#smoke's tigress

[books-in-a-storm]

Romance A Day🌹

Smoke's Tigress, Ciara St. James

[nnerradd]

[spectercrums]

Back when tigers smoked... I made fanart of https://twitter.com/scarydogfriend 's description of Song Ji-hu, the Primordial Tigress, a major NPC introduced in The Portent of Mid-Autumn Oneshot over at https://twitter.com/TeaTRPG_ and in https://twitter.com/HeavensPress 's preview of the Undying Corruption Ch. 1!

[radio-fmm]

Dear Luffy

Luffy x fem!reader

2k words, sfw

Sanji finds out about your crush on Luffy, would he be able to keep the secret?

Masterlist | Pt. 2

Sanji’s heart dropped to the depths of his stomach as he stood still in the middle of your room, a piece of paper in his hands

Truth was he didn’t wanted to be in this position, as incriminating as it looked

You had lost your glasses that morning. You had been looking everywhere but to no avail, the task becoming quite difficult without them too. Of course Sanji being the gentleman he is, offered to help you look starting with your bedroom

Big mistake

His eyes bore at the letter in his hands that had wrinkled under his unrelenting hold. Luffy’s name spelled at the top with dear attached to it with your handwriting makes his eyes drop out of his skull

You like Luffy?

Of course you do, Sanji then recalls all those times you decided to stay up later to accompany him on his night watches so he ‘wouldn’t fall asleep’ face beaming. How you were always, without a doubt, the first to jump on his crazy ideas and adventures. All of the times he had catch you sneaking around the kitchen late at night, only to then find out that Luffy send you for snacks for him to eat knowing he wasn’t allowed. That look of adoration he’ll catch in your eyes when looking up at your Captain

It was unmistakable

“Sanji! I found them!” - Your voice echoed trough the hallway and the cook curses, without missing any more seconds he hides the letter on its rightful place under your pillow and drops to his knees, hopefully he’ll look as if he was innocently searching under your bed he didn’t

The sound of the doorknob followed by his name makes the blood rush to his ears, heart thrumming in his chest as he prays he can meet your eyes like a normal person, trying not to think about the huge secret he just read about

“Thank god my darling!” He gets up at the speed of light, he’s surprised he didn’t passed out from the harsh movement

Immediately you feel something is wrong

Sanji stands in the middle of your room, eyes darting in every direction, clammy hands fiddling with his cigarette, a nervous smile on his features

“Are you ok San-“

“Fantastic! Why wouldn’t I be?-“ Slowly and desperately, the blonde makes his way out of your room, fumbling every step and almost falling along with your dresser that was tucked on the corner of the place -“Anyway, I gotta go back to the kitchen, dinner won’t cook itself!”

Finally he reaches the handle and disappears, his heart pounding and mouth dry

“Nami was right, he’s kinda weird…”

Shit shit shit, he feelt dirty, invading a ladys privacy like that? Unforgivable. What panicked him the most tho, was not what he knew or how he found out, no no no

It was the fact that he knows he won’t be able to shut his mouth about it. Sanji is a bad liar, specially lying to beautiful ladies, and as it turns, there’s 2 very much noisy ladies aboard The Sunny

Shit

His mind in a reverie, shaky slender fingers scavenging for another cigarette as he made a bee-line to the kitchen

“Mr. cook” Robins calls, echoing trough Sanji’s head, a shiver running down his spine as he looks up to her, head resting on her palm, prying eyes examining his every move

“Oh! Tigress, didn’t see you there” he fakes a smile as better as he can, hoping she wouldn’t ask any questions

“Did y/n find her glasses?” There’s a squint, very small and almost undetectable when she mentions you, waiting for a reaction from the poor blonde cook

He sweats, heavily “Ah yes! She did” a painfully fake giggle scapes his mouth along with the smoke he was keeping in. They both stare at each other, as if waiting for someone to do or say anything… after a while Sanji excuses himself to the kitchen, knowing he’ll be safe once he steps in

Very loud, very incorrect buzzer

His relief is short lived as he enters the kitchen and he catches a glimpse of Nami. She was working on some maps, ponytail and glasses on sketching the day away. Sanji’s blood runs cold

You see, there’s a difference between being questioned by Robin and being questioned by Nami, the latter lacking as certain touch when it comes to her words… and being the queen of noisy

“Nami swan” he drags the last word as in disbelief, she has never in the time they had sailed, worked on her maps in any other place that isn’t her office

The navigator’s head snaps. Completely unaware of the panic petrifying him at the entrance “Oh hey Sanji! The sun hits the kitchen at this hour, better light” she points to her work before getting back to it

Surely he could make it right? Cook for the whole crew without spilling a syllable of what he had read, sounds easy enough

Again, very loud incorrect buzzer

“LUFFY?” Nami’s voice echoes trough the walls, her maps long forgotten as the poor poor cook stood mortified in front of the half cubed vegetables for the soup he was planning to do

Turns out the navigator was far more preceptive than he thought. Sanji was reciting every single detail of what happened within 30 minutes of him just smoking like a psycho and cutting vegetables in terrible cubes

“You can’t tell anyone! She would never forgive me for accidentally snooping around” he begs, resuming his meal prep

“Whatever, that’s not the important part! We have to do something with this” she presses the matter with wide eyes

“No”

“Yes!”

“Darling we-“

“We should what?” Both of the very loud crewmates remain frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape as the Captain himself stands at the door, nostrils open as he takes in the aroma of the soon to be dinner, behind him walks Robin, a sly smile on her lips

Silence, deafening silence

“What were you talking about?” Of course the archeologists pushes the matter, already knowing something was stewing between the two

“Nothing” both culprits answer as they resume their individual tasks that had been forgotten

Robin is no fool, she notices how both steal panicked glances at her Captain who is just completely lost on the dinner cooking up in front of him to notice. How Sanji, the best cook she had ever had the chance to encounter is messing up steps as he fights to make the soup. How Nami kept re drawing the same set of mountains on the map

The tension was no joke

“Captain, did Mr. Shooter showed you the impressive fish he caught this morning?” Luffy brightens at Robins words

“WHAT? I have to see it! Bet it would taste delicious!” In a blink, Luffy has left the kitchen enticing a relieved sigh from the cook that does not go amiss for anyone

“You two are going to tell me what’s going on”

That damn soup was taking way too long, Luffy was bouncing up and down impatiently, stomach loud with hunger. You being the good friend that you are decided to try and get a snack, maybe a little flutter from your eyelashes would get Sanji to budge and let you take something before dinner. The Sunny was rarely quiet, the sound of the oceans waves crashing on the ship a sweet melody that had you skipping happily. As you neared the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks as a set of voices reached your ears, was there a meeting or something? Weird, Sanji doesn’t like a lot of people around when he’s cooking

Curiosity got the cat, you rest your ear flat against the door trying to make out the conversation behind it

“… a letter… it was an accident… she really likes him… he has no idea… you know how Luffy is…”

Oh

A surprised gasp leaves your mouth before you can catch it, hands run to your mouth as you stay put before the door, brain scrambled as it glues the pieces together

Someone found your love letter

The sound of heavy heels approaching the door takes you out of your daze as you scurry away like a cat, running away from the inevitable. You hear Nami call your name but the embarrassment doesn’t allow you to turn as you scape to your room

Closing the door behind you with a loud tud, you run to your bed and find the letter under your silky pillow, your face turning red as you imagine one of your crewmates reading your words. You can hear your heart in your ears before you reap the letter, the sound deafening on your quiet bedroom. How pathetic you felt, like a spec of dust on a shelve with your feelings in your throat

Of course you were a no show for dinner, worried faces on Sanji, Nami and Robin who decided to leave you alone, the damage already done they didn’t wanted to pester you any more than they already had

You were a very shy person when it came to this kind of things, which was funny considering you were usually a very confident and outspoken person, but feelings? they were too much for you, opting by writing them down which you now see as probably a bad habit. You curse for the millionth time staring up at the ceiling in hopes the ocean would leak in and take you away, spitting you on the other side of the world. A couple of nocks on your door stop your train of thought, you don’t answer making the person on the other side impatient, so they opt to just open your door

Luffy stares at you for a moment as so do you, he didn’t know what was happening thank god

“Are you ok? You didn’t came down for dinner” something Luffy didn’t joked about was food that’s for sure

“Yeah I’m… just a little tired”

He grimaces, a rare look on the strawhat boy it makes you wince

“But you need to eat” he retorts

“I’ll eat later Luf, don’t worry”

He stares again, big chocolate eyes looking you up and down, a contemplative hmm vibrating from his chest. You remain frozen, still too embarrassed to even meet his eyes for more than 5 seconds

“You know you can tell me anything right?” Luffy had this amazing ability of always finding the correct words, your face falls and you swear your pulse had accelerated enough to be audible. You sit with his statement, and you feel troubled. Of course he’s right as he always is, it makes you feel stupid to even think about being embarrassed about having feelings, but you steal a glance at his face and the red in your cheeks remind you why are you feeling so mortified

Remind you how dear he is to you

You would hate yourself forever if you were to ever ruin this, this friendship and trust with your Captain. You value that above all else even if it means hiding during meals

“Yes, of course Luf” you smile, a hurtful kind of smile that makes the rubber boy grimace even more

“I can eat with you if you want”

“I said I am tired”

“Yeah but like, if you are up for it later” his genuine concern bends your will, not being honest to him burns like acid

“I’ll let you know if I go to the kitchen”

Finally Luffy gives you the most beautiful bright honest smile, then he just disappears

This whole situation was so stupid, why were you embarrassed about feeling feelings? How dumb. If someone would’ve told you how difficult it would be to deal with love at sea, maybe you would’ve thought a little more about becoming a full time pirate

Of course you went down to eat your dinner later that day, of course Sanji happily warmed it up fro you and of course Luffy joined you

And of course he ate half of it

Pt.2

[quitealotofsodapop]

Mentioned in a Post a while back about a Jttw/LMK AU I had regarding the "Yellow Robed Demon" Arc when Tripitaka got turned into a tiger.

Book Summary;

Tripitaka manages to escape his capture (for once) and passes on a message to the King of Baoxiang from his daughter, Baihuaxiu, explaining that she was kidnapped and made the forced bride of a demon (ironically making it a magical version of what befell Tripitaka's mother when he was a baby).

Kui Mulang rolls in with a human glamour and goes: "Nu-Uh! I'm but a humble human hunter. THIS guy is a tiger demon who attacked a girl some time ago. I save her and we've been living a simple life for the last 13 years!" (Lie)

So the dude pulls an Uno-Reverse and transforms Tripitaka into a tiger (or in some versions, glamours him into one). The King and his subjects believe this 100% since Tripitaka and the Pilgrims don't look so great without Wukong there to act as PR (he was exiled at the time for the White Bone Spirit incident).

Tripitaka is apparently aching-beautiful no matter his form though;

Wukong even feels kinda bad for his Master, since the transformation is so good that he can't even see through it with Gold Vision. Also imagine a sad giant kitty, that would bum anyone out.

Of course things are resolved by the end of the arc; the gang reunite with their monkey, Ao Lie gets his own badass chapter, the Princess is saved, Bajie kills the couple's two half-demon wolf children, the Yellow Robed Demon is revealed to be Revatī - the Wood Wolf of Legs after Wukong catches the demon commenting on his performance during the Havoc (Wukong has a few Columbo moments in the book like this), and Tripitaka is transformed back into his squishy monk self.

Bonus - Tripitaka as a tiger from a book illustration + the 1999 cartoon.

The book illustration + description suggests he's a rare Pseudo-melanistic "Black Tiger" seen in India, possibly an Indo-Chinese Tiger, or a South China Tiger with a darker back.

So here's where the timeline shifts...

The Wood Wolf of Legs ain't happy to be dragged away from (what he believed to be mutual) his true love on earth + his two kids, so he curses the Tang Monk to not only retain part of the glamour he imposed upon him, but to transform him fully into a carnivorous feline demon. Also as an extra "F-k you!" to the Jade Court he and his past love fled from, since the Queen Mother is a celestial tigress herself.

The Pilgrims freak out, obviously.

Guanyin is called up and is like;

Guanyin: "Well, you did unjustly punish and exile your best bodyguard because you didn't trust his judgement, seeing him only as a murderous beast... so *your* punishment is to deal with the rest of your Journey as one of the very same creatures you see as mindlessly bloodthirsty." Tripitaka, now cursed to stay a catboy: "Dang it." (≽^╥⩊╥^≼)

He still gets to wear the robes and walk upright -think Master Tigress from Kung Fu Panda but as a wimpy, twink-shaped, monk.

Tripitaka aint' having fun. He's a life-long vegetarian who's suddenly an apex hypercarnivore. He tries his best for the longest time to stay on the veggies (and durian weirdly enough since tigers like those), but eventually he will need to chow down on some bleeding protein.

And his team literally consists of the main diet of a tiger...

Wukong, a monkey: "Master isn't looking too good." Zhu Bajie, a pig: "I don't like the way he's been looking at us. I burnt my finger making the campfire and he looked ready to pounce!" Sha Wujing, a fish: "I'm not surprised. Cats are of few beasts that absolutely require meat protein to survive." Ao Lie, currently a horse: "If he goes feral, I vote we sacrifice the pig first." Wujing & Wukong: "Agreed." Zhu Bajie: "HEY!!" (₍•̀ ⚇•́ ₎) Tripitaka, meditating hard: "Perhaps if I eat a watermelon, it would sustain my desire for flesh?"

What worse?

Tripitaka is still considered smoking hot. Now by demon standards too!

The Trio of Lion Camel Ridge prepare to attack the Pilgrims when;

Azure Lion: (*sees that the Great Monk is actually a beautiful tiger.*) Azure Lion, lowering his sword: "Guys, do not mess this up for me." Peng & Yellow Tusk: (*annoyed groans!*)

[iridecsense]

red dot - m. (a preview)

here is an excerpt from my Izuku smut. as always, characters are aged up to 20-year-old consenting adults. minors please don't interact.

READ NOW ♡

enjoy!

"What about you?" She asked. "Any professors you hate?"

"No, not really," he confessed. "Even the professors who are hard asses I appreciate. I know their main goal is to make us better and prepare us for the real world. Tough love is necessary sometimes."

"Tough love? Is that what you call it?" She giggled. "I call it sadism."

"Not a masochist then?" He joked.

"Clearly not as much as you are."

Izuku shrugged. "You need a little pain before you get a reward, right?" He recalled her own philosophy. "Pain and pleasure are just two sides of the same coin."

"Familiar with that coin are you?"

The corner of Izuku's lip twitched into a smirk. "Are we still talking about school?

(y/n)'s lips curled with a similar slyness. "I don't know. Are we?"

He stayed silent, unsure of what to say next as he watched her take another hit from the pipe, blowing smoke past her lips. Echos of The Weeknd's muffled lyrics filled the silence, mirroring his thoughts and intentions. He could feel himself grow and twitch in his sweatpants. He shifted in his seat and tugged on the fabric of his pants to hide his shame, but even half-hard it was impossible not to notice.

Her eyes trailed from his face, down his neck, decorated with a silver chain, down his black t-shirt that would tighten around his biceps when he flexed or stretched, to his waistline that was slim and exposed, revealing the elastic of his boxers that peaked above the hem of his sweatpants where his twitching cock was just begging to be touched.

And he was begging. He didn't have to say it aloud. She could see it in his reddened eyes that were dilated into black holes and in the way he leaned back against the bed frame; his open lap was like an invitation.

He could feel her eyes scanning him. His heartbeat quickened, speeding up with every second. An unsung song lulled in the air. They were both waiting to see who would sing it first.

(y/n) licked her lips. From where he sat, she was cool and collected. He, on the other hand, was an anxious mess. He felt like a deer caught in the sights of a preying tigress, just waiting—hoping for her to pounce.

"Fuck." she muttered, taking a quick puff from the pipe before setting it down on the ground and crawling over to him.

[hazyange1s]

𓉘❦ 𝑹𝒂𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒔 ❦𓉝 *currently editing*

𝕭𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖘

Full name: Raegan Caítríona DesRosiers

Nicknames: Rae, Rae Rae, Reggie (don’t call her that she’ll hex you)

Gender: female

Species: witch

Date of birth: November 27, 1874

Nationality: French and Irish

Blood status: half-blood

Sexuality: bisexual

⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆

𝕬𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊

Hair color: dark ginger

Hair style: often worn pulled back in a loose braid or bun, though she starts wearing it down in her natural messy waves after fifth year. seventh year brings on the trauma haircut. 💀

Eye color: amber/gold/red (when using ancient magic)

Skin tone: fair, often has a light tan

Height: 5’5”

Body type: curvy and toned from Quidditch/dueling

Clothing style: dark and warm colors (black, red, brown), likes heavy fabrics such as wool, velvet, and leather, prefers to dress casual in battle-ready clothes but also enjoys dressing up

Accessories:

likes to use her wand to keep her hair up

often wears dragon hide gloves

ring made of goblin metal (given to her in sixth year)

Other distinguishing features:

two old scars through her left eyebrow (no memory of getting them) and a longer scar over the same eye (cut by a sword during the final repository battle)

Unbreakable Vow and Dara knot tattoos

LOTS of freckles

𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞

Positive traits: confident, persuasive, energetic, brave, passionate, clever, protective, good sense of humor

Neutral traits: rebellious, stubborn, domineering, competitive, flirtatious, sarcastic

Negative traits: hotheaded, proud, defensive, ruthless, slow to trust, can be manipulative, vengeful

Likes: summer, history, flying, parties, freedom, traveling, independence

Dislikes: authority, swimming/the rain, silence, wet blankets, seafood

Hobbies: dueling, Quidditch, historical research, dancing, weapon-making/collecting

Fears: drowning, being forgotten/insignificant, losing control

MBTI: ESTP-T

Enneagram: 8w7 (873) sx/sp

Zodiac: Sagittarius sun, scorpio moon, leo rising

Temperament: choleric

Archetype: The Rebel

Similar characters: Aelin Galthynius, Ginny Weasley, Damon Salvatore, Bellamy Blake, Jude Duarte, Faith Lehane

𝕸𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈

Boggart: her father…until her guilt over the loss of Professor Fig leads him to be her new one

Patronus: tigress

Polyjuice: turns amber and tastes like honey mead

Amortentia: cinnamon, clove, smoke, and sandalwood

Special abilities:

Ancient magic —

bubbling in your veins until your blood heats and your skin flushes. eyes glowing red — then gold, and red again. it writhes around your bones, climbs up your throat, fills your lungs with smoke until you have no choice but to let it out. it burns, first orange and yellow and then white hot, exploding from trembling hands and spreading like a forest fire.

Dark Arts (wielded “when necessary” which is really just…whenever her instincts say)

Pyromancy - Raegan is an Igneus; a species of witch that is immune to and can conjure fire at will, the trait being passed through her mother’s bloodline

𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕𝖘

Father: Marcel DesRosiers

Mother: Kassady DesRosiers (Fallon)

Sibling: Ronan Sharp (half-brother/twin)

Companion: Soleil

A fiercely loyal phoenix rescued from poachers in a mountain mine, Soleil lives primarily in the Vivarium while Raegan is at Hogwarts — but he’s known for showing up anywhere and everywhere at the most unlikely times.

Friends: Diana Blackwine (childhood best friend), Sebastian Sallow, Natsai Onai, Garreth Weasley, Ominis Gaunt, Leander Prewett, Imelda Reyes (frenemies)

Love Interest(s): Sebastian Sallow

𝕭𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞

TW: infidelity, abuse, familial death

Born in Avignon, France, Raegan had a turbulent childhood. While her mother was loving and kind, she often had to travel for her work - as did Raegan’s father, meaning she was often with only one parent for extended periods of time or had to be watched by one of her paternal aunts. When he was around, Marcel was not an affectionate man…in fact, he was often physically and verbally abusive to his wife right in front of Raegan and extended the treatment to her as she got older.

Eventually he discovered that Kassady had had an affair and conceived a son with another man. This coupled with his disdain for witchcraft led him to abandon his wife and daughter. So, the two moved back to Kassady’s hometown of Galway, Ireland.

However, times were tough. Her mother’s career as a dragonologist was no longer lucrative enough in the troubling times, and so they again relocated to London.

It was there that Kassady met a tragic, sudden end at the hands of an unidentified serial killer (who many suspected was actually a wizard). A newly orphaned Raegan, upon hearing the news, burned her house to the ground and wound up killing the officer who reported it accidentally.

The emotion was enough to unlock the ancient magic that had been hidden away inside of her, and just days after her mother’s funeral she received her Hogwarts letter. She now lives with her best friend (Diana)’s aunt in Scotland.

𝕬𝖈𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖈𝖘

Best subject: DADA

Favorite subject: Flying and History of Magic

Favorite teacher: Hecat and Sharp

Worst subject: Herbology

Least favorite subject: Herbology and Divination

Least favorite teacher: Binns

Quidditch: Chaser (sixth year) and Quidditch Captain in seventh

Notes:

Rarely late, but she does miss (more than) a few classes in her fifth year

Detention record reads more like a rap sheet

Infamous but still respected as a dedicated and intelligent student

𝕱𝖚𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊

Career: Auror

Though Raegan notoriously resists authority and despises the incompetence of the Ministry, she sees working for them as an opportunity to change things. Being in on the more secretive matters going on behind the scenes of the Wizarding World (and the chance to deal with them under the protection of their influence) doesn’t hurt, either.

They likely would have fired her on her first day for her insubordination, but they can’t deny the fact that she quickly becomes one of the best they have. Really, it’s a case of mutual loathing maintained through an advantageous truce.

Eventually, she does leave of her own accord, and takes up studying ancient history and magical weapon making.

(thanks @rypnami for motivating me by association to finally post this months old draft 🤠)

[goldenlaurelleaveswrites]

Juleka vs. the Forces of the Universe

Juleka vs. the Forces of the School Dance i

Juleka vs. the Forces of the Universe (AO3)

Hello everyone!!! I wanted to start out by thanking you all for your ongoing support and patience! This has taken me far longer than I had hoped, as I wanted to have this fic done before 2024. Obviously, that didn't happen 😂😅 I ended up needing to take a break to rest after my fall semester because it was super intense. I also had to take some time away from creative writing for personal reasons. your support, patience, and kindness has meant the absolute world to me, and I can't thank you enough for it.

Another reason why this chapter has taken so long is because chapter 17 was becoming massive (as in 20k words and counting). I debated this decision quite a bit, but in the end I've decided to break chapter 17 into smaller parts so that's why the chapter count has gone up 😅😅😅 It's much easier to revise shorter chapters, and I think it's probably easier to read shorter chapters too. This also gives me a bit more time to finish what is now the second last chapter.

I need to give a huge shoutout to the LBSC crew for their ongoing support, and for talking me off the ledge multiple times when it came to this chapter. And also just for being there for me the past few months. And again, another huge thank you to all of you for your support.

I Hope you enjoy the chapter!

ps. if I don't respond to comments on this chapter it's not because I'm ignoring any of you, it's because I don't entirely trust myself not to accidentally spoil something 😂😅

A thousand akumas fluttered in the pit of her stomach as she put the lid back on her lipstick with a satisfying click. She sat back in her chair and sighed. She was used to the feeling of butterflies, except right now it felt like there were silver and black akumas fluttering around insider her, and that mixture was a new feeling. 

On one hand, tonight was the night. The night Luka and Mari were going to the dance. Together. 

But on the other hand… she grimaced as the reminder for the ‘Operation Fairytale Ball Phone Meeting’ pinged on her phone. Usually they all got ready for dances together, but Marinette had needed the extra time to put the finishing touches on her dress and it hadn’t felt right for the rest of them to get together without her. But, Alya had wanted to go over the plans for the dance one more time, so Alya had scheduled a phone meeting… 

She had fifteen minutes until the call. 

She silenced the reminder on her phone, and turned her attention back to her reflection. The purple in her hair was nice and vivid, and the waves she had put in her hair added a touch of glamour. And her makeup looked amazing, if she did say so herself. She had gone for a soft but still vampy look with plum and black kohl softly smoked out across her lids and deep plum lips. She smiled as she tilted her head to the side, watching the way the light caught her highlight. Those makeup masterclasses had definitely paid off. In more ways than one. 

She straightened her head. And then frowned. 

Her bangs had slipped across her eyes again, obscuring her face. 

Usually, she liked wearing her hair that way. It had started as a security thing. Her hair had acted as a shield to hide her away from the rest of the world. And there were times she still needed that. 

But tonight… 

Tonight she didn’t want to hide. 

She reached for a bobby pin, but her hand stopped halfway to the tin of them she kept on her dressing table. Originally, she had planned on wearing her hair down, the way she normally did. But then she wouldn’t really be able to show off the back of her dress… 

And given what Alya had planned for the night—to say nothing of the schemes she was positive Alya had hidden up her sleeve—she could do with a touch of Tigress. 

She grabbed her brush and a black satin scrunchie, and made quick work of pulling her hair up into an elegant, high ponytail. Once the ponytail was secured, she grabbed a couple of bobby pins and pinned her bangs just enough so that they didn’t cover her eyes, but still framed her face to keep an element of drama. 

That was much better. 

“Hey Jules, have you seen the- Jules. You look beautiful.” 

She was unable to control the grin on her face as she turned to the door of their room. Luka was standing in the hallway, he was wearing his good jeans, but his hair was still damp and he was wearing a t-shirt. But even though he wasn’t ready, she couldn’t help but preen under his words. 

“Thank you.” 

A sappy grin was making its way onto his face. “I’m really proud of you.” 

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes you have.”

“No I-“

“Look at you,” he said quietly as he made his way to stand behind her, and direct her attention back to her reflection. 

“It’s just hair…” she mumbled, trying to fight the growing warmth in her cheeks. 

“You and I both know it’s not just hair. And it’s more than that. You’ve been-“

“A pain in your neck?” she asked with a laugh.

“You always are. But you’ve been more sure of yourself lately. More confident. You’ve been coming into your own. It’s nice to see.” 

“You’re such a sap, you’re going to make me ruin my makeup,” she mumbled, waving a hand in front of her eyes to keep them from tearing up. Once she was sure she wasn’t going to cry, she stood and hugged Luka tightly. He returned it just as fiercely. 

Once they broke apart, she smacked his arm. Lightly. Ish. “Why aren’t you ready yet, dummy?” 

He chuckled, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes. “I need to iron my shirt but I can’t find the iron anywhere.” 

“Check the greenhouse, last time I saw it Ma was using it as a door stop up there”

“Figures,” he mumbled under his breath. He was halfway out the room when he turned back. “I really am proud of you, you know.” 

   “I’m proud of you too.” After all, he was finally not stepping back. “Now go,” she said, smiling as she shooed him out. “You need to get ready, you are not making me late tonight.” 

“I thought it was fashionable to be late?” he called from the hall. 

“Shows what you know about fashion!” she quipped back before turning back to her mirror and began adjusting the pins in her hair so that everything was just right.  

Once she was satisfied, she added a final spritz of hairspray and then began packing her supplies for the evening into her clutch. Lipstick, powder, keys, hand sanitizer and cream, and emergency candy. Just in case. The finishing touches were her jewelry—the black lace choker she had made for herself and a pair of amethyst earrings—and a couple of spritzes of her favourite violet perfume. 

As Roarr would say, she had her war paint and armour on, and she was ready for battle. 

And not a moment too soon. 

The screen of her phone lit up with an incoming call, the icon for the Adrienette group chat flashing on the screen. 

“Hey,” she said once she had tapped to accept the call. 

“Hi bijou!” Rose’s voice came from the screen as the group chat icon filled the screen. Rose had insisted it would be a voice only call since they weren’t all getting ready together, that way that could all surprise each other with their finished looks. 

“Hi, Juleka,” Mylène said. 

“Hey,” Alix’s voice crackled to life over the phone.  

“Hi, Alix!” Rose chirped. “Are you excited?” 

“Sure,” came Alix’s nonchalant response. “I mean, it’s a dance. There’s only so much to really be excited about-” 

“Juleka?” Mylène’s voice cut Alix off. “My mascara is really clumpy! How do I fix it?” 

“Wipe the excess off your wand with a tissue and then brush it through. If you have a lash comb, brush it through your lashes too. That should break some of them up.”

“You’re a life saver, thank you.” 

“Are we going to get started, or what?” She had thought at first that maybe Alya hadn’t been on the call—a foolish thought—but it seemed Alya was still officially not talking to her. Which, after last night… she wasn’t entirely sure it was a good or bad thing. 

Either way, it was an awkward thing. 

Rose and Mylène had been in a tizzy all day, trying to get them to talk to each other. Alix had made a few attempts, but after a while had clearly given up and resorted to sighing and rolling her eyes with great exasperation. But Alya… Alya was stubborn. Marinette and the rest of the class had picked up on it too, except Adrien that was. Even Bustier had noticed something weird was going on.  

Honestly, it felt more than safe to assume that the only reason she was even included in this pre-game call, so to speak, was because the rest of the girls hadn’t given Alya a choice. Looking at the screen, Rose had been the one to initiate the call. 

“If we have to…” Alix groaned. 

“We do. Nothing can go wrong tonight,” Alya said firmly. 

Well, they were sort of in agreement there. 

They were just… diametrically opposed… 

“So, I just texted Marinette,” Alya continued, “She just got out of the shower so she’ll only just be starting drying and doing her hair, which means we all have time to get there and get everything into place…” 

Despite the fact that she could have listed the schemes backwards in her sleep, she listened carefully to Alya’s every word. She mentally sifted through every word and intonation, looking for any potential clues for what other schemes might come into play. Because she knew Alya. And after their… talk last night, there was no way Alya was showing up without a fresh set of schemes ready to go. 

Which meant she needed to be ready for anything.  

But she was feeling apprehensive about the evening for more reasons than Alya was giving her. 

An odd clash of elation and dread was brewing in her stomach like a hurricane. She knew all the schemes that had been plotted at the meetings she was present for. She knew Alya undoubtedly had more schemes that she didn’t know about ready to set in motion. She knew she had to be and was ready to deal with those schemes. 

She also knew Luka and Marinette were going. 

Together. 

Of their own choosing. 

But she wasn’t expecting much beyond that in the sense that, well… school dances were… school dances. They were fun. But they weren’t the magical and romantic settings that movies and tv likes to play them off as. So while she was elated that they were going together, she couldn’t see much more than that happening tonight. 

Apart from all the stupid and ridiculous schemes she would have to derail, that is. 

As much as she wanted Luka and Marinette to stop being idiots, they were idiots. Sure, she could give them gentle nudges, but tonight, her priority was to just let them enjoy themselves. They had already taken one step away from idiocy by going to the dance together. Tonight was about letting them just enjoy their one small step towards reason.   

But even knowing that…  she just couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was going to happen tonight. 

“School dances are just so romantic!” Rose squealed, breaking her from her thoughts.

***

The thing about school dances was that they were just about the furthest thing from romantic. 

The music was always too loud for an enclosed space, and the base too high. And the music choice was always just what was most popular. Which was fine. There was nothing  wrong with music being popular. It was just that Bob Roth had bought XY’s place to the top of the charts, so the playlist by default, was dominated by XY’s  music- or rather, the music he had stolen.

To say nothing of the smell. The school dances were always held in the gym, which perpetually smelled like a phys-ed class. And the boy’s locker room. Even the smell of strong perfume and cheap cologne couldn’t mask the eau de body odour. Somehow, it just made it worse. 

Awkwardness permeated the very air; whether it was people trying to ask their crushes to dance, or people worrying over what they wore or who came with who. And of course there were the chaperones. It was impossible for anything to be romantic when M. Damocles and Mme. Mendeliev were watching the dance floor like a pair of hawks, on the lookout for any inappropriate behaviour. 

How could anyone think school dances were romantic?

“This is going to be so romantic!” Rose’s squeal was high pitched enough to be heard over the music without shouting. 

Well, anyone except Rose. 

“Rose! Juleka!” She turned at the sound of Ivan’s voice, which somehow managed to travel through the pounding base. Ivan and Mylène were weaving through the crowd towards them. Nathaniel was trailing behind them, in the wake Ivan left as people parted to let him and Mylène pass.

“Are Alya and Alix here yet?” Mylène asked as she joined their group, almost shouting to make herself heard over the music. “Rose, you look lovely! And-” Mylène’s eyes widened a bit as she looked at her. “Juleka! Your hair” 

“It looks really nice like that,” Ivan said with a shy smile. 

“You look gorgeous!”

“Doesn’t she?” Rose asked brightly, taking a firmer grip on her arm as she leaned against her. 

Her cheeks were suddenly hot and she had to remind herself not to hide her face in her hands given she couldn’t rely on her hair to hide her blush. “Thanks. You all look great too!” she added, gesturing to Ivan, who had a small, faux sunflower clipped to his shirt to match the floral print of Mylène’s dress. Mylène had twisted her hair up into a bun, which was also adorned with a sunflower clipped into it to frame a loose tendril by the side of her face. “You too, Nathaniel,” she added as she glanced at him. He cleaned up pretty good.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice almost lost to the crowd. “Oh, I see Marc! If you guys don’t mind, I’m going to go…” 

“Of course!” Rose squealed, grinning. “We’ll see you on the dance floor?” 

Nathaniel nodded with a smile before slipping away. 

“So…” Ivan said slowly, “I know you all had some sort of plan but if Alya and Alix aren’t here yet, maybe you and I could dance?” he asked, turning to Mylène. 

Mylène was just nodding when a familiar voice carried through the music. 

“I bet you I could dance for an hour straight!” 

“I bet you would trip over your feet in the first ten minutes,” she heard Alix say as she caught a flash of pink hair moving towards them. 

“Yeah? Well how about we-”

“Absolutely not!” Rose said indignantly as Kim and Alix joined their quickly growing group. “This is a dance. It’s supposed to be romantic. And bets aren’t romantic!” 

“Thank you, Rose” Max sighed as he stopped to stand on her other side before adding under his breath, “I think.” 

“Aww, c’mon! What’s wrong with a little fun- Whoa! Juleka! I don’t think I’ve ever seen both your eyes before!” 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at how utterly Kim he was. Before she could reply to what she assumed was his attempt at a complement, Rose opened her mouth. 

“And?” Rose asked, her high voice holding an edge of danger. 

Kim’s eyes widened as they darted to Rose, in all her swirly, pink, white kitten-print glory and swallowed. “You look really pretty! I just- I wasn’t expecting you to- I mean, you never wear your hair up…” he said, tripping over himself as he tried to both clarify his compliment and appease Rose. 

She nudged Rose gently with her elbow and gave her a look before she smiled at Kim. “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself. You all do,” she added, glancing to Max and Alix as Kim puffed his chest out in pride. 

“Oh, hey Luka!”  

“Hey, Kim. Everyone” Luka said just loud enough to be heard over the music as he slipped between her and Max, shooting Max a grateful smile as the shorter boy made room for him. 

“Did you escape in one piece?” she asked.

“Escape?” Ivan asked, his brows furrowing. “From who?” 

“Damocles cornered him when we got here,” she snorted. “He wanted to know how lycée is going for him,” she added with a smirk as Luka groaned. 

“I feel like he and his sister have a bet going about me and Dingo or something. He kept asking about our science classes and showcase performances…” he said, his voice trailing off as he oh so subtly scanned the crowd around them. “So has anyone seen Marinette yet?” 

“No sign of her yet,” she murmured before gently elbowing his side and shooting him a smirk. She hadn’t called him a ‘sap’ out loud. She wasn’t that mean. Besides, she didn’t need to say it for him to get the message… 

He rolled his eyes before turning back to the conversation. He was lucky the lighting in the gym hid the pink tinge to his ears. For the most part… 

She turned back to the conversation as well, which had somehow worked its way back to Kim and Alix trying to have a competition that Rose wouldn’t outright destroy them for for having at the dance. But she only listened with half an ear, if that. Luka was there to help keep Rose in check should she decide Kim and Alix were ruining the ‘romance’ of the dance too much. 

And she had other things to worry about… 

Surreptitiously, she scanned the crowd, looking for any signs of Marinette. And crossing all her fingers that Marinette would arrive before Alya… though she wasn’t holding her breath… 

The crowd ebbed and flowed around them in a blur of coloured lights and party clothes. Their group was far enough off to the side that they weren’t being overrun by the people dancing, but they were still close enough to the action. She caught sight of Nathaniel and Marc dancing on the fringes of the dance floor. A girl in a yellow dress—similar to the one Chloe had worn— crossed her line of vision, holding a cup of punch, which only served as a reminder of one of the more harebrained schemes Alya had come up with for ‘Operation Fairytale Ball.’  The thought of the schemes left a bitter taste in her mouth, and a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. 

Things had been bad enough when she was only contending with one set of schemes… but after last night… there was no way Alya didn’t have contingency plans… 

Another song passed with anxious anticipation. And then she saw it. The unmistakeable flash or orange by the doors to the gym. 

“Alya” Rose shouted, standing up on her tip toes to be seen past Kim, “over here!” 

Whether she had actually heard Rose, or more likely, seen Rose’s glitter clutch as she waved it and Ivan and Kim’s large forms in the crowd, Alya turned in the direction of their group. And then started weaving through the crowd towards them with a determination that didn’t bode well for her plans for the night… 

“You look great, Alya!” Rose chirped once she had joined their quickly growing group. 

“Thanks,” Alya said, flashing a grin. “You all do too,” she said, smiling to all of them. But then Alya’s gaze landed on her. Alya’s hazel eyes widened in surprise for a moment, the way everyone’s had when they had first seen her with her hair up and away from her face. But then they had narrowed. And while she had still smiled at her, it was rather frigid.

And she hadn’t said anything to her, so it seemed like Alya was still dead set on the whole no talking thing.  

“I like how you did your hair,” she said to Alya. And it was true. Alya’s hair looked great. 

Alya, for her part, didn’t seem sure how to respond. On one hand, Alya still seemed determined not to talk to her, but on the other… 

“Thanks,” Alya said slowly, her face guarded. “Yours looks nice too,” she added, with just the slightest hint of suspicion detectable in her voice. But it was clear as day in her eyes. And then Alya turned to look at Luka, and her eyes widened all over again as soon as she saw what Luka was wearing. 

Alya made a strangled, chocking sound that she quickly tried to cover in a cough. 

“You ok?” Mylène asked worriedly, taking a step towards Alya to place a hand on her back. 

Alya nodded, “Fine,” she said hoarsely before blinking to do a double take at Luka. Luka blinked at her, his face shifting into something guarded, and Alya’s eyes narrowed again, her mouth setting into a grim line as her gazed flickered back to land on her. 

She should have known Alya would take his outfit choice as a sign of her ‘betrayal…’ 

Luka nudged her shoulder. “I’m going to go get something to drink. Want anything?”  His voice sounded almost tinny through the base.  

“No, but you should-“  He was gone before she could finish telling him he should wait until Marinette go there. Now that Alya was here… Marinette could show up at any time, and she didn’t like the idea of Luka going off on his own and leaving Alya with an opening. 

 “So, where’s Nino?” Kim asked, seemingly wonderfully oblivious—as usual—to everything. “We need some good song recommendations for a dance off and he’s the go to guy for that kind of stuff.” 

“He isn’t playing-”

“Well, yeah,” Kim laughed, “that’s why that other guy is up there,” Kim said as he nodded to the hired DJ. “But I’m sure we can make requests.” 

“That’s true…” Alya said, turning to Alix as she pulled her phone out of her purse “But remember-”

“I know, I know,” Alix groaned, holding up her hands. “But they’re not even here yet.” 

“Who isn’t here-” Kim started to ask. 

“Nino just texted, he and Adrien are almost here,” Alya said as she read something off her phone. 

“I know!” Alya shouted over the music.“And Marinette should be here any minute! And-“ Alya began frantically waving. “Nino and Adrien are here!”

“Do you want to dance?” Rose grabbed her hand, beaming up at her as she tugged her towards the dance floor. 

She wanted to. She really wanted to. But she also didn’t want whatever Alya had planned to go ahead. Which meant she needed to be ready for-

“Hey dudes.” Nino was grinning as he and Adrien joined their group. But then he caught her eye. His eyes widened, dnd then his gaze dropped, like he couldn’t look her in the eye. Nino had always been a bit of an open book. Subtlety wasn’t exactly his forte. 

And this all but confirmed her worst suspicions. 

He was definitely in on whatever Alya had cooked up. 

“You look great, Adrien!” Alya said. 

Adrien, who had looked morose and like he had every intention of at least half-sulking the entire evening, looked up. “Oh, thanks.” 

“Yeah, you clean up good, man! Do you think you can dance in that getup? Because Alix and I were going to- oof” 

Kim’s obvious attempts to get Adrien to join in on the impromptu dance off were quickly cut off by Rose’s elbow. 

“I probably could, but they’re not really made for that kind of dancing.” 

“Yeah, Kim. Those kinds of clothes are for dances like the waltz. You know, the romantic kinds? There’s nothing more romantic than a waltz! Just imagine, a candlelight waltz, or a waltz under the city lights,” Rose sighed dreamily. “There’s nothing that could be more romantic than that.” 

“Yeah? You really think?” Adrien asked, immediately perking up. Even after their fight, he was still concerned about that? 

“There’s Marinette!” Mylène’s voice was almost lost to the music. 

Bewilderment crossed Alya’s face. “Her dress…” 

She whirled around, tugging Rose along with her. 

Marinette wasn’t wearing green to match Adrien’s eyes, as per her prediction. And despite Alya’s suggestion—demand more like. 

“She looks gorgeous!” Beside her Rose practically swooned. “She looks like a princess!”

Marinette’s dress was simple; a sweet heart neckline and spaghetti straps, with a full and voluminous skirt made up of what looked like layer upon layer of gauzy fabric. It was a soft shade of blue, caught somewhere between summer skies and calm seas. It was the blue of where the horizon met the sea. It was the blue that lived somewhere between the shade of Luka’s eyes and Marinette’s. A simple silver pendant that looked remarkably light a floral treble cleft matched her shoes. 

And her hair was  down. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Marinette with her hair down; she always had it pulled back, even at sleepovers. But now it cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves. 

It made her look… freer. 

Rose was right. She did look like a princess. She was about to elbow Luka in the ribs when she remembered he had gone to get a drink. 

Shoot. 

“Wow, Marinette looks great!” 

Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot. 

Now was not the time for Adrien to start noticing what he was missing out on. 

Despite her initial reaction to Marinette’s dress, or more specifically she assumed, its colour, Alya smiled smugly. “She sure does,” she said. 

“I’ve never seen her with her hair down…” 

“Maybe you should tell her to wear it down more often…” Alya suggested.  

Adrien shrugged blithely. “Maybe, but I like the pigtails. They remind me of Ladybug.” 

There is was. 

Because even with his so-called Lady standing right in front of him, he couldn’t see her, he was so blinded by the scarlet and spots. 

“Hi guys!” Marinette said a little breathlessly as she pushed through the last bit of the crowd standing between her and the rest of the group. 

“Hey,” she said, louder than she usually would so as to be heard over the pounding music. 

Marinette turned to her and the smile that had been gracing her face grew even wider. “Juleka!” she gasped before pulling her into a hug, “you look incredible! I knew that dress would be perfect for you, and the shoes and your hair!” 

“I know, right?” Rose chirped. “I think you should wear heels more often,” Rose added added as Marinette pulled away. 

“And Rose! You look fabulous! You all do!” Marinette squealed as she looked around their group, grinning at everyone. But she was also oh so very obviously looking for someone who wasn’t there. She had to fight back a grin at how transparent Marinette was. “Has anyone seen-” 

“Girl, that dress looks great on you! It really brings out your eyes!” Alya said as she pulled Marinette into a hug. Though she knew Alya had misgivings about the colour Marinette had chosen, the compliment was obviously genuine. Marinette did look incredible, and the colour of her dress made her eyes all the bluer. 

Marinette smiled at Alya as she released the hug. But there was something guarded about her smile still. The way it had been every time she had smiled around Alya the past few days. “Thanks. You look great too.” 

“I can see why this took you so long,” Mylène said as she looked at Marinette’s dress before pulling her into a hug as well, “just how many layers are there in the skirt?” 

“I lost track around seven,” Marinette laughed. “But where’s Luka?” she asked. 

“He went to go get a drink, he should be back any minute,” she replied as Rose pounced on Marinette, enveloping her in a hug. From across their little group, she caught Alya eyeing her suspiciously. 

And really? 

That was what was eliciting that look? 

What did Alya expect her to do? Ignore Marinette’s question? Did she expect all of them to ignore Marinette’s question. 

“Oh, ok-” 

“While you’re waiting for him,” Alya interrupted before turning to Adrien, “You like this song, right Adrien?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine-” 

“Why don’t you two dance? The crowd is so thick it could Luka a while to come back, plus if M. Damocles wants to talk to him again-” 

“But-” 

Another flash of yellow in the crowd caught her eye. This time, it was Chloe. 

Chloe had proven to be very effective in coming between Adrien and Marinette before… she just needed to get Chloe to notice him… 

Behind Chloe, she saw Aurore and Mireille drifting through the crowd. 

She shifted a step to the side so that she was closer to Adrien, and reached up and began to wave. “Mereille, Aurore! Over here!” she called as she continued to wave, keeping her gaze on Chloe’s ponytail. 

She hadn’t expected either of them to hear her, and evidently they hadn’t heard or seen her as they disappeared back into the crowd. But that didn’t matter. Because Chloe had noticed her. And more importantly, Chloe had noticed who was standing with her…

“Oop. Chloe incoming,” Alix said, but it was too late. 

“Adrikins! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

“Hey Chloe,” Adrien said, rather unenthusiastically. 

“Aren’t you going to compliment my dress?” Chloe asked as she looped her arm through his and began tugging him towards the dance floor. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To dance. Obviously, Césaire,” Chloe snapped before dragging Adrien off. 

She turned back to the rest of her friends as Adrien and Chloe started dancing, to find Alya glaring at her suspiciously. But she just shrugged innocently. It wasn’t like she had called Chloe over. Alya couldn’t reasonably accuse her of doing anything.

Just Alya couldn’t get mad at her for helping keep Mendeliev from finding some of the scheme…

“Hey, angel,” she said quietly, leaning down to whisper into Rose’s ear, “you and Mylène hid the flowers are under the tables right?” Rose nodded. “Mendeliev is poking around over there.” She straighten up and glanced knowingly towards the tables that had been set up for people to sit at when they needed a break from dancing. Mendeliev wasn’t exactly poking around them, but she was circulating amongst them. And Mendeliev was eagle eyed… 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rose’s eyes widen as she followed her gaze. 

“Alya! Mylène! I need a girl talk real quick!” Rose sad, grabbing them both by the arm and not waiting for a response from either of them. “I’ll be right back, bijou!” Rose called over her shoulder before saying something into Alya’s ear. 

It was hard to tell from behind, but based on the way Alya picked up the pace towards the tables, she felt safe to assume Rose had told her Mendeliev was alarmingly close to the flowers Alya, Mylène, and Rose were supposed to use for one of the schemes. Alya shot a conflicted, yet suspicious glance over her shoulder at her as she hurried towards the tables. 

“Welp,” Alix said, “I guess that means it’s time to check out the snacks.” 

“Wait!” Kim called as Alix began to saunter away, “I thought we were going to have a dance off now! Or! I bet you I can-” whatever it was that Kim had been saying was lost in the noise of the crowd and music as he disappeared after Alix, pulling Nino along with him. 

Max sighed. “I suppose I had better go make sure neither of them choke if they end up having an eating contest or something.” She shot Max a sympathetic smile before he turned and trudged after Alix and Kim. 

“C’mon,” she said to Marinette, nodding towards the end of the gymnasium the refreshment tables were set up in, “let’s go find my brother before Damocles corners him again.” Marinette nodded as she looped her arm through hers. 

Marinette’s brows twisted in confusion as she began to follow her through the crowd. “Before Damocles corners him again? What-” 

“Did you know Damocles has a twin? And that she’s the principal of Saint-Saëns?” 

“There’s two Damocles?” Marinette asked in disbelief as they began to weave through the crowd. 

“I’m afraid so.” 

“You don’t think she also dresses up Knightowl, do you?” 

“I hope not,” she laughed. “Luka hasn’t said anything about it but you never know-” 

“Jules!” She pulled Marinette to a stop as she turned in the direction of the voice. Luka was smiling apologetically at someone she recognized from the year below her as he awkwardly side stepped towards her. “I thought I had lost you Jules- Marinette.” 

She didn’t bother to hide her smile at the look on her brother’s face. She had never seen his eyes so wide. And she swore she could almost hear the sounds of his brain short-circuiting. His plastic cup clattered to the ground, thankfully spilling only a few drops as it had been almost completely empty. “You- you’re beautiful,” he said, almost reverently. 

She glanced at Marinette at the corner of her eye, even as Marinette unhooked her arm from hers to take a step towards Luka. Her smile only grew. Marinette was equally wide-eyed, and she was practically glowing. 

“Your dress, it’s incredible. I knew it would be, but… wow,” Luka laughed breathlessly. 

“Thank you,” Marinette said, almost shyly. “But Luka, your tie.” Marinette reached out as if to touch it, but stopped just short, her hand awkward  hovering a few inches from Luka’s chest.

The sap looked down to grin at the floral tie, which was the same shade of pink as his cheeks and ears, before smiling back up at Marinette. “Yeah, I-“ she watched as her brother reached up to rub the back of his neck as a bashful smile and flush crept across his face. “It made me think of you.”  

***

Phase ’And Their Eyes Will Meet’ had gone off without a hitch. 

At least, from her perspective. 

The best part was, she hadn’t had to do much. And that meant that there was no way Alya could turn around to try and pin the phase’s failure on her. Especially given she had alerted Rose to Mendeliev getting a little too close to the faux flowers for comfort. She had almost felt sorry for Adrien as Chloe dragged him off to dance with her. 

Almost. 

But knowing what she knew… yeah. She didn’t. 

Plus, it got him away from Marinette. And more importantly, Alya. 

And that had given Luka an opening. Of course, the DJ had just had to put on an XY song, which meant Luka and Marinette weren’t dancing… They were hovering by one of the walls of the gym, glasses of the saccharinely sweet punch completely forgotten in their hands as they laughed over something. Sure, they were maybe leaning a bit into wallflower territory, but they were together. 

The other good thing about them standing there by the wall was that it was relatively easy for her to keep an eye on them and the things going on around them as Rose spun her around the dance floor. She would have been more than happy to sit this song out too, to be honest. It wasn’t like any of them had a soft spot for XY. The complete opposite in fact. But even the sourness of the memory of their music being stolen wasn’t enough to dampen Rose’s spirits. She had practically begged to dance, and when had she ever been able to say no to Rose? Especially when she used her puppy eyes… 

“I can’t wait until they play a slow song!” Rose somehow both sighed and squealed as she pulled her into an enthusiastic spin. 

“Neither can I,” she chuckled, blinking as she teetered on her shoes and tried to steady herself. While she was able to keep an eye on everything from the dance floor, keeping everything she saw straight was another thing entirely with Rose leading… 

“Sorry,” Rose said, cringing as she smiled apologetically. 

She couldn’t help but smile at how unabashedly Rose was leaning into the rose-tinted romance she perceived the dance to be. “It’s ok, maybe just a little less… gusto?” 

Rose nodded brightly before tugging her a little closer, her smile dimming a little. “You’re still doing ok?” 

She blinked down at Rose. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Rose shrugged as they continued to dance. “Yesterday… it was a lot. It was a lot for me and Mylène. Heck, it was even a lot for Alix. We’ve… none of us… well, I don’t remember the last fight any of us had like that. I don’t know if we’ve ever had a fight like that before…”

“It was a lot,” she agreed, nodding slightly. 

“I know we talked it out last night, but  this morning, and during the phone call… Alya wasn’t exactly…”

“Talking to me?” she snorted. Rose nodded, and she sighed. “You and me? We’re alright. I promise,” she added, squeezing Rose’s hand. “Me and Alix and Mylène? We’re fine too. I talked with them both last night.” 

“And you and Alya?” 

She bit back a groan, but some of it still slipped into her sigh. “I don’t know where we are right now. But I know that she needs time to let it go and- what is she doing?” She craned her neck to get a better view of what she had seen over Rose’s shoulder. 

Alya was dancing with Adrien. It was very obvious that Adrien was trying to lead the two in the dance, and it was even more obvious that Alya had taken the lead. And that she was steering him right towards… 

Rose turned to look over her shoulder in the direction she was looking and sighed. “I forgot about that plan…” 

“What plan was that?” 

Rose turned back to her, and to her surprise, rolled her eyes. “It was one of the ones Alya came up with. One that we weren’t supposed to tell you about,” she added apologetically. “We tried to tell her it wouldn’t work but…” Rose’s words trailed off in a shrug. “I suppose she didn’t listen.”

That was an understatement. 

“Hey,” do you think we could maybe take a bit of a rest?” she asked as casually as she could. “I’m getting a little tired, I’m not used to wearing heels and we’ve been dancing for a while…” 

Both were true. They had been dancing for three songs now. And she wasn’t used to wearing heels. 

But that pang of guilt still lodged itself in her chest. She still wasn’t sure what the best course of action would be, with the girls. Telling them everything—well, not everything—or keeping quiet. She knew she would have to decide one way or another eventually. But today- tonight didn’t feel like the right time. 

All she was sure of, was that she needed to keep Alya away from Luka and Marinette. 

“Of course, bijou!” Rose said brightly. “I was getting hungry anyways. Want me to go grab some snacks?” 

“Sure. I’ll wait over with Mari and Luka?” she asked, nodding towards them. 

“That sounds good! I’ll bring snacks for them too, we can all rest for a bit.” 

She pecked Rose on the forehead before they parted ways. Rose heading towards the refreshment table, while she headed into what felt like what was going to turn into a storm… 

***

The music was still pounding. 

The gym was still dimly lit by the lights and the disco ball that had been pulled out from the school storage for the occasion. 

The gym still unfortunately smelled like Kim’s locker. Maybe even worse now that people had been dancing for a while, not to mention topping up their perfume and cologne in the bathroom. She had nearly choked on the clouds of clashing scents when she had ducked into the ladies room. 

And while somewhat expected, it seemed Luka and Marinette were still no closer to stopping their mutual idiocy than they had been when they had arrived at the dance. Or last week. Or last month… 

The only thing that had changed in the past hour of the dance had been… 

She narrowed her eyes as she watched Nino sling an arm around Adrien’s shoulder with a laugh. Normally, that wouldn’t be something she would even bat an eye at. Nino was just like that, always slinging an arm around his friends’ shoulders or ribbing them when joking around, or slinging an arm around Alya’s waist. For all the ways he presented himself as a chill, nonchalant kind of guy, he was actually very touchy-feely and outwardly affectionate to the people close to him. In some ways, he was quite a bit like Luka, being more than content to let things be and happen as they did. 

And he was a terrible liar. And a terrible actor. 

She wouldn’t have batted an eye at the way he had slung his arm around Adrien’s shoulder, if not for the almost mechanical way he had done it. Like it was timed, or he was overthinking it in trying to make it look casual. 

And of course, there was the fact that he had shot a not-so subtle glance at Alya where she was standing over by the refreshment table, sipping a glass of the overly sweet punch. 

She almost frowned before she remembered herself. It wouldn’t do to look suspicious; she was at a dance after all, she should look like she wasn’t trying to unravel Kwami’s only knew how many unknown convoluted schemes Alya had cooked up. She turned her attention away from Alya and back to Mylène. Or rather… at the spot just over Mylène’s head where she could see Nino and Adrien talking. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a whirl of bubblegum and serene blue. Rose and Marinette flew through her field of vision, laughing and giggling as Rose swung them in a twirling dance that wasn’t so much a dance per se as a whirling tornado of pink and blue, puffy chaos. A smile curled across her face at the sight; she had needed to take a break from dancing. She still wasn’t used to wearing heels, so there was only so much dancing she could do at a time. And Marinette had seemed disappointed to not be dancing to this song while Luka was in the bathroom trying to dry off, so of course she had no objections to Rose dancing with Marinette for a while. 

Her smile faltered. 

It had seemed like an accident… 

But she of all people should know things aren’t always what they seem. 

And it was just a little too convenient that Kim’s water had ended up all over Luka. Sure, it was easy to brush off; Kim wasn’t exactly what anyone would call observant. And he had been goofing around—as usual—when he had bumped into Nino and sent the water all over Luka’s side. But the fact that it had been water as opposed to the syrupy punch that had ended up all over Luka’s sleeve made it feel too deliberate. For all her flaws, Alya wasn’t mean. She wouldn’t stoop to completely ruining Luka’s shirt. 

And of course, there was the fact she had been Nino. That, and she had seen Alya give Nino what she assumed was meant to be a covert look a couple of minutes before it happened. 

It was just water. But it was enough Luka had ducked out to the washroom to try and dry off some of the water with paper towels and the hand dryers. 

And now…

Her gaze narrowed in on Nino and Adrien again. Nino was nodding his head towards Rose and Marinette, his movements painfully stiff and awkward looking. She couldn’t tell what he was saying from here—there was no way on earth she could hear him from that far away over the music and frustratingly, lip reading was harder than she had initially thought. But she had a hunch. 

She watched Adrien and Nino as Nino continued to talk with exaggerated motions. For her part, she nodded along as she listened to Mylène talking about her plans for the first couple of weeks of the summer break. Adrien nodded again, and Nino’s face broke out into a look of relief. 

That couldn’t be good… 

The song—one of Clara Nightingale’s recent releases—was still going, but she recognized the lines enough to know it was nearing its end. And- 

Nope. 

Adrien was walking away from Nino now, making his way through the crowd of people dancing with his usual supermodel grace.

That was not good. 

Nino was watching Adrien go as he made his way towards Rose and Marinette. 

It was definitely not good. 

And across the dance floor, Alya was also watching Adrien heading towards Marinette and Rose, grinning like the cat that had just caught the canary. 

“I’m going to go find Luka,” she said, rather abruptly if the look Mylène and Ivan gave her was anything to go by. 

“He’s probably still in the washroom though, right?” Ivan asked. 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose before nodding. “That would be the most probable answer. That cup was quite full-” 

“I said I was sorry!” Kim interjected, earning a look of good-natured ire from Max. 

“But it also doesn’t take that long to dry off a shirt. He can live with a damp sleeve and he’s missing everything.” 

“That is also a good point-” 

She shot Max a smile, and then before anyone else could protest, she slipped away from their group and began fighting her way through the fringes of the dance floor. She was sure to make a show of looking around like she was looking for someone and wasn’t really watching where she was going—lest Alya spot her and decide to make more accusations—as she made a beeline for the spot it looked like she would cross paths with Adrien. 

“Oh, excuse me- oh, hey Juleka.” 

She turned to look down at Adrien—who she was towering over even more than usual in her shoes—with feigned surprise. “Oh, Adrien. Sorry about that, I didn’t see you there.” 

Adrien shot her one of his easy, effortless, supermodel grins. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “So, are you enjoying the dance?” 

She nodded. “I am. Yeah.” Ok. This was awkward. She had been so laser-focused on intercepting Adrien before he could reach Marinette and, she assumed, ask her to dance, that she hadn’t even thought about how she was going to keep him occupied. 

And for all his obliviousness, even Adrien seemed to be picking up on the pure, tangible awkwardness that was filling the air. 

“So…” he said, letting the single word trail off. 

What was she supposed to say? What could she possibly talk to Adrien about now?

Come to think of it, what could she ever possibly talk to just Adrien about? They had nothing in common other than their teachers and classmates! 

“Are you having fun?” The words blurted out, but that was fine. That was a nice, safe, impersonal topic. 

Adrien grinned again. “Yeah, it’s great! I’m glad father let me come, it’s a lot of fun dancing with everyone. I was just on my way to ask Marinette to dance- oh, looks like Luka is back.” 

She held back a sigh of relief as she turned to look behind her where Adrien was craning his neck to see. Luka was back, and even though the song hadn’t quite ended yet it looked like Rose had released Marinette from their tornado like dance to reunite with Luka. Marinette was busy inspecting Luka’s sleeve—probably to make sure he had properly dried it or something—while the dork stood there blushing and staring at the top of Marinette’s head like a lovesick idiot. 

But a ways behind them… 

She could see Alya staring at the two. Her brows furrowed and there was the familiar gleam in her eyes, the one she always had when she was plotting and scheming… 

“…but Nino said I should try to dance with Marinette, I’m sure they won’t mind if I interrupt-”

“Why don’t we dance?” 

Did she really just say that?

Did she really just say that?

Did she really just say that? 

Why? Why? Of all the things she could ever possibly say to him, why did she have to go and say that? 

She wasn’t sure who was more surprised. Her. Or Adrien. He was staring at her, his mouth gaping open not unlike that of a fish.  And honestly? She couldn’t really blame him… 

“Uh, yeah, sure. Sounds fun.” They stood there awkwardly, looking at each other. “I guess we should…?” Adrien asked, his question trailing off. 

“Oh. Yeah. Uh…” she glanced around, trying to spot Luka and Marinette so that she could get Adrien as faraway from them as possible. The two were dancing to the upbeat song that had started playing. Marinette was glowing, she was smiling so brightly at Luka. And Luka was looking at Marinette like she was the sun, the moon, and all the stars rolled into one as he laughed at something Marinette had said. 

 Her thoughts soured as she glanced around for Alya. There was no way she wanted Adrien anywhere near them lest Alya—or Nino—find a way to interrupt.

Alya was staring at her, her eyes hard and her mouth downturned in a frown. Nino was standing beside her, looking like he was trying to placate her. But Alya looked like she was ready to do business. 

She definitely wanted Adrien away from those two, and any plots Alya cooked up on the fly, as well. 

“Let’s go over there,” she said, nodding her head to the other side of the dance floor where the crowd was thinner. Far away from Luka and Marinette. And far far away from Alya’s interference… 

Adrien nodded, and began heading in the direction she had nodded. The wove through the crowd until they were on the fringes of the far side of the dance floor, far away from any of Alya’s plots and schemes. 

Hopefully. 

Adrien turned to her with another practiced smile and placed a hand on her waist. 

She couldn’t stop herself from stepping back in surprise. 

“What are you doing?” 

Adrien’s brows furrowed. “Dancing?” 

“It isn’t really the right kind of song for that kind of dancing,” she said, nodding to the people around them who were bobbing and swaying to the fast beat of one of the other songs from Clara’s new album.  

“Oh,” Adrien said, his brows still furrowed. But then he smiled and chuckled as he ran a hand though his perfectly coiffed hair. It was such a Chat like movement she almost grimaced. “Sorry about that, guess I’m not used to school dances since father never really lets me go to them,” he said, his voice full of its usual model charm.  

“No problem.” Nodding, she began dancing, trying to ignore the awkwardness that was making it feel like she was moving her stiff limbs through jello. She was never a big dancer, but it was also never hard for her to dance. But this? This was painful. 

But at least if they were dancing they wouldn’t have to make small talk… 

Clumsily, Adrien mimicked her movements. “So…” he said again, breaking the silence between them.    

There went that small comfort… 

“You like Clara’s new album?” she asked, desperately looking for something- anything to talk about that would maybe hopefully dissipate at least some of the awkward tension. Or at least distract her long enough to get her through this song. 

Except that was a mistake. Bringing up Clara’s new album. Because it had another Ladybug song on it. Quite a few actually. And a song a lot of people were speculating was intended to be about Tigress… 

With no mention of Chat in any of the lyrics… 

Adrien’s face darkened into almost a scowl before he seemed to remember himself. “It’s fine,” he muttered before brightening marginally. “The lyrics about Ladybug’s eyes are spot on,”  he half laughed, half sighed. “She really is brilliant- Ladybug that is. Clara’s first song, the one about Ladybug and Chat Noir is still my favourite though.” 

Of course it was.

And was he- was he humming that song about Ladybug and Chat Noir? 

This was more than painful. 

“Hey, you seen Chloe recently?” 

“What?” Why would he be asking her that?

“I haven’t seen her for a while now, and I saw another girl wearing a similar dress-” 

“Last I saw her, it looked like Sabrina was trying to keep her from noticing. I think I saw Sabrina talking to the girl earlier, probably trying to convince her to change.” 

“Oh.” 

Was he seriously disappointed by that? Was he actually hoping Chloe would see the girl wearing a similar dress? Something that would almost surely end in akumatization, if not for the poor girl then for Chloe. Except, it wasn’t really surprising because of course he would. Because where there were akumas, there was Ladybug. A wave of disgust washed through her. “Why are you asking?”

Alarm passed so quickly through Adrien’s eyes she would have missed it if she hadn’t been watching for it. “Oh, you know. It seemed like there’s always an akuma at school dances.” 

“Hopefully the evening won’t come to that.” 

“Of course,” Adrien said, casting her a charming, supermodel smile that was completely repulsive. 

She nodded, trying to return his smile. It wouldn’t do her any good to try and disagree with him. But trying to smile at him made her stomach feel like it was flipping inside out. 

Thankfully, he was Adrien. He took her smile—well, her rather poor attempt at a smile—at face value. “I wonder if Ladybug likes dancing…” She ignored him as he continued to muse about whether Ladybug liked to dance and what kind of music she liked and wax poetic about her in general. 

The song was still no where close enough to being over when she caught sight of Alya and Nino. She had to bite back a groan at the sight of them. They were standing, chatting with Luka and Marinette. She had been able to keep Adrien away from those two, but she had overlooked the crucial fact that it wasn’t just Adrien she had to be worried about. If anything, he really should have been what she was least worried about. 

Alya was the mastermind of all the plots. 

Alya was the one doing her utmost best to be a wedge between Luke and Marinette. 

And she had been so stupid to get so caught up on the Adrien plots that she had overlooked the reality she was contending with. 

Still… the night wasn’t over. Maybe Alya was keeping Marinette and Luka from enjoying their time together right now, but the night was still young. And the song would be over—though not soon enough—and she could make her way back to the two idiots. She just had to grin and bear it a little longer. And at least with Adrien waxing poetic about Ladybug, she could focus on figuring out how to keep Alya away from Luka and Marinette.

[roamingtigress]

Dutch arrives in the afterlife as a broken man and gets his comeuppance, but he is broken in such a way where doesn't understand *why* people are upset with him.

How will his reunion with those whom he loved so dearly and yet hurt them go?

That Other Place by Roaming Tigress

There was smoke, dust, fog, a combination of the three being swirled among each other in the dark cave. A dimmed broad ray of light came through a hole in the roof that dramatically silhouetted the form of what appeared to be a huge serpentine creature with what seemed to be a thousand arms. The massive being was towering over some far smaller pitiful creature lying in an awkward heap the dirt; it eyed it hungrily. If one had mistaken the bloodied orange and brown enrobed figure for a discarded pile of clothing, they would be forgiven.

Then, the pile of laundry slowly stirred up into a sitting position, revealing the form of a pitiful man of average size, and short cropped greying hair, bloodied and matted. He almost innocently, stupidly stared at the menacing form before him. He wasn't scared, puzzled maybe, unaware where he was, but not scared. He was trying to recognize what this being was. Maybe, innocently, he was in wonder of it. Maybe the man thought he was looking up at a terrifying dragon from those storybooks he read as a boy.

This man? Dutch van der Linde.

A hollow, broken shell of Dutch van der Linde.

In life, Dutch van der Lnde was respected, hated, feared, and loved at some time. Some even loved to hate him. He had led a notorious gang that was chased across the lands when the 'Old Wild West' was dying. he was a complicated man who had killed, loved, and manipulated hundreds; his silver tongue was as much of a weapon as his trusted pair of Schofields. He thought he could charm his way through life. He dreamed ambitious dreams of achieving greatness against the force of modernity and a world that had no place for men like him, his gang. He sadly could not make those dreams of his come true.

Now in the afterlife, the land of the beyond, Dutch was getting his and facing the consequences of his actions.

Normally a full restoration of health -- the mind and body -- comes with the passageway into the afterlife. But for whatever reason -- some Powers That Be may have decided that Dutch had to atone for his sins in a particularly harsh way. Maybe there was a glitch in the process of coming into the afterlife. Whatever it was that was the cause or reasoning behind it, Dutch's brain had gone further into ruin.

When Dutch stepped back off that cliff to end his life, the massive head injury that killed him on those sharp rocks below had, for the most part, carried over into the afterlife. The damage to his face was by and large 'repaired' by some supernatural afterworld force, likely not for his sake but for the sake of those living in the afterlife; even here, nobody would want to see scrambled grey matter dripping out of a hole in the head. It was the inside of his head where the damage remained, however. It would reduce him to halted speech and uncoordinated movements, and most damaging of all, his mental state, his mental capacity, was torn asunder.

Dutch would be able to recognize the people in his life in varying levels of recognizability, many whom he had hurt, some he even killed, but he couldn't remember how he hurt them. Mentally, he was somewhere between a small child and a fragile senior citizen whose memories were starting to fade, who 'fought all his life' as he once had said in life. He had little fight left in him now.

Dutch's silver tongue also couldn't help him anymore; it might as well have been cut and thrown to the 'beast' before him.

The 'creature' before Dutch was an angry mob, consisting of the people whom he had hurt and killed in life, clustered tightly against each other and some even fighting among each other to get to the source of their anger. Some might have even been defending him, but this he couldn't make out. For a brief moment, Dutch thought he heard the voices of John and Arthur attempting to call the mob back before their voices were drowned out. He recognized the voice of Bill and Micah jeering at him but he was unable to recognize what they were saying, and maybe even couldn't recognize the jeer in their cruel voices.

Innocently, Dutch crawled over to the beast before him on his hands and knees, unaware that his curiosity and his confusion would get the better of him. Despite the scrambled state of his mind -- or maybe especially because of it -- he desired the company of someone in this strange land that he had seemingly awoken up into. Perhaps this creature too sought comfort and companionship. The surroundings looked much like they did in life, but . . . Different, somehow.

"W-what . . . What are you? W-where . . . W-where am I?" Dutch tilted his head like a confused dog hearing an unusual sound.

And then the 'creature' attacked the stammering man in reply.

Dutch was slammed to the hard floor of the cave, and it was then that he realized that this 'creature' wasn't some fabled dragon he had read about in a childhood fairy tale compilation, but what seemed to be an unpenetrable army of a thousand angry people descending upon him in rage. These were people he had memories of, both familiar, some vague; enemies, but some that he had loved and loved him.

Only Dutch didn't understand *why* these people were angry at him.

"Monster!"

"Traitor!"

"Murderer!"

"Coward!"

"Hosea's the leader now!"

These words at the moment were foreign to Dutch; he had some semblance of recognition that they were *negative* words, but not the meaning of them.

The man tried in vain to get away, his movements stifled and awkward. When he got up to run as instinct told him, he stumbled back down, his legs not quite connecting to his nervous system which was seemingly on strike. The expression on his face was one of confusion, and he felt as utterly lost as he looked. The once bold and cocky van der Linde was now terrified of the very people he once barked orders at and hunted ruthlessly. Briefly, he did fight back, pitifully, mind you. His efforts consisted of half-hearted pushes, maybe an ear was bitten that might have been Micah's, could have been Bronte's, could have been Milton's, the only semblance of any remainder of the fight that was left in him. In life, he was a good scrapper -- but he just ended up shoved back hard onto the ground, and was only kicked, and punched harder.

"I-I . . . " Dutch, trying to make himself as small as possible, held his hand up to the crowd in a distinct signal of surrender. "I-I . . . Don't . . . " His chest rose and fell rapidly as he fought each word out.

"G-got no . . . Fight . . . N-no more."

There was a distinct sneer in the tone of one of the mob. The voice was that of Edgar Ross, who seized Dutch by his hair. "What's the matter? Did you lose your silver tongue on the way out there, van der Linde?"

Dutch managed to break away briefly when Edgar suddenly let go of him when a scuffle broke out among the mob. Bill and Micah though, were onto him. They each grabbed a leg and pulled him back like a conjoined two-headed crocodile dragging its victim into murky waters. In an act of desperation, Dutch clawed at the rock floor of the cave with his gnawed-down fingernails in an attempt to crawl away, but it was no use. As he was pulled back into the crowd, Dutch clung to whoever's legs like a scared child, and he pressed his bruised and battered face against their leg. Bill and Micah let Dutch go then, but the terror Dutch felt hadn't waned. His dark eyes screwed tight as if to shut out the attack; if he can't see them they can't see him. Hot tears streamed down Dutch cheeks and onto the other man's pants, his body heaving with each breath he took, pitiful whimpering sounds escaping from his throat.

The legs belonged to that of Arthur Morgan, who Dutch rescued from the pits of hell, taught him to read -- and hurt him deeply as well. And yet, here he was defending him at the same time he was fighting his inner anger towards Dutch. The younger man couldn't quite push the renewed pain back, but . . . Something felt so *off* to him about the way Dutch was like in this strange after-world. Something told him the old man wasn't manipulating him. He seemed so . . . Vulnerable, submissive, even. Something inside Dutch was so broken that Arthur couldn't quite grasp it at first. And then, he remembered the vision he had of his passing, the vividness of it, and it ended right when his head hit that particular rock.

'He really hit his head hard on the way down there.'

Arthur couldn't let the mob torture Dutch further. Nor could he beat him. It wasn't right, it wasn't honourable. He wasn't even sure that Dutch, in the state he was in, recognized who he was just yet.

"STAY BACK!" Arthur barked, his tone not matching the gentle gesture of touching the older man's shoulder when Dutch flinched from the anger his voice, as if assuming his anger was directed at him.

"C'mon, Black Lung, let us have some fun!"

A sense of protectiveness was fighting back the anger and disappointment Arthur felt towards Dutch. He knew exactly whose taunting voice that belonged to and if he could, he would rip his head off with one pull.

"Fuck off, rat!"

Michah's voice sounded like it was echoing through some chamber in the cave, no longer part of the crowd now that his victim was unreachable. "We're all here in eternity, Black Lung. You won't be able to always protect him."

There was truth to Micah's words, as much as Arthur hated to admit it. He couldn't always protect his father. Micah and several others would be back for him when the timing was right or they were bored, but as long as Arthur was here with him, no force could hurt him now. No longer bogged down by the viciousness of tuberculosis, he had returned to being the big shire horse of a man he once was. He had a massive beard that draped past his collarbone now, a formidable figure standing guard. Maybe it was to do with the state he was in, but Arthur seemed even bigger and taller than what Dutch remembered him being. Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was some omniscient being standing guard over him for whatever reason.

For Arthur, while Dutch was, well, a bit fatter now, he also seemed more fragile than he remembered. When he first met him on that fateful day, Dutch looked so tall and as intimidating as Arthur looks to Dutch now. But now he looked like a sad, broken old man.

In his feeble mind, the childish 'if you can't see them, they can't see you' trick seemed to work for Dutch; it seemed the attack was abating. There were no more blows -- none were thrown once Dutch clung onto Arthur -- and no more insults. If he dared open his eyes Dutch would have seen the fearsome shape of the mob drawing back into darkness, as if a force stronger than them, something fiercer, was pushing them back.

Then, it was as if a lightbulb had gone off in Dutch's battered head, a flickering light bulb, swinging violently in an office of a ship during a storm as the electricity flickers on and off. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes in wonder.

It really was Arthur. His beloved son, Arthur.

"A-Arthur . . .?" Dutch whimpered out his words, and then shrank, expecting to be hit, kicked, punched, as the others had done as some of the last moments of Arthur's life came into view.

Arthur instead let out a sharp breath, a sigh, and nodded. There was so much to say but there was only so much he could say to a man who didn't know what was going around him. "Yeah, it's me, you . . . " He sighed again as he rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, the other still resting on Dutch's shoulder as he was trying to find the right words and ended up thinking out loud.

"Something ain't right with you," Arthur paused, half to himself, half to Dutch. "Even more so now."

Dutch looked up at him with bewilderment, blinking rapidly. He didn't understand what Arthur was saying nor could he detect his tone, but he knew this man in another life, and that he loved him. And maybe that love still extended into the afterlife. After everything, Arthur was not among the men who attacked Dutch in that mob.

"Arthur."

With a cry, Dutch hugged him around the waist in realization, and Arthur let out the third sigh in less than five minutes. He patted his shoulder and returned the embrace as best as he could in his position.

"S-sorry . . . . Sorry . . . I'm sorry . . . " His voice was plaintive; not the loud baritone that he was all too familiar with.

"I know, I know . . . "

The source of the crowd's departure from the scene stood before Dutch and Arthur.

It was Hosea.

He stood grimly before them as if judging the situation. The shadows cast onto him made him look foreboding and to someone in the state of mind that Dutch was in, terrifying.

"Dutch."

Hosea's voice was firm and direct, his arms crossed over his chest.

Dutch hid his face against Arthur's leg and shrank down to the ground , trying to block out the sight of him. Maybe like the others, he'd go away, leave him be with Arthur.

Arthur looked over at Hosea with an expression of a silent plea, and after giving Dutch one more pat on the shoulder, he gently eased him out of the embrace. When Dutch tried to cling to him again, he firmly but carefully removed his hands from him once again.

This time Dutch didn't cling back, as if thinking it was futile, his fate was sealed.

"You better go with him, Dutch," Arthur's voice was firm as he saw the look of confusion, but there was an empathetic tone.

"It's Hosea. I know you've missed him."

Arthur's heart cracked when he saw Dutch's expression hadn't changed much. He helped him up onto his feet and steadied him when his legs weren't sure of what they were supposed to do. The larger man steadied him with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip -- something that spooked Dutch at first, who reacted perhaps as if he was being attacked. When he got Dutch settled back down with a pat on his shoulder, Arthur again started to carefully and slowly lead him toward Hosea. He was careful and slow with him, but also sensed that Dutch could make a run for it and did not let him go.

"Hosea, Dutch. The love of your life. Your soulmate. Your sweetheart."

As he predicted, Dutch did try to get away, but couldn't get far and nearly tripped over himself. Arthur caught him and firmly straightened him back up as best as he could. "Easy, Dutch, eaaaasy . . ." Arthur spoke in the tone he'd be calming a scared horse, instead of the frighted, confused, broken man before him. He even soothingly ran a hand through his hair as it was one of his steed's manes, partially out of comfort and partially in an attempt to make him look somewhat presentable.

Arthur's voice was clear again. Now free of tuberculosis, his lungs had healed here. Dutch though was too fractious to have noticed. "There's no sense in runnin', Dutch. Easy."

What Arthur didn't know is that Dutch was trying to bolt *to* Hosea and that holding him back was making him panic. He flailed helplessly in his hold, and then . . . Broke down, crumpling again.

Hosea then decided what the next course of action should be. His expression was hard to read, but his body language was one of authority. He braced himself, uncertain as to if Dutch was pulling some sort of trick, but this way, he'd know the truth.

"Let him go. See what he does."

Arthur did just what he was asked of, and with a nod, he let him go. The two men were so focused on each other that his quiet exit went unnoticed.

Dutch lurched awkwardly to Hosea, falling at feet in an awkward kowtowing gesture of submission. He was expecting that Hosea too would attack him, and thus he offered himself up for further punishment. There was some vague memory of a few words strung together in his sound beating, that Hosea was the leader now. He had some notion that he had done something or many things terrible, though he didn't know exactly what it was. He didn't want to face the wrath of Hosea as well. Some animalistic instinct told him to look as small, helpless, and submissive as possible and he likely wouldn't be harmed, or at least too badly. Or maybe he would and it would be brutal, but swift.

"H-Hosea . . ." Dutch's once strong voice sounded so . . . Weak and meek.

"S-sorry . . . "

Hosea for a moment clenched his fists as he felt anger towards this pathetic creature clinging to him and crying on his boots. He thought about all the wrongs he had done, having his part in undoing all they worked for. A part of him even wanted to kick him as he was down, literally, even; Dutch was right in the position where he could give a boot to him right in the jaw.

He felt Dutch's hold on his legs loosen and then, grasp one of those fists that he felt he could have knocked him out with. It was a soft, placating gesture. In life, he often squeezed Hosea's hand when he wanted to soothe him when he was worried and angered.

Hosea though, saw this as nothing but an attempt to manipulate. He tightened his fists, and heavily breathed in and out, his eyes focused on the darkness within the cave.

'I should punch him right here and then, I'll do it!'

And then, seconds before he was going to strike Dutch, Hosea felt his lips on the side of his hand in an awkward attempt to kiss. His mustached lips were unable to quite coordinate it, and he grew frantic to perfect the gesture. He was so good at kissing in life; how come here, in this strange life, can he not manage to do them? It was then that Hosea knew something was 'off' about Dutch; in life, he got his way by kissing his hands when a mere squeeze didn't' do the job. He was still *trying* to charm him, trying to soothe his anger. His fists clenched harder a moment later, though, as if willing himself to not let this pathetic shadow of Dutch butter him up.

Hosea then felt his teeth lightly nibble at the soft flesh from the side of his hand. Now, one would think this is when Hosea would give him a good hiding, but something from his memory stirred within him.

In life, whenever Dutch was feeling particularly cute, playful even (especially to distract Hosea away from being annoyed at him), he would sometimes take hold of one of his hands, squeeze it, and kiss it. Then he would softly bite it with a devilish grin. Hosea would 'boop' him on the nose, call him his naughty kitten and shower him with kisses, often by a campfire but sometimes on a fine hotel bed.

This time though, there was no cheeky grin. There were just big sad and confused eyes looking at Hosea, belonging to a man trying to understand what was going on, who sensed Hosea's anger and was trying to do something about it. Dutch gave another soft bite, this time a little more playful as if he was picking up on the memory that Hosea had from all those years ago.

In life, Hosea and Dutch were soulmates and . . . Maybe, despite everything, the ties that bind weren't broken in the afterlife.

Hosea felt himself soften. He tried to push it back, but he felt the leaks in the dam wall and he was out of corks to plug up the holes. Before he could stop himself, he tentatively touched the side of Dutch's head, the side which he landed on when he ended his life.

At first, Dutch shrank and whimpered at the touch, as if not expecting such a gentle touch. Another river of tears streamed down his eyes and onto Hosea's fingers as they shifted to his cheek. Hosea was encouraging him to look at him, and he obliged.

"You are broken, aren't you?"

There was pain and heartbreak in Hosea's voice as he slowly kneeled down to Dutch's level and slowly cupped his jaw in his hands. He cradled his head against his chest, positioning in such a way that he could hear his heartbeat. Dutch slowly rocked his head in his hold, against his heart, craving that contact fro him that he had gone a decade without.

Hosea had always loved how strong his jawline was; it was a bit softer since he had last seen him but, it was still Dutch.

"Hosea . . . " Dutch's voice was almost a whimper; his brown eyes still took on that lost, confused look but the expression was slowly melting away to one where he was trying to understand, but only briefly as sadness crept into them.

"I'm . . . Broken . . . " It was hard for Dutch to string together two words in a row, but he *tried*; he was always talkative in life (to everyone's annoyance it wasn't always something of substance) and now, as if it was the punishment he had received, every word was a battle.

"Please . . . " He wanted to say more, but couldn't.

Recognizing this really wasn't manipulation, a mere attempt to get back into his good graces, Hosea let out a cry and hugged him as tight as he could. It about broke him to see how shattered Dutch was. He wasn't sure if he was going to remain in this state for all eternity, but . . . He'd be there for him. He gently rocked Dutch in his arms, kissing him on the cheek. Dutch responded with a little sound that he wasn't sure was a sound of contentment or maybe a cry; his cheeks were already wet with tears and dirt and blood.

The cave floor was cold, and hard. Hosea knew where he wanted to go with him.

"Come with me, old friend, let's get you somewhere more comfortable."

At first, Dutch hesitated as Hosea eased him up into a standing position. He looked away, his expression of shame. He even stepped away from him, fearfully backing away into another tunnel within the cave. He seemed scared, not of Hosea, but maybe fearing what he thought, in his foggy state of mind, what he could do *to* Hosea. Dutch struggled inwardly again as if battling some inner force within him, simply for talking. His voice was halted, stuttering, as if he wanted to say more but the words wouldn't come out.

"N-no . . . Monster . . . I'm . . . I'm a . . .. Monster."

Hosea wasn't present at the time of the beating, but he was certain the gang and the others who he had hurt and done wrong with in life beat that notion into him. He had done some monstrous things in his life but it pained him to think that's all he viewed himself as now. What had been done had been done and Dutch had paid dearly for it (and he was sure that wasn't going to be the last they'd give him trouble), but what had been done could not be undone.

The afterlife is as much of a place to heal, to reconcile, to move forward as a whole person again as it was to be punished for what one had done in life. Indeed, we can say the afterlife is as complicated as several of the individuals residing in it.

Hosea swallowed hard again. He wasn't going to let Dutch disappear into the abyss.

"You are *my* monster, Dutch," Hosea spoke gently, with affection, stopping Dutch before he could disappear into that tunnel by hooking an arm around his waist and gave a firm but affectionate squeeze.

"And I'm afraid we'll be stuck with each other forever in this weird place."

Dutch felt comfort in the tone of Hosea's gentle and affectionate tone of voice, even if the latter part of his message was something he couldn't understand. He didn't resist Hosea's embrace and leaned against him as he was led through the cave. For a moment, he even almost caused Hosea to lose his footing with his weight against him. He held onto Hosea as he was doing to him, perhaps mimicking, but when he stumbled over his footing in his awkward movement, Hosea almost went down as well.

"It's okay . . ." Hosea spoke again softly, patting him on his back as if thinking Dutch would feel bad about accidentally tripping him up. With a grunt, he straightened him back up. Dutch was a good number of pounds heavier than him.

"We're almost there."

Both men blinked rapidly as the sun greeted them at the mouth of the cave, Dutch -- who had arrived in the afterlife only a moment ago -- especially so. He died on not the sunniest day of the week, in winter; and being that he had spent some of his last moments in a cave, the sun was almost a stranger to him. His eyes needed time to adjust and he shrank at the harshness of its rays, hiding his face against Hosea's shoulder. Sunglasses weren't dispensed back in the day when one came into the afterlife.

Outside the cave, the landscape looked much like it did in their lifetime, but somehow. . . Enhanced. The mountains and the trees were still there greeting them; and before them, a massive oak's branches gently arching over the stream that still ran its steady pace as it had always done. There were the sounds of various birds, maybe some that some of the gang even took down for food or to complete the decoration on a hat.

"Oh Dutch . . . It's beautiful . . . " There was a waver to Hosea's voice as he stopped leading to take in the scene, and gently encouraged Dutch to take in the surroundings as well; it never got old to him and he wanted so desperately to share it.

"Eyes . . . Eyes, head hurt . . . "

Dutch's struggle to speak was certainly not an issue he had in life. He looked as if he felt shame and his body posture was slumped, defeated. He blinked rapidly, still protecting his face against Hosea's shoulder.

Hosea rubbed his back, holding him close in case he attempted to retreat into the cave. "It'll take some time. You're not used to the light."

" . . . H-head broken . . . " He paused as if seeking the right word. "S-shattered, smashed . . . "

"I know . . . " Hosea's voice was pained, and he hugged him carefully as if hugging him any tighter would cause him to shatter. He knew he had to be honest. "It . . . It might always be like that, but . . . " He squeezed his hand, thinking that if it was meant for Dutch to come here healed he would have arrived healed. A more optimistic side of him didn't discount that maybe because he never thought he was worthy of true redemption, he arrived only partially healed but that the healing would take place over time now with them reunited.

Hosea decided the mood needed to be lightened and he brought one of Dutch's ragged and worn hands up to his lips to kiss. Once kept in near pristine condition, they now bore the marks of a rough outdoor life, scarred from fights, from the elements. And yet, the top of his hand still felt velvet soft against his lips. He had to smile when he heard some sort of sound of contentment from Dutch. It was an odd sound, but a recognizably *happy* sound. He decided he wanted to hear that sound again, and gave a knuckle a soft kiss again. Sure enough, Dutch made that little rough, sighing little sound again. It made his smile grow.

"You know, you have a whole eternity to bother me."

At this time Dutch knew nothing about what an eternity was. He was back in Hosea's arms and there was nowhere else he wanted to be. Hosea didn't kick him in the ribs, didn't grab his hair and pull him back into the fray.

Hosea wasn't even sure that Dutch knew that he was dead and that he was now in the afterlife. He knew he had to bring that news to Dutch eventually, to get him to further understand what had happened to him, and had to rip off the bandage and tell him why everyone had been so upset with him when he arrived, but . . . Not now.

After a moment, shoving aside that heavy discussion topic, Hosea led Dutch down a well-worn path out from the cave to the giant oak. "That tree? It'll be our spot. We both visited here a long, long time ago when we first met."

The camp where they first met in life, was right by that magnificent tree. It and any trace of it were now long gone, but by where the tent was, was a pile of well-worn books by a bonfire.. One of these books was a well-read copy of American Inferno, which was once one of Dutch's. Hosea assumed that John or maybe Arthur left them there and maybe even made the fire as well, and he was touched by the gestures, but he blinked back tears when he realized that perhaps Dutch *couldn't* read now. He remembered there was a time when Dutch was so obsessed with those damned books that he thought he was having an affair with Evelyn Miller. It ironically pained him that he likely now wouldn't hear Dutch's enthusiastic speeches about the virtues of his writings. The gang tended to tune out, much to his annoyance.

Hosea wanted to cry; he already felt a familiar sting in his eyes and fought it back. It had been some time since he had cried a good cry; the last time was when he was reunited with John and Arthur, Lenny and Jack and Tilly. He needed so badly for the release of a good cry, but he wanted to be strong for his broken soulmate, who might not understand why he was upset. And then, he got an idea. A *plan*, if you will.

Hosea wanted to read out loud to Dutch. He wouldn't read him Evelyn Miller right now -- that material would be too hard for him to digest right now. Then, thoughts of Jack's reunion made him remember the little fairytale stories he once read to him when he was a small boy. Those books were in among the stack by the bonfire; they contained charming stories, simple stories, but they were so wonderfully creatively detailed that he had often enjoyed reading them himself. He remembered Dutch teased him now and then about it, but he paid him no mind; he'd always retort back about Dutch's favoured reading material. Maybe he could help jog something in Dutch's poor addled state.

Hosea squeezed Dutch's hand as he watched him look around looked about fearfully as if he was expecting to be attacked from the trees. It was heartbreaking for Hosea to see such a formally cocky and confident, frustratingly pigheaded and often arrogant figure in such a pitiful state. Yet, there was a small hopeful smile in the corner of his lips.

"I'll read to you, Dutch. I'll read a nice story to you."

Dutch looked at him as if he was trying to understand someone speaking to him in a foreign language. The tone in which Hosea spoke in was so pleasant to him, so whatever it was he was talking about sounded like something pleasant to Dutch. He looked . . . Curious, for the first time since he first encountered the angry mob he mistakenly thought of as some strange animal who was just as inquisitive about him as he was of it.

"You loved to read, Dutch," Hosea spoke soothingly, stroking his cheek as he took in that sad, lost expressoin of his. He noted his cheekbones were more prominent than he had last known him. "Come and sit with me and I'll read you a fun story."

It had been many many moons since anyone read a story to Dutch. Now and then when they could, Hosea and Dutch would read a chapter of a book to each other in the evening. Before that . . . His mother who may or may not have been among those in that bloodthirsty crowd who mauled him. Their relationship was a complicated one but she did instill his love of books into him.

"Books . . . " Dutch plaintively whispered, staring at the tidy stack of books, but then a light spark formed in his sad, tired eyes as if something had clicked.

Hosea smiled, a smile that could have lit up a room as he carefully eased Dutch down onto the ground when he saw excitement spark in his eyes. If he hadn't eased him down he might have taken a tumble in his enthusiasm.

"Yes, books! You loved them, and drove us mad with them," Hosea added with a light laugh as he sat next to Dutch, and pulled him in close as he leaned back against the tree. "And we have all the time in the world here in Eternity to read them. We have a big library, with an endless supply of books. You'll love it."

Hosea's smile faded when Dutch held the book in his hands and the confounded expression told him he didn't know what was even the title. Yet, the twinkle never left Hosea's eyes. He'll spend hours reading to him if he needs to. Maybe he could even teach him to read again.

Dutch may yet grasp the concept of an afterlife, that he had died and was sent to Eternity to be punished, but perhaps also to reunite with the man who may have been able to keep him together had he not died. But he was now grasping the concept of books and love, and maybe, the love he had of books. He had loved Arthur and Hosea in life and so very much does so in this strange new world, and maybe . . . They still love him.

"Love . . ." Dutch whispered, almost timidly, as if afraid to say the word out loud. He curled himself up and laid his head on Hosea's lap, clutching the book against his chest for a moment as if to emphasize what he was saying.

"Love . . . Love . . . You."

"I know . . . I know . . . " Hosea blinked back tears as he gently brushed a hand through Dutch's silvering hair. He missed how it looked in their life together, those curls were so beautiful. He wondered if he could grow it back here.

"And I love you."

Hosea wanted to say that his love had broken him. He had seen how Dutch unravel while he watched helplessly from the afterlife; there were so many times he wished he could have intervened. However, he knew Dutch couldn't comprehend how his love had broken him. He knew he couldn't understand much beyond books that he couldn't read, and beyond the attachment he had to Hosea and Arthur. He knew that logically, his attachment would extend to John as well, who was the very last person he had seen before he took his life.

John was also not among those who laid a beating on Dutch. Like Arthur, he valiantly tried to push the mob back. The recognition that something just wasn't right with him -- even more so in the afterlife -- further fueled the urgency to end the violence. He ended up being pushed to the back of the bloodthirsty crowd, but it gave him the opportunity to seek out the one who could put an end to it all.

John had found Hosea alone with his thoughts by a pond, sitting on a log as he watched Silver Dollar graze nearby as the crickets and frogs sang an eternal song. The moon reflected so beautifully on the still water. When his moment of tranquillity was interrupted, Hosea had thoughts of confronting Dutch head-on, telling him what a fool he had been in his part of ruining what they had built together, among so much, but . . . All that was before he saw firsthand how damaged he was. He could yell and scream at Dutch for doing all those foolish and reckless things, essentially turning feral towards the end, but what come of it? He could picture it in his head, his face turning red with anger and Dutch would just respond with that pitiful, confused gaze as he looked up at him with his knees held close against his chest.

"John and Arthur love you, I'm sure of it . . . " Hosea spoke softly with a voice that took on a tone of uncertainty with it. He was also careful to word his message into something simple that Duth could even get an edge of understanding.

"Despite everything, Dutch . . . " He added quietly, mostly to himself, but with more confidence as he idly played with Dutch's hair, gently tugging out bits of dried blood, mud and matted strands.

"I think they still love you. Yes, I still love you."

Dutch shifted slightly so that his head and shoulders were right into Hosea's lap, and he looked up at him with an innocent, even hopeful expression. There was even a hint of a smile on Dutch's mustached lips, so blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil simmering under Hosea's surface as he was processing so many feelings simultaneously. Hosea was good at hiding it, mind you. He was always a fine actor who could sell water to a drowning man.

"You're still frustratingly cute, you know that?" Hosea laughed despite Dustch's drastic downturn in fashion sense, and that beautiful hair chopped down so short.

That smile of Dutch's grew when Hosea gently traced a finger along the softening jawline, to the point his eyes crinkled up into little slits. He leaned his head back with a little whimpering sigh, encouraging his touch. He couldn't quite understand what Hosea was talking about, but he *felt* it. He *felt* cute. Hosea wasn't mad at him anymore, he must have been doing something right. For as long as he continues to be cute, Hosea wouldn't be mad, he thought. Perhaps a new concept, or an old one unburied, which often got Hosea's anger turned away.

"Oh I've got a smile out of you . . ." Hosea cooed, slipping another hand to his side, the side in which he was shot shortly before his death.

After a moment of hesitation, Hosea gently pushed up that bloodied patch of his orange shirt, revealing bruised skin underneath. The wound from the gunshot was closed over, but a dark patch of bruised scarring remained there. Much like the wound to his head, that scar seemed as if it was a reminder, and was only patched up to prevent others from the sight of his organs slipping out of his body. To his surprise, though, the skin on that area was as satiny-soft to the touch as he remembered. Hosea's caress was gentle; how he moved his hands in a slow, rythmic pattern was as if he was telling Dutch it would be OK to let himself heal.

Perhaps that's why Dutch was in the state he was in the afterlife; he wasn't giving himself that chance to fully heal because he *didn't* think he deserved to heal. Let's go with that.

Hosea stopped when Dutch stiffened, and he wasn't sure if his touch caused him some pain that might have been residual. But then, his smile grew as he saw Dutch was trying to hold back a . . . . Laugh, probably the first genuine laugh, in oh . . . A decade! He remembered he had a particularly sensitive midsection in life which seemed to carry over into the afterlife, too.

"I think you're still a little ticklish too!" Hosea gently teased, his fingers dancing over his poor bruised and scarred belly, softer than he remembered it being, and eliciting more laughs. To him, Dutch's laughter was among the most beautiful sounds he had heard since arriving in the afterlife. That big hearty laugh of his was reduced to a silly squeaky sound as he submissively, lovingly offered himself up to him for more which Hose happily obliged.

After a moment, Hosea decided to leave Dutch wanting more. Predictably, Dutch gave him the pleading puppy eye expression that he still managed to pull off, after everything. His smile that came with it was almost sheepish, more lopsided than Hosea remembered, but still irresistible.

"Still trying to manipulate me are you?" Hosea gently teased. All the same, he gave in to that expression and scritched a little more before his fingers slowed into a massage. His eyes twinkled as Dutch offered that book to him. He gently took it from him and carefully repositioned himself in a way so that Dutch could follow the book as he read it out to him. He chuckled though as Dutch flopped back down. Maybe *he* was more comfortable but it forced Hosea to reposition himself a bit. Some things never change; in all their years together, Hosea was often forced to reposition in bed just because someone had to be more comfortable.

"Ah, this one . . . " Hosea's smile brightened, recognizing the title 'In The Land of Dragons.' "I read it to Jack before . . ." He paused, the smile fading. Among the last pleasurable moments he had of his life was reading that book to Jack.

Dutch picked up on the shift in the mood of his beloved and weakly squeezed his hand. It was a gesture that deeply touched Hosea; no matter how broken Dutch was right now, he still couldn't hide a thing from him.

"Well, we're all here together again," Hosea's smile returned as he gave Dutch's hand a light squeeze in return to emphasize. "Maybe I'll read it to him again if he so wants. He's all grown up now, though. Not sure if he wants a doddering old man to read to him again."

Dutch tilted his head to one side as he tried to understand what Hosea was saying. To him, it came together in a messy heap of words with no order to them. He did pick up on a few concepts; Jack, and reading. Yes, he wanted him to read to him like he remembered watching Hosea read to Jack. Despite the . . . Complicated relationship with the boy's parents, Dutch always had a soft spot for Jack. He'd often lean back and watch Hosea read to the boy by the campfire or a quieter location in the camp. Occasionally, as expected, Dutch would put his two cents but often just let the two have their quiet moment.

Jack was another who didn't join in on the mob's attack on Dutch. He tried to pull a few people back and got into a fight with some of them, but the mob grew too numerous. From there, he went on to find his father.

"Please . . . Read . . . ?" Dutch gave him the puppy dog eyes again.

"Still pushy after all these years, eh?" Hosea gently teased, leaning down to kiss Dutch on the top of his head as he gently eased into an easier position. Cute as he was to have him sprawled out on his lap like a puppy, he didn't think it'd be comfortable for him to follow along with him as he read.

Dutch's eyes had trouble focusing on the beautifully illustrated first page. He was growing frustrated with himself in this state, to have trouble even looking at a picture. The illustration featured a large and smug dragon looking down at a small boy who was bravely standing his ground, tiny sword and all. The colours were reminiscent of a watercolour painting and the thin lineart spared no detail. Dutch once made a speech to the gang that referred to the drawing, about the little man standing up to the federal government. The speech was one that Hosea tried to get people to get into but alas.

Hosea picked upon Dutch's frustration, and with a free hand, he traced a finger along his jawline. After a moment, his touch soothed him, to his delight.

"Can you see it, my pet?" Hosea brought up Dutch's old, old nickname softly and slowly traced a finger around the picture to help train Dutch's eyes on the page. He often pointed out the little details to Jack, and it reminded him of that.

"You liked this picture a lot for what you thought it meant to you."

Dutch still couldn't understand what he was speaking about per se, but he squinted, trying to focus on the picture. He was drawn to the colours that he felt were so pretty all those years ago. He even bought the book with his own money instead of stealing it for Jackie, as he used to call him. Hosea might have caught him reading it himself.

"In the Land of Dragons . . ." Hosea soothingly murmured out the title, running his hand over the title which was also lovingly detailed with the ends of dragon tails accenting the letters. "Written and illustrated by D. Houser."

Dutch blinked rapidly, slowly taking in the detail. And he got a gist of the details, the artistry, the detail, he was in awe. It was like all the horrors he had faced coming into the afterlife were far behind him now and he was dreaming. It was like he was transferred to some more innocent place.

Dutch's reaction did not go unnoticed by Hosea, and he was touched. He was reminded of when he first presented the book to Jack, all those years ago; how fascinated the boy was on each page, wondering what would happen next. It was a small book, only twenty-one pages but for Dutch, this would be the first step of a journey.

"Tommy was but a small boy, in a big world, and soon to meet even bigger dragons," there was almost a smile in Hosea's voice now he dragged a finger along the dialogue. "He didn't quake, didn't quiver as he walked through the spooky wood. Some of the trees themselves looked like dragons." He even added a bit of wonder to his voice as he worked a finger along the illustration of the twisted tree trunks and their branches. It was as if he was reading to that small boy again; this, he thought, turned out to be therapeutic for much for himself as it was to Dutch.

Hosea's tone might have elicited a certain spark in Dutch's eyes that threatened to errode the sadness and confusion in them. Maybe the concept of the story was seeping into his poor mind. Maybe he thought he was in the book.

"Are . . . W-here . . . Are we there?"

Hosea felt himself tear up again. He planned on telling Dutch at some point, when he's at a less vulnerable state, but . . . The question was asked.

"Well . . . " He set the book aside, leaving it open to continue after his explanation, and he took one of Dutch's hands in his own. He gently gazed into Dutch's curious eyes, his expression gentle, soft. He wasn't sure how much Dutch would get out of it, but it was worth a try and he would be patient.

"We . . . We died, Dutch."

Hosea paused, waiting for Dutch to absorb the news. He studied him carefully, waiting for any change in expression. Dutch still looked curious, almost innocently so. He hadn't quite processed it yet, but he was trying.

And then suddenly, Dutch's expression changed. The sad expression returned in his eyes, and the tears returned as if Hosea's ripping off the bandage opened up new wounds.

"When . . . When you . . . Went, I . . . I-I broke, shattered . . ."

"I know . . ." Hosea almost whispered, clutching onto Dutch as crawled up further into his lap. Tears that he fought hard to keep down to keep a strong front trickled down his face when he rested his chin on his shoulder. His hand moved over Dutch back in gentle, soothing circles.

"When we died . . . We got sent here there though so we could be together again. We all call it The Next Place. The afterlife."

Dutch buried his face against Hosea's chest as his fingers clasped on his blue jacket. "D-dont . . . Don't. . . " It was as if his brain's synapses were misfiring again, he couldn't say anything more though he so wanted to. He felt so vulnerable, so scared.

"Shhh . . . I'm not going anywhere. . ." Hosea cooed as he slipped a hand up underneath that ratty shirt, his hands gently gliding over his back. As he had spent some time sprawled out on Hosea, his skin still felt so warm there and less clammy than he did when he first reunited with him. Skin contact was what Hosea thought Dutch would feel connected to and reassured with; after all, they said so much through holding hands.

The touches soothed Dutch again, and he settled his head under Hosea's jaw. They would return to the book, but for the moment, he just wanted to cuddle up to HOsea as he had longed to do for far too long.

As if Hosea had absorbed what Dutch was feeling even if he couldn't articulate it, Hosea also just wanted to hold Dutch, and to do nothing else. He had almost forgotten how much he had missed him; he had seen the things he had done and was nearly blinded with anger, but now . . .

"We'll never be parted again."

*Never* be parted again.

Dutch felt something he hadn't felt in a long, long time:

Relief.

"Never . . . ?" Dutch's voice wavered as he looked into Hosea's eyes with some sort of acknowledgement in his expression.

Hosea whispered and gently cupped his jaw in his palm. He has always loved how strong it felt in his hands, even in his condition. "Never . . . "

"We're . . . " Dutch struggled for a moment, but his eyes never left his as that expression got a bit stronger. He was piecing it together and it hadn't gone unnoticed by his soulmate. "O-other . . . Place . . . " He slowly eased his face closer to Hosea's. He wanted to kiss, oh he so wanted to kiss him but could not connect his lips up to his and tears welled in his eyes for his failure to do so.

"Y-yes . . . " Hosea found his voice wavering as he felt Dutch's breath on his lips. After steadying the back of Dutch's carefully, he eased him into the gentle kiss he was asking for. It was a slow kiss, a gentle kiss, a kiss that was ten years in the making.

Together again, in That Other Place.

[bestfurrywife]

Rules

Character must be 18+ (if they don't have a specified age, they must be reasonably assumed to be an adult)

No explicit nsfw images in submissions, suggestive content ok

If you're submitting an indie artist's character (eg, someone's oc from tumblr or other social media) you MUST credit them

follow @bestfurryhusband lol

Submission Form

Submissions for tournament 2 are OPEN

Contestants:

Next contestants (feel free to submit again if you have propaganda to add):

Aela The Huntress (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim)

Allison Goleta (Super Lesbian Animal RPG)

Applejack (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Auroth, the Winter Wyvern (Defense of the Ancients 2)

 Bonnie (@dapper-lil-catgirl on Tumblr)

Princess Cadence (My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic)

Carmelita Fox (Sly Cooper)

Catra (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Catty (Undertale)

Dabarella Yeetster (Adventure Is Nigh!)

Dean Hardscrabble (Monsters University)

Demona (Gargoyles)

Deoxys (Pokemon)

Diane Foxington (The Bad Guys)

Eclipsa Butterfly (Star vs the Forces of Evil)

Eda the Owl Lady (The Owl House)

Falin (Chimera) (Dungeon Meshi)

Fenneko (Aggretsuko)

Gadget Hackwrench (Chip N Dale Rescue Rangers)

Goodra (Pokemon)

Isabelle (Animal Crossing)

Laylee (Yooka-Laylee)

Lifts-Her-Tail (The Lusty Argonian Maid; Skyrim)

Lop (Star Wars Visions)

Merveille Million (Solatorobo)

Mrs. Brisby (The Secret of NIMH)

Miss Spider (James and the Giant Peach)

Moon Butterfly (Star vs the Forces of Evil)

Ms Tarantula/Webs (The Bad Guys)

Nala (lion king)

Olympia (Rivals of Aether)

Pinkie pie (My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic)

Princess Cadence (My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic)

Pyanfar Chanur (The Chanur novels by C.J. Cherryh)

Rainbow dash

Rarity

Retsuko (Aggretsuko)

Sarabi (Lion King)

Sasha Phyronix (Ratchet and Clank)

Shahvee (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim)

Sophodra (Humans-B-Gone!)

Summer (Spiritfarer)

Sybil (Pseudoregalia)

The Empress (A Hat in Time)

Trixie (capitol critters)

Trixie Lulamoon (My Little Pony)

Tuca Toucan (Tuca & Bertie)

Tyranitar (Pokemon)

Vanilla the Rabbit (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Waai Fu (Arknights)

Washimi (Aggretsuko)

Wuk Lamat (Final Fantasy XIV)

Zecora (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Previous contestants:

Alphys (Undertale)

Arlinn Kord (Magic the Gathering)

Astrid (Spiritfarer)

Birdo (Mario)

Captain Amelia (Treasure Planet)

Cordelia Hendricks (The Smoke Room)

Dahlia Byrnes (The Smoke Room)

Duchess (Aristocats)

Erma Felna (Erma Felna: EDF)

Fenna van Houwelinck (Glory Hounds)

Fidget (Dust: An Elysian Tale)

Fillyjonk (The Moomins)

Fluttershy (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Freya Crescent (Final Fantasy 9)

Furryosa (Atomic Crops)

Golem (Pokemon)

Greasefang (Magic the Gathering)

Hecate (Tokyo Afterschool Summoners)

Holo (Spice and Wolf)

Hoodwink (Dota 2)

Hornet (Hollow Knight)

Ilia Shrikewood (Temptation's Ballad)

Isabelle (Animal Crossing)

Jenna Begay (Echo)

Judy Hopps (Zootopia)

Juno (Beastars)

Krystal (Star Fox Adventure)

Laika (Laika Aged Through Blood)

Laika (Laika's Comet)

Lola Bunny (Space Jam)

Loona (Helluva Boss)

Lopunny (Pokemon)

Loveander (Palworld)

Madam Dora (The Smoke Room)

Madame Vastra (Doctor Who)

Maid Marian (Disney's Robin Hood)

Marie Itami (BNA)

Maria (Extracurricular Activities)

Meicrackmon (Digimon)

Miss Piggy (The Muppets)

Molly Yarnchopper (Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts)

Moomin Mamma (The Moomins)

Mother Glory (Friends at the Table)

Muffet (Undertale)

Nidoqueen (Pokemon)

Princess Celestia (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Princess Luna (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Queen Bee-elzebub (Helluva Boss)

Renamon (Digimon)

Rivet (Ratchet and Clank)

Rose (Remember the Flowers)

Rouge the Bat (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Roxanne Wolf (Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach)

Salazzle (Pokemon)

Sally Acorn (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Soraka (League of Legends)

Tigress (Kung Fu Panda)

Toriel (Undertale)

Torque (X-Com: Chimera Squad)

Twilight Sparkle (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Vipress (Kung Fu Panda)

Xenomorph (Alien)

Whisper the Wolf (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Yona (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

[aerosrp]

[F4M](Furry) The Pregnant Tigress

Hi there, I'm looking to play as this pregnant tigress. Now, I am aware that she is from the TwoKinds universe, and I am more than happy to play within that universe! However, we can take the plot anywhere, i really love story driven roleplays with drama, romance, and lots of belly!

We could do a modern setting, medieval, or fantasy!

My kinks include: pregnancy, overdue pregnancy, disregard for pregnancy, baby kicks, labor pains, belly manipulation (smacking, shaking, etc), drinking while pregnant, smoking while pregnant and contractions.

My limits include: gore, odor, bathroom, noncon

Artist: Tom Fischbach

[books-in-a-storm]

Snowflake Book Review’s

Title: Dublin Falls' Archangel's Warriors MC #10 Smoke's Tigress

Author: Ciara St. James

Pages:293

Snowflake Rating:❄❄❄❄(4/5)

Synopsis: Smoke found his home with the Archangel’s Warriors. His days of working solely at the whim of the U.S. government are behind him. He chooses when he takes a job and when he doesn’t. He is always the one to save the day for his club, no matter the problem. However, this time he fails and the sexy, brilliant woman who walks into his club not only saves the day, she puts him on alert. How does she have access to a program he knows is beyond top secret? He expresses his distrust, only to find out she’s not only the program’s creator, she’s a friend of one of the old ladies! After she leaves, he can’t forget her, but she seems to find excuses not to come back. He wonders if it’s because he had been less than welcoming at their first meeting. Then one day his club gets a call. She needs to lay low. Her cover might have been blown and she might be in danger. There’s more to her than just a programmer and designer. Now, Smoke has the opportunity to find out why he’s not been able to forget her. Everly doesn’t want to go to the Warriors for help. But she has no choice. Smoke is still acting like he can’t stand her, which hurts, so she reconsiders her options. Harsh words, a dominate stance, and misunderstandings almost costs her, her life. And Smoke realizes he’s got feelings that he can’t ignore. But they have more than one obstacle in their path. Bunnies being only one of them. And one of those obstacles has her going undercover to take down an international ring, and using herself as bait. Can Smoke support her decision and still have her back? Or will his decision be one that makes her walk away? He’s determined that he’ll do whatever it takes to win and keep Smoke’s Tigress.

[cs-oc-blank-random-posts]

FUN FACTS WITH BLANK

my CS-AU related stuff (CARMEN SAN DIEGO OC AU)

MORE ABOUT ME AND VILE ACADEMY (in my CS AU)

- i was 10 years old when i first started stealing, opening the gates to my long path to a life of crime 😋

Player: what.

- my first time driving a motorcycle was when i was 12

Carmen: Blank. WHAT

- Before Vile, i used to work with various groups for big heists and i rarely worked with the same person, i had a pretty big reputation for being one of the youngest thieves in the criminal underworld and my former Codename was "Chameleon" 🦎 😋 ✨

Zack: you were a famous thief?!

Shadow-san: Believe it or not, he's telling the truth. <- saw his interview with Maelstrom + was aware of Blank's reputation because he was recommended by another Seasoned Operative

Player: woah, he ain't lying! <- just searched about it on the dark web

- in some of my former Groups and Affiliations, i was taught how to use guns 😍

Ivy: that's concerning. you weren't even a teenager yet but they taught you how to shoot??

Blank: at first it was more difficult than i thought at first. but i'm a natural with a revolver

Carmen: why in the world would they even trust a kid with gun?

Blank: because i'm amazing, that's why

- my favorite color is Violet/Purple 💜

- because i've been through allot of different Groups, i got to meet allot of different people! i learned allot of skills that help me with thievery. such as: Gun Shooting, Knot tying, Basic self-defense, Disguising myself, making my own Gadgets and stuff like DIY smoke bombs 😋

Ivy: it's nice to have someone around who knows how to DIY stuff

Blank: well, Versatility never fails!

- My Vile Codename is different compared to my Former Codename because i kinda found "Chameleon" abit cringey for me. i couldn't think of any other code name. the Faculty noticed that i didn't have a codename yet and had a talk about it so they could help me out. They couldn't think of a good Codename that i liked until Countess Cleo said "well we can't leave his code name blank, can we?"

Shadow-san: you preferred "Blank" over "Chameleon" because you were no longer interested in your former Codename? Blank, it took an entire Faculty meeting to find you a code name and out of all of the better Code names to choose, you chose a word that was said by Countess Cleo in a sentence? that's what took you to finally pick a code name?

Blank: well, it beats having a basic codename like Shadow-san 🖕

- Fun fact about Vile, the reason why there are only a few well known operatives on the field like Tigress, Mimebomb, Paperstar, Etc. out of the 40 thieves that graduate Vile per year was because they were elected as Specialist Operatives. because they had Specific Talents. (they only say Operatives because saying "Specialist Operatives" is a mouthful) the rest of the graduates became cadets for Vile (the guys you usually see in helmets and uniform)

- I was a Cadet for Vile for a few months after i graduated even if i was originally supposed to be a Specialist Operative (because Vile couldn't trust a 14 year old for bigger Heists even if they're aware of my History in big heists) Shout out to Shadow-san who recommended me to become a Cadet instead of an Operative btw

Shadow-san: it was for your own good. we couldn't let a child running on the field.

Blank: hah, i guess that's why they officially made me a Specialist Operative a few months after, huh?

- The faculty had a Meeting about letting a 13 year old Study at Vile academy, having another advanced placement shortly after Black sheep. guess who was like "Bitch, Naur"? Coach Brunt and Shadow-san 😋

Carmen: honestly, it was concerning that two of the most Dangerous faculty members were at your throat the entire time we studied at Vile

Blank: I know, right? Biggest compliment i've ever received

Shadow-san:

- Just Like Carmen, i also had a Holdover year! thanks to Shadow-san..

Shadow-san: Black Sheep and Blank were the hardest to stall during the exam. <- this man was proud of himself for a reason

Carmen: well past is past. and eitherway, it was nice not being alone.

Blank: yeah, until you left a few months before the last semester. thanks for that.

[aheckinmess]

Cuddling 101: The Intricacies of Intimacy [Enji] (Angst)

[One-Shot 15/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Enji x OC, Endeavor x OC, Enji Todoroki, Endeavor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Ice Quirk, Teaching Fire Boy to Cuddle, Married for a Few Months, OC is an Emotional Bean, Enji is a Softie, And Nobody Can Convince Me Otherwise, And They've TRIED

Word Count: 1,963 words

Summary: Only a few months into their marriage, Ichijiku and Enji still have to learn to navigate each others’ unique love language. It results in a conversation about the worries each of them have.

Author's Note: In this prompt, Ichijiku has an ice quirk for the sake of this prompt.

Ichijiku (Tigress)

Morning light filters through a crack in the blackout curtains, nudging my eyelids open and reminding me of a beautiful sight: Enji Todoroki in bed beside me. When Enji's in bed, the worries of the day no longer crease his forehead or draw a scowl on his face. He is Enji...my Enji most fully in the morning.

For these scarce moments in time - in which I wake up before him - I allow myself a rare treat and carefully squirm against his chest, pulling his arm around my back. Cuddles do not come naturally to Enji as emotions disturb him about as much as a high-class villain. 

I'm sure if I asked him he'd say emotions are villains.

Still, on lazy mornings such as this, I tuck myself into his cozy presence and pretend he’s cuddling on purpose. It certainly helps that his fingers rub over my back, tracing soft patterns into my skin. An added bonus? The way his fingers gently tug through my hair.

Wait.

I carefully open my eyes to find the sea and sky looking back at me.

"Good morning," He greets, kissing my forehead before he clambers out of bed. 

And the tender moment flutters through my fingers like smoke. I even sit up and stretch my hand out, grasping for it, grasping for him. When the bathroom door closes, I figure I'll see if I can rope him into a morning cuddle when he gets out.

In the meantime, I fix the sheets up a bit so it'll look neat. I fix my pajamas and ruffle my hair a bit in the hopes that making it look messy will entice him to me. By the time the bathroom door opens again, I'm laying on my elbows with a pair of kitten eyes and reaching out to him.

"Come back?" I chirp softly.

"What do you need, Frosty Queen?" He chuckles, padding over to the bed and sitting at the edge.

I scoot up and hug his arm, leaning into his warmth and soaking it up like a plant photosynthesizing from the sun. It lasts for a few seconds before he nudges me with his arm.

"You needed something?" He repeats, confused.

"Yeah. Cuddles." I look up at him, resting my chin on his arm. "Just for a little bit?" 

Silence permeates the room and he looks at the doorway.

"Can we eat breakfast first?" He asks just as a rumble sounds from his stomach. "I've never been great at the whole cuddling thing...and I'm hungry."

"Oh, um, yeah, sorry. I can make you some food." I quickly retreat, hopping out of bed and looking at my feet as I make my way down the hall. 

"Hey," Enji catches my hand before I get too far and spins me against his front. He presses his lips to my forehead and then his eyes meet mine. "That wasn't meant as a denial. I really will try out the whole...cuddling thing." He doesn't sound happy about it, but I'm glad he clarifies that he's willing to try. "I just don't want to be hungry and end up ruining it. I know it's important to you."

"Physical touch is my love language." I explain.

"So you’ve said before," Enji yawns as he spontaneously carries me to the kitchen. I've always been self-conscious about my weight, but his strong muscles holding me up acts as a balm for this particular insecurity. "But we're intimate regularly. I often sit by you and give you kisses throughout the day. Doesn't that satisfy your need for physical touch?"

"It does." I admit, closing my eyes and leaning against him until he sets me down onto the cool tile. "But I have different types of physical touch I want to have met. And sometimes, different touches can mean different things."

"Like what?" 

I file through the cabinets for breakfast ingredients as I contemplate how to explain. The fact that he ranks my emotional needs high enough to try something out of his comfort zone makes my heart grow fonder of him.

"It's like...cuddles are a different level of intimacy. Sex makes me feel loved, vulnerable, and physically attractive. Kisses make me feel protected and valued. But cuddles make me feel like I'm worth the effort." I shrug, humming as I work my way around the stove.

Enji quiets for a few moments with a hum, before his hands skirt around my waist from behind. The weight of his head on my shoulder relaxes me.

"What about this?" He asks.

"This feels similar to cuddles." I smile. "It makes me feel like you think I'm your one and only."

"You are my one and only. Don't you know that?" 

Several quiet minutes go by. I flip the fish in the frying pan and stir the soup. I glance at the rice cooker to find only a few minutes left. 

"Breakfast shouldn’t take too much longer."

"Ichan," He turns me around and puts a hand under my chin. It’s not often those cold, blue eyes look so soft and warm. "You do know you're my one and only, don't you?"

Once again, I’m quiet. When his hold tightens, he squeezes out a flood of tears in his wake.

“I guess…” I shrug out of his hold and grab plates and bowls to set up breakfast.

“You guess?” Even though he lets me go, he follows my every move. I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders as he pulls my hair out of my shirt and combs his fingers gently through the tangles. “Surely you’re more certain than just a guess? Why would you believe otherwise?”

An answer has to wait as I plate fish, miso, and then finish off with a bit of rice. I pull out some cups and splash some orange juice in both.

“You arranged for a quirk marriage because you wanted to make the perfect child to surpass All Might,” I begin bluntly. “You’ve been very good to me, I won’t pretend you haven’t. You pay for everything to keep us fed and splurge on me for my hobbies…you’ve even surprised me with flowers before and I’m forever in your debt for paying off what was left of my student loans.” I don’t look at him. I can’t. “But…I don’t know how to explain it well. I’m appreciative of all that, please don’t think I’m not. It’s just, I thrive off of physical touch and emotional warmth. Whenever you come home and I ask about work, you just shrug it off and say it’s fine. When I try to cuddle you in the mornings or before bed, it’s reduced to a quickie or you leave for the bathroom and I’m left alone. I just want…” I pause.

What do I want? Enji does all the right things. Does that mean I’m selfish for asking for more?

“I don’t want to lose you.” I choke out, not realizing I’ve said it until Enji tilts my chin up. Those blue eyes capture me with their concern. I force my eyes away. “I’m scared that once we start having babies you’ll forget all about me. I don’t want to be a means to an end for your heroic ambitions, Enchan. I want to feel like you love me because I’m me. Not because of what I can give you. I want you to feel like you can be vulnerable and let me carry whatever troubles you. I know you think you’re supposed to protect me, keep me safe, but I want to be able to carry your burden every now and then so you can rest when you need it.”

 Large fingers pad away the liquid in the corners of my eyes. When I finally look back at him, he rests his forehead against mine. There’s no escape. Everything about him draws me in and acts as a salve to my woes even though he hasn’t spoken.

“Ichan,” He says. “I…” He inhales and stops, closing his mouth and sighing through his nose. His mouth opens and closes, then repeats the motion until his head slumps against my shoulder. “I wish I had something better to say, but all I can say is I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way. I have no excuses.”

My fingers indulge in the coarse depths of his fiery hair. This…this is the kind of intimacy I want. To know every precious little thing about you. For a few moments, the world around us keeps moving, but we’re caught in time with each other.

Both of us against a raging world.

“When I first asked you about the quirk marriage, it was originally just for your quirk.” His fingers paint sweet pictures across my shoulders. With every stroke, my muscles melt under his touch. “Of course, the more I met up with you after your agreement, I hadn’t expected to enjoy your company so much. You’re so vibrant and passionate about the things you love, it’s intoxicating.” The familiar feeling of his lips on my neck pulls a gasp from my throat. “Your enthusiasm for life reminds me of why I became a pro.”

After some doting kisses, he lifts his head and cups my face. 

“I’m sorry that I haven’t said it, but you’ve changed so much in my life for the better. When a villain attack delayed you at the grocery store last week? I was at my wit’s end. I wondered what I’d do if you didn’t come home. Surpassing All Might was forgotten because all I could think about was how much I’d miss seeing you, how much I’d miss waking up beside you, how much your presence brings this house to life.” Sorrow glistens in his eyes as he presses a soft, brief kiss on my lips. “Ichijiku Todoroki, even if my intentions were initially selfish…you changed my life for the better when you became a part of it. Never doubt that.”

Sincerity hangs from his every word, draping me in comfort and affection that soothes the worry buzzing in the background of my head these past couple months following our wedding.

I lead him back over to the table before breakfast gets cold while I process these deeper emotions. We eat in a more comfortable silence. When he takes my empty dishes over to the sink and sweeps me up in his arms, I squeal and hold on tight.

He steps over to the couch and lays down, getting comfy against the pillows before he holds me firm against his chest. As my head nestles into the crook of his neck, tension oozes out of my body and a smile sneaks onto my face. Just like earlier, his fingers trace patterns along my back. Unlike earlier, he smatters kisses all over the side of my face. I giggle as they tickle my cheek like little butterfly wings. He rumbles out a chuckle as I squirm and wrap my legs around his waist, before I feel his lips twitch and his fingers wriggle against my sides.

“Enji!” I shriek, cackling as I move away from him and he pulls me back to smother my other cheek in kisses. “You could have just asked me to turn!”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” 

With a huff, I try tickling his sides in retribution. Nothing. I try his neck. Still nothing. He smirks up at me until my fingers assault his stomach and then he twitches with a snort.

“Not there!” He laughs, pulling me under him while hovering over me. 

He rests his forehead against mine with a small smile, something so rare that it warms me down to the tips of my toes.

“Enji?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my queen.”

Want More Enji? Try: A Girl Worth Fighting For

[radio-fmm]

Apple juice

Sanji x gardener!reader

Warnings: just pure fluff, fem reader, two idiots in love but they don’t know

Word count: 1,093 words

Summary: In which Robin got tired of Sanji just watching you and asked for an apple juice

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Sanjis favorite activity? Cooking of course! everyone knew that, but watching you from afar might be up there with it.

He decided to smoke a little before dinner prep, but really it was just an excuse to watch you take care of the Sunny’s garden, your earthly powers had come in handy for the crew, since the food shortage and spending ridiculous amounts of money on food was resolved since you joined.

He watched as you looked at the apples making sure they were ready to pull out of the tree

He loved how you always had beautiful golden jewelry adorning your neck, and how adorable you looked in your gardening overalls, with your locks intertwined in a beautiful braid and leaving trails of flowers and green grass behind you whenever you walked.

You were always unapologetically yourself, which always enchanted Sanji, even though you were just gardening he thought you looked out of this world.

“Beautiful day isn’t?”- Sanji jumped, he immediately looked back to see Robin smiling at him while holding a book, had she noticed what he was actually doing out on deck?- “Oh yes absolutely my dear” he answered stumbling a little bit and dragging his cigarette “Would you like a refreshment to accompany this fine evening, tigress?” Robin giggled between her teeth, she was well aware of the cooks “admiration” if you could call it that towards you, but she just couldn’t understand why he just wouldn’t go and talk to you.

“Actually”-she grinned “I would love an apple juice fresh from the garden” Oh he was caught red handed for sure. Sanji could feel the red creeping from his neck to his ears, but he could never decline a woman’s wishes could he? “O-Of course, on it my dear!” He walked away trying to look as cool and fresh but Robin could see right through him, was he nervous?.

As he went down to the garden, he could hear the birds chirping along with you humming a folky tune, he noticed how golden your skin was for being under the sun, rosy cheeks and the smell of flowers just made you look so heavenly. He hesitated to go in the garden, as if you were a beautiful painting that could get smudged if he step any closer.

Your humming got louder as you approached the end of the garden, Sanji still frozen in place- “Oh! Hi Sanji!” You said smiling brightly glad to see the cook, he fixed his stand, threw his cigarette away and cleared his throat “Evening flower, I hope you don’t mind a little company today?” He walked slowly but steady, also smiling back at you I mean how could he not?- “Need a restock?” Not gonna lie, it hurt him a little that you always thought he wanted to talk to you only when he needed something.

“Just need some fresh apples for an apple juice, want some? Flower” he said while looking at the beautiful trees “ah I love apple juice!” You sighed whipping the sweat that formed in your forehead “I mean if it’s no trouble”

Sanji loved learning stuff about you, he knew how much you loved sweet things how fitting for you, how you always bought golden necklaces at every island you’ll dock, how sea sick you’ll get during strong waves, how easily you’ll flush at his compliments and flirting… and how sometimes you worked twice as hard to feel deserving of being part pf the crew, and how you never wanted to be a trouble for anyone.

He couldn’t understand how someone as bright, fearless and kind as you could feel like a burden hmm where has he heard that before?

“But sunlight, I am the cook that’s my job, besides doing anything for you is no trouble ever” oh that nickname, he only used it whenever you guys were alone, it made your stomach turn and your heart skip a beat. You looked away trying to hide your cheeks that went from dusted pink to bright red from the blonde man.

You cleared your throat and walked to the trees to pick up the apples- “Lucky you these are ready and fresh” you said holding one in your hand a passing it to Sanji, your hands brushing. The cook taking advantage, pressed his hand on yours so you wouldn’t let go, taken aback you glanced at him eyes wide, he whispered “You know I really do mean that, right?” His blue eyes examined every inch of your face, like he had never looked at you before.

As flirty and cool he wanted to seem, he actually was shaking a bit, he had never touched you, in fact he always kept a distance, like you were some fragile rare gem that would shatter in his touch, but seeing you overthinking was a no go for him, Sanji always wanted to make sure you knew how valuable and important you were to the crew… and to him.

You held his gaze for a moment, admiring his features and enjoying how the wind made his golden locks dance, being able to see both of his ocean eyes that pierced you. “Yes, I know.. thank you” your words held so much weight, like you really wanted him to know that his reassurance ment a lot to you. You squished his hand and smiled, sincerely.

Sanji thought his heart would jump out of his chest when you smiled at him, he was almost sure you were the daughter of the sun, because there was no way a human could smile as bright and warm as you did.

“Let me pick some more apples and I’ll help you make that apple juice”- you broke the enchantment you had put that poor man in, turned around and got lost in the dancing trees.

Did you just offered to help him in the kitchen? Oh my Sanji had to stop himself from physically celebrating, he felt like the luckiest man on earth right now.

Usually when anyone would offer to help him on anything in the kitchen he would decline immediately, but this time- “Yes” he sighed absolutely love strucked “I’d actually love that, sunlight”

Robin who has been witnessing the whole thing from afar smiled proudly, “I can’t believe you just managed that” Nami exclaimed beside her “I’ve been playing cupid with those two for months!” The dark haired woman giggled

“Sometimes you just have to be patient”

Let’s just say Robin had to wait a really long while to taste that apple juice.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Ngl I love this I had so much fun writing it I might post more about them two make it a series idk lmk what you think

[tommygunnsz13la]

Looking for a thin sexxxy lustful tigress to smoke my amazing clear...if you are in 805 818 or 310 meet me if you think we can set the world on🌟🔥🌋🌤️