, as I said before, so he feels like it’s his obligation since we’re all in a committed relationship. He is the protector. However, now that William has come along, he is insistent that he can protect himself and he helps J defend and protect, whenever he can (this is what the two argue about the most.)

Interested in children?

J: nope.

Pat: I think he might be if we were much older, but at the time, no. Him and J are both aware that I do not want children and are more than fine with it.

Who needs the most TLC when sick?

J: J throws things at us if we try to get too close when he’s sick. He’s a baby and needs care but doesn’t know how to ask for it. He will do everything he can to push us away so that we won’t stick around and help him through his sickness.

Pat: Pat is like me - he’s a big baby when he’s sick, though he feels extremely guilty asking for anything. He mainly wants someone to stay with him so that he isn’t lonely. He won’t ask for food or water or someone to lean on because he’s too weak to get around by himself, so I have to insist or bring him what he needs without him telling me to. I’m very much the same way. I have to have someone with me when I’m sick or else I get very lonely and upset (I am not afraid to admit that - last year I was so lonely when I was sick that it still bothers me. I’m so glad I had J to keep me company).

Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Me. J doesn’t ever say it with words, but actions speak louder than words anyway. I’d much rather someone do something to prove their love than just tell me. I had an experience where an old love told me constantly that they loved me. They just repeated over and over ‘I love you’ and I got so numb to the phrase by hearing it and saying it back that it stopped meaning anything to me. I love that J isn’t afraid to love me or admit it; I love that he finds ways to show me his love rather than tell me about it.

Pat and I say ‘I love you’ a lot but it always means something to me because of the tone of his voice when he says it. He likes to say it because it encompasses everything we feel for each other. It means more to me because he usually follows it with a kiss or a hand squeeze or something like that to emphasize its truth.

Which of you is more accident prone?

Me and Pat, hands down. Though J and I have the same perplexing issue where we will get cut or something and not feel it so we won’t notice until hours later. For some reason we don’t notice it or we don’t care enough to acknowledge it. I end up with all kinds of cuts and bruises and I also drop stuff a lot. Pat always gets hit with things or he’ll drop the bottle of shampoo on his foot in the shower and slip while trying to pick it up or something like that. Now that William is in the picture, he gets hurt about as often as Pat and I do, though he rarely flinches or even acknowledges his injuries or pain.

Bed hog?

We are all literally the biggest bed hogs it’s a wonder none of us have ever fallen out of bed. We start out squished together in our own separate spaces, but gradually overnight we take over each other’s spots and end up on top and underneath of each other, hands in each other’s hair, legs tangled and pressed in between others, pillows thrown around haphazardly and blankets wrapped practically in knots around our bodies. God only knows why or how we always wake up like this but it’s so comforting being this close to these men.

Who loves the other the most?

We all love each other equally, even though they don’t get along all the time and they fight over my attention occasionally. We have a very strong bond, unlike anything I’ve ever had before. I connect with them and they with me. We don’t fight over who loves who more. It is mutually understood that we all care about each other and love each other the same, we just show it in different ways.

#self-shipping

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hobidreams · 6 years ago

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Stay Quiet | JJK {M}

you think the library is only a place for studying. jungkook convinces you otherwise.

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x reader genre: smut, a dash of fluff words: 2.7k contains: college au, public place, condomless sex, oral (f), dirty talk, you almost get caught, but you kind of like it a/n: spawned from the drabble prompt that’s bolded in the text! reposted, thanks to tumblr being tumblr.

You have one goal for this term: a 4.0 GPA. Or as close to it as you can get. Grad school application deadlines are coming up, and you’re so close to the end you can practically taste the celebratory beer on your tongue. The library has become your new home, open twenty-four hours a day for all your studying needs. Your new routine is waking up early and leaving late. You don’t actually mind spending so much time here, not if it’ll get you to the marks you want and need.

Unfortunately, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to share that opinion.

“Jungkook, stop staring at me,” you mumble as you flip the page of your textbook. “Is there something on my face?” You’re eight hours into today’s stretch and it’s just nearing dinnertime, so the crowd has thinned out a bit, leaving just a few study groups occupying the tables.

“No, you’re just pretty.” Jungkook grins, handsomeness radiating off him in his casual black tee and slightly mussed dark hair. Single silver hoops hang from his ears, your birthday present to him last year. He never leaves home without them.

You can’t help but smile at his words. He always makes you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, even through the current exhaustion and grease and stress. You love him so much. Even though he’s totally distracting. “Thanks.”

“Aaagh, I’m bored. I’ve already browsed through all the Reddit threads and Facebook posts I can.” He throws his arms in the air in a stretch.

“You could just go home.”

“Home’s boring without you.”

You let your highlighter drop onto the table and meet his gaze. “If you’re going to stay, you should study.”

“I know all the material already.” He purses his lips as he taps his fingers on the tabletop to a quiet beat. “Plus… You’re wearing those sweatpants again.”

Your eyebrows knit. “What’s wrong with the sweatpants?”

“Nothing wrong, but it just… It makes me think of the last time you wore them.”

You try to wrack your brain for that particular memory but come up short. “What do you—"

“Can you please stop talking?” A person from the table next to you interrupts, annoyance in their squinted eyes and pouty mouth.

“Sorry,” you whisper, offering a raised hand in apology.

When you look back, Jungkook’s scribbling away on a scrap piece of notebook. Half a minute later, he tears it, hands it to you with a perfectly innocuous look on his face. You take the page, feeling a bit of high school nostalgia as you cast your eyes to his penned words.

Movie night. You wore them and your black thong, and I almost ruined ‘em when I stripped them off? Fuck. You came five times. It was amazing.

Are you blushing? You’re pretty sure you’re blushing, reading such filthy words in a public space. It’s coming back to you now, how you teased him by grinding your butt against him the entire night with subtle shifts. You had taken your delight in the way he became stiff in his jeans, emitting guttural grunts of frustrated arousal. He’d punished you (or was it a reward?) for it after, nice and slowly.

I can’t stop thinking about your pussy wrapped around me. So tight, so wet. If we were home, I’d already have my hands in your panties. Baby, I wanna touch you.

“Jungkook!” You whisper-hiss after finishing the second note he slips your way. “I have to study!”

He leans back, face infuriatingly neutral as he pushes away from the desk in the roller-chair. He adjusts his baggy top, your eyes drawn to his crotch as he pulls his shirt away and damn it, he’s half-hard. He knows what bulges do to you, especially his. You hate yourself for falling so easily for his seduction, heat already swirling in the pit of your tummy.

You suck in air through gritted teeth. You’re not going to get anything done like this; you need to set things straight. He’s already starting on his third note, amused by the faces you make as you read. You interrupt him. “Come with me.” You stand up.

Jungkook practically bounces to his feet, following close behind. He reaches for your hand along the way, sweetly lacing his fingers with yours. You’re heading for the very back of the floor among the stacks and shelves, where all the Old English books are stored, and no one ever goes. When you deem this to be as much privacy as you’re going to get, you whirl around.

“Jungkook, you can’t keep writing those notes.” You fight to keep your eyes on his, pointedly away from his crotch.

He’s not nearly as flustered as you. He calmly leans against the shelf with his arms crossed. “Why not? Are they affecting you?” That smirk. Ugh. All this time, and it still makes your heart flutter.

You don’t respond. Can’t, really, as he closes the distance between you with a few steps. His toned arms trap you in heat, breath warm against your forehead while he drops soft, promising kisses. Jungkook’s eager fingers start to trace the band of your sweatpants, just barely dipping inside to toy with the panties beneath. They’re plain, cotton, but still one of the hottest things Jungkook’s ever touched because they’re yours. “How wet are you under here?”

When he draws you closer, you can feel the outline of his full cock against your thigh. “Just let me have a taste, baby.” He palms your ass cheeks and if your pants weren’t in the way, he would hear the wet squelch of your soaked slit when he parts you.

You swivel your head, staring through the cracks of the books, hoping you won’t find another person among the tomes. “W-We’re in public, you know.”

“Please.” Jungkook licks his lips. “Don’t make me wait any longer to have you.”

You’ve lost. You know it by the flames that lick at your thighs, begging to be doused by his tongue. You know it by the knots tying themselves in the pit of your stomach, unraveled only by his touch. He drops to his knees and drags your pants down with him. You lean back against the surprisingly sturdy bookshelf and try to tell yourself that nobody comes back here anyway.

He flits that cute nose across your thigh, close enough to drink in the honey scent of your lust. “I’d say I’ll try to make this quick but... We both know I would be lying.” He trails a fingernail down your clothed slit. You shiver when he brings it back up, circling around your clit.

“We don’t have the time,” you mutter, too aware of the instinctual bucking of your hips to meet his fingers.

“You’re just impatient.” He whips his eyes up to meet yours, mirth clear in his dark irises as he gives you that mischievous bunny smile. But he’s nice to you, seeing as he’s in love with you and all. He eases your underwear halfway down your legs, enough to expose you to the stale library air and to his stare. He spreads you like he did before, this time the lewd noises clear and enticing.

Jungkook emits a low groan at the sight of your juices glistening, smeared all over the lips of your cunt. “You were gonna study while you were like this?” He dips his finger into you to gather droplets to use as lube for your clit. “You’re soaked, baby. Just from thinking about my cock?”

Your answer is a furtive whimper when he kisses your clit, tongue lavishing saliva and stimulation. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s addicted to your taste and how you twitch in response to the flicks, the licks. He can tell that you’re nervous right now, probably too aware that you could be caught as you keep looking around. But the fact that pleasure is burning away your fears? That turns him on.

Jungkook’s slim hands leave slight imprints on your thighs as he continues with coquettish strokes, flitting in and out. It’s an erratic rhythm to match your heart, twitching with fear at every slight noise or bump, afraid that someone will poke their head around the corner. But there’s a thrill with that too – one that you’ll probably never admit out loud but manifests itself in the jolts of bliss shooting through your nerves. It’s a high that Jungkook understands so well, adrenaline junkie that he is.

He can never hold out for too long after tasting your tangy sweetness. The tender exploration turns into something much more when he plunges his tongue into your cunt, shallowly fucking you as an infuriating preview for what his cock can do. If only he’d reward you with a finger. But he seems content to dart his tongue in and out, switching between that and a suction that makes your knees long to crumble. Your hands search for something to hold on to, eventually settling for a few dusty, thick-spined hardcovers.

“T-Too loud, Jungkook,” you stutter, sure that all his sucking and slurping is attracting too much attention among these confined walls.

“Can’t help it when you taste so good.” He smirks, looking filthy yet boyishly handsome with his lips all shiny, pink. “You know how much I love your pussy.” He presses a fond kiss to your clit, as if you wouldn’t believe him otherwise.

“Still… We have to stay quiet…” But you’re a hypocrite with the moans that tumble from your mouth, as unstoppable as the wetness drooling from between your thighs when he settles back in. If you were back home, you’d already be screaming his name and you both know it. You settle for burying your hands into his hair and raking your nails along his scalp.

“What if I want to hear you?” Jungkook grins because you’re grinding yourself onto his mouth. You can’t get enough of him despite yourself; his tongue’s just too convincing when it’s stroking its way up your heat. “Moaning like you always do when you come for me.” His hands grab palmfuls of your ass and squeeze. “Damn. Just thinking about it makes me so hard.”

When he lightly hollows his cheeks to add suction, every semblance of sanity slips from your mind. You tug his head higher as the shaking starts, but he doesn’t need your encouragement to keep his rapid pace. He’s seeking the reward of your whimpers as he draws out your climax until you’re too sensitive to go any further. At least, like this.

Jungkook surges to his feet. His belt and jeans clatter to the floor, pooling around his ankles before your aftershocks have had any time to subside. He spins you around, decisive hands not allowing any counterargument while your chest meets the shelf. All you can see through the musty books is the grey wall.

“S-Someone needs to keep a watch out.” You’re fretting, but the full, solid cock that nudges against your posterior demands your attention.

“Nah. Just focus on me.” One thrust, and he plunges the first delicious inch inside you. “Focus on how I’m going to fuck you, baby.”

It’s true – he makes it hard to think about anything else with the stretch of his cock, the girth addicting. His hands find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he snaps his hips upward. In three thrusts, he’s drenched himself wholly into your heat. He’s trying to control himself as best as he can but your walls cling eagerly to his shaft, spurring him on. The shelves slightly rattle against the concrete in reply.

“It’s been too long since I was inside you,” he growls, nipping at the column of your neck. “I missed this pussy so much.”

“Missed you too.” You’d forgotten how the pressure builds so furiously, racking up with each thrust that kisses your cervix. You try to adjust, wanting to staunch the slap of his hips against yours, but he’s pumping at a pace that refuses to be quieted. Hells, you’re close to just abandoning your inhibitions. It would be so much easier to just give yourself over to Jungkook, to let him fuck you both into moan-filled, sloppy orgasms among the silent audience of books.

Then you hear the footsteps.

Unmistakeable.

Padding across the carpet, steadily coming your way. Probably boots or something, judging by the heavy, noisy steps.

Your heart sputters. “Shit.” Cursing, you try to push Jungkook away so you can have some semblance of plausible deniability but his arms hold you still. His cock stays right where it is, plunged all the way to his balls. “Jungkook, someone’s coming!”

“Shhhh.”

“Oh god, they’re getting closer,” you whine. “They’re going to see.” Fear ripples through you but excitement is firmly alongside it – thrilling and obvious while your muscles tense.

Jungkook groans, a tortured, soft noise when your cunt cinches around his shaft. “Who’s my dirty girl?” He whispers against the rim of your ear. “Getting so tight. I think you want to be caught.”

“Jungkoook...” Now when you say his name, it’s in frustration. He’s only grinding his hilted cock, enough to make the slight friction agony.

“I think you want them to see you like this, so fucking gorgeous on my cock. Sucking me in so well.” A lazy crescendo of thrusts threatens to buckle your knees when they turn into deadly pumps, aimed right for your sweet spot. Your voice is higher than it’s ever been, high pitched and whiny in your need. It makes your boyfriend chuckle. “You’re not being quiet at all.”

Arching against him, you feel sweat trickle down your spine. “I’m t-trying...”

Suddenly, he slams himself all the way home. “Let’s put on a show, yeah?” You jolt forward, his grunts animalistic and low with each rut. One of his arms hooked around your waist, he moves like nothing else matters in the world except bringing you pleasure and taking it in turn. Every smack of his pelvic bone against your ass feels possessive and you can’t get enough, even though you can practically feel the new pair of an intruder’s eyes on you.

Your mingled lust drips in rivulets down from your cunt onto his balls, more trickling out with every stroke. He just keeps going, the stamina trained through hours upon hours at the gym put to fantastic use. Especially when he nudges your legs apart even more. He lowers two fingers to your neglected clit and starts to rub.

It’s not even a minute later that you’re coming helplessly, bucking your ass back into him in a carnal search for more. His fingers never stop sending pleasure through your veins. It’s a double-edged sword, bringing him crashing down with you seconds later. Jungkook shoves himself so deeply into you that it hurts, but it’s so worth it to hear his groans, to feel the hot burst of cum shot right against your core.

He doesn’t stop until your walls are thoroughly sodden with him, still spasming erratically in climax. You hang your head and just try to breathe through the humid air. Your cheeks burn, stroked by the hair fallen out of your ponytail. Having Jungkook pressed against you doesn’t help, for his temperature runs just as high.

A minute later, rationale returns to your addled brain as the spent cock slips from you. “Oh!” You spin, looking desperately around Jungkook and the shelves for any signs of your unwanted visitor. Your heart only calms when you confirm with your own eyes that there’s no one there. “Damn it, babe, we could’ve been kicked out if that person came any closer!” You lightly swat at his arm while he produces a tissue from a pocket, to soak up the leaking cum.

Jungkook laughs, thinking your glare is much more cute than intimidating. “I heard them leave a while back. You were just too distracted to notice.” He lightly touches your nose with his own – a soft, loving boop.

“Whatever...” Your cheeks flushed, you reach down for your sweatpants. “Will you let me study now?” You grumble. You’re not actually sure if you’ll get any work done though, not when your thighs and cunt are slick with pleasure’s mess.

Jungkook affectionately pats your butt. Then he buries his face in your hair for a kiss from a smirking mouth. “Maybe.”

#btssmutclub #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #jungkook x reader #rain writes #stay quiet #i reaaally hope this works #i give up if it doesn't

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halethkickass · 5 years ago

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(Reposted with permission from the author)

Deep chill had fallen on the ruined lands. Each morning saw a frost, not pure but blackened from the filthy air of war. Winds blew sharp and biting, and yet the tattered mists would never clear. In the long nights they gathered thick and choking, as they had long ago around Mithrim, the grey lake now already lost beneath the seas. The once fair land where Amrod and Amras had been lords remained as yet, although the ground was riven and treacherous and salt in the waters gave warning of the rising seas. Even those who had roamed the land through bitter years could no longer find the old paths and soon there would be no choice but an eastern retreat. Yet word said that on the high ground to the north the Host of Valinor remained, and so for the ragged band camped in the doomed lands the last withdrawal would not come quite yet.

Celebrimbor had been privileged with a light shelter made of skins, not because of his lineage but because of the value placed on his smith-craft although the work was now little more than patching armour and putting new edges on blades. Most evenings he would have invited others to join him, but this night he felt bleak, expectant hush in which few, if any, sought companionship. Even in the hardest times there had most often been songs, but this night the camp was silent. So he had retired alone, to lie without rest, mind dwelling on the future and what choices he might make. The Summons of the Valar had reached even here, although he did not know whether pardon could ever be extended to one of Fëanor’s line, even one who had no blood of elves upon his hands.

So he was awake when someone entered, pushing aside the curtain of skins without word or ceremony. Celebrimbor, not altogether surprised, sat up, and brightened the flame of the lamp he had left burning low. It was one of the few remaining silver lamps of Tirion, another smith’s privilege. The blue light showed him the stern, gaunt face of his eldest uncle.

“What is it you have come to say?” Celebrimbor asked. There was really no point in pleasantries.

Maedhros settled himself on the ground, from which Celebrimbor concluded that whatever he had come for would not be dealt with in a few words.

“My brother and I sent to Eonwë of the Maia after word of Morgoth’s final downfall reached us.” Ever since his return from Thangorodrim Maedhros’s voice had held a slight, distinctive, rasp, and even now it always took Celebrimbor a few sentences to get used to it. “We required of him the two Silmarils that remained in the Iron Crown, in fulfilment of our Oath. Lately we received his refusal, and summons to surrender to the judgement of the Valar.”

“Did you expect anything else?” Celebrimbor said harshly. That he had rejoined his kin did not mean he condoned their deeds, or even that he wished the words of disowning his father had spoken in Nargothrond to be withdrawn. The mere names of Doriath and Sirion still sickened him, and he would not forget those names when he spoke with Maedhros or Maglor.

“I did not. But it was necessary to try.”

“And will you submit?”

Maedhros surprised him. “If I thought their judgement would be death I would weigh the choice. But they will not wish their land stained once more with blood, not even Kinslayer blood. And I will not carry the Oath unfulfilled into Valinor.”

Celebrimbor looked at the lamp, because he did not want to know what might be in his uncle’s face. He had not expected to hear they would submit, but he still pursued a faint fool’s hope. “It may be the Valar can release the Oath.”

“I do not believe they can. If any time these years of the Sun an emissary of the Valar had come before us and said the Oath could be undone, even the most obdurate of my brothers might have cast all pride away and begged them for release at any price. But we in our madness invoked the name of Ilúvater, who is above the Valar and does not hold converse with the Eldar.” His voice held no expression, carefully schooled. “Before we marched from Tirion, Manwë strove to change our course with words, yet his message to my father was ‘by thine Oath art exiled.’ Did that not declare none within Arda can free us? And beyond the Circles of the World we cannot pass.”

“What if the Valar would return the Silmarils?” Celebrimbor argued. “Have you thought on that?”

“Eonwë, who is herald to the Valar, was clear they hold our right void.”

“That yet leaves mercy.” He did not believe it, could not even think it should be granted.

“It is unlikely they would give so much to us now, when there has been so little to those far more guiltless these last centuries. Nor is there any reason they should be merciful. I do not fault their dealings with our House. But the risk is too great. There has to be an end.”

“Then what do you choose?” Celebrimbor felt cruel with defeat. “It is over late for self-slaughter.”

“You mean,” said Maedhros not at all discomposed, “that if I would break the Oath, I should have taken my own life before we took Doriath. You are right, although I doubt the Oath would have been ended even then. There is still the power of the Unhoused, which in one of our kindred would be fearsome indeed. But I do not claim that is an excuse.

“Nor did I say I mean to break the Oath now. The Silmarils are not yet beyond our reach.”

Celebrimbor did look round then. “Would you do battle then against the whole host of Valinor? Do you think any will follow you in that?”

“Only Maglor, who is as bound as I am,” said Maedhros. “And I would not fight a whole host if it can be avoided.”

“Have there not been deaths enough?” said Celebrimbor furiously.

“Too many, and that is why we must go. Not for the Oath alone. For what it is worth, I do not plan to long outlive its completion, supposing that can yet be accomplished.” He smiled bleakly. “Do not suppose you behold me filled with repentance. If I could live the past century over my choices would not be any different in the main. But I do not deny that payment is due. I have only one death to pay with, but it counts for something,” and as still sometimes happened a chink opened in the walls Maedhros kept between himself and others and all the passion and vitality of his spirit blazed forth “for even now I do love my life, and with it this scarred, marred world we have entered!”

Celebrimbor closed his eyes briefly. Even for him it was too easy to be drawn by that yet bright flame. Carefully he thought over what he had heard. “You said not for the Oath alone. Then why?”

“What do you believe will come to pass if the Silmarils fare West?” Maedhros had closed the walls again. “Do you think all seeds of woe departed Aman with our hosts? Even when the Trees still lived the Light in the Silmarils bred ill thoughts, and not least in the heart of my father, their maker. Now, when the Light lives in them alone, how long will peace rule in Aman if the Silmarils fare there? How long did it reign in Doriath, when a Silmaril dwelt there first? Not all the blood shed for the Light is on our hands.”

“You speak as though you think them evil!”

“Not evil. Too fair for Arda Marred. My father should have broken them when Yavanna asked, but it is too late for that. Maglor did right in Sirion, when he laid the Doom of Wandering on the Jewel there. That one will suffer no keeping until Arda’s end. Two remain.”

“Can you not trust the Valar to deal wisely with them?” Celebrimbor said, but the words sounded weak even as he spoke them.

It was Maedhros’s turn to briefly close his eyes. “Brother-son, my view in such a matter may be warped. So I ask: can you say why the wisdom of the Valar in this matter should be trusted?”

The Valar who had freed Morgoth. Who had so praised the gifts and work of Fëanor, knowing no more than the Eldar to what end they would lead. Celebrimbor was silent.

Maedhros nodded. “I thought not. They must not go West, nor should they remain here. So at last our Oath may accomplish something other than saving Morgoth some slaughter.” Celebrimbor looked at his face then, and wished that he had not. Maedhros smiled grimly.

“Who else could place a Silmaril beyond reach of hand? Could even you, who have reason enough to wish they were never wrought, bring yourself to do it? No, this is our deed, my brother and myself. If I could I would keep Maglor from it, but I cannot do this alone. Not with only one hand.”

Never, in all the years since Maedhros recovered enough to hold sword again, had Celebrimbor heard him admit to any limitation caused by the missing right hand. His words might be madness, but he believed what he said. And Celebrimbor wondered if the madness in Fëanor’s line had come upon himself, for he believed it also. He might have dismissed it as a Kinslayer’s fantasy or delusion of the Oath, but he remembered the laments for Elu Thingol’s fall, and he believed.

“And if the deed fails?” he said.

“There was a prophecy of Mandos long ago. Air, Sea and Earth: the doom of the Silmarils. If, as I believe, there is a working of fate and Eru here, then the deed will not fail, whatever be the price. If it does,” Maedhros made a movement of acceptance with his left hand, “we can only abide what we must.”

“And if it succeeds?”

“Maglor must make his own choices, if he has the chance. There will be a few more verses to add to the Noldolantë. For myself I will take no mercy of the Valar, save for one thing. Not that I look to be offered more, we were promised their wrath long ago. But I will chance no undue lenience, that would only invite further workings of the Oath.”

“And the one mercy you would take?”

“Mandos: not the Darkness,” said Maedhros, very quietly. Celebrimbor could not bear to ask whether he thought it likely or even possible.

For all his horror at the Kinslayings of Doriath and Sirion he had never doubted the power of the Oath. A choice between Eternal Dark and the lives of strangers; strangers who could have held the Darkness back by returning the Silmaril stolen from a greater thief.… Eru Ilúvater, what would he have chosen?

“This is not fair.” The Oath, he meant. It had never been fair: words spoken in the heat of passion binding lives beyond release. Such a waste of the gifts of his house.

“There are certain laws in the world,” said Maedhros. “If a child puts a hand in the fire, the hand will be burned, but the fire is not to blame. And we were not children.”

Maedhros would be easier to deal with, Celebrimbor thought, if he would stoop to a little self-pity occasionally. Perhaps it would have gone better with all Fëanor’s sons if they could have borne to ask pity for their terrible Oath. Yet how could they ask, after Alqualondë and Losgar, how could they dare to ask it?

“Why did you really come here?” he said at last. “Not just for a discussion of the Oath of Fëanor.”

“No, I came to ask a thing of you. You may have guessed it already?” Maedhros paused, but Celebrimbor did not reply so he went on. “We go north tomorrow, my brother and myself. Our people will be leaderless, and they will look to you.”

Celebrimbor had indeed guessed why Maedhros had come, but that did not mean he welcomed the visit.

“They look in the wrong place,” he said. “I am no leader.”

“You cannot say that until you have been tried. I am asking only that you take the lead until they have a chance for thought, and to know where they can or wish to turn.”

“Why should they look still to Fëanor’s line? What is the sense in that?”

“Very little sense,” said Maedhros. “But what has sense to do with it? Why any of them still follow is beyond my understanding.”

Celebrimbor shrugged, a gesture he had picked up from mortals on Balar. “When those who hated Morgoth looked for a place to rally there was little choice enough for long enough. Almost no choice after Nargothrond fell. To stand against the Dark can seem virtue enough, for those who are desperate. And loyalty is a habit hard to break.” So he had found, when he made the choice to ride eastward with the Dispossessed rather than remain with Gil-galad on Balar, nor had he been the only one to rejoin an allegiance once forsaken at that time. In their utter lack of hope, and the endurance with which they faced it, the last of the Oathbound had been harder to abandon than they could ever have been in victory.

Maedhros gave a sudden breath of genuine laughter, and with it a flicker again of all that lay behind the guarded barricades, a good half of the answer to his own riddle. “Morgoth can make even Kinslayers seem noble? Though what a painful thing, that we should have caused others to think us champions of right, only because they knew nothing better. If we were the best they could find to follow, then matters were bad indeed!

“But we debate again. Good or bad, those who have followed so long will still look to our house. A habit hard to break, as you say. And you are the last.”

“What would you have me do?”

“I have told you. Take the lead, at least for a while. All else will be your own choice. I do not lay any further duty.”

No further duty, unlike Fëanor who had died laying it on his sons to fulfil an Oath already damning. Of those that had landed with the ships, and the others who had joined the standard later or been born on these shores, so very few remained. What would Fëanor have said, if he had known to what end his words of fire would lead? Likely he would have cursed the Valar again, or even his sons for failing him.

Yet his own skill came from Fëanor by birth, and had been tutored by his father Curufin. He could not flee from his inheritance, which was why he had chosen to face it.

Maedhros must have seen his decision in his eyes, for they rose at the same time.

“I will do what I can,” Celebrimbor said.

Maedhros did not thank him, merely inclined his head. “You deserve better than to have been born into this house, Celebrimbor. I hope you may yet go free of our Doom.”

He extended something and Celebrimbor put out his hand to take it. It was a ring, made of silver, that he had known all his life. Maedhros must have been holding it loosely throughout their talk, for it is not easy to work a ring from one’s own finger one-handed. Slowly he took the ring, and Maedhros closed his fingers over it.

“Farewell, brother-son. You will understand if I say I hope we do not meet again.”

He turned, and pulled aside part of the curtain of skins to leave the shelter. Yet it seemed even Maedhros could not could not stay quite unyielding at this moment, for he paused. The lamplight cast shadows on his face, but fell full on the old burn scar across his throat.

“Surely” he said, “surely it cannot all have been ill-done....”

The half-plea was spoken barely above a whisper, before Celebrimbor could frame any answer his uncle was gone.

Celebrimbor unclasped his right hand, and raised the ring that Maedhros had given him to the lamplight. It was thick and plain, a work of Noldor craft from the days before they had learned of Aulë. Not beautiful to his eyes, its only decoration was an inscription in the old runes of Rúmil. F·NWË. It had never been a token of kingship, but it had belonged to the first king before he even wore a crown. Maedhros had yielded the title of king to Fingolfin, but he had kept the ring.

He dimmed the lamp again, and lay down on the blanket that was his only bedding. Tomorrow, Maedhros had said, he and Maglor would leave their last followers. This then, was the final end of the torchlit day of his early memory, the day that Fëanor and his sons had sworn their Oath. Celebrimbor wrapped his arms across his ribs against the chill. A very few years older and he would likely have sworn with them.

No use dwelling on what his fate would have been then, for he had a future to think on and no longer for himself alone. East lay the unknown land where Dwarves and Men must flee. Westward Valinor and pardon, if indeed there could be pardon for any who had followed the Dispossessed this far. Well, the company must make their own choices, he would not attempt to hold them together. East first though, he thought. East, and more time to choose.

He weighed the ring in his hand, and wondered if Finwë walked again alive in Tirion. Perhaps not, for the reports said it was Finarfin who led the host of the Noldor Unexiled, and he bore the title of King. Perhaps Finwë would not leave Míriel once he had found her again. Perhaps though, others would be restored in Valinor before long. If they permitted return for the survivors surely the Valar could not forever withhold rembodiment for the slain, not for those who had only followed and shed no elven blood. Then perhaps Valinor would be as it should have been, with no Silmarils blazing like a scar across its bliss, no House of Fëanor to breed unrest.

The vision almost stopped his breath. Valinor without his house! Ah Fëanor, you were wrong! It was not Finwë’s second marriage that should never have been but his first. Valinor would have been shorn a few works of art, but who would have known? Without the rebellion of the Noldor the Valar might have come to the aid of Beleriand before so much slaughter was wrought. The Noldor would have remained one; Finrod and so many more would never have died. His mother and his grandmother would have wedded others and been happy.

He knew then he would not return to Valinor, where his lineage could be only a shadow of things that ought never to have happened. Marred Middle-earth might be more forgiving. He did think of his mother, but he had not forgotten the unhesitating firmness with which she had put his hand in his father’s before she turned to join her own mother’s Telerin kin. Would she in truth wish for the return of her Noldo son, so like his father in face and gifts? He could not think it. She might take another to husband; she might already have chosen one and be waiting only for the word of Mandos to wed again. There could be little doubt what the judgement would be on Curufin Fëanorion if he had passed within the Halls and if he had not (to Eternal Darkness doom us…) he still would never walk the earth again. Mandos would surely not refuse her release.

The Elves in the West might live at last as though his house and its crimes had never been. He found it in his heart to hope they would and, hoping that, resolved he would remain in the East, where there might be work to do even for Fëanor’s heir. Most of the company, he thought would likely linger also, Kinslayers as so many were. The Unmarred Lands would only make their own stains harder to endure. Here there could be new beginnings.

He slipped the ring on his finger.

#celebrimbor #maedhros #silmarillion #this is so beautifully written

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mutantenfisch · 6 years ago

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Repost from deviantArt! This is actually an ass-old thing I made during Summer Break in 2016!

EDIT: Turned one huge file into 5 smaller ones and painted a quick sloppy and anachronistic sports-bra for Rel.^^

Anyway, I think it's pretty obvious for which panels I've actually used references and which were drawn less carefully. My vicious scanner adds to the trouble and not let us get started on my laziness....

I didn't have the room to put all my thoughts into the panels (and I'm quite sure there is already too much text), so be prepared for the off-commentary of each panel.

1. : This is basically my first attempt at drawing meric faces. I just didn't get her mouth right, though, so her expression is something like a failed attempt of a badass expression.

2. : Yes, that guy is supposed to be Hadvar. I don't know why he's blushing, maybe he just feels ashamed for his always-pissed commander. Or because Rel's wearing an amulet of Mara...

For Relmaris I had in mind, that she is probably the daughter of a travelling merchant/apothecary couple who left Morrowind during Red Mountain's latest eruption and didn't want to go to Solstheim, since they had "enough snow and ashes for more than one life". She grew up mostly in Cyrodiil and got into some trouble with the Thalmor there, because of how her parents raised her, religiously.

3. : This is, to be honest, the most fun part in-game - sneaking into camps, caverns and so on, taking out thugs while they can't do anything and increasing your archery and stealth abilities on the go.

4. : Yes, I really disliked Cicero when I first met him and it was exactly the other way around with Ulfric Stormcloak (whose body is supposed to be shown there, too...). During the progress of the game and the story, I began to sympathise with Cicero, even though he's ...difficult.... as a follower and my sympathies for Ulfric faded more and more. There are other people and factions I maybe dislike as much as him and his purpose, or even more, but since I wanted to bring in this Don McLean reference so badly, Ulfric was the one who took the shortest straw.

5. : Legate Fasendil. I think he is the dream of many Dragonborn characters (and their creators). For an Altmer he is incredibly sexy and I as a player really enjoyed seeing such a masculine elf. Revyn Sadri, on the other hand, was really cute when Rel first stumbled into his shop and she likes his straightforward fair-mindedness.

Biography-wise I imagine Rel to really fall for the legate, since they have many things in common (being far from a home they barely know/remember, hating the Thalmor, having seen many terrible things...) but on the other hand I think Revyn is better for her as some kind of anchor in her troubled life. I must say, because of the conversation you have with him, I think he hasn't always been a trader. His commentary on the size of the house (and Rel lives in Proudspire Manor) made me assume that he might know even better and probably more noble houses.

6. : I think this quest is everyone's favourite. I enjoyed the part about Gleda most. And Sanguine is such a cheeky trickster. I remember, back when my first Dovahkiin met him and joined in the drinking game, I was like "WTF? Why am I in Markarth now? And I did WHAT to WHOSE statue????". With Rel now, I experienced something new as a player: When Rel was hiking in the mountains of Reach, an Argonian called Deep-In-His-Cups approached her and brabbled something about a hat. She talked him down to 750 Septims for the worthless hat and he walked away. This guy was even stranger than the madwoman who wanted me to use Sheogorath's Wabbajack on her.....

7. : Whole-heartedly the College of Magic! Rel is officially Arch-Mage now and I think her former class-mates are just the cutest kids in Skyrim. Especially Onmund and Brelyna. And now, after installing the English version, I was very positively surprised about Onmund's voice. I didn't expect one so pleasing to my ears as his. And J'zargo, you suicidal little cleptomaniac, you. As a follower you were really cool, but would you please stop jumping into Rel's way when she's casting flames?

8. : There it is - hobbity, silver-eyed me, wearing a Bowie-shirt. Since I only just started playing Oblivion, I really have no idea, what would happen if these two met, so I chose the other option instead.

9. : I think this is really self-explanatory. Anyway, when I was wandering through the volcanic fields of Rift for the first time, I was laughing so hard at this sight. Unfortunately, back then my other Dovahkiin, accidentaly stole a piece of clothing from the hunters and had to kill all of them. Rel doesn't make this mistake, that's for sure!

10. : I admit, this is my favourite drawing of this whole thing and I do ship them. Very hard. I didn't want to put a mature content on this, nor cover their perfect bodies, so go with the Barbie-breasted version instead. If Mattel can sell nippleless adult-women-shaped dress-up-dolls to children, I can upload this drawing to tumblr. Or not, apparently. So here’s the ugly sports bra version.

11. : Khajiit. What else can I say. I love them. Their faces, their accent, their background (minus the Skooma smuggling) - they are the best invention for this game, ever. And I would be really happy, if The Elder Scrolls VI played in Elsweyr and we get to see more than just this one breed of Khajiit.

#art #mutantenfischart #nsftumblr #elder scrolls #skyrim #character meme #let's see if tumblr allows this #i'm still super proud of it #relmaris dralur #legate fasendil #cicero #khajiit #dunmer #altmer #brelyna maryon #onmund #j'zargo

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imagine-fight-write · 6 years ago

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Random - Writing Inspiration 1 - Songs

Edit: Reposting, because I’m adding another video example.

ALSO note, this series is just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve got plenty others to share.

This will be a 3 part series on writing inspiration.

For my anime fans, yeah, I’ll be using a lot of AMVs.

1st, I’ll give some examples of song lyrics which have given me ideas.

2nd, some examples of videos which inspire me.

3rd, some videos and music put together, which give me ideas.

Hope you enjoy some good videos & get creative!

Thanks Literary Architect, for inspiring me to write this.

Now that I think of it, songs often inspire me. Specifically, song lyrics.

Here are 3 examples:

Right now, “Break In to Break Out” is preying on my mind.

Specifically the line, “Thieves in the palace, full of tales and lies.”

The basic idea of breaking into a place in order to find freedom is intriguing enough (in some ways, it reminds me of Luffy breaking into Impel Down in One Piece.)

However, my basic idea is thieves breaking into a fairy tale castle, or a castle filled with fairy tales, in order to, I don’t know, break a spell?”

“Castle” by Halsey gives me similar ideas. I mean, what does it mean to “lock up a kingdom”?

Could fairy tale thieves steal a kingdom? Or break into a palace to steal the kingdom back?

“Break In to Break Out” is (looks up info) performed by Lyn and composed by Shoji Meguro, with lyrics by Benjamin Franklin.

The 2nd song I want to share is Moonlight Shadow by: Groove Coverage.

As the video shows, it's easy enough to change guns to arrows and set this in a fantasy or sci-fi setting if you’re so inclined.

After all, the opening line is, “ The last that ever she saw him, carried away by a moonlight shadow.”

Carries away by a moonlight shadow sounds like magic to me.

This also reminds me of a series, Shinobi Life (which has time-traveling ninjas & a good romance.) There is a beautifully drawn scene in the manga in which a character is swarmed by thousands of black butterflies and disappears. You, the reader, find out he gets carried off by his nemesis, but the butterflies are never explained.

A great 1st example is “Time Forgotten One” by: Kaito / Vocaloid

(see below)

The picture used in the video is lovely, but it’s really the lyrics which tell the story. See here: https://vocaloidlyrics.fandom.com/wiki/%E6%99%82%E5%BF%98%E4%BA%BA_(Toki_Wasure_Bito)

“Alone in the illustrious street, the time forgotten one

leans against the crimson stained wall

waiting for someone without a glance at the passing people

offering a small prayer with the old sword in his right hand.”

There’s more, but the basic idea is vague enough, you can do a lot with it. Who is the “time forgotten one”? A guy, a girl, a cat?

(The weapon doesn’t have to be a sword either. It coudl be a spear, axe, staff, or knife.)

Who are they waiting for, and why? What happened to their friends?

Are they under a curse?

As Aeir Soulhaven notes in the comments, “ Idea: He was literally forgotten by time. Therefore: Time no longer flows for him, and those within the normal stream of time cannot perceive him.“

The song “Room of Angel” by: Akira Yamaoka

(which was used in Silent Hill 4, I guess?)

It has both inspired a poem & is a theme song for one of my characters (it really matches their seductive yet deadly personality.

See the video below where I found it.

Yes, I enjoy InuYasha. In English.

(Using 2 InuYasha videos was unintnetional, that’s just how it turned out.)

It’s got one of the best anime openings ever, and its music / soundtrack is good.

I fact, I would use the opening scene of InuYasha as a excellent example of how to start a movie or book. The scene has action and mystery without being too confusing, both the setting and characters are firmly established, and you’re left wanting more. Who betrayed who and why?

Anyway, Room of Angel & the video above made me want to write a poem, something dreamy and dangerous. Here’s some lines from the first draft:

In a lullaby you can’t be harmed

so go to sleep - dream of flying way up high

above the trees, among the stars

as I rock you gently, gently out the window

Hush and remember, in a lullaby you can’t be harmed.

Remember what you dream, and fly

Fly on feathered silver wings - so insignificant

I will crush them in my arms, as I hold you, and rock you

rock us gently out the window

Fall

Hush, you’re in a lullaby and can’t be harmed.

I’m sorry.

youtube

#random #writing inspiration #writing #anime #videos #inuyasha #persona 5 #time forgotten one #vocaloid

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growningupgeek · 7 years ago

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The White Christmas Case

Masterlist

Word Count-2715

Prompt-White Christmas by BIng Crosby(with a little lot of help from the movie)

Characters-Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader, shifter family

A/N-Written for @d-s-winchester 12 days of Christmas challenge. I asked for BIng Crosby’s White Christmas because it’s my favroite Christmas song and movie all in one. This was a blast once I got it moving and I enjoyed writing it. Betaed by the lovely @masksandtruths and @skybinx-blog thank you my dears. Tags are below the cut. If you’d like on or off my tag list just drop me an ask or a message. I promise I don’t bite hard.

-JediCat

Please do not repost my work on any other websites without my written permission. Credit doesn’t count.

I stared incredulously at Sam when he’d finished outlining the case he’d found for us. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Never about a case,” he replied seriously. “Why?”

I shook my head; I tended to forget the simple childhood things that I took for granted were something the Winchesters might not have had. Things like watching the same holiday movies every Christmas. Now Sam had found a case in Pine Tree, Vermont at the Columbia Inn and he didn’t even know what it was. But three deaths surrounded by odd coincidences was definitely our kind of thing. Dean tapped my arm to get my attention.

“You got an idea, kiddo,” he asked me.

I shrugged, “Maybe, but you guys aren’t going to like it much.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, run it by us,” Dean replied.

I took a deep breath, even after knowing the guys for a few months I was a little shy around them.”Vic number 1 was found outside in a Santa suit frozen to death at the end of August. His suit was a replica of the ones worn in the finale of White Christmas. Vic 2 was found a month later next to a fireplace in the bar area. Autopsy found she’d drowned in buttermilk when there wasn’t a drop of it in the place. It’s reaching, but it’s another reference to the movie. Vic 3 fell down the main stairs in the lobby and a witness swears she saw Danny Kaye push him down the steps. That one is two clear references to the movie. I’m not sure what we’re dealing with but it sure likes White Christmas.”

Both boys stared at me blankly, neither getting where I was going because they hadn’t seen the movie. I sighed, “Most of White Christmas takes place at the Columbia Inn which is located in Pine Tree, Vermont.”

I could see the wheels turning and then the lights come on as they figured it out. Sam grinned and Dean groaned as he leaned back in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Some kind of monster that has a thing for old Christmas movies?”

So here we were, pulling up in front of an exact reproduction of the Columbia Inn. I got out of Baby’s back seat and filled my lungs with the pine scented air as my eyes wandered over the grounds. The hunter in me was taking notes of possible ambush sites and places where monsters could hide; the rest of me was looking around thinking about scenes from the movie. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Sam watching me with the oddest look on his face. I could feel my face heat up as I met his eyes.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” I sassed him.

He just grinned at me. “You look like a kid turned loose in the world’s best candy store.”

I stuck my tongue out at him as I grabbed my suitcase, startling a laugh out of both him and Dean. Sam let me carry it myself, unusual for him, but put his arm around my shoulders as we walked up the front steps into the lobby. The physical affection was also a bit unusual, but I wasn’t complaining, the warmth he gave off made up for the fact that I’d worn a lighter jacket than I should have.

There was no one at the desk so Dean gave a sharp tap to the bell on the desk and the clerk came out of the office. My eyes about popped out of my head because she looked just like Mary Wickes, and my smile got even wider.

“What can I do for you folks,” she asked with a bright, customer service smile.

Sam stepped forward. “I’ve got a reservation under Sam Wallace.”

I rolled my eyes, I’d made the boys watch White Christmas before we’d left and Sam had loved it. He’d spent a day with his laptop before we left making us all new fake IDs but he wouldn’t tell me what names he’d put on them. Now I knew why, I just hoped it wouldn’t give us away to whatever we were hunting. My attention was drawn back to what was going on by the clerk’s voice.

“Here it is Mr. Wallace,” she was saying. “One room for your brother and one for you and your wife.”

I managed to control my expression. What the hell was Sam thinking? Acting like we were married wouldn’t be a problem; I’d been harboring a crush on the younger Winchester almost since I met them. The problem was going to be not taking it too far when we were alone in a hotel room. My mind began to drift in a direction that was going to cause problems and I tried to jerk it back to the case at hand before it went too far. When I dragged my wandering mind back to where it should have been the clerk was saying, “Are you sure you want to stay? You must have heard about-”

“Yeah, we did,” Dean interrupted her. “But he’s been promising Y/N here that we’d stay here for her birthday.”

I took that as my cue to gush. “I’m such a huge fan of White Christmas! When I heard about this inn I made Sammy promise to bring me here.”

I grabbed Sam’s forearm and looked up at him with my best “I love this man so much” look on my face. I heard Dean snickering behind me but ignored him. I figured Sam deserved whatever he got for not warning me about us pretending to be married. But instead of being embarrassed, Sam was looking back at me with an indulgent smile on his face, playing the loving husband to the hilt. I felt my face heating up at the look in his eyes and hoped the clerk just thought I was a blushing bride.

Apparently she bought it because she finished checking us in and we headed up to our rooms. When we passed a young woman who looked like Anne Whitfield on the way upstairs I missed a step and almost fell on my face. A strong hand caught my arm before I could hit and I turned in time to see Sam give me a barely noticeable shake of his head. I nodded and we made it the rest of the way to our rooms without incident.

Dean was across the hall from us and I saw him shoot me a smirk as he shut the door to his room. The rat had probably known what Sam was planning and hadn’t let me in on it. I made a mental note to get even with him as I flipped the bird at his closed door.

I had to take a deep breath before I turned away from the door; facing Sam alone without giving myself away was going to be quite the acting job on my part. I schooled my face into a questioning look as I turned around. I almost lost my train of thought when I realized that Sam was standing next to the one bed in the room looking a little nervous but managed to catch myself before I gave the game away.

“So want to explain yourself,” I asked quietly.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck and refused to meet my eyes. “Dean thought that if I told you, you’d veto the idea.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, “When have I ever refused to do what was necessary for a case?”

“We haven’t known you that long,” he was still looking at anything but me. “I can’t always predict how you’re going to react.”

I reached for my bag with a slow smile. “Good.”

Sam finally looked at me for the first time. “What?”

“What fun would it be if you knew me that well,” I asked as I headed for the bathroom and a shower before dinner.

Dinner was supposed to be “semi-formal” but I used it for an excuse to go all out for the first time since I’d met the guys. My outfit was a simple amethyst dress that I accessorized with a silver belt, jewelry and heels. I did my hair and makeup while Sam showered and changed in the bathroom. I put my hair in a bun, leaving a few strands to curl around my face and stuck with lipstick, purple eye liner, mascara and just a brush of lilac glitter along each cheek bone. I was just checking the fall of my skirt in the mirror on the closet when I heard a soft exclamation behind me. I turned to find Sam staring at me, so I spread my arms and twirled, unable to resist a little payback. When I stopped I gave him a questioning smile.

“Wow, you look…” he trailed off without finishing his sentence.

I gave him an appraising look. He was wearing a white dress shirt with the first couple of buttons undone with black slacks and his Fed dress shoes. My heart beat a little faster as he walked over and took my hand, tucking it in the crook of his arm while he brushed a piece of hair out of my eyes. I glanced up to meet his eyes and my breath caught at what I saw there. I had to be imagining things; there was no way he was looking at me like that. He bent towards me, tilting his head just a little. My eyes fluttered closed when he got so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek. Just before our lips touched there was a banging on the door.

“Come on you two, I’m hungry,” Dean shouted.

Sam brushed his lips lightly over mine and whispered, “Damn it. We’ll finish this later.”

He went to open the door while I tried to pull my scattered wits back together. Dean walked in, dressed much like Sam except that his shirt was blue and buttoned all the way up. He looked me over and let out a low whistle. “Wow, you really are a girl, Y/N. If I’d have known that was hiding under those clothes I’d have been married to you instead of Sam.”

I rolled my eyes at him and took Sam’s arm again so we could go down to dinner. I wasn’t surprised when we were shown to our table by a Dean Jagger look alike or that the floor show was Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye. I was beginning to form theories about what we were dealing with and I wanted to test them, so when I saw Anne head for the restroom I excused myself and followed her. As we were washing our hands I managed to brush my bracelet against her. She gave a low hiss of pain as I apologized for cutting her with a loose link of the chain. She smiled and assured me she’d be fine as she left in a hurry. I returned to our table and nodded at the boys. We finished our dinner quickly and headed for our rooms. I changed in the bathroom so I could wash off my makeup and then we headed for Dean’s room across the hall.

Over beers I told them about my run in with the girl in the restroom. Sam agreed with me that it was probably shifters, but Dean argued that there were a half dozen other things from ghouls too werewolves that it could be. I rolled my eyes at that, but agreed that he could be right.

“I’m sure a werewolf could imitate Bing Crosby that well,” I said sarcastically. “Or that a family of ghouls managed to find pieces of the whole cast to munch on.”

I chugged down the rest of my beer, more than a little tipsy by now thanks to the wine I’d had with dinner. I looked at Dean. “You know I didn’t grow up in the life like y’all, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing, Winchester.”

I made sure to slam the door on my way out.

I had a bottle of Irish cream stashed in the bottom of my weapons bag. I grabbed the ice bucket and headed down to the bar to fill it. As I came through the lobby, I heard singing. I stopped in the door between the lobby and dining room to listen. When I recognized the voices I peeked around the corner.

What I saw was Bing and Rosemary Clooney sitting by the open hearth fireplace singing Count Your Blessings. I smiled as I watched the scene play out, stepping out into bar area as they finished.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t want to interrupt your rehearsal. I just came down to get some ice”

“Rosemary” smiled at me. “So what did you think?”

I made a snap decision. “I think you’re wasting your talents. You shouldn’t be killing off your guests.”

“BIng” took a step forward, but I held up my hand. “Don’t think I came down here unarmed or that I don’t know what you are. I want to hear your side of this story.”

He looked skeptical but the woman started spilling almost immediately, with the man chiming in to add details. Turned out they didn’t actually own the inn and our three vics had found that fact out. All three wanted the land for its location but were planning to tear the buildings down. They hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone but hadn’t seen any other way out. As they talked I analyzed their body language like they boys had taught me. All signs pointed to them telling the truth. I had an idea but I knew Dean wouldn’t go for it, so I called Sam’s cell phone.

“Where are you,” he demanded, sounding both worried and pissed off.

“Hello to you too,” I replied. “I’m in the bar, could you come down here and bring my laptop?”

I hung up before he could answer, knowing that his curiosity would bring him down to see what was going on. I looked at the two shifters and smiled as I checked my watch, then told them, “Five minutes.”

I explained my plan to them as we waited and asked for some paperwork from them. “Bing” ran off to get what I asked for just before Sam showed up with my laptop under his arm. I had “Rosemary” tell her story to him while I hacked into the county database. This was the one area where I was better than either of the Winchester’s I could hack just about anything, even Sam had to admit I was better than just about anyone he’d ever met.

He looked at me when “Rosemary” finished and nodded. I breathed a sigh of relief; he’d back me with Dean. I sent the paperwork I faked to the printer in the office and rushed to grab it before anyone else could get it. Sam came stood behind me as I brought it back to the bar.

“This is everything you need to prove you own this place,” I said watching the faces of the shifters. “It’s all your in exchange for a promise to never hurt anyone except in defense of your lives.”

“Rosemary” and “Bing” looked shocked. They stared at the papers in my hand for a minute, and then met my eyes.

“I’ll swear on whatever you want, hunter,” BIng said softly. “Anything to save my family’s home.”

I handed him the papers. “That’s good enough for me. I hope you live a long peaceful life and that we never have to come back here again.”

The two shifters left, Bing clutching the papers. I turned and looked into Sam’s eyes. “Did we do the right thing?”

“I think we did,” he said. “And Dean will come around eventually.”

Then he smiled at me. “Let’s go to our room. I think we need to talk before we go to sleep.”

He put his arm around my shoulders and drew me close as we headed for the stairs. Whatever else happened, I had the feeling that this was the start of something good.

The Usual Suspects- @darkcastersruletheworld @black-shad0w-w0lf @imagine-that-supernatural @ladysaraharper @thedepthsoffandomminds @kbrand0 @soaringeag1e @supernaturalismalife @iwantthedean @jojomonsterbunni @little-red-83 @growleytria @ashleymalfoy @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @halespecterwinchester @driverpicksthemuusic @isometimeswritesomethings @whyisleepacesoamazing @mist-and-echoes @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @kaylas-obsessions @aerisawriting @letsgetoutalive @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @jodyri @soab1967 @busybee612 @appleschloss @kazchester-fanfiction @oriona75 @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @deandoesthingstome @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sammy-moo @for-the-love-of-dean @mrswhozeewhatsis @kittenofdoomage @sandlee44 @apeshit7x @purgatoan @fast-times-in-the-impala @wereallbrokenangels @wonderless-screwup @dontsassmecastiel @cherrie-liquor @deascheck @mrssamfuckingwinchester @winchesterprincessbride @tjforston @babi-correia @helixiaray @writingthingsisdifficult @mysaintsasinner @mogaruke @wheresthekillswitch @skybinx-blog @bohowitch @hexparker @jensen-jarpad @ellen-reincarnated1967 @masksandtruths

#12 Days of Christmas challenge #White Christmas #sam winchester #dean winchester #reader insert #supernatural fan fiction #spn fan fic #sam x reader #dean x reader #Christmas

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captainswanapproved · 8 years ago

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The Greatest Thing You’ll Ever Learn

So since my blog got deleted, over the next few weeks I’ll be reposting most of my old one shots.

Summary:

A Lieutenant Duckling AU loosely based on the film Moulin Rouge. But with a happy ending.

Word Count: ~8k

The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love, and be loved in return.

-/-

"I'm joining the Navy, father, with Liam."

Davey Jones glowered at his son. "Fine, if you want to throw your life away, serving the king, instead of earning a good living at the shop, then so be it. Just don't come back here complaining to me because the life of a penniless sailor wasn't as good as you thought it would be."

That was the last time Killian Jones saw his father.

-/-

"Bring her in, lads," called Captain Liam Jones called to the crew as the eased the Jewel of the Realm into port.

The docked near a small town on the outskirts of Belle and Rumplestiltskin's kingdom. Montmartre it was called.

Belle's kingdom had an alliance with Queen Snow White and King David's Kingdom, so the Jewel and its crew received civil welcome.

The local dance hall and pub was an establishment by the name of the Rouge, and it was where the gentlemen, sailors, officers and the like went if they had an empty evening to fill.

The star of the Rouge was a woman called the Sparkling Diamond, and it was rumored that she was the most beautiful woman in all the realms.

The crew of the Jewel was eager to have an evening off after weeks at sea.

"Here," said Liam, tossing his younger brother some fine garments that they had procured at a foreign port.

"What is this for?" asked Killian.

The Rouge is a gentlemen's club, and you should look the part."

"Everyone else is wearing their naval garb," said Killian.

"Yes, but your uniform needs to be tailored. You'll wear this. Who knows, you might catch the eye of the Sparkling Diamond."

Killian grinned nervously. "One can only hope."

-/-

"Emma, love, you must look better than you ever have before," said Lawrence, in his thick French accent.

"I know," said Emma, lining her lips with scarlet.

"Rumplestiltskin's son is coming tonight, and he wants a night with you. If you impress him, we can keep the Rouge open, and perhaps you will even become a princess."

Emma sighed. She had no wish for the royal life. What she really wanted to do was make enough money so she could leave the Rouge and search the realm for her parents. She was an orphan, and she had only become a courtesan to survive. Even that wouldn't have been successful if she hadn't been blessed with 'flawless features' as Lawrence like to say. He had found her on the streets four years ago and had taken her in, becoming a father figure to her.

She didn't like living as a courtesan, but she was a survivor, and she did what had to be done. She had never been in love before, which was good for her line of work.

Emma put the finishing touches on her makeup. She turned to Lawrence. "Will you lace me up?"

"Of course, my little duckling," he said, lacing up the diamond studded corset which hugged her graceful curves perfectly. Emma lifted the flashy chiffon fabric of her skirt and slipped on her heels, which were likely sharp enough to take a man's eye out.

"You look absolutely gorgeous. Lord Baelfire will not be able to take his eyes off of you."

"How will I know who he is?"

One of the naval officers will wave a handkerchief in front of him.

Emma's eyes lit up. She loved the navy officers, and every time they came to the Rouge, she was tempted to stow away on one of the ships. However, lack of sufficient money had always stopped her. But if she could please Lord Baelfire, she might finally have enough to leave the Rouge forever. Maybe this time, she actually could run away with the Naval officers.

-/-

The stage was lit with fairy lights and candles.

Killian and the other officers, along with all of the other men in the club, were eagerly awaiting the performance to begin. Lawrence slipped out of the curtains. "Gentlemen, we are glad that you have chosen the Rouge as the pace to spend an evening. Now, relax, and pull up a chair as the Rouge proudly presents the main event, the one and only Emma Swan, the Sparkling Diamond."

Emma was lowered from the ceiling on a swing-like apparatus, her voice filling the air with siren-like music. Her costume was covered in diamonds and silver glitter. Her coiffure was laden with jewels.

Killian forgot to breathe as he took in the sight. She was the most beautiful woman that he had ever laid eyes upon. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he could not tear his eyes away as she sang.

Diamonds are a girl's best friend.

Killian marveled as she sang about money being more important than love, and it was then that he could see the sadness in her lovely green eyes, hidden beneath all her bravado as she danced through the club and teased the gentlemen of the kingdom.

"She's gorgeous, isn't she, Killian" said Liam.

"Yes," said Killian, not even looking at his brother.

"Here, Killian, have your first sip of absinthe," said Liam, handing him a flask.

"No. Alcohol leads to bad form," said Killian.

"You can cut loose, tonight, Killian. Even the son of Rumplestiltskin is here. He's purchased a night with Emma Swan," said Liam, glancing over at a finely dressed man sitting across the way.

Killian's eyes widened. "No woman should have to do that. To sell herself like that, Especially Emma," said Killian, he was strangely compelled to rescue her from this place, impossible as it was.

"We do not live in a perfect world, and here in Belle's kingdom there are courtesans galore."

-/-

Emma played her usual game with the patrons of the Rouge. She would run a finger along a man's chest, lean in close enough to touch and then dance away, leaving the man stunned and amazed. She did this over and over again as she moved in time to the music and sang her heart out.

She kept her eye out for the naval officer that was supposed to be waving a handkerchief in front of Lord Baelfire. She soon saw it. A tall, dark haired officer waved a handkerchief in front of a regally dressed man beside.

The man wore a thick scarlet cloak and attire worthy of a prince beneath it. He was striking, with jet-black hair and sparking blue eyes. He was staring at her like she was the only thing that mattered in this world, and she felt inexplicably drawn to him. She had never felt this way before, and the alarm bells in her head told her to run. But this was Lord Baelfire. She needed to do this to make enough money so she could leave the Rouge.

The music swelled and filled the room as she glided over to the man. "Lawrence said you were expecting me," she said, laying a hand on his chest.

The man swallowed thickly. His eyes widening. "I am?"

Emma smiled. He was nervous, bless his heart. He looked to be about her age, and she felt a strange urge to take his hands in hers. "Oh yes. I look forward to our night together, Lord Baelfire. I'll give you a night you won't soon forget." She leaned in and brushed her lips across his cheek.

She returned to her swing, as Lawrence pulled her up and she sat above the gentlemen. She finished her song, and all of the men were gazing up at her, awestruck.

She'd done it again, and when she went to the jar for collecting coins, she would find a generous amount of gold.

Emma blew kisses to the men before disappearing backstage and returning to her dressing room.

Lawrence burst in a few moments later. "My duckling, you were brilliant! I just spoke to Lord Baelfire, and he is looking forward to meeting you in the tower and spending the evening with you. He has paid in advance, and there is the promise of more. After all, his father spins straw into gold!"

"He seems very charming," said Emma, thinking of the brilliant blue eyes. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad spending the night with him. If their first meeting was any indication, he wouldn't push her into doing anything that made her uncomfortable.

"He will meet you in the tower in an hour," said Lawrence, "after the rest of the show."

Emma nodded and slipped out of her costume, putting on a flowing and filmy red silk dress and took down her hair, so it flowed down her back in flowing curls.

Tonight could change her life.

-/-

"What was that all about?" asked Killian, turning to his brother, who was still laughing.

"I think she thought you were Baelfire," said Liam, using his handkerchief to wipe tears from his eyes. "You do look like a miniature of our king, Perhaps you should go up to the tower. I believe she may be expecting you."

"I would never take advantage of a woman, brother," said Killian, looking affronted.

Liam stopped laughing. "I know, brother, and a woman as beautiful as that shouldn't have to sell herself. She almost looks like Queen Snow and King David. They lost their daughter twenty years ago, you know, the same year you were born."

"I know, but she couldn't be the lost princess, Liam," said Killian.

"Perhaps you should go up to the tower and find out," teased Liam. "In fact, let's make it a wager. If you go up to the tower and speak with Emma, I will throw our supply of rum overboard."

Killian grinned. He detested rum. "Deal," said Killian, shaking his brother's hand.

Besides, Killian couldn't fight the strange pull he felt towards the dazzling Emma Swan.

-/-

Emma climbed the stairs leading to the top of the tower. "Ah, my dear, your young man is awaiting you inside," said Tink, known in the Rouge as the green fairy. "He's very handsome, Emma, devilishly so."

Emma smiled despite herself. Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest and she was suddenly nervous to enter the tower chamber. She had spent hundreds of nights with men who had paid for her company. It was not as if she liked it, but she was used to it. It was just a part of her life.

Why was it that spending the night with this man felt so different? He had barely spoken two words to her and she had done what she always did; dangled the bait only to spring the trap at a later moment.

Get a grip, Swan. You can do this. One night with Rumplestiltskin's son will buy you your freedom.

Emma took a deep breath before pushing the door open to reveal Lord Baelfire pacing back and forth, muttering nervously to himself.

Emma smirked and leaned against the doorframe, striking a seductive pose. "Hello there, handsome," she purred.

He practically jumped out of his skin. "Miss Swan," he said, turning red as his eyes raked over her body.

Emma glided towards him, her hips swaying. She could see that he was fallowing her movements. She smirked at the flustered man before her. She trailed a finger up his chest, following the fine golden thread of his shirt. Her hand caressed his cheek as he swayed closer to him. "You're rather good looking, aren't you?"

"If you say so," he stammered.

"Oh I do. I like what I see, very much," she said, huskily, into his ear. "How about you, my lord? Do you like what you see?"

"You are very beautiful, Miss Swan," he said.

Emma grinned. "Well, now that we have that covered, why don't we get started? I promised you a night you wouldn't forget, and I never break a promise." She grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the bed, which had been covered with fresh linens.

She laid down on the bed, "So my lord, tell me your preferences,"

"Preferences?"

"Of course," said Emma, trailing a hand up her body. "You paid for me for the night, and I want to give you your money's worth."

"I think you have me mistaken, Miss Swan," said Killian. "You see, I thought we could talk."

Emma's eyes widened. "Oh, so you like naughty words," she said, "Well, lucky for you, here I am lying on my back, and there are any number of pleasurable things to do with a woman on her back. Come here and I'll walk you through them, step by step."

Then she grabbed him and pulled her down on top of him. Their noses were brushing, and she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. "So, aside from you royal duties, what do you do?"

"I'm a sailor," said Killian.

"Ah, well tonight I'm promoting you to Captain, and I must warn you, there are bumpy seas ahead."

Killian flushed at her innuendo. He shouldn't have come up here, and he most certainly should not be lying on top of Emma Swan. He quickly rolled off of her, and she pouted.

"Do I not please you, my lord?" she asked, sitting up, and looking at him with wide, and lost-looking green eyes.

"Emma," he said, "I'm not who you think I am," he said.

"Of course you are, from the moment I met you, I saw you for what you were, a young, handsome prince. The most handsome in all the realms, no doubt. Such a prince deserves everything that a proper lady of court would not deign to give him. That's why you're here isn't it? This is an escape from your royal duties, and a courtesan is always eager and willing to please for a hefty price."

Killian shook his head. "I really am a sailor. My name is Killian Jones. I'm a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. I come from the kingdom ruled over by King David and Queen Snow White. You shouldn't have to sell yourself for money. You can come with my brother and me. You can be free."

Emma stared at him. She had always had a thing with lies. This man wasn't lying. He truly was offering her an escape. An escape that she couldn't take. She didn't know this man. Her walls sprang up. She stood up. "What are you doing here then? You must leave immediately. I am expecting Lord Baelfire, and if he is anything like his father, he may very well be a vengeful man."

"Please, Miss Swan," said Killian.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Duckling, Lord Baelfire has arrived, are you decent? If so, can you get indecent in a hurry?" asked Lawrence from the other side of the door.

"Just a moment, Lawrence," she said.

She whirled around to Killian. "Get under the bed," she hissed.

"You can't be serious," said Killian.

Emma scowled at him and shoved him to the floor. "You have to hide," he said urgently, her eyes alit with worry.

Killian looked up at her and saw the truth. This was a woman who had lost everything. For some reason, she felt compelled to protect him, as is she was afraid of losing him as well. Killian pulled himself underneath the bed.

Emma shuffled to the door and opened it, to reveal a richly dressed man, who was in no way as handsome as Killian, and of course, Lawrence.

Lawrence pushed the prince into the room. "I'll leave the two of you alone so that the two of you may get better acquainted. Have a fabulous evening." Then he closed the door.

Baelfire looked her up and down, licking his lips, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "You look ravishing, Emma Swan," he said, running a hand along her body.

Emma's stomach twisted into knots as he touched her. This was going to be a long night, especially with Killian hiding underneath the bed.

No. She had to get him out.

She suddenly didn't want him to hear her throwing herself at the prince. Never had she been more ashamed of her occupation than she was right now, with Balefire's hands caressing her body, his lips trailing kisses along her neck and chest.

It felt wrong.

Emma stepped away from Baelfire. "Surely you must be famished, my lord," she said.

Balefire gaped at her. "Nothing that a taste of a delectable Swan won't cure," he said, huskily.

Emma cringed. The prince was certainly going to get his money's worth. His hands were back on her hips as he backed her up so her legs were against the bed.

As a celebrated courtesan, Emma was used to being in control. But this man was stripping her of her power, and of her choices. Emma laid a hand on his chest. "We have a whole night for that, my lord, but first you must eat and drink, otherwise you'll have no energy for other activities.

Baelfire leered at her, but then he stepped away. "You are quite right, Miss Swan," he said. "I'll need sufficient energy seeing as I plan to ravish you all night long."

Emma had heard these words, and others similar, a hundred times over, but hearing them from Lord Baelfire, with him shooting her lascivious glances, she wanted nothing more than to run. She thought of Killian's offer.

You can be free.

The man had known her five minutes and he had already offered her freedom.

Whereas Lord Baelfire wanted to take everything from her.

Emma was suddenly overwhelmed. She felt faint.

There was one trick that had saved her from the worst of her clientele, and Emma knew she needed to use it.

She began to fan herself. "Is it suddenly too hot in here? I can hardly breathe."

Baelfire walked up to her. "Let me free you of that corset, Emma, then you'll be able to breathe," he said, his voice dripping with desire.

"No, no," said Emma, quickly, her voice rising, as she feigned hysteria, "I'm seeing stars. My whole body is on fire."

"I haven't begun touching you yet," said Baelfire, silkily.

"No, no. Oh, I'm going to be ill. You must leave immediately or you'll catch it. I'll give you tomorrow night, free of charge, but for now, I must rest. I want to be at my best for you. Lawrence," she cried, "Lawrence! Lawrence!"

Emma was really laying it on thick, but it needed to be done. She needed to get the prince out of the tower.

"What kind of man would I be if I left an ill woman all on her own?" asked Baelfire. "I can take care of you."

His eyes flashed, and a twinge of fear entered her heart. The man looked like his father, who had previously been the Dark One. She saw that malice and it scared the hell out of her.

"Lawrence!" she cried again, hoping that he would swoop in to rescue her.

-/-

Killian clenched his teeth, as he heard Emma's frantic voice. It was clear to him that it was a charade, but even so, the prince was clearly not falling for it. Any honorable man would leave and not attempt to take advantage of an incapacitated woman. Lord Baelfire was clearly not a man of honor.

The thought of Emma having to do this night after night made his heart ache. They had only known each other for a couple of hours, but Killian knew that there was already an unmistakable bond between them. Was it love at first sight?

He didn't know.

He'd never been in love before.

But he did know one thing

He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe, and to rescue her from this terrible way of living.

Killian bit the inside of his lip so heard that it drew blood. She had told him to hide.

He would obey her.

-/-

"Duckling!" said Lawrence as he burst through the door. "Are you and the prince in need of more refreshments?"

Emma let out a sigh of relief. "I feel ill," she said, "and it would be terribly unkind of me to spend the night with the prince when I am not at my best. I want him to have his money's worth after all."

"You must forgive Emma, my lord," said Lawrence. "She is of strong constitution, and hardly ever falls ill. This is a great misfortune. Please come back tomorrow night. You'll not have to pay again."

Lord Baelfire narrowed his eyes. "Well, if she truly is ill, I suppose I can return tomorrow. But I shall take my gold back."

"Of course, your grace," said Lawrence. "Come below and I will return it to you. We will allow Emma to get some rest so she can be the bright, bubbly and smoldering temptress that she is."

Baelfire turned to Emma and kissed her deeply.

Emma wanted nothing more than to knee him in the jewels, but she resisted the temptation, and thanked the heavens when he pulled away.

"I will see you tomorrow night," she cooed, her stomach twisting into knots at the thought.

"That you will, Miss Swan," he said before following Lawrence out of the room.

Emma slammed the door shut and locked it before hurrying to the bed. "You can come out now, Killian. It's safe."

Killian slid out from underneath the bed and before thinking about his actions, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.

Emma had never felt safer in her entire life. Her walls began to crumble, and her disgust with Lord Baelfire manifested into tears, which she allowed to roll down her cheeks as Killian held her in her arms.

Here, in the circle of his arms, she felt something she had never felt before.

What was this feeling?

Love?

She'd never been in love before.

She was a courtesan, and courtesans couldn't fall in love.

-/-

"You should go," said Emma, pulling away from Killian and wiping her tears away.

"But you're upset," he said.

"I'll be fine," said Emma.

Killian just stared at Emma for a long moment. "You're lying. You're unhappy and you want to escape this place, and this life."

Emma blinked. How did he know?

"You're something of an open book, Emma Swan," he said. "An orphan can always recognize another orphan."

"Look, you don't know anything about me. I chose this life," said Emma.

"You may have chosen it, but only because it was better than the alternative. A life on the streets," said Killian. He reached out and took her hand. "I meant what I said earlier, you know. You can come with me. You can leave everything behind. This life. The Rouge. You can be free."

"You know nothing about me," she stammered.

"On the contrary," said Killian. "I think I understand you very well, or at least, given the chance I could. I felt it from the moment we met. We have a real connection. You felt it too, just a few moments ago. Didn't you."

Emma sighed. "Even if I did, it wouldn't mean anything. I can't run off with you. I have other things to do. I need to find—" She trailed off.

"Tell me, and I'll do everything in my power to help you," said Killian.

"I've always wanted to fly away from here," she confessed. "I want to fine my family. I grew up alone. I didn't even have anything resembling a home, until Lawrence found me and brought me to the Rouge."

"Love has been all too rare in your life," whispered Killian.

Emma scoffed. "Love is just a game. That's the fist thing I learned as a courtesan."

Killian shook his head. "No. Emma. Love is hope. It's the most powerful magic of all. That's something I've learned sailing all over this realm."

"I suppose you're talking about King David and Queen Snow White," said Emma. "I've heard the stories. A princess was exiled, became a bandit, and fell in love with a prince, who was actually a shepherd. They found each other and together they fought against the Evil Queen and saved their Kingdom. All because of True Love."

"Yes, and they had a daughter. She was the product of True Love."

Emma rolled her eyes. She had stopped believing in love a long time ago. In fact, the concept was so foreign to her that she couldn't even recognize the sensation of it, blooming in her heart as Killian held her hand. It was akin to the feeling she'd felt when she'd been in his arms. It was overwhelming.

"A lot of good that did her," she said bitterly, trying to put up her walls and change the subject.

"Do you know what they named their daughter?" he asked.

"Mary Margaret," said Emma sarcastically.

"Emma," he said.

"What?" she asked.

"They named her Emma," he said.

"It's just a coincidence."

"Perhaps it is," said Killian, "but perhaps not. I could take you back, and you could find out. Open yourself up to the possibility of having hope, love, and a family."

"Why do you want to do this? We just met."

"The queen told me something a few years ago, when I first joined the navy. The king and queen have always been particularly fond of my brother. Anyway, the queen said that all happy endings begin with hope."

"And you think you can help me find my happy ending?"

"No one deserves a happy ending more than you do, Emma," said Killian. "It isn't fair that you have to live this life. You are a beautiful woman. You deserve a proper home and a family."

"I won't give in to you," she whispered half-heartedly. "I barely know you."

"Try something new, Emma," said Killian, moving his hand to caress her cheek. "It's called trust. I couldn't bear to leave you here in this place."

"Are you always this kind to strangers?" she asked.

"I'm a gentleman, and I believe in good form."

"And you want to be my hero, and save me from my fate?" she teased.

"If you would let me."

"You would leave me eventually," said Emma, standing up and walking across the room.

"No, I wouldn't," said Killian, standing up. He moved a step or two closer, but then stayed put, as if he could sense her need for space.

"I would drink all the rum on your ship," said Emma, trying to throw him off track.

Killian made a face. "You'd have to out drink sailors," he said, "and that is no easy task."

Emma smiled at him despite herself. There was something about him that felt safe, and she wanted to trust him. The word 'home' was calling to her like a siren. Maybe she could trust him. Maybe he really could help her find her family and … love.

She took a few steps and closed the distance between them. Her hands went to his shoulders. "Ever since I came to the Rouge, no man has offered me a choice," she whispered.

Killian looked down at her, his arms curling around her. "You've lived a life without choice, but now that can change, but only if you want it to."

"You'll stay with me until I've found what I'm looking for."

"Yes," said Killian, his breath tickling her skin.

She looked into his eyes. He was telling the truth. "I'll come with you," she said. "This is going to be bad for business though. For the Rouge."

"You don't owe them anything Emma," said Killian.

"I know."

"I'll return for you in half an hour," said Killian, taking a step back. "I just need to inform my Captain that we'll have a new passenger."

Emma smiled. "Wait," she said, grasping his shirt and pulling her to him. She kissed him softly, and oh so sweetly. "Thank you," she said, resting her forehead on his for a moment.

"Anything for you, Emma," he said. "I will return shortly." Then he left the room and Emma hurried to gather what little she had.

And then she would be free.

-/-

"Duckling, what are you doing?"

Lawrence had come into the tower room to check on her. Emma turned from where she was tossing her few possessions in a bag. "I'm leaving," said Emma.

"What? You can't just leave," said Lawrence.

Emma didn't stop packing. "Of course I can," said Emma. "I don't owe you anything, and I certainly don't want to spend a night with Lord Baelfire."

"Duckling, you are the star of the Rouge!"

"I'm sure you can find someone to replace me," said Emma. "You know I never wanted this life."

Lawrence stared at her, jaw dropped. "Duckling, what has gotten into you? This place has been your home for five years. What about everything I've done for you. I've taken care of you. The other dancers and I have been your family."

"I met someone who reminded me that I deserve a proper home and a real family. He reminded me that I deserve more than this life. I'm going away from here, away from this kingdom and I'm going to find my happy ending."

"But what about Lord Baelfire? He could be your happy ending," said Lawrence.

"No," said Emma. She closed her bag. "Lawrence, you saved me from a life on the streets, and I am grateful for that, but I don't belong here. I've never belonged here, and I deserve better than this life." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Goodbye, Lawrence."

Then before he could say another word, she slipped out of the room and hurried down the tower steps.

Killian was waiting for her with a horse. She went up to him and kissed his cheek. "Let's go," she said, a little breathlessly.

"As you wish, my lady," he said, placing his hands on her hips and lifting her up onto the horse, before climbing on in front of her. She wrapped her hands around his waist, and he snapped the reins, and the horse cantered off into the dark streets of the town.

Fifteen minutes later they reached the docks. Killian helped her down, and looked her up and down, "As beautiful as you look, Emma, that dress may not be the best for a voyage at sea. I will obtain you some more comfortable clothing when we set sail, that is if you don't mind dressing as a sailor."

"I'm sure I can handle it," said Emma, squeezing his hand.

Killian grinned and found a passerby, paying him a silver coin to return it to the stables. He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Emma grinned and took his arm. "We shall."

They walked up the gangplank and approached Captain Jones, who was at the helm.

"Brother, this is Miss Emma Swan, our new passenger," he said.

Liam smiled kindly. "Welcome aboard the Jewel of the Realm Miss Swan. I am Captain Liam Jones. If you need anything, you need only ask."

"Thank you, Captain," said Emma, "and thank you for allowing me on your ship."

"Well, my brother here was quite insistent. He spun quite a tale about the most beautiful woman in all the realms longing to find her family. He said we were honor bound as gentlemen to rescue her."

Emma glanced at Killian, who was turning red. "I didn't say it like that, brother."

Liam grinned. "Forgive me, Miss Swan, I was toning it down. My brother can speak quite prettily when he so chooses."

It didn't escape Emma's notice when Killian kicked his brother. She smirked. "I am undeserving of such flattery, but I thank you all the same."

"Killian, who don't you escort this lovely lady to the Captain's Quarters. I will sleep below with the others."

Emma shook her head. "You don't have to do that, Captain," she said quickly.

"Nonsense. A fine lady deserves the best. We here, in King David's navy are gentlemen first and foremost."

Emma smiled. No man before had put her comfort before his own. That is, before she had met the Jones brothers. "Thank you," she said softly.

Killian took her hand and left her to the Captain's Quarters, opening the door for her as he did so. She smiled at him as she walked past him. "You really are a gentleman," she said.

"I would hate to be anything less, Miss Swan."

Emma laid her hands on his chest and pulled her to him. "Well, you should know that when a gentleman saves a lady, it is customary for the lady to thank him accordingly," she said, teasingly, her breath warm against his cheeks.

"You don't owe me anything. You deserve your freedom," he said.

Emma swayed closer. "I know, and I appreciate that. Now be quiet and kiss me," she said, covering his lips with her own and kissing him, chastely at first.

Killian was unresponsive for a moment before he kissed her back. One hand tangled itself in her hair, and the other one trailed along her side, coming to rest at the small of her back.

Emma pressed herself against his chest as she coaxed his mouth open and deepened the kiss. Her tongue trailed along his lower lip and she reveled sensation of kissing someone just because she wanted to do so.

She moaned as his lips slid against her own, wrapping her arms around him. Everything felt completely natural, and she never wanted it to end.

Finally they had to break the kiss to come up for air, but she still clung to him. He rested his forehead on hers. "Emma," he breathed, caressing the syllables of her name. "You should get some rest."

"I'm not tired," she said, moving to kiss him again.

He placed a finger on her lips and stepped away. "You've had a long night." He crossed the room and began rummaging through a trunk, removing a shirt and some breeches. "They'll be a little big, but I hope that they will be far more comfortable."

Emma took the clothes from him. "Thank you. You're welcome to stay and watch me change," she teased.

Killian's face turned bright red. "I will see you in the morning, Emma. Sleep well." He hesitated before kissing her forehead.

Emma's heart skipped a beat at the tender gesture. It was the first time in her life that she actually felt loved, and all because of a simple kiss on the forehead.

She fell asleep happily that night, and dreamed of finding her family at last.

-/-

"Where is the Swan girl," demanded Lord Baelfire. He had come to the Rouge the following night, insistent on having his night with the kingdom's most celebrated courtesan.

"She left," stammered Lawrence.

"Where the hell did she go?" said Baelfire.

"I do not know. I apologize, my lord," said Lawrence.

"I'll have your establishment closed for this. I am the crown prince of this kingdom, and when I am promised something, I always get it." He spun on his heel and stormed out of the Rouge.

-/-

"Father!" said Baelfire, stomping into the throne room. "I need your help."

Rumple looked up from where he was sitting with Belle. "What is it, Bae?"

"I need to find a woman," he said.

"Surely you don't need your father's help for that, my handsome boy."

"The courtesan I paid for ran away. I need you to use your magic to help me find her."

"There are courtesans aplenty in our kingdom," said Rumple. "What makes this one so special?"

"I paid for her and therefore she belongs to me," said Baelfire. "Now help me find her."

Belle turned to Rumple. "Rumple, don't. Imagine what will happen to the poor girl when he finds her."

Baelfire glared at Belle. "You have no say in the matter," he shouted.

Rumple frowned. No one should ever speak to Belle that way. Not even his son, who had been such a sweet boy, but as he grew, he had changed. "What was her name, my boy?"

"Emma Swan."

Rumple's eyes widened. He recognized the name. That was the daughter of Snow White and King David. He knew his son better than anyone, and once he tired of the girl, he would dispense of her, and they'd have a war on their hands. That wouldn't do. Besides, his son needed to learn that he couldn't have everything he wanted just because he snapped his fingers. Rumple grinned. "Just remember, son. All magic comes with a price."

-/-

"Killian?" called Emma, emerging from the Captain's Quarters. "Killian?"

The sky was clear and blue, the sun shining bright. The ship swayed gently beneath her feet. Emma had never been sailing before. She took a few wobbly steps but then the ship jolted, going over a small wave. The movement threw off her balance, and Emma prepared herself for the impact of the deck.

It didn't come.

She felt two strong, familiar hands on her waist. She turned around only to meet Killian's bright blue eyes. "It might take you a day or two to get your sea-legs, Emma. Don't fret. I'll be here to catch you when you fall."

"My hero," she teased, fluttering her eyelashes. She moved a step closer, caressing his cheek with her palm. "Good morning," she said softly.

"Good morning," he replied, nearly at a loss for words because of her proximity.

"I can see why you like being a naval officer so much. The sea is beautiful," she said with a small smile.

"It is very beautiful," he said, only he was looking at her, not the sea.

Emma would have replied had it not been for a cat call from one of the other sailors, followed by, "Perhaps the Lieutenant and his new friend need a little privacy, eh, men?"

Killian dropped his hands from her waist. His cheeks burned. "Forgive me, my lady," he said.

Emma couldn't help it, really, she laughed for the first time in ages, as she took in the mocking expressions of the other officers, and Killian's flushed cheeks. She had never felt so free in her entire life, out here, on the open seas, with Killian Jones.

Her laughter bubbled out of her like beautiful music, and Killian closed his eyes to further cherish the sound.

"Jones," said one of the officers, coming up and breaking the spell of the moment. "The captain needs you."

Killian's eyes snapped open, and his gaze flew to Emma, who was still laughing. He smiled despite himself. She was even more beautiful when she was smiling, and he wanted nothing more than to make her keep smiling and revel in her joy, but duty called. "Forgive me, Miss Swan," he said with a slight bow, before turning and heading towards the helm.

Emma watched him walk away before heading over to the railing of the ship. She sighed and looked out over the water. She wondered how far they were from Snow and David's kingdom.

From what possibly might be her home.

-/-

"So, brother, you've finally fallen in love," said Liam.

"Excuse me?" asked Killian, lowering the sextant.

"With Miss Emma Swan. You love her don't you?"

"I've only known her for five days, brother," said Killian a bit nervously.

"You'd be surprised how quickly one can fall in love. I think she cares for you as well," said Liam, smiling at his younger brother.

"She deserves better than me," said Killian, looking out to see, "Especially if she really is the lost princess."

"Things like that don't matter in our kingdom. Our King was a shepherd, and our Queen was a bandit. Keep an open mind, brother. Everyone deserves to have True Love, and if it turns out that this is what is between you and Emma, then nothing else will matter."

"Do you really think she could ever love me?"

"I really do, Killian. You're an honorable man, and you are doing everything you can to bring her home. You're not bad looking, either. You take after your brother," he said with a wink.

Killian nudged him. "We'll reach home in a day or so," said Killian, in an attempt to change the subject.

"Aye. Why don't you tell Miss Swan? I'm sure she will be happy to know that she doesn't have to stay on the ship much longer."

"You can handle things without me?" asked Killian, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice.

Liam smiled indulgently. "I'll be just fine. Go to her."

-/-

"Emma?" said Killian after knocking on the door.

"Come in," he heard her say, weakly.

Killian opened the door to find Emma lying down on the bed.

Killian crossed the room, concern etched in his features. "What's wrong."

Emma looked up at him, a small smile on her pale face. "Oh, nothing. I'm just a bit seasick."

"Can I get anything for you?" asked Killian quickly.

Emma shook her head, sat up, and patted the space beside her. "Sit with me, " she said, "I'm sure it will make me feel a lot better."

Killian did so, and Emma leaned in against his chest and closed her eyes, sighing contentedly. "So, did you need something in particular?"

"I thought you would like to know that we will reach the kingdom tomorrow."

"Oh good," she said. "I'll be glad to get off this boat. I think it might take a while to get used to sailing."

"You've managed beautifully," he said.

Emma snuggled into his chest, and pulled his arms around her. "Thank you," she said, and Killian understood that she was thanking him for so much more than his simple compliment.

Killian rested his chin on her head and pulled her closer to him, reveling in the sensation of holding her in his arms. He could spend a lifetime in this position and it would never be enough.

They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the comfortable silence, until Emma fell asleep.

When her breathing evened out, Killian got up and tucked her beneath the blankets. She looked like an angel, and Killian hoped that one day she would be his angel. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead. "Sleep well, love," he said, before backing out of the room slowly.

-/-

"There is someone here to see you, your majesties," said Grumpy.

"And who might that be?" asked Snow.

"Lord Baelfire, Rumplestiltskin's son," replied the dwarf.

"Send him in," said David, with a wave of his hand.

"What could he possibly want," asked Snow, when Grumpy was gone. "He is a rather unpleasant fellow, and he is not very fond of our kingdom."

David took Snow's hand. "There is only one way to find out," he said, watching the door, which flew open a few minutes later as Lord Baelfire strode into the room.

"Is she here?" demanded Baelfire without ceremony.

"Who?" said Snow.

Balefire threw up his hands in exasperation. "Your daughter. She should have arrived by now."

Snow frowned.

David stood up. "Our daughter has been gone these twenty-one years, and it is very cruel of you to mock us."

"Your daughter is alive, and according to my father, she is should have arrived by now. She is a passenger on one of your ships, the Jewel of the Realm."

"The Jewel has been on a diplomatic voyage this past month. They are scheduled to return within a day or so. I hardly see how this is any of your business."

"Your daughter is on board, and I have paid for her. As a prince I demand diplomatic services and a room in your castle while I wait for her to arrive."

"You paid for her?" asked Snow, trying to hide how hopeful she was that her daughter might be alive.

"Your daughter has been a courtesan in my kingdom these past five years. A week ago, I paid for her, and she ran away. When she returns, I shall take her as my wife. Do not worry. I shall allow her to visit you often, and this will only strengthen the alliance between our two kingdoms."

Tears began to form in the corners of Snow's eyes. If what Baelfire said was true, then her beloved daughter had been forced to grow up alone, on the streets, until she was forced to take up a dishonorable occupation in order to survive. The thought of Emma having to subject herself to such a lifestyle was heartbreaking.

David saw his wife's distress, and in order to prevent Baelfire from continuing n this topic, he said, "Grumpy will show you to a chamber. You are welcome to stay for the night. As far as Emma is concerned, if, she is indeed alive, we will sort that out later."

"Very well," said Baelfire, following the dwarf out of the room.

"Could Emma really be alive?" asked Snow.

"He has no reason to lie," said David. "We will have to wait."

"We've been waiting for twenty-one years. If she is alive, we mustn't let the prince take her away from us. Not again."

"We won't. Let's retire for the night. Perhaps we will have news in the morning."

Snow nodded, but she knew that she wouldn't sleep that night, not with the hope that her daughter was alive.

-/-

"That is the castle," said Killian, pointing out over the water. His other arm was around Emma's waist, and she was nestled against his side, head resting on his shoulder.

"Do you really think that I could be the lost princess?" asked Emma.

"I do," said Killian. "You have the king's eyes, and you are as beautiful as your mother, even more so, in my humble opinion."

Emma flushed. "I'm nervous," she finally admitted. "What if I'm not who you think I am, and if I am, what if they don't want me?"

Killian kissed her temple. "Emma, if you are not the lost princess, you will have a home with me. I won't leave you. And if you are, they are your parents. They have been searching for you for twenty-one years. They will be overjoyed to be reunited with you."

"Thank you," whispered Emma, looking out to sea.

Killian's arm tightened around her as the ship pulled up by the dock. Liam called for the anchor to be dropped. "Emma, do not be afraid, I will be right by your side."

"Good," she said.

-/-

"Captain Jones has arrived with his lieutenant and a beautiful young woman," said Grumpy.

"Send them in immediately," said Snow.

"As you wish," said Grumpy, "By the way, she has Charming's eyes, and your chin, Snow." Grumpy grinned before bowing and leaving the throne room.

A few moments later, Captain Jones entered the room, sweeping onto a low bow. Lieutenant Jones stood slightly behind his brother, a beautiful woman with piercing green eyes and golden hair clinging to his arm. "Your majesties, may I present to you, Miss Emma Swan."

Snow knew the moment she saw her that she was indeed her daughter. Her heart was filled with a joy she hadn't experienced since she had held her newborn in her arms. Snow stood up and ran to meet her daughter. "Emma, you finally found your way home."

Killian stepped aside so as to allow the Queen to embrace her daughter.

Emma was stiff for a moment, but in the Queen's arms she felt safe and at home, just like she did with Killian Jones. "Mother?" she said.

"Yes, Emma. It's me. I'm your mother," tears were streaming down Snow's face.

David had come up to join them, "And I am your father," he said. "Welcome home, Emma, at last."

He pulled the two women into his arms, and the three of them stood there for what seemed like hours, until a cruel voice interrupted them.

"Ah, a happy family reunion," said Baelfire, standing in the doorway.

Emma flinched at the familiar voice. He had followed her here.

David stepped up to meet the prince, pushing his newly reunited family behind him. "You are not taking my daughter away," he said.

Baelfire ignored him and went up to Emma, who was still in her mother's arms.

"Miss Swan, we never had our night together. I paid for you, and a lady shouldn't back out on her word. You don't look ill to me," he said, caressing her cheek.

Emma flinched at the contact, but lifted her chin defiantly. "Lawrence gave you back your gold. I owe you nothing."

She stepped away from her mother, and slapped away Baelfire's hand.

A few feet away, Killian's hand moved to the hilt of his sword. Liam laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "The King and Queen will handle this," said Liam.

"Now, Emma, we had an agreement," said Baelfire, "But do not worry. We shall marry and everything will be settled. Do not fret. I will allow you to visit your newly found parents quite often. Of course, you will not be allowed to see the naval officer, ever again."

Emma glared at him. "I'm not going to marry you," she said. "That's not how it works."

"Ah, but it is. The young courtesan turned princess needs a suitor, and since I have paid the price, I am entitled to that position. Besides, you won't do any better than me. I am the son of the Dark One, crown prince to the kingdom that has been your home for the past twenty-one years. Don't worry, it will be worth your while, after all, we'll get to do this whenever we please," he said, leering at her form, before pulling her in for a kiss.

The sound of swords being drawn rang throughout the throne room.

David had drawn his, but Killian beat him to it. Emma pulled away from Balefire and slapped him across the face.

Then Killian stepped up, putting his blade to the prince's throat. "You will never lay a finger on Emma again."

Balefire smirked, his eyes gleaming. "And who is going to stop me? A penniless naval officer? I can have you killed with a snap of my fingers."

"No," said David, and his blade joined Killian's near his throat. "I am the King, and you will not come near my daughter again. Whatever happened in the past, Emma does not belong to you, and you will leave this kingdom immediately."

Balefire stepped back and drew his own sword. "Not until I have what is mine, and if you refuse me, you will have a war on your hands. Now is keeping your precious daughter really worth starting a war?"

David glowered at Baelfire. "Emma is worth an entire kingdom, this entire realm, and you are undeserving of my daughter."

Emma stared at her father, unused to feeling like she was actually worth something.

"Your daughter sold herself for money," said Baelfire, with a cruel grin at Emma. "She is undeserving of me, but I have always been generous. Come now, Miss Swan, and you shall be a princess of the kingdom where you actually spent your life. That is where you belong."

Emma scowled at the prince, and took a few angry steps toward him, grabbing Killian's sword from his as she did. Emma had never used a sword before, but the adrenaline was pumping through her veins. Her sword slashed against Baelfire's cheek, before he parried the blow.

"I do not, nor will I ever, belong to you, you despicable cad," she said, striking him again.

Baelfire moved to strike her, but she deflected the blow with a skill that was surprising. She was the daughter of King David, after all, and he had conquered a dragon.

The duel went on for a few moments until Emma managed to knock Baelfire to his feet. She pressed her blade against his throat. "Leave now," she snarled, "and I'll spare your miserable life."

"You will live to regret this Emma," said Baelfire, raising his hands. In surrender "You could have had a prince, and now all you have is a penniless sailor."

"Killian Jones is twice the man you'll ever be. He saved me from an awful life and brought me home to my family. He actually respects and values me, and I love him. Now get out, or your blood will stain this marble floor."

Baelfire turned on his heel. "You'll have a war on your hands," he said, quickly leaving the throne room.

Emma dropped the blade. She felt Killian's hand on her shoulder, and she turned and threw herself into his arms.

Snow and David looked on in awe at the amazing woman their daughter had become. Of course, it hurt that they had not been able to raise her, but they were so incredibly overjoyed that they were reunited after all these years.

Snow stepped up to her daughter and the lieutenant. "Killian," she said, "thank you for bringing my daughter home. David and I will never be able to thank you enough."

"I would do anything for your daughter, and this kingdom, Your Highness," said Killian, inclining his head.

David stepped up and clapped the young man on the shoulder. "A promotion is in order," he said with a smile.

Emma looked from her parents to Killian. Having a family and a home was a novelty. But she looked forward to getting used the security. She looked at the people that she had just met, and she knew she already loved them. She had finally found her parents, and it was all thanks to the wonderful man that was standing beside her.

A man that she loved more than words could express.

She was home.

#this text post is cs approved #captain swan #cs ff #cs crew #moulin rouge au #ouat

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