#so you thought maybe the caribbean father would come out in him and he’d just wear linen pants for 5 days LMFAOO

[miekasa]

levi's open hatred towards him wearing shorts would be so funny lmao. and maybe it'd be particularly triggered one day when his laundry machine is broken or something and so the only pants he has left (in the middle of winter, btw) are some knee length shorts neatly tucked away in the depths of his wardrobe (he doesn't even know why he has them or put them there at all, instead of just giving them to charity or putting them in a storage box).

Okay I said this a while back but when Levi is on vacation, he acts the fuck up and that includes wearing shorts you swear to god you didn’t not even know he owned LMFAOOO. The man you know to religiously own 1792 pairs of pants in varying textures is suddenly on the beach in salmon colored shorts?? Is kicking back in a lounge chair in swim trunks (mimosa in hand)?? He’s climbing trees and going on morning runs along the beach and once he even went down to the lobby—indoors—to ask for extra toothpaste, all wearing shorts. Truly an incredible sight, and one you will rarely see again once your vacation is over.

[newtonsheffield]

Hey, Molly!! Role reversed Benophie as Willabeth AU how 'bout THAT? As in Benedict as Elizabeth and Sophie as Will

You have some nerve showing up here with an ask like this. My word.

Literally couldn't help myself. I'm such a Sucker for Willabeth and teenage Molly was the HUGEST Pirates of The Caribbean fan. Like, to the point where my Mum confiscated the DVDs for a short period of time. And, if anyone's wondering, yes. Kate saying "At least once more." in Menace was a POTC reference.

Okay!

Maybe it was selfish, because many a boy of 18 would be thrilled to be out on the open water with his father and brother, but Benedict had always hated it. Hated being trapped on the boat, nowhere to go, nothing to do but listen to Anthony talk about what an excellent naval Captain he'd be one day and complain about the girl who had stood on his foot at a dance 3 weeks ago. A menace apparently, was Kate, though both Benedict and their father had both noticed that every time she'd been in the vicinity since, Anthony seemed to be glued to her side.

"I'm not in love with her, I barely know her. I just think she's very witty and intelligent." Anthony was scoffing now, with a soft little sigh. Benedict rolled his eyes, sliding away from his brother, further down the ship, watching the seagulls fly by in the open sky, watching seaweed float past him, barely noticing Anthony mutter, "Maybe when we get back next week, I could ask her to promenade with me." as some driftwood floated by. The water seemed to be giving it an odd, smouldering appearance, smoke drifting off it. Benedict leaned further over the side of the ship, desperately curious suddenly. And then he saw her.

A girl, not much younger than him, maybe his sister Daphne's age was lying on a piece of driftwood, her blonde hair strewn about her as she floated from the wreck of a ship he could see in the distance. fire licking at the destroyed hull. "FATHER!" Benedict roared, his father's head shooting towards him, serious suddenly after having been rolling his eyes at his elder son for the last few minutes, alert at the sound of Benedict's distressed voice. "Father, there's a girl in the water we have to help her!" panic clawing at Benedict's chest, at the sight of the girl, her eyes still closed. And the oddest feeling of desperation washed over him as he watched his father firmly commanding men into the water after her. Please let her not be dead. The words echoed in his mind as Mr Milton passed the girl over the railing, Benedict reaching out to take her before he could stop himself. and suddenly, he was looking into a pair of deep green eyes, wide with panic, her breath coming in odd gasps, and his heart stuttered.

"You're alright, you're safe now. I'm Benedict, what's your name?" He said softly as he sat her against the railing. The girl looked curiously at him for several seconds before whispering: "Sophie Beckett." Silence stretching out between them for several seconds. Before his father cleared his throat. "Well, Miss Beckett, why don't you come with me, and we'll get you dried off." Captain Bridgerton said softly, Sophie's eyes widening again, looking to Benedict in panic. "It's alright," He said again softly, and Sophie stood, allowing herself to be pulled away. It was only after she was gone, that he looked down and saw, where she'd been sitting, an odd necklace. Gold, with a woman's face engraved on it. Pirates. His gaze followed Sophie nervously, and then, he placed the medallion in his own pocket.

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

Sophie Beckett stood nervously outside Bridgerton House as the carriages filtered past on the street, the dress box clutched in her hands as she waited for the Butler to show her inside. Calm Down Sophie, He might not be here. Sophie hissed at herself as the door opened. "Ahh Miss Beckett, The Captain's wife is expecting you. I've been told you know the way." He said, stepping back, and allowing her inside. Sophie forced a smile, despite the nerves flickering in her stomach. "Yes, Thank you Mr. Montrose." She said, her voice echoing through the entrance hall as she made her way up the staircase.

She'd been here so many times in the 5 years since they'd pulled her from the wreckage on the ship she'd travelled from France on. And the Bridgertons had been so kind to her. Captain Bridgerton the elder had made enquiries after her family, to no avail, as Sophie had expected. And Mrs Bridgerton had secured her current position as an apprentice Dressmaker, though everyone knew Sophie did all the work anyway.

"Sophie!" A familiar voice called out interrupting her stream of thought, and Sophie's heart stuttered as she turned towards him.Yes, The Bridgertons had been so much kinder to her than she had any right to expect, and this was how she repaid them; By being hopelessly in love with their son. He was grinning at her from the doorway, his eyes sparkling up at her position on the staircase. The same eyes that had haunted her dreams for the last five years. "Mr Bridgerton." Sophie forced herself to say politely, with a curtsy. Benedict frowned "How many times must I ask you to call me Benedict?" Sophie's heart ached. "At least once more, Mr Bridgerton, as always." Propriety used like a weapon against her feelings creating distance. Benedict sighed, shaking his head.

"Who do I have to thank for the pleasure of your company this morning?" His smile was back now, and so was Sophie's skipping heartbeat. "I'm delivering Kate's-Mrs. Bridgerton's Dress for Captain Bridgerton's commendation." Formal, Polite. Detatched. "So you can call Kate by her name but not me, poor show Sophie." He took a step towards her. Sophie's breath caught in her chest. "It's hardly the same." Her voice was strained, choked. Benedict rolled his eyes. "I had a dream about you last night." Sophie's heart stopped, this was straying into ver perilous territory. "Do you-?"

"Benedict, have you nothing better to do but distract Sophie from her job?" Kate's voice teased down the stairs at her brother in law who laughed, stepping back. "Ahhh Kate, I'm afraid not, but alas, I will allow her to leave my company." He teased back at his brother's wife, and then he turned back to Sophie, a startling look in his eye, his voice rough. "Good Day, Miss Beckett." A small bow as he turned to walk away. "Good day, Benedict." She whispered after him

There is never gonna be any more of this but what a thrill it gave me

[ssadumba55]

Family Isn’t Blood (Fatherly! Jack Sparrow X Reader)

Request: Hello i have an requests for pirates of Caribbean. Can you do one when reader is lik 16 and have no parents and a crew in Jack sparrow ship and he is like a father fiquer to her and she isl like a daughter to him but she is always mean toward him and once jack got in troble and she tried very hard to save him and succes and he is like teasing her about it. Sorry if its to long and its ok if you dont like it

 A/N: Probably super out of character, but I kind of like how it turned out so.

Growing up had been rough. You’d never had a place to call your own, as far as you could remember. Your parents had died when you were young, leaving you to fend for yourself and you had been on your own ever since. There was no sympathy in the world for a poor orphan child like you. Every day was spent trying to earn your keep, never staying too long in one place.

Then you bumped into Jack Sparrow.

It had been a complete accident. You were working on some of the ships in the dock, struggling to carry something probably, when his ship pulled into the dock. Ships were always pulling into the dock, you didn’t even look up from your work until, of course, he was right beside you trying to get you to tell him where things were in your little village.

“Please, can’t you see I’m trying to work?” You asked, slightly annoyed as you tied what felt like your hundredth knot that day. He looked around, then back at you.

“You’re a little young to be working in any capacity,” he pointed out. He wasn’t wrong but you were tired and stressed after a lot of work that day.

You picked up a box from beside one of the ships. “I’m thirteen, work is all I have, sir. Now can you please leave and get drunk somewhere else? I’m working here.”

Something about you intrigued the pirate that day, though you had never figured out what exactly it was. Some of the crew speculated it was probably the fact you reminded him a lot of himself, out fending for yourself. The world was a dangerous place on your own, nobody knew that better than Captain Jack Sparrow. He offered you a place on his ship, work that you could do with ease and a place you could basically call your home.

Maybe it wasn’t a traditional home that stayed in one place, but you didn’t mind. You could see the world and never even have to leave the deck.

Of course, you would never admit that to him. Sure, he had shown you a great kindness by letting you stay on his ship, but you didn’t need his help. If he hadn’t come along, you would’ve been just fine on your own. Plus, he was a drunk and he was always getting into trouble. You’d never spoken so much as a kind word to him since you’d stepped foot on the deck of the Black Pearl. There was no need. He knew you were thankful, and you knew you didn’t need to say it.

But now you were at a crossroads. It had been three years since Jack had taken you under his wing, even though you wouldn’t exactly call it that. You were pacing the deck of the ship, every now and then looking up to shore and scowling slightly. He had promised he wouldn’t be long, but he hadn’t been back for hours.

There were few redeeming qualities about Jack Sparrow, but he was usually a man of his word, no matter how bizarre that word was. He wasn’t off somewhere getting drunk and losing track of time, there was definitely something wrong. But the crew didn’t seem to think so, which left you in an odd predicament.

You could go to shore and drag him back yourself or wait and potentially risk getting caught yourselves by whatever had your captain.

“Captains orders, he told us all to stay put.” Gibbs watched you as you walked around the ship, grabbing things you might need and got ready to head to shore.

“Yeah, well he’s not here, is he? You stay here, just in case he does come back, but I’m going up there to grab him myself.”

You didn’t say what was unspoken. Jack Sparrow was the closest thing to a father figure you’d ever had, even though he was far from being the best one. He’d taught you mostly everything you knew about being on the seas. This wasn’t just a rescue mission so you could get back to moving, this was a rescue mission to save what little family you had left. You couldn’t be on your own anymore, no matter how much you hated to admit that.

There was definitely something off as you slowly slunk your way through the little town you’d stopped by. Everything was quiet, which was typical for this hour, but it still felt eerie. You spent a lot of time wandering, not knowing where you were going. Where had that stupid pirate gotten himself stuck now? You pushed a door open to escape some guards walking your way and turned, realizing you’d entered some sort of jail. There were cells and they were all full. They didn’t even look up as you walked by, eying them uneasily and gripping onto your rucksacks strap tighter.

“… There has to be another way out of here.” You mumbled, but there was nothing as far as you could see besides cells. There were so many cells, though the number of people inside each was quickly diminishing. You wondered briefly if this was where you’d end up if found here.

“(Y/n)!” A familiar voice called, and you whipped around, studying the cells closely. There was nobody there. You turned around to keep going when you heard it again. “Oh, come on, (Y/n).”

“Who said that?” You pulled out a dagger from your sheath, it was the only weapon you’d been able to find on such notice on the decks of the Pearl. You held it out in front of you, walking slowly back the way you came. As you walked, slowly and cautiously, a hand darted out to grab your wrist.

“Not sure what yer hoping to do with that,” the voice chuckled, amused and you let out a yelp, dropping the dagger. You looked up, glaring at Jack Sparrow as he leaned casually against the bars of his cell, flashing you a winning smile.

You let out an annoyed noise, bending down to pick your dagger up. “That’s not funny, Sparrow,” you snapped, tucking the dagger away.

“Not even a little?” He asked, grinning. You tried not to let your anger get the better of you. You were here to rescue him not kill him, though that was getting harder by the second.

Immediately, you bent down to get a good look at the lock that was holding him in his cell, ignoring any comments he made about enjoying his time in the cell. There had been a time where you had needed to know locks and how to pick them, it was the only you could get food. Though you were out of practice, you could still remember what you needed to do.

Reaching into your pocket for something to pick the lock, you found what you needed and set to work. He was quiet now; you could feel his eyes watching you as you worked on the lock. Even with his stare, you didn’t falter. You couldn’t falter. This was depending on you and you were going to give it your all.

The lock let out a click and you grabbed it, throwing it to the side. Pulling on the bars, they came open with ease and you tucked away your lockpick for future use, grateful that you’d still remembered how to use it. You gestured with your arms grandiosely, letting him know he could walk forward and join you.

He did, swaying slightly and you knew he was drunk. You didn’t say anything, but you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him the way you’d come, three years on the sea had made you slightly stronger than you’d been before. There was no place for weak, scrawny people on the Black Pearl.

“Ye came back for me,” he smirked, looking at you slyly from the corner of his eye. You scoffed and shook your head.

“The crew was worried. I was tired of hearing them whine so I’m doing something about it.”

“That’s not the only reason ye’re here, admit it.”

You could smell the alcohol on his breath and wrinkled your nose, but he was right. You paused. He stood there swaying and you stared ahead, at the door that would lead you back out into the little town. You felt tears threatening to fall, since when had you been about to cry?

You were only a kid, you reminded yourself, a kid forced to grow up way too soon.

“Fine, alright. I care, is that what you want to hear?” You asked, wiping your eyes before the tears fall, not wanting them to leave tear tracks. “You and the crew are the closest things I have to a family and I can’t lose another family. So just. Get your shit together.”

You grabbed his arm again and kept dragging him. No more words were exchanged the rest of the way back to the ship. He set sail immediately and you sat on the edge, looking down into the water. Somedays, when you weren’t feeling great, you’d contemplate jumping in and joining your parents. You don’t know why you never did.

“They’d be proud of you.” It was as if he could read your thoughts, he leaned against the ship’s edge beside you. You laughed bitterly.

“How would you know?”

There was a moment of silence, which made you inwardly snort. Of course, he was just saying that to make you feel better. He didn’t actually believe it.

“Because I know you and if they’re anything like ye, then they would be proud of who ye’d become. Also, because I’m proud of ye. Ye didn’t have to come back and save me, ya know?” He took a swig from the bottle of what you could only assume was rum. You felt your face heat up.

He wasn’t your parents and he could never replace them, what you’d lost was the chance of a normal life. The chance to grow up with love and support, to actually experience the joy of being a child. But, as he stepped away from the side of the ship, heading back to the steering wheel that Gibbs was managing in his stead, you had to admit to yourself; there were far worse ways to spend the rest of your days than by Jack Sparrow’s side.

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Eight

Read it on AO3: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Eight: Friends

“Nino! Marinette!” Adrien shouted, grinning like a madman as he darted across the study and threw his arms around his two closest friends.

“Adrien!” they chorused, wrapping him in bear hugs of their own.

“I can’t tell you how much I missed you guys,” Adrien whispered into Nino’s neck, squeezing them both tighter as he remembered how he had longed for his friends while he’d been away.

“Not as much as we missed you,” Nino assured.

Marinette gave a snort. “Speak for yourself. You just had to guard him. I had to dress him. Do you know how hard it is to keep this boy looking presentable?” she laughed. “He either rips or stains everything within a week of owning it. He’s impossible.”

Nino clicked his tongue. “You think dressing him is hard? You should try keeping him from getting himself killed. How do you think his clothes get ruined so regularly?”

“…Point,” Marinette conceded.

Adrien pulled back to pout at his friends. “Complain all you want, but I bet you’ve both been bored with me gone.”

Marinette and Nino shared a conspiring glance and burst out laughing.

“Guilty,” Marinette admitted. “The break was nice, but I’m ecstatic to be back in work…starting with your wedding-slash-coronation outfit!” she squealed in delight, colours and fabrics and patterns beginning to flow through her head.

“Speaking of which…” Nino tipped his head in order to look past Adrien at Luka. “I’m guessing this is your kelpie heartthrob ‘Orpheus’?”

Marinette smirked, breaking away from the boys to slowly approach Luka. “Hi. I’m Marinette. I’m sure he’s mentioned me.”

“He has,” Luka chuckled, standing and going to meet the enchanting seamstress. “It sounds like he mentioned me too.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Please. I only had to listen to him whine and mope about his supposedly ‘unrequited’ love for you for two months.”

“Marinette,” Adrien groaned, releasing his hold on Nino to go stop Marinette from further embarrassing him.

Luka quirked an eyebrow at his husband. “Two months, My Love? You sure fell for me quickly.”

“Like, the second he saw you,” Nino snickered, coming over to join the others.

“Et tu, Nino?” Adrien hissed accusatorily.

Nino shrugged.

Adrien turned his pout on Luka. “I was a mess.”

“You’re still a mess,” Luka chuckled, leaning in to give Adrien’s cheek an affectionate lick. “And I love you.”

“Aww,” Marinette cooed. “See, Adrien? I told you he was into you.”

“I told him that first,” Nino grumbled. “I’m the one who told him to go for it.”

Marinette waved Nino’s protests away. “I’m the one who helped him practice confessing because it made you too flustered when he practiced confessing to you.”

“Nette,” Nino hissed. “Stop. You’re going to give the guy’s husband the wrong idea.”

Luka snickered. “I actually came to the wrong conclusion all on my own when he told me he was in love with someone. I thought he was talking about you.” He tipped his head to indicate Nino.

Nino turned to glare blandly at Adrien. “Dude. How did you screw up the confession that badly that he didn’t even know who you were talking about?”

“We spent hours practicing, Adrien,” Marinette added, putting on a miffed, disappointed expression.

“In my defence, I was kind of distraught because my father had just told me I had to marry a woman I didn’t love,” Adrien whined as his friends ganged up on him.

Nino and Marinette both shook their heads unsympathetically, not letting up.

“That’s no excuse,” Nino sighed, hands going to his hips as he clicked his tongue in feigned disapproval.

Adrien crossed his arms over his chest, turning up his nose and looking away. “I don’t know why I missed you two so much. You’re both mean. My new fae friends are a lot nicer.”

“No, they’re not,” Luka snickered. “Kim and Alix regularly bully you. That’s why they’re your favourites.”

“Rose is my favourite,” Adrien corrected with a fond smile. “But, yeah. Giving each other trouble is how Nino, Marinette, and I show that we love one another, so Alix and Kim reminded me a lot of the things I missed from my old life.”

“Well, we’re glad that we count among the good things,” Nino replied, giving Adrien’s arm a pat.

“And we’re glad things have been going well for you since you left too,” Marinette added. “We kept hoping that you were happy wherever you were.”

Adrien’s face fell as a realization struck him square in the stomach. “…I didn’t say goodbye. …I didn’t tell you where I was going. Guys, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think…” He looked away. “Well, I mean, I did think about it after the fact when I’d been gone a few weeks, but…I didn’t dare come back. I—”

“—Adrien,” Nino cut him off gently. “It’s fine. We kind of figured where you’d gone.”

Adrien looked back and forth between his two friends. “You didn’t worry?”

“We did,” Marinette confessed. “A little bit, but not much. Like Nino said, we guessed that you’d run off with your Orpheus, and, wherever you were, we knew you’d probably be happier than you were here.”

Adrien blushed, looking down at his feet in a mix of guilt and shame. “I was. I’m really, really happy with Luc and his family. I feel like I’ve finally found the place I’m meant to be…the person I want to work towards becoming. I’m really happy in the enchanted forest.”

“Good,” Nino responded warmly, giving Adrien’s arm a supportive squeeze. “Maybe send us an ‘I’m not dead’ message next time…but good. I’m really glad that you found your place, Man.”

“Me too,” Marinette seconded.

“I’d love to show you my home.” Adrien perked up. “And introduce you to my new friends.”

He turned to Marinette. “You’ll love my sister-in-law Rose. She’s the sweetest, funniest person. And Mylène and Max and Ondine. And Alya.”

He looked to Nino. “I have got to introduce you to Alya. She’s a fox spirit who’s really fascinated with human affairs. She comes into the city a lot to people watch. I bet she would love some humans to talk to and ask questions.”

Adrien stopped abruptly, turning to his husband. “Orpheus, would it be okay for Marinette and Nino to visit me, or would they just wind up getting killed? Everyone back in the woods is perfectly civil with me, but…”

Luka pursed his lips as he considered the scenario. “I’d have to consult with Maman, but I think it might be okay if it’s just a short visit. Maybe a few hours tops. And they’d have to be chaperoned at all times.”

“Is it really so dangerous?” Nino inquired, quirking an eyebrow dubiously. “Adrien’s not in danger, is he?”

“No,” Luka quickly assured. “Adrien is fine. He’s protected, and the people mostly adore him. He’s a member of our community now. The forest is deadly to outsiders, though, so it would be unwise for either of you to waltz in unaccompanied. My people can be cruel and senselessly violent.”

Nino hummed curiously. “…Sorry if this is rude, but you don’t really look…threatening.”

“I was actually thinking the same thing,” Marinette sheepishly admitted. “You just look like a regular person.”

Luka snorted in laughter. “That would be the glamour you’re seeing. …Shall I drop it?”

Nino looked to Adrien. “Is he scary or something? I thought you told me he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.”

Adrien shook his head. “Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it. He’s ethereal.”

Marinette addressed Luka tentatively. “Do you mind, Luc? Sorry. We don’t mean to treat you like a curiosity. We—”

In the blink of an eye, Luka’s black hair was replaced by pale blue, and his eyes seemed to give off a Caribbean teal glow. The entirety of his being seemed to shimmer a bit, like sunlight reflecting off of a lake.

“Oh, wow,” Marinette gasped. “You…wow.”

“Yeah,” Nino gulped. “Wow is…” He turned to Adrien, whispering sotto voce, “Do all fae look that pretty?”

“Not all of them,” Adrien chuckled, amused by his friends’ reactions. “I’ve met a lot of attractive people in the forest, though.”

Luka’s eyes narrowed in displeasure and suspicion. “Like who? Kim?”

“Easy,” Adrien snickered, turning to face Luka and looping his arms around Luka’s waist. “No one is even half as attractive as you.”

Luka smiled into the kiss as Adrien pressed his lips to Luka’s in a vow of fidelity.

“Yeah, it’s highly unlikely Adrien will stray,” Nino testified. “He’s very loyal and takes matters of the heart incredibly seriously.”

“And he doesn’t fall in love easily,” Marinette agreed, nodding along to Nino’s points.

Luka arched an eyebrow at a blushing Adrien. “He doesn’t? I thought you two said he fell for me on sight.”

“Yeah, but that was the first and only time in nineteen years,” Marinette explained, waving away any concerns Luka might have. “And it’s not like it was for want of suitors. He grew up around plenty of pretty young nobles.”

Adrien’s face burned redder as Luka looked at him in astonishment, whispering, “I’m your first love?”

“First, last, and only,” Adrien mumbled, averting his gaze to help himself feel less transparent.

Luka wrapped his arms around Adrien as he gave him an affectionate squeeze. “I may have had other loves, but you’re the first person to turn my world upside down and wreck me. I had to update my definition of the word love when I met you.”

“I accept your attempts to butter me up,” Adrien chuckled, turning his head to press a kiss to Luka’s cheek.

“Aww,” Nino cooed. “Why can’t I meet someone who says sweet crap like that to me?”

“Maybe things will take a romantic turn between you and Adrien’s fox friend,” Marinette snickered.

Nino hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. All I know is that I need to find someone to be that disgustingly cute with as soon as possible.”

“You two are adorable,” Marinette confirmed. “I can tell you’ve been really good for him,” she informed Luka with a tone of gratitude. “Just seeing him talking in that meeting earlier was a positive change.”

Luka arched an eyebrow, looking back and forth between Adrien and Marinette. “Really? He didn’t seem any different than usual to me.”

“Mec, the way he shut Viscount Raincomprix down when he was disrespecting you?” Nino had to try hard to contain another giggle fit as he called up the memory. “Nice spine, Your Majesty,” Nino chuckled, giving Adrien’s arm an appreciative punch. “It suits you.”

Adrien rubbed at the back of his neck. “As much as I’ve wanted to put those three blowhards in their place my entire life, I think I may have gone a bit too far. Viscount Raincomprix has been kind to me in the past, and I think I owe him an apology. He really looked shaken when I told him off.”

“I think that was mostly due to your eyes glowing like that,” Marinette weighed in.

“Yeah,” Nino agreed. “That was, perhaps, a bit much. It was super cool, though.”

Adrien blinked at his friends dumbly. “What are you guys talking about?”

Nino and Marinette shared a look.

“When your eyes were all molten and glow-y,” Nino clarified slowly, looking at Adrien expectantly.

Adrien turned to Luka. “Do you know what they’re talking about?”

Luka bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding his mate’s gaze. “…Your eyes may have started to glow whenever you’re experiencing intense emotions,” he reluctantly admitted.

“What?!” Adrien demanded, gaping at his husband incredulously. “Since when?! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Luka winced, shoulders rising up to meet his ears as he shamefacedly confessed, “It started a couple months ago. I asked Maman, and it’s completely benign, and I thought it would only upset you, so I didn’t say anything.”

“I feel like…this is the kind of thing you mention?” Adrien choked, voice high and tight as he collapsed back down onto the couch.

“Dri, I’m sorry,” Luka cooed, sitting next to Adrien and tentatively cupping his cheek. “I should have said something, but I didn’t want to upset you when there was nothing we could do about it and it wasn’t hurting anything.”

“Well,” Adrien responded quietly, “I’m upset now…sort of.”

He took a deep breath and turned his gaze on his husband. “I’m more upset that you didn’t tell me than anything. Since when do we keep secrets from one another?”

Luka looked away, cowed. “We don’t,” he whispered penitently. “I’m so sorry, My Little Prince.”

Adrien leaned in to give Luka’s cheek a lick of forgiveness. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t. I promise,” Luka swore.

Satisfied, Adrien nodded, looking to Nino. “Does it at least look cool, or am I just terrifying?”

“I thought it was cool,” Marinette volunteered, going to sit in the armchair that Nathalie had recently vacated.

“Totally cool,” Nino affirmed, taking the other chair. He looked at Luka. “Can he do anything else?”

Adrien’s eyes narrowed at his mate.

Luka laughed, shaking his head. “Not at this point. Just the glowing eyes. Maybe in a few years new powers will manifest. I don’t personally know any other humans who have lived long-term among the fair folk, so I’m not quite sure what to expect, but this is hardly a unique situation. My people have been adopting mortals for centuries, so Adrien is hardly the first.”

“Something to look forward to, I suppose? Random new features,” Adrien sighed. “I mean, if these changes aren’t going to hurt anything, that’s fine, but…” He shifted uncomfortably.

“You’re upset,” Luka surmised, his mood plummeting.

Adrien shook his head, trying to reassure his mate. “No. Not really. Just…I felt like I had finally found my place, like I was getting my feet underneath me. …But since learning of my father’s death, it’s like I’ve been on shifting ground, and this is just one more thing to get used to. I’ll manage, but…I’m feeling a little overwhelmed today.”

“Understandably so,” Luka replied, slipping his arm around Adrien and resting his head against his mate’s. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen.”

“Maybe just a break. A little joviality?” Adrien suggested, looking around at his spouse and his friends. “Nino. Say something funny.”

Nino balked. “What? On command? Adrien, I’m not the court jester. I can’t just say witty things at the drop of a hat.”

“I don’t know,” Marinette snickered. “You do a pretty good job of playing the fool any other time.”

Nino gasped, feigning indignation. “Adrien, do you hear what this mean, spiteful woman is saying about me? Defend my honor or something already.”

“Marinette, it is rather mean to say that to his face,” Adrien attempted to admonish with a straight face but ended up chuckling, ruining the effect.

“What can I say?” She grinned. “Real friends stab you in the front.”

“Thanks,” Nino replied dryly. “I really appreciate that….” He perked up after a beat. “…Say, why don’t we talk about Adrien’s adventures in fairy land? That should be fun, right? Tell us about all the weird stuff,” Nino urged, turning to Adrien with wide, hopeful eyes.

Marinette started to bounce in her seat in excitement. “What are the clothes like? Tell me all about fae fashion.”

Adrien acquiesced, sharing his impressions of his experiences as Marinette and Nino asked probing questions for nearly half an hour.

Luka mostly just listening, fascinated by Adrien’s perspective on things. He did, occasionally, field a few questions himself or add some clarification on things that Adrien was unsure about.

They eventually came to discuss Luka and Adrien’s fae wedding ceremony, and that led Marinette (after she had pumped them both dry of information) to remark, “You know, I should really get to work on the outfits for tomorrow’s wedding-slash-coronation. I have less than twenty-four hours, and, even if I pull an all-nighter, it’s going to be intense.”

She pursed her lips and studied Adrien. “Your father had actually instructed me to begin preparations of your wedding clothes before you left, and he had me continue work in the hopes that you would be found in time to marry on schedule, so I already have an outfit prepared for you. I just need to make alterations…unless you want a new outfit specifically for your marriage to Luc? Either way is fine.”

She tipped her head to the side and awaited his response.

He waved the idea away. “I’m sure that whatever you already have made is perfect, Marinette. We’ll just need something for Luc.”

Marinette hesitated before inquiring, “Would it be okay if I took your measurements, Luc? It’ll be real quick.”

Luka shrugged nonchalantly. “Whatever’s necessary. Did you mean now, or…?”

“I actually have my tape measure with me, so…” she informed, smiling sheepishly as she pulled it out of her belt.

Luka shrugged again, untangling himself from Adrien and standing up. “Let’s do it, then. How do you want me?”

Nino snorted, muttering, “That’s what he said.”

Adrien rolled his eyes at his best friend. “Stop thinking indecent thoughts about my husband.”

Nino put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Hey, Man. It’s not my fault that your husband is hot.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Adrien purred, admiring the view as Luka walked past.

Marinette motioned for Luka to come over closer to the fireplace where the light was better. “…Nino’s thinking it, so I’m just going to ask: Who tops?”

Nino clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out in astounded giggles.

“Marinette,” Adrien whined, face going phoenix red.

Luka smirked puckishly. “Mostly him, but we experiment according to whatever feels right in the moment.”

“Orpheuuuuus,” Adrien hissed in mortification.

Luka clicked his tongue even as he held still so that Marinette could take her measurements. “No need to be embarrassed, My Love. Is it not acceptable in your culture to talk about one’s love life?”

“Adrien is just sheltered,” Nino assured. “Please go on.”

“Is he a good lover?” Marinette inquired, sticking her tongue out at Adrien who let out a horrified squeal.

“Very,” Luka snickered. “In all the ways that really matter. He’s enthusiastic but attentive, adventurous but—”

“—Luuuc,” Adrien wailed. “Please stop. This really isn’t funny.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nino cackled. “I’m having a great time.”

“I hate you,” Adrien informed sulkily.

“Hey, Marinette’s the one over there pretty much begging for a demonstration,” Nino kindly threw his friend under the bus.

Luka choked on a laugh, the convulsion interrupting Marinette in the middle of her measurement so that she had to restart that portion.

“Be nice, Nino,” Marinette grumbled, suddenly losing her good humor.

Nino immediately sobered, backing off with a muttered, “Sorry, Nette.”

Marinette nodded mutely, pointedly focusing on the work at hand.

There was a tense silence hovering in the air until Nino got up and went over to sit on the sofa next to Adrien. The two cuddled up like puppies, and Nino recommenced catching up with his friend, sharing details from his own life that Adrien had missed in his absence.

Luka was content to listen as he watched Marinette at her work. He caught her looking over to the couch several times, a warm, affectionate, and yet melancholy quality to her gaze.

Luka’s eyes narrowed as he determined that she was sneaking looks at Adrien, and a cold realization turned Luka’s blood to cement.

“Forgive me for asking,” he whispered so softly that Nino and Adrien couldn’t hear over their own conversation. “but there wouldn’t happen to be something between you and Adrien, would there?”

Marinette gave a start, her fingers slipping, losing their place on the measuring tape.

“Sorry,” Luka quickly backpedaled. “It’s none of my business. It’s just the way you were looking at him, I…”

“O-Oh.” She nervously cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “No. No, it’s fine. I…It’s nothing, honestly. Nothing you need to be concerned about, anyway. It’s all in the past,” she confessed in a whisper. “You’d be hard pressed to find someone who hasn’t been in love with Adrien at some point or another. I fell for him when I was thirteen, but…”

She paused, shaking her head and remeasuring from Luka’s hip to his shoulder. “I long ago came to terms with the fact that even if I had been born of his social station and become his wife, he would never feel for me the way that I used to feel for him. I was the first person he told about his attraction to men, and, after that, I promised myself that I wouldn’t allow myself to be miserable because of him. I also promised to do everything in my power to help him find happiness, so…”

She looked up at him, meeting Luka’s heavenly blue eyes with her marine ones, a fierce determination glowing from within. “I have never seen him as happy as he’s been since falling in love with you. Looking at him now, it makes my heart almost want to burst. I’m feeling a little nostalgic,” she admitted with a soft smile as she went back to taking measurements, “but I’ve moved on. I have someone wonderful in my life, so I have my own happiness. I don’t begrudge you yours, even though you have something I once wanted.”

“Good.” Luka breathed out his nerves. “You’re a very important friend to Adrien, and I wouldn’t want to be a cause of tension between you. You and Nino are extremely precious to him, and I don’t want to cause problems.”

Marinette shook her head, assuring, “You have nothing to worry about on my account.”

She raised her voice and added, “Nino is the one still hopelessly in love with Adrien. He’s the one you should worry about.”

Nino’s head snapped up, and he glared at his friend. “Nette, are you trying to make the king’s kelpie husband jealous so that he kills me or something? I am not in love with Adrien. Things are strictly platonic between us.”

Luka couldn’t help a stifled snicker. “Says the guy with my mate half in his lap.”

Adrien pressed the heel of his hand to his lips to keep in his own giggles at Nino’s expense.

“This is platonic snuggling,” Nino insisted, affronted by the accusation. “Do the fae not snuggle with friends?”

“Yes,” Luka conceded, “but are you trying to tell me that there’s nothing sexual about two guys on a couch with their limbs all entwined like that? This feels suspect to me.”

“Completely platonic,” Nino reasserted.

“Come on, Nino,” Marinette teased. “You know you would die for him.”

“Platonically!” Nino denied. “I’m his guard. It’s what guards do.”

Marinette turned to Luka with a cat-like smirk. “Nino was Adrien’s first kiss.”

“False!” Nino exclaimed, tan complexion going latte light as the blood drained from his face.

“Actually, Marinette was my first kiss,” Adrien finally spoke up in Nino’s defence.

Luka cocked an accusatory eyebrow at Marinette who grinned nervously.

“I told her about my suspicions that I was gay and asked if I could run an experiment to see if I felt anything when I kissed her,” Adrien explained, his cheeks colouring in shame.

“He told me that if there were any girl he could come to have feelings for, it would be me,” Marinette snickered, shaking her head. “The silver-tongued snake.”

Luka whistled, shooting Adrien an incredulous expression. “It sounds like my little prince was quite the cad as a youth.”

“Guilty,” Adrien groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I was confused, and I didn’t know who else to turn to. And I wholeheartedly believed what I said. I just didn’t realize yet that being gay wasn’t something you could ‘fix’ like my parents insisted, so… I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“—Shh,” Nino interrupted, gently prying Adrien’s hands away from his face. “No one’s mad at you. Nette and I both enjoyed helping you out with your experiments. No harm done. We’re all just joking. Okay?”

Adrien looked from Marinette to Nino to Luka, and they each nodded.

Adrien blew out a slow breath, beginning to nod as well. “…Okay. Good. I just…still feel bad about that period when I was trying to figure myself out. I did some things I’m not proud of.”

“Shhh.” Nino pulled Adrien in closer for a hug as he called to the others, “You two get over here and snuggle too.”

Marinette tucked away her measuring tape and went at once to squeeze in on the sofa on Adrien’s opposite side, wrapping her arms around Adrien and Nino, assuring, “There’s nothing to feel bad about. No one’s hurt. Nothing’s broken.”

Luka came up along the back side of the couch and leaned over to nuzzle Adrien’s hair. “Listen to your friends, My Love. They’ve already forgiven whatever needed to be forgiven.”

“Thanks, guys,” Adrien whispered, letting go of his worries.

They remained in their cuddle pile in comfortable, warm silence for nearly a full minute before Marinette spoke.

“Wanna hear a secret?”

“What secret?” Adrien responded curiously.

“I’m seeing someone,” Marinette confessed tentatively, a giddy excitement bubbling just under the surface.

“Ah. Her imaginary boyfriend,” Nino snickered. “You’ve been on about him for years, Nette. Does mystery boy finally have a name or something?”

“Be nice,” Adrien chastened, giving Nino a light smack on the arm before turning his attention back to Marinette. “Is this the same guy you’ve mentioned before? Your mysterious nobleman?”

Marinette nodded shyly, taking a breath before announcing, “Her name is Kagami.”

Nino and Adrien’s jaws dropped.

Luka arched an eyebrow. “Is this the same Kagami that Adrien fences with?”

Marinette smiled nervously and nodded. “Yep. We’ve been together officially for three years now.”

“Holy crap,” Nino finally got out. “Nette, how the hell did you keep this a secret this long?”

Marinette shrugged. “People really aren’t as suspicious of two women spending a lot of time alone together as they would be a man and a woman. We used the pretext of me making clothes for her a lot in order to meet.”

Adrien blinked, still stunned at this revelation. “Wow…that’s…I’m really happy that you’ve found someone. That both you and Kagami are happy. I mean, besides my mothers, there’re no women I esteem higher than you two.”

“Thank you,” Marinette breathed in relief, feeling lighter now that she had the secret off of her chest.

Adrien bit his lip. “I just wish you had mentioned… I never suspected that you… Why did you never say anything? When I was busy lamenting my cursed fate to be alone and not know love my entire life, you could have said something,” he pressed, unable to hide the twinge of hurt in his voice.

Marinette shook her head. “I’m like Nino. I can be happy with a man or a woman, so no one ever had to know I wasn’t quote-unquote ‘normal’. My situation wasn’t like yours, so I didn’t feel I had any business making things about me when you were hurting so deeply.”

Adrien studied his friend intently for a long moment before sighing and resting his head on her shoulder. “…You still should have said something.”

She looked back and forth between Nino and Adrien before bowing her head, suitably chastened. “You’re right. I should have said something. There was never a good time, though, and then it felt like I couldn’t say anything because I’d waited too long.”

“Well, at least you’re telling us now,” Nino reasoned, giving Marinette’s arm a supportive pat. “Congrats. We’re happy for you.”

“I’m going to have to get to know Kagami better now,” Adrien hummed thoughtfully. “I thought I knew her, but I was obviously wrong.”

“She definitely has layers,” Marinette giggled.

Adrien tipped his head back and looked at Luka, still standing behind the sofa. “You’re not feeling left out, are you? I feel like we’re being exclusive.”

“You’re fine, My Love,” Luka chuckled, giving Adrien’s hair a loving pet. “I’m enjoying getting to see you with your friends. You know I’m an introvert and don’t necessarily need to be the center of the conversation.”

“Just let us know if we’re being too in-group-y,” Nino urged, giving Luka an amicable grin. “You’re family now, and we want you to feel welcome and comfortable with us.”

“What he said,” Marinette seconded.

“Thank you,” Luka replied earnestly, making his way over to the armchair closest to the fireplace. “But I promise you that I’m very low maintenance. Please continue your conversation. I don’t need to be included in everything so long as I eventually get my husband back from you to cuddle with him myself.”

“Cool,” Nino chuckled. “We can definitely agree to those terms.”

Silent snuggling continued for a few minutes until Marinette spoke up once more.

“Adrien, did I hear right? Did you make a royal decree legalizing same-sex marriage?” she inquired, holding her breath in anticipation.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, Nathalie took care of that earlier. She said that people would start announcing it right away, so the news should be getting out by now,” he confirmed.

Marinette gave a trill of joy. “I’m going to ask Kagami to marry me.”

“Dude, wait,” Nino insisted. “We haven’t even vetted her yet.”

Adrien elbowed Nino in the stomach. “That’s awesome, Marinette. You’ll have to let me know when the wedding will be so I can come back for the ceremony.”

Nino and Marinette blinked in tandem and then shared a look.

“Wait. What do you mean ‘come back’?” Nino asked slowly, a feeling of dread knotting the pit of his stomach. “Aren’t you…like…already back?”

Adrien winced.

Marinette’s joyful expression abruptly diminished as her forehead furrowed. “You’re not staying here, are you?”

Adrien shook his head.

“You’re going back to the forest,” Nino whispered as understanding dawned upon him.

Adrien nodded.

There was a heavy moment of silence.

“…How long do we have?” Marinette inquired, voice sounding brittle as she tried to mask her sadness and pain at the thought of losing her closest friend all over again. “How long before you go back?”

“I don’t know,” Adrien confessed. “Not long. I only returned because I feared that the kingdom would descend into chaos and dictatorship in my absence after my father’s sudden passing. I’ll stay until I see a peaceful transfer of power and feel confident that my people will be okay without me.”

“It sounds like we’ve still got some time, then,” Nino remarked, trying to be optimistic. “We should…We should make the most of it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Marinette whispered, snuggling in closer to Adrien.

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed, squeezing his friends tighter.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Skyline Manor by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 9/13

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Or on FF

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Chapter 9: Wasted Years and Endless torment

“Mom, I’m home.” Emma heard Henry from her room and walked quickly to the living room, her son came running, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I missed you so much.” He whispered and Emma looked up nervously at Neal. Henry rarely came home so emotional. He ran off to his room, shutting the door behind him.

“Uh, is everything alright with him?”

Neal shrugged. “I dunno, he’s been a bit quiet this weekend. I was going to ask you if something was going on here.”

“Why would you think something was going on here?”

“The kid mentioned your neighbor a lot. Thought perhaps you and Graham were having trouble.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “First off, my dating life is none of your business. Second, he’s friends with Killian. He likes talking about boats and sailing with him.”

“Yeah I heard he wrote his whole poem about him.” She could see the pout in his face. She knew that look, he was jealous of Killian.

“Well maybe if you spent less time in Barbados, he’d write a poem about you.” She shrugged.

“Yeah I kinda talked to him about that this weekend.” Emma’s brow raised. “Was thinking maybe he could spend more time at my place.” Emma stared at the man across the room, trying not to let her body language show her anger. They had tried this before and Henry had only gotten hurt when Neal would miss his visits, or not spend any time with him when he was there. Neal always ran off when things got real.

“Why don’t you try staying in town for a bit before we talk about visitation changes.”

“I told you, I had business in Barbados.”

“Red head or blonde this time? I can never keep up.”

“That’s not fair, I’m a grown man, I have needs, Emma.”

“Well until you learn to put Henry’s needs above yours, you get him one weekend a month.”

“That’s not fair.” He started to complain.

“Tell it to a judge, maybe you can explain exactly what your business is while you’re at it. I’m sure he’d like to hear all about it.”

He rolled his eyes and yanked the front door open. “You can’t keep him from me forever.” He argued as he stepped into the hall.

“The only person keeping you from a real relationship with Henry, is you, Neal.”

“You’re the reason he hates me.” He yelled and Emma stepped toward him.

“Henry doesn’t hate anyone, but if he doesn’t want to spend more time with you, maybe ask yourself if it’s something you’re doing that could be causing that.”

“Why do you always have to blame me when the kid gets emotional?”

“Because you’re usually the one being a dick head.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Good, then leave.” Emma yelled. She spun to head back to her apartment when she noticed Killian standing at his door at the other end of the hall. His face a mixture of anger and concern. She nodded to him and then stepped into her apartment, slamming the door in Neal’s face.

~*~

Killian grabbed his helmet as he headed out the door, only stopping when he heard loud voices in the hallway. He stepped out to lock his door and saw Neal standing in front of Emma’s door.

“You’re the reason he hates me.”

“Henry doesn’t hate anyone, but if he doesn’t want to spend more time with you, maybe ask yourself if it’s something you’re doing that could be causing that.”

Killian locked the door, trying not to eavesdrop further on the conversation, but the two continued their fight and he was afraid to move any further up the hall for fear of walking into the middle of the fight.

“Why do you always have to blame me when the kid gets emotional?”

Killian was starting to feel angry, listening to the man slinging crap at Emma. Obviously, the weekend with his father had not gone as well as he had hoped. He was concerned that it seemed like Henry was negatively effected by the visit with Neal.

“Because you’re usually the one being a dick head.”

Killian stifled a laugh, not wanting to make noise from his spot at the door.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Good, then leave.”

Emma sounded upset, her emotions boiling over and then she turned, and their eyes met. He should have stepped into his apartment but instead he was just standing there looking like an idiot at the end of the hall. She slammed the door behind her, and he started walking toward the man who had stormed toward the elevator. Stepping into the small box, he closed his eyes as the door shut.

“Are you fucking her?”

His eyes popped open. “Excuse me?”

“I can’t figure out why anyone would make friends with an eleven-year-old boy unless it was to get his mom in the sack.”

Killian was livid. “You think the only reason anyone would be interested in what your son had to say was if they were sleeping with his mother?”

“It’s not unheard of, look I don’t blame you, she’s a hot piece of ass, get it while you can. But leave my son out of it.”

“I beg your pardon; it just so happens that I am not sleeping with Emma. And your son is a very interesting kid. He has a lot of intuitive things to say, if you actually spent more than a minute talking to him.”

“Don’t lecture me about my kid.”

“Perhaps someone should.” He turned to face the man who was at least a head shorter than him and watched him cower away.

“Whatever, just don’t get what she sees in you.”

“I told you, Emma and I are not together. She’s my neighbor and I consider her a friend. Henry too.”

“Keep telling yourself that buddy.” The doors to the elevator opened and he sprinted quickly to his car. Killian just watched him leave, wondering what Emma had ever seen in the emotionally stunted man he had just spoken with.

“Unbelievable.” He grumbled to himself.

~*~

Henry spent the next few weeks hiding out in his room. He didn’t want to talk to his mom about spending more time with his dad. He avoided the conversation any time she brought it up. As far as he was concerned, once a month was more than he could handle. Instead, he focused on the fact that his mom and Killian had been acting strangely since he had returned home from his dad’s.

It wasn’t that they weren’t speaking, they spoke a lot when Henry was around. It was the moments when they didn’t realize he was watching them that told him something was up.

The first issue he noticed, was that when the two of them were mostly alone, they got quiet. In fact, he watched his mom navigate to the other side of the room when Killian had stayed for dinner the other night. Instead of taking the dishes to the kitchen after Killian entered, she suddenly needed to check on a noise she heard in the bathroom.

He also noticed that anytime Killian accidentally touched his mom, either her arm, or brushing against each other in the hall, he would jump and apologize to her. It was the weirdest thing, and he didn’t like it. It was like they were trying to stay away from each other, and that was the last thing he needed. Not if they were going to realize that they were each other’s true love.

Henry wasn’t sure at first, he had only hoped, but after the literacy fair, the way his mom and Killian had stared at each other over pizza, the way they started hanging out more, his mother’s special laugh she had just for Killian, Henry knew that Killian Jones was the one and only one for his mom.

Unfortunately, Graham wasn’t going anywhere, but that wasn’t going to stop Henry.

“So, I was wondering if you could watch Henry tonight, Graham wants to go out tomorrow night.” Will was sitting at the table as Emma put the dishes away.

“I wish I could, but I have plans.”

“Plans? With who?”

“Don’t make a big deal about it but I have a date.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide, “You have a date with who?”

“A girl. I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“I’m really happy for you Will. That’s great news.”

He blushed. “Thanks, it’s still new, been seeing her on and off the last couple of weeks, online mostly but she finally agreed to go out with me.”

“Well hopefully you won’t keep her a secret for too long.”

“Eh, yeah maybe.”

His mom looked at Henry and frowned. “Ruby has a date tomorrow too. I guess you’re coming with us.”

“What about Killian?” Henry offered.

“Oh. Well, I mean, I don’t know if he wants to stay in with a kid all night. He might have plans.” Henry rolled his eyes and stood up from the table.

“I’ll go ask him.”

“Henry…” Before she could say no, he ran out the door and sprinted down the hall, knocking on his door.

“Hey lad, come to see Smee?”

“Actually, I wanted to know if you could come over and watch a movie tomorrow with me. Maybe Pirates of the Caribbean?”

“Oh…”

“Sorry, I was going to come ask you, but this one…” Emma rushed up behind him and ruffled Henry’s hair. “Got too excited and beat me to it.”

“Ask me to watch a movie?”

“No, um, I have a dinner date.” His mom started before pausing. “With Graham and well, Ruby and Will both have date’s so they can’t stay with Henry.”

“I see, well, I’d be honored to spend time with the lad.”

Henry smiled widely, “Great.”

“I’m leaving at 6 so if you want to come over a little before I can give you the instructions.”

“Sure, no problem.”

Henry saw it again, the weird way Killian was looking at his mom, he could almost see the disappointment in his eyes that she was going on a date. He knew it, Killian liked his mom.

“Alright, well, we’ll just let you get back to whatever it is you were doing.”

“Sure, see you tomorrow, lad.”

“Bye Killian.”

Henry practically skipped back to his apartment. All he needed to do now was find a way to ruin his mom’s date so that she came home and spend time with Killian instead.

Captain Jones followed Emma into the darkened tunnel as they made their way back to the castle. They exited through a painting in the East Hall. As soon as they were inside the castle, Emma went in search of a person she swore would be able to assist in the quest to find not only Baelfire, but now her son, Henry.

Turning a corner, they came face to face with the King who was talking quietly with the court’s jester. “Emma.” The King rushed forward, grabbing his sister, and pulling her closer to him. “I’ve been so worried about you. Is Henry with you?”

“No, Baelfire took him.” She cried and the man beside the King stepped forward.

“I went to get him from his room this morning and he was gone.”

“It’s alright Will, Henry snuck out to follow me.”

“Follow you? Did you leave the castle? What could you possibly be thinking?” The King scolded and suddenly there was a commotion behind them as the Queen came stumbling toward them.

“Emma. I thought you were dead.”

“I’m so sorry Your Grace, I did not mean to concern you. I was not expecting to be gone so long, but I was helping the Captain in his quest.”

“Why would you allow my sister to chase after this man, I thought I asked you for your discretion.” The King advanced on the Captain.

“Don’t blame him, I followed him. Demanded to know what he was doing at the castle.”

“Emma. Why are you always getting into trouble? This is why you need to marry, settle down with the Duke and live a quiet life.”

The Queen hushed her husband. “Where is that boy of yours?”

“Baelfire has taken him.” The Queen put her hand to her mouth and let out a squeal.

“I need the Huntress. We found Leroy tied up in his house.” Emma tried to explain.

“Leroy, but why?”

“I can’t explain, but I believe that the Huntress can track him through the forest.” The King and Queen shared a glance.

“Emma you know we can’t release her.”

“Who is this Huntress?” The Captain demanded. “If she can track Baelfire, we may need her assistance.”

“We keep her locked up in the dungeons. She’s a danger to herself and others.”

Emma grabbed the Queen’s arm, “I need to get to Henry before he takes him away from here.”

The King nodded and they followed him through the castle until they reached the stairway down into the dungeon. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“She’s my friend.”

They entered the dungeon, a steel cage at the end of the hall, housing a dark-haired woman sitting at a desk, writing in a journal.

“What is this?” The Captain asked.

“Oh hello, who is this fine man you’ve brought me?” The woman sashayed up to the bars, reaching out to touch the Captain.

“Ruby, I need your help. The Swan Thief has captured Henry.”

The Captain swore the woman’s eyes burned red for a moment, before she turned and grabbed her cape from her chair. “How long has he been gone?”

“A few hours at most.” Emma explained. “We were at Leroy’s when he disappeared into the forest.

“Let’s go, we don’t have time to waste, it will be dark soon, and I fear the moon is full tonight.”

Captain Jones shared a glance with the Princess, who only reached for the keys, unlocking the large gate, and releasing the woman from her prison. The two women hugged for a moment before the red cape was draped over her head and she took off toward the stairs.

The Captain grabbed the Princess’ arm, leaning over to speak only to her. “Who is she?”

The Princess met his gaze, “She is our only hope. Ruby, the Huntress.”

“Why the bloody hell is she locked up?”

“Because, when the moon is high in the sky, and full as it is tonight, she becomes, The Wolf.”

Killian dropped her arm, watching her as she followed the group up the stairs. “Wolves…” He paused, staring after the Princess. “Wonderful.”

~*~

“His bedtime is 10pm tonight and don’t let him convince you otherwise.” Emma was explaining as Killian watched her going down the list of items on the paper in front of her.

“Swan, he’s eleven, not two, I think I can handle a simple evening.”

“Ok but you know Henry, he can be a handful.”

“Aye, we are going to eat some pizza and watch Pirates of the Caribbean. What could possibly go wrong?”

Two hours later, everything had gone wrong.

Killian wasn’t even quite sure how to explain half of what had happened.

To begin with the pizza delivery guy got lost bringing the order and was 45 minutes late and then when the pizza was finally in hand, it got dropped, meat side down onto the floor.

After finally cleaning pizza off the floor, Killian made grilled cheese sandwiches and they sat down to watch their movie, only to have the Blu-ray player throw sparks at him and completely shut off.

Instead of the movie, Henry suggested they play a game and after twenty minutes of whatever the fresh hell Uno was, Killian decided perhaps they should just watch TV.

Imagine his surprise when they turned on the television to see full on nudity on the screen. Groaning he turned off the television, ignoring the boy’s newfound questions about women, boobs, and if it was normal for a man’s penis to be as large as the man on that was on the screen. Trying to divert the boy, he asked the lad if he wanted to read a book.

Killian was sure that whatever parenting was, he was doing a pretty terrible job of it. Even if it was only for the evening.

“I’m not feeling very well, can we call my mom?”

Killian looked at the boy who was holding his stomach. “You were fine just a minute ago?”

“I know but now I’m not, can you call her please?”

Killian groaned but wasn’t about to take a chance after the way his evening had gone, instead getting the number from the paper on Emma’s instructions and dialing it with his phone. After two rings, she answered.

“Hello, this is Emma.”

“Emma it’s Killian, I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but Henry says he’s not feeling well and I’m not quite sure what to do.”

“Oh no, can I talk to him?”

“One second.” He passed the phone to the boy and sat on the couch.

“My stomach hurts really bad mom. Yeah lots of pain. I think I’m going to be sick and…Oh ok, see you when you get here.”

The boy hung up the phone and tossed it to Killian. “She’ll be home soon.” He was almost sure the boy smiled but then he groaned, doubled over, and sat down next to him on the couch.

Whatever was ailing the boy was a mystery.

~*~

Emma apologized to Graham, and he immediately drove her home from their dinner date. She had never heard Henry sound so sick before and she had no idea what had caused it.

“You sure you don’t want me to come up?” Graham asked as he pulled up to the curb.

“No, you have to work early tomorrow, I’ll be fine.” She leaned over and pecked his lips quicky before exiting the vehicle and heading into the apartment complex.

When the elevator doors opened, she started to exit when she stopped in her tracks. Will was standing in front of his door kissing a dark-haired woman. When they pulled away, Emma’s blood boiled as she recognized the woman as Belle French, Killian’s girlfriend. They didn’t see her as they pushed open Will’s door and disappeared into his apartment.

How could she cheat on Killian? How could Will do this? Emma was furious.

She pushed the key into her apartment door, looking back angrily at Will’s apartment before stepping into her own.

When she got inside, Killian looked panicked, her house smelled funny and there was an entire box of pizza sticking out of her trash can.

“Mom’s home.” She announced, heading into the living room to see Henry laying on the couch. The boy sat up and smiled at her.

“Hey mom, I’m feeling much better now.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “Baby, are you sure, you sounded so bad on the phone.”

Killian was glaring at the boy. “You were keeled over in pain two minutes ago.”

“I know, but it’s all gone now. Must have been gas. I’m gonna go to bed, I’m exhausted.” He said, yawning. Turning toward Killian he launched his arms around his neck. “This was the most awesome night I’ve had in ages. You’re the best.”

He ran off toward his room leaving Killian and Emma staring after him in stunned confusion.

“Ok that was odd.” Emma said with a frown. “Has he been like that all evening?”

“Honestly, this has been a terrible evening, the lad is being way too nice by stating that it was a anything but a disaster.” Emma had to laugh at the way his face appeared to be genuinely upset by the events of his evening.

“Ok well, just tell me what happened.”

“First off, the bloody pizza fell on the floor, your Blu-ray player almost burned the house down, Uno is the rudest game I’ve ever played, and you have porn on your television.” He ended with an exasperated sigh.

Emma stifled the laugh that was threatening to roll off her tongue. He was clearly having a bad evening. “So, when did Henry get sick?”

“That’s the thing, he was fine one minute and doubled over in pain the next. Is he always like that?”

“No, I have no idea what’s gotten into him.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s feeling better, and if there’s nothing else you need, then I shall take my leave as I have never been so exhausted in all my life.”

Emma cleared her throat. “Um, I actually need to tell you something first.”

“Is everything alright, Swan?”

Emma sat down on the couch and gestured for him to join her. He tentatively sat down next to her. “I don’t know how to say this.”

“Out with it, love.”

“Belle is cheating on you.” She spat out suddenly.

“Swan, are you concerned about my welfare?” He said with a chuckle and Emma couldn’t believe how casual he was acting after hearing the news.

“Did you hear me? She’s cheating on you. I just saw her outside Will’s apartment and they were kissing.”

He laughed. “Is that so? I guess they really hit it off.”

“Killian, aren’t you upset right now? I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that Will would behave like this.”

“Don’t be too angry with the lad. He spoke to me first.”

Emma’s mouth dropped. “You approved of him dating your girlfriend?”

“That’s the thing Emma, Belle isn’t my girlfriend, she never was. Not really. We just…existed. But I’m happy for her.” Killian stood from the couch and Emma rose to follow him.

“I don’t understand, she wasn’t your girlfriend?”

“Nah, Belle and I outlived our time. I don’t do relationships.” He said quietly.

“You don’t do relationships?” Emma stated incredulously.

“They just don’t…” He sighed. “Sadly, relationships don’t work out for me, Swan.” He paused. “Love brings nothing but wasted years and endless torment.” He smiled sadly. “So, believe me when I say, I’m happy for her, I hope it works out better for her than it did for me.”

~*~

Two weeks ago

“We need to talk.” Belle showed up at his door at 7am on a Saturday and Killian knew it couldn’t be for a good reason. She had been avoiding him for days.

“I’ve found that when a woman says that I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

“This isn’t working for me.”

“Aye, I know.”

“I love you, Killian. I really do.”

He sighed, “I love you too. And I don’t say those words lightly. I haven’t used them with another woman since Milah.” Belle frowned. “But I can’t give you what you want and that’s not fair to you. You deserve to be loved by a man who can promise you forever.”

“You need to stop running away from love or you’re going to be alone forever.”

“Don’t worry about me, love. I’m a big boy.”

She ran her hand across his cheek. “You deserve to be happy, Killian. What happened with Milah isn’t your ending. You weren’t the villain in that tale, you were a victim.”

“That’s a story we tell ourselves to sleep better at night.” He laughed. “I just want you to be happy, you deserve that.”

“I think I could be, but…”

“What is it?”

“I, I met someone. Nothing serious, yet, but we’ve been talking. Mostly online.”

“An online bloke?”

“About that…” She closed her eyes. “It’s Will.”

“Will, as in 4B, Will Scarlett?”

“Yes, I started watching his streaming channel and we just started chatting afterwards. He’s a really funny guy and so sweet.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He laughed. “I’m happy for you.” He wrapped his arms around the woman, hugging her tightly.

“Are you going to be alright?” She mumbled against his chest.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m a survivor, love.”

Killian let the door close behind him as he walked slowly to his apartment. Standing in the dark shadows of the room he tried to ignore the silence of the empty apartment, his feelings overtaking him for the first time in years as he wiped a stray tear from his eye.

[adenei]

Next Steps - Ch. 10 + 11

This is it! The last two chapters :) Another WIP I can call complete. I hope you enjoy!

We’ve Been Found Out

Their Caribbean holiday ended all too quickly, and all four were desperately missing the sun and the beach. Everyone was gathered at the Burrow for Sunday dinner. Harry and Ginny had decided to use disillusionment charms on their rings for the first part of the evening so they wouldn’t give Molly a heart attack before dinner. 

They’d talked briefly about how they were going to break it to the family, and Harry was insistent that Ginny bring it up since the elopement was her idea. Ginny, who rarely seemed scared of anything, had told Harry there was a fat chance that would happen, so they both decided to hope that maybe Ron or Hermione would let something slip. 

Ginny had packed the photo album in the bag so that her mum could at least see pictures of the day. Even though the pictures were still because it was a muggle camera, they’d turned out beautifully. The photographer clearly knew what he was doing, knowing just where to position them so they captured the sunset in the background, and they’d even popped into their dinner and the dance club later on. Ginny smiled as she reminisced.

“So, Ginny, tell us all about the trip!” Angelina said excitedly.

Ginny jumped at Angelina’s words. “What do you want to know?” She hoped she was acting cool enough, so as not to arouse any suspicion.

“What’s it like in the Bahamas? It’s hard to imagine a place that’s warm this time of year.”

“Well, it was beautiful! We laid out in the sun every day, and they kept offering these beachy, boozy drinks for free!” Ginny said as she laughed.

“Oh, I’m sure they weren’t free, dear, probably included in whatever you paid for the lodging,” her mother said brightly. “I’m glad you all had fun, though I think maybe you should take a holiday from taking holidays for a bit. Especially you two,” she pointed at Ron and Hermione. “You’ve got a wedding coming up in six months after all.” Much as Molly tried to seem like she was scolding, she couldn’t hide the excited expression on her face.

They fell into easy conversation as everyone shifted from eating dinner to enjoying coffee and pudding. Victoire was starting to get fussy, so Fleur had gotten up to go get her dummy from the bag that she’d brought. Ginny didn’t think anything of it as she tried to keep Victoire occupied in the high chair in Fleur’s absence. She’d forgotten that Hermione had gotten her, Fleur, and Angelina matching tote bags with their monograms stitched in them for Christmas gifts that year, and she’d set her own bag next to Fleur’s upon arriving.

“Bill, where eez Victoire’s dummy? I cannot find it,” Fleur said, rummaging through the bag. “And why did you pack our wedding album?” she asked curiously. Harry’s fork dropped onto his plate as Ginny froze mid-tickle with Victoire.

“I didn’t pack that, Fleur. What are you talking about?” Bill said, a confused look on his face.

“Yes, you most certainly did,” Fleur said as she grabbed the album and brought it over to the table. “Oh, wait, zis is not ours,” she said as she came more into the light with the album. 

“Who would have a wedding album? Hermione, did you pick one up to fill out? It’s a bit early for that,” Mrs. Weasley said as she got up to look and see what Fleur was holding. 

Ginny gave Hermione a panicked look. They weren’t ready to say anything yet. Hermione was silent, as she clearly had no idea what to say. There was no point in lying because the truth was about to be out.

Unfortunately, George happened to notice the pale, shocked expressions on both Harry and Ginny’s faces. “Hey, Gin, are you feeling alright?” he asked her in a half serious, half joking tone.

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak for her. By now, Mrs. Weasley had reached Fleur and the album was open. “Ginevra Molly Weasley,” was all her mother managed to say.

All eyes were on Ginny now, waiting for someone else to say something. It was Fleur who broke the silence. “You and ‘Arry got married?” 

“You what?!” George, Bill and Percy shouted at the same time. Arthur looked between the two of them as Angelina’s hands covered her mouth. Ron and Hermione didn’t pretend to look surprised. They were in the photographs as well, so there was no point trying to feign ignorance.

Ginny pulled out her wand and undid the charms hiding her ring, and then Harry’s. “Yes, Mum, we did.” She steeled herself for the fury that was about to ensue.

“But you weren’t even engaged!” Molly and Fleur had walked over to the table now as everyone was crowding around trying to sneak glances at the pictures. 

“And you two!” Molly rounded on Ron and Hermione, “You two knew!”

“Mum, don’t you dare blame them for this! It was our decision,” Ginny started, as Harry coughed. “Okay, fine, it was my idea, but you went along with it, too” Ginny glared at Harry for that.

“Er, we were engaged, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said. He’d thought it best to not call her Molly in this particular instance. “I proposed on Christmas Eve.”

“And you couldn’t have at least told us about the proposal at Christmas!?” Molly said in disbelief.

“Mum, Hermione and I had planned the trip for Harry and Ron. Harry and I were joking about an elopement, saying it’s what we’d both want because everyone knows Harry’s had enough of the limelight, and I didn’t want all the fuss I knew it’d cause! I wasn’t expecting him to propose, and then we just kind of agreed to go for it. But we made sure to get all those pictures so you could see everything!”

“My only daughter’s wedding, and we didn’t even get to be there,” Arthur said quietly. Ginny had prepared herself to be defensive against her mother’s attack, but she wasn’t prepared for the guilt from her father. Shit.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said. “We were going to tell you tonight, that’s why we brought the album.”

“We just didn’t know how,” Harry finished.

“Well, I didn’t see any rings,” Molly huffed.

Ginny held her hand up. “We hid them with a charm, Mum.” All of the women leaned in to fawn over her ring.

“Eet iz beautiful,” Fleur said as Angelina agreed.

“You looked beautiful, Ginny! Makes me want a beach wedding, too!” Angelina said, trying to break some of the tension, but instead it just placed a look of unease on George’s face, considering they were still a fairly new couple compared to the rest of the family.

And then Molly burst into tears. “My little girl is married!” She made her way around the table and hugged Ginny tightly. “And Harry, dear, you’re officially family now!”

Everyone else followed suit as they got up to congratulate the newlyweds. When Arthur had made his way to his daughter, Ginny gladly accepted his hug. “I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t think about that when we’d made the decision. I just wanted to avoid a big wedding and all the fuss.”

“It’s okay, Ginny. Ultimately, I’ll always want you to be happy, and if that’s the wedding you wanted, I’ll support it.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Ginny, Harry, can we still at least throw a party in celebration?” Molly asked them. Ginny and Harry had shared a look as they both agreed to it. They both knew deep down they wouldn’t get out of it completely.

“Maybe I’ll get that father daughter dance, after all,” Arthur said to his daughter, who smiled back at him.

“I think that can be arranged.”

**************************

The June “I Do”

Hermione woke on the morning of her wedding in the room of a quaint little bed and breakfast on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Ginny had stayed with her overnight, which Hermione was secretly thankful for. The last six months since the foursome’s Caribbean getaway had simultaneously flown by and dragged at a snail’s pace, and today it was finally Hermione’s turn to marry the love of her life.

She thought back to Harry and Ginny's New Year’s wedding. How she and Ron had shared many secret glances during the ceremony and at dinner, while Harry and Ginny were too busy being in love and just married. Hermione had had the slightest pang of jealousy at watching their nuptials, disappointed that she and Ron hadn’t thought of it first. The quiet, intimate event would have been exactly what Hermione wanted, but she’d settled for the small, close family gathering that was about to occur in just a few short hours. 

The thought brought Hermione back to the present, and she looked up at the wedding gown that was hanging up on the armoire. Hermione had chosen a cap sleeve ivory ball gown that looked absolutely stunning on her. When she tried it on, both her Mum and Mrs. Weasley had burst into tears. Ginny was speechless. The bodice was intricately woven with lace and overlaid with delicate beadwork, and the tulle gown also had lace embellishments throughout. She’d been counting down the days until Ron could see her in it. 

Ginny came out from the bathroom as Hermione was still lost in thought. “Happy wedding day, Hermione!”

Hermione’s face broke out into a grin. “It’s still too long before I get to see Ron again,” she sighed.

“Oh, but it’ll be so worth it! I can just imagine the look on my dear brother’s face when he sees you.”

A knock was heard at the door, and Ginny walked over to open it. Fleur, Angelina, Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger all bustled in, sharing their greetings as they began preparing the spread of breakfast items along the dresser. Hermione looked longingly out the window, pretending to see the Burrow and wishing she didn’t have to worry with all the fuss and could be curled up in Ron’s arms.

Hermione was swept up in the hustle and bustle of getting ready for the festivities later on. She watched on and laughed as everyone’s hair and makeup were done. At one point, she’d escaped into the solace of the bathroom, letting the water run under the guise of a shower, when in reality she was writing a letter to Ron. She’d just finished it as there was a tap on the bathroom window. 

She opened it and let Pig in. Right on time, she thought as she detached Harry’s letter from Pig’s leg. She sealed her own and sent it off with him. She shut the water off as she opened Harry’s letter.

Hey Hermione,

How are you holding up? Ron’s doing fine, don’t worry. He’s just really anxious to see you, that’s all. I don’t have much time until he comes back, but we’ll see you soon!

Harry

Hermione chuckled as she read the short letter. He always was short when it came to letters. She tucked the letter away as she returned back to the other room, where it was finally her turn to get ready. She sat down in the chair as Angelina and Fleur tag teamed on her makeup, and the mothers tamed her hair. It was twisted into an elegant updo as soft curls framed her face. Before she knew it, it was time for her to change into her gown. 

Hermione was insistent on bringing her dress into the bathroom to change into with only Ginny for help. “So,” Ginny asked as Hermione began to change out of her robe. “How’s he doing?” 

“Harry says he’s fine, just anxious to see me. I feel the same,” Hermione admitted as she stepped into her dress and pulled it up. 

“Well, he’s not going to know what to do when he sees you. Hermione, you are the most gorgeous bride I’ve ever seen. And in this family, there’s been a lot of brides,” Ginny laughed. Hermione turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. 

“Wow,” Hermione whispered. 

“Shall we make your big debut to everyone?” Ginny asked. Hermione nodded as they opened the door and revealed the bride to the rest of the women.

There were ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ and lots of fanning at the face to prevent crying and ruined makeup as everyone gushed about what a beautiful bride Hermione was. They made their way outside to the garden where they met the photographer. Angelina, Fleur and Ginny were dressed in dark plum chiffon dresses with different necklines of their choosing. Their bouquets consisted of various shades of purple and ivory hydrangeas, with some blush pink roses tossed into the mix. They took several pictures together until Mrs. Weasley checked the name and was trying to rush everyone over to the church to get ready for the ceremony, that would be starting about twenty minutes.

Ginny took her hand and squeezed it. “Sure you don’t want to back out?” she whispered in her ear as she chuckled. 

Hermione looked at her nervously. “I...Ginny, I really need a few minutes”. She looked around and noticed everyone was starting to walk back toward the church. 

If Ginny was alarmed by Hermione’s words, she didn’t look it. “I’ll take care of it, you go. Hang out in the rose garden. I’ll come get you when it’s time,” Ginny said.

Hermione nodded as she turned and entered the archway surrounded by tall hedges that created a secluded area, hiding her from the rest of the women. Once inside, it looked almost like a maze, hundreds of rose bushes lined various walkways. Hermione escaped deeper and deeper into the garden. She settled in the center of the area, setting her bouquet down on the benches in the resting area. 

The anxiety of the momentous moment that she was about to face ahead of her was almost too much. It was ironic, really, considering she’d fought a war and been involved in many dangerous situations growing up. But Ron was always by her side in those moments. That’s what was throwing her. Not being able to see him. If they could just have a moment before all of this she’d feel so much better.

She heard a faint pop from behind her. No...it couldn’t be. “Hermione,” she heard him say. It was almost as if it were a moment out of a fairy tale as Hermione twirled around to Ron standing there.

“Ron!” she said as she felt her body physically relax at the relief of him standing there, mere feet from her.

“You look- wow,” Ron was speechless. She thought she saw his eyes watering, and was touched by the sweetness of it all.

 She didn’t care about tradition at that moment. Not one bit. Not as she walked over and threw her arms around the love of her life, who always seemed to know when she needed him. “How did you know?”

“Ginny.”

“We don’t deserve her,” Hermione said as she smiled. 

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Ron laughed.

“Can’t we just get married right here? Just us?”

“What? You don’t want to commit to me in front of our closest family and friends?” Ron joked nervously.

“No, it’s not that. Of course I do. It’s just...so personal, isn’t it? There’s so much I want to say in my vows, but not in front of everyone else.”

“So let’s say them right here. Right now,” Ron suggested.

“Really?”

“Why not? The Prophet’s gotten enough of our moments. Let’s not give them this one.”

“That’s true,” Hermione contemplated as she looked into Ron’s cerulean eyes. “Every day you continue to amaze me more and more. It’s hard to believe you’re still the same eleven year old boy I met on the train. I-” Hermione chuckled at the memories that flooded her mind, “-I tried so hard to convince myself I wasn’t falling for you. But the more I tried to deny it, the more hopelessly in love with you I’d become. And then there were so many close calls and I know I picked the most mental moment to show you, but I’m glad I did. I can’t imagine my life without you. No one knows me better than you, I love the way you get under my skin, the way you know exactly what I need, the way you love me. You’re all I’ve ever needed, and I promise to love you unconditionally, through everything.”

Hermione looked at him, a soft blush on her cheeks from the admission of the summation of their relationship. She waited for him to take his turn now. “I’m not sure what’s left for there to say,” Ron chuckled. “Only kidding. You may be an insufferable know it all, Hermione, but you’re my insufferable know it all. If there’s anything I’d wish I’d done, it was get my head out of my arse and get us going sooner. I’d erase sixth year and start over. But I don’t want to dwell on the past. I was just as stubborn as you, not wanting to admit that I was head over heels for my best friend. But almost losing you, it changed everything. Looking back, I’d do it all again to get where we are now. You are the only one for me. There’s no doubt in my mind that we were made for each other. I can’t wait to start this next step of our lives together. I can’t promise I won’t be a bloody prat sometimes, but I will always love you, and I will never stop loving you. And I’ll do everything in my power to make you the happiest woman alive. Every day of my life. I love you, Hermione Granger. I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

“I love you, too, Ronald Weasley. I can’t wait to have you as my husband.” Despite herself, Hermione leaned in and kissed him. The moment was absolute perfection. If only the officiant was there to pronounce them man and wife right then and there.

“Alright, you two! Save some for the ceremony!” Harry’s voice startled them, as they looked over to see Harry and Ginny looking on in loving amusement. The photographer was also there, for who knew how long. Capturing their most intimate moments.

“Do you think you’re about ready? I reckon Mum may have realized something is up by now.”

Hermione nodded as she looked up at Ron. “Let’s go. It’s about time I became a Weasley, I think,” she said as Ron leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Then let’s get you married!” Ginny said excitedly. With that, the group of four headed for the small church in Ottery St. Catchpole.

[annes-andromeda]

Fanon Marvel cause they got I S S U E S

This isn’t really a fanfic thing, more or less what I envision the MCU would be in MY head. Granted not everyone’s gonna agree with these points, but that’s fine. Well all got our own opinions☺️

Q: Who survives the Snap in Fanon?

A: Steve, Thor, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Nebula, Gamora, Rhodey, Rocket, Scott, Okoye, Shuri, Pepper, Wong, Valkyrie, Loki, and Tony

Q: Will anyone be recast?

A: Yes. Monica Rambeau is Captain Marvel instead of Carol Danvers. Make of that as you will.

Q: Are there gonna be any major changes?

A: Not for the most part, as I haven’t watched all the Marvel movies. However, these would be the most prominent ones:

* T*ny Stark is an anti-villain. His story has been changed to mostly fit the Superior Iron Man storyline. The IM trilogy would stay the same since I haven’t seen them, as well as the first two Avengers movies. However, he gets his immediate change in Civil War, where we find out that he worked for HYDRA the whole time, and wanted the Avengers to sign the Accords so the organization didn’t get found out. I feel it would’ve been interesting if we had seen Tony turn from a man who pretended to help others survive, into a man who only ever did things to help himself survive. If you don’t like this change: well then suck it cause it’s my fanon🙃

* Steve and Thor are in a relationship. This is mostly a personal preference, but I genuinely think they’d be a good couple. Their feelings would begin to come out in AOU, after the party scene. The two have a drink, slow dance, and confess there feelings. Simple, but cute (I think). Steve would think of Thor in Civil War, while Thor would have a scene in Ragnarok, in which he calls Steve and gets his opinion on everything that has happened to him (Odins death, Hela, losing Mjolnir etc). In Infinity War, they reunite and share a big kiss Pirates of the Caribbean style. As for Endgame: Steve doesn’t go to the past (I.e fucking up the timeline and Peggy’s happy life) and Thor stays on New Asgard to rule as King, with his consort by his side.

* CA:CW- People like Rhodey and Natasha don’t just immediately agree to the Accords. Instead, they go undercover and try to find out what the government is actually doing; Peter is on Team Iron Man until he finds out that Tony is HYDRA. It sucks that M*rvel really out here just making Peter iron boy instead of... ya know... Spider-Man; Civil War has a scene where Steve reminisces on his mother (his real moral compass fight me) and we focus more on him and less on Tinkie’s man pain; Instead of Tony being upset that Bucky killed both of his parents, he’d only get upset about his mother, as he actually wanted his father dead. Got this idea from a post where basically a bunch of people were talking about how Tony was probably HYDRA the whole time, which is where I got the idea. Feel free to add anything else.

* IW: Loki and Gamora don’t die. I feel like they killed off Loki a little too early since he was just getting the arc he so desperately needed. While I don’t really know what to do with him yet, I do know that he’ll be in a relationship with Valkyrie. I mean, did you see their fight scene? The sexual tension. As for Gamora, well we all practically hated it when she died and hated it even more when they brought her 2014 counterpart back from the past. Someone on Quora said that an alternative for Thanos to sacrifice on Vormir could be Ebony Maw, as out of all of Thanos’s children, he worshipped him the most. Maybe Thanos would hesitate as this was his most loyal child, but he does it cause gotta wipe out half the universe or whatever. It wouldn’t be as tragic tho, but (1) that’s the price we gotta pay for Gamora to stay alive, and (2) are we reeeaaally supposed to pity Thanos? Thanos? The guy who only ever fell in love with Death???. Anyways back to Gamora: I actually wanna do something for her. If you’ve ever seen RWBY, one of the main characters essentially loses her arm when she tried to save her friend. I know it sounds cruel for Gamora to loose a limb, but hey, sometimes you just like seeing your fav characters suffer🤷‍♀️. I was thinking it could go two ways:

- (1): Gamora loses her arm like the character in RWBY i.e, saving one of her friends like Mantis, Quill, or Nebula.

- Or (2): Thanos uses the Reality Stone to make the Guardians + Peter and Strange think that they have the upper hand. Strange uses his magic to hold Thanos down while the others try taking off the Infinity gauntlet. Once the gauntlet is nearly loose, Quill would try to strike him, as Nebula realizes that the whole thing is an illusion. But before she could warn the others it’s too late, and Gamora looses an arm to her boyfriend, leaving him and everyone in complete shock. I like this option more, as it would show not only just how cruel Thanos is, but that he never really loved Gamora. He just favored her above all his other kids. And hey, I’m a sap for angst.

* Feel free to add anything else.

* EG: So in the first bullet, I already said which characters survive the snap and that Captain Marvel isn’t Carol, but Monica. Aside from that, I haven’t really thought much of what to do with Endgame. Surprisingly, it’s difficult to write a better story for this one. What I would most like to happen, however, is more character moments. Thor’s PTSD and traumas being taken more seriously, and instead of him gaining weight he loses it (cause according to Tinkie’s dumb rant that’s what gets an audience to take your turmoil seriously. Pls don’t hate me for this decision). Bruce doesn’t turn into Professor Hulk, and his traumas are actually talked about. Also he gets closure on his relationship with Natasha (I know it’s not that great but I personally like it). Clint dies instead of Nat and we remember that Nat was the leader of the Avengers for like five years. Steve properly mourns his friends and actually acts like Steve Rogers and not a fucking imposter. We actually see what happened in Wakanda after the Snap, with Okoye and Shuri at the head of it all. Also Pepper would be stand in for Tony, cause ya know, she has a life outside of him and is actually smart. And her and Scott help with the Time machine or what other plan I or anyone can come up with. Again, feel free to add anything else.

Q: Will there be any new characters added?

A: For now just one: A robot named Iris (aka Iron Blade), created by Tony for HYDRA. I’ve made a summary of her here:

* Iris is an android created by the billionaire Tony Stark, who possesses a synthetic body made of Tungsten Carbide which is powered by the arc reactor in her chest. For years Stark worked into making Iris highly advanced, while also keeping her secret from the rest of the world until she was ready to be used by the organization HYDRA. She was trained by HYDRA in combat and artificial intelligence, transforming Iris into a dangerous, ruthless killing machine. However, she still managed to keep some essence of personality thanks to Tony, who refused to have her be simply mindless. This resulted in Iris inheriting some of Tony’s more negative traits, while even accepting his lavish lifestyle. Although she may act like him, Iris has her own traits which vary from being charismatic, eloquent, and sophisticated to privileged, arrogant and cruel. Due to HYDRA’s influence, Iris is mostly misguided and blindly follows orders.

* Iris was eventually revealed when Tony tried forcing the Avengers to sign the Sokovia Accords as a means to keep HYDRA underground. She was introduced as a new recruit of the US government, in which she had a hand in writing the Accords. When the Avengers found that Iris was created by not just HYDRA but by Tony, this caused a huge riff in the team. The people on Team Iron Man immediately turn on him once finding out that he created Iris, which in turn resulted in them finding out that not only had he been providing the organization with weapons, but was a member himself. Out of all the team members, Iris has the largest fallout with Bucky Barnes (the former Winter Soldier) and Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow), as she mostly worked as their antithesis, showing what probably would’ve occurred had they never recovered from their manipulation at the hands of corrupt organizations.

* After the fight between Iron Man and Captain America, Iris went into hiding alongside Tony, who was no longer a member of the Avengers. For the next two years, Iris stayed by her creators side as he intended to carry out his boss’s plan. The titan Thanos had ordered Stark to help him eradicate half the universe. Tony agreed to the plan, as he believed that Earth had been ungrateful for his attempts at ‘saving’ the world. He would help Thanos, so long as he ensured his safety and payed him. Iris, programmed to follow orders, agreed to the plan without question.

* Once Thanos arrived on Earth, Iris would go to Wakanda to stop the Avengers from destroying the Mind Stone, all the while Stark attempted to kill the Guardians of the Galaxy, Doctor Strange, and Spiderman (also the only one who knew of Tony’s true alignments). Iris, failing to retrieve the Stone, joins Tony on Titan while Thanos fights the Avengers. Despite the Avengers attempts, Thanos gets the stones and does the Snap, in which Tony and Iris survive and go into hiding once more.

That’s pretty much it. I made this cause I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I wanted to share my opinions. Feel free to add anything or give constructive criticism.

[cloveroctobers]

ROBERT “BOBBY” MCKENZIE —

IG info/bio : @/returnofdamckenzie | 426k followers | @/mclitgs2 is my forever boo🤟🏽😍 while @/cardib is my WIFE! She just doesn’t know it yet ❤️ support my work & be part of my family: @/bobbymckcares

24 (25) years young

Born in Dundee, raised in Glasgow, Scotland

Jamaican father named Badrick who is a African studies professor

Caucasian/Scottish mother named Catriona who used to be a au pair but now works as a receptionist in senior living — one eye is honey hazel and the other a dark brown

It was difficult growing up in a school that didn’t accept Bobby being biracial, it resulted in bullying to the point where he needed to switch schools (A lawsuit was also in place) The next school was slightly better but Bobby slowly learned to accept himself as it was not something he could control and not something he would want to in the first place. He was proud of where he came from and never thought he was better or less than anyone else, that wasn’t how he was raised

He’s an only child, his parents thought about adopting (and fostering) but with Bobby they had their hands full and he was just enough for them

His family is very family-oriented so he would never have to feel lonely since they gave him a lot of attention, slightly making him spoiled but he was also around his cousins & spending time with them as well

He’s extremely close to his younger cousin (only by a few months) Femi who he views as his sister. They’ve been through a lot together and are always there for each other so it only makes sense

Most likely an active kid always up to some sort of shenanigans whether it’s by himself or with his group of friends, “why would you do that Bobby?” “Don’t ask why but ask, why not!?”

Definitely suffered some broken bones, concussions, & sprain injuries but would never show signs of pain...guys got a high pain tolerance that’s for sure

Fan of films/series “stand by me” & “the goonies” & “scooby doo” since he feels they relate to his life??

Hospital caterer and loves making those feel better with food that he’s created. If he can’t put a smile on patients face with words then he feels like he can show them with food

Food is an art to him. He went to school for culinary & it’s very important for him to show how much it is to him. He picked up the craft from of course his family, who always used food for numerous of things: to bring people together is one of them

Perfected Jerk haggis, it is now he favorite dish next to desert & breakfast!

I’m struggling to figure out what sign he maybe? He’s very playful which may come off as childish at times, which makes me think of Leo? (Maybe Gemini?) Only because they usually hold onto their childhood as best as they can, very generous, & give their energy to you but I also don’t see him being a fire sign at all? So maybe very little Leo in his chart. I also feel like he might be a bit of an empath? He knows when situations around him don’t feel right, knows how to read the room, and always wants to help others by lighting things up.

Idk but I’m feeling he’s libra sun + Gemini moon + Leo rising? Who knows

Probably lived in a 2 bed flat with his old uni mate. It was small and a bit shit but it was their shit and they made the best of it

Now lives in a stone cottage or farmhouse with MC that was built in the 1900’s & is slightly haunted. He’s decided to call them Duncan??? But he believes they’re a good spirit, maybe even a friendly ghost!? since he got comfortable with the bizarre happenings in the new flat & it doesn’t seem like they want to hurt them

Lottie offered to bring her ouija board next time she visited—Bobby declined

House is mostly neutral based but three of the rooms in the flat are covered in ridiculous patterned walls or furniture much to MC’s distaste but, “what’s yours is mine” right? No. But Gary approves!

Has two dogs: a terrier & a collie since MC wasn’t down for getting a sheep

They do have chickens to raise their own eggs tho!

Definitely the kind of significant other that will ride on the cart when they’re out grocery shopping, will make you breakfast in bed, & will send you memes while he’s at home and you’re out or even when he’s at work and you’re at home, let’s you put his arm to sleep when you’re laying on it in bed (big ass head gang!), definitely chooses the candles from bath & body works that smell like food items (majority of them suck let’s be honest)

Probably smells like cucumber, melons, lemons, and eucalyptus

Has your wedding date in his IG bio & is proud

Annoys Gary & Lottie with his food pics, “oh, Not this shit again! 😡 looks brilliant, but enough!”

Has zoom/FaceTime movie nights with Marisol & MC who stopped feeling like she was third-wheeling months ago

Talks to hope & Noah (in the background) as much as he can. Feels like they’re his inspiration for love, even tho he’s the only one married out of the villa

He values marriage just like his parents do and often has Sunday dinners with them & MC ofc

Probably has relationship guide books and only reads them out of boredom but finds fascinating facts/advice if he pays attention & tries to apply it to his relationship with mc. If it works, it works! & If it doesn’t, you can’t say he didn’t try!

Works long hours but will still come home to cook for MC or brings leftovers from the events he’s catered (most are for the hospital but occasionally he’ll do other events)

Has a separate IG for his work

When WAP dropped, he almost lost his shit. Even tried to get MC to do the challenge with him, he’s pretty bad but MC eventually learned it just for him 😜

Is thrilled that Cardi made the best decision EVER on divorcing offset, “are you thinking of leaving me now?” “... I might.” “BOBBY!” “Haha, I love you!

Absolutely loves Christmas!!! It’s his favorite holiday and he loves giving back to everyone in his life. Usually he’s working overtime for the holidays & it makes him emotional due to the stories he hears & he puts a little extra love in his food

Goes all out for Christmas. Tries to buy/make everyone something. Even if he doesn’t really care for them...he’ll at least send them a x-mas card, if they keep it or burn it it’s entirely up to them—if he knew about it he’d probably be a little sad not gonna lie...he’s a soft king

Once bought Lottie black crocs with spooky pins , “are you joking Bobby?!” He knows she secretly loved them

Uses salt and peppermint in his dark hot cocoa...

Rather make deserts for Christmas than the food, he feels like it’s his duty

King of giving the thumbs up, especially when situations have gone to shit. He’ll still shoot them up with a smile or a grimace

Always inviting someone somewhere. “Bobby, hun. You’re 4-6 hrs away and it’s 1 am.” Hope groaned after listening to his bright idea, thinking something bad happened. “Ah, you could still make it if you tried, lassie.” “I’m gonna hang up now. Good night, bonkers man.”

Needs constant reminding when to get his locs touched up & moisturized

Either has a trampoline or a funhouse jumper in his backyard (maybe both) “we’ve got the space and this is better than a pool, or almost!”

Wants children, a whole footie team! There’s no specific time frame for him, when it happens, it happens

Used to cool & wet temps & loves vacationing in Greenland. Sure the hot weather he experienced in the villa was awesome & something different than what he’s used to but you can’t take the scot out of the man. So he typically sticks to places that are similar in temps, that way he doesn’t have to change his clothing choices much

Loves a good bath. Bubble baths are better than bath bombs to him, PERIOD!

Loves bubbles so much he put too much laundry detergent in the wash (does this on purpose now) and came back home to the dogs and room covered in it. Do you think he cleaned it up before MC came home? No. He decided to have a bubble party in the room with a Caribbean playlist playing in the background

MC definitely posted about it the first time & joined him for a bit, dreading the work that came with cleaning it all up. Now whenever Bobby needs a bubble party, he knows what to do. MC preferred him to have his little bubble party in the tub but 50% of the time he chooses not to listen & they leave him to pout & clean it himself

Likes to hold hands with fingers interlocked. When it’s cold and if you’re both wearing hoodies, he’ll slide his hand inside the arm of your hoodie to help keep you warm

Canon: His version of a snack is spaghetti hoops on toast & can eat that for the rest of his life & be content

If he didn’t end up marrying MC, probably finds his significant other working as a nurse at one of the hospitals he caters to or a volunteer at a old folks home

Never had a serious relationship, very few hookups, was either always placed in the friend zone or there was one person he wanted to be serious with but they rejected him and continued loving someone else who treated them like shit—so he kinda swore off of relationships and just flirted a bunch and kept his love life non-existent

Fav ice cream? Rocky road ice cream with one scoop of cotton candy & one scoop of cookie butter blue

Doesn’t believe in measuring when it comes to culinary. He uses his eyes as his measurement, could be a bad thing, could be a good thing, that’s up to you

If he’s up at night, he’s eating something sweet. A nice glass of single malt scotch whiskey + a splash of coconut milk (🤢) with a slice of angel food cake & he’s out like a light

Absolutely loves shopping for the kitchen, finds immense joy in doing so. If you lose him in a store, one of the places you’ll most likely find him is in the kitchen decor area

Owns a bagpipe & wants to get better at it, even tho he scared the living shit out of his dogs & chickens

Wears his shades quite a bit even tho the weather is hardly sunny and mainly windy & damp

Will hold the door for strangers even if they don’t say thank you

He’s open when it comes to music. Will listen to anything but feels like the music has to be a purpose for something...Everything he does in his day to day life has to feel like a soundtrack to him since in his mind he’s daydreaming about his life being made into a movie. Who isn’t?

He thinks wentworth Miller should play him in a film and that kid from blackish should play him when he was a wee lad, Marcus Scribner

Always keeps a positive attitude because he knows what it feels like to feel low and he doesn’t want anybody else in the world to feel like that so he wants to uplift and if he can try to be someone’s happiness he’ll gladly be that— which isn’t always the right move, he learned

Listens to: Rotimi, Shaggy, Sean Paul, Skip Marley, H.E.R., Jhene Aiko, Jorja Smith, UMI, The Kooks, The Killers, Cold War kids, Milky chance, Blood Orange, The 1975, Vampire Weekend, Bad Suns, BRYSON TILLER, Kilo Kish, & Ella Eyre (although he misses her old music)

Celeb crushes? Cardi B is his mfkin celeb wife okay?! Nobody else comes above her! He also thinks FKA twigs is pretty & super talented, sevdaliza!, Tia & Tamera, Iman, and brandy from the 90s makes him swoon

Anthem = jaden, “Boys and Girls”

[gvbejvmesmichaels]

Drabble: Disney Daze

Title: Disney Daze Word Count: 1,075 Rating: PG-13 Characters: Gabriel James-Michaels, Jonathan James-Michaels, Bella James-Michaels, Drew James, Constance James, Nancy Conrad (or James) Relationships: Gabriel James-Michaels/Jonathan James-Michaels, Gabriel James/Nancy James (past) Warnings: None? Summary: The two times Gabe went to Disneyland.

2001

It’s hot. Not the dry heat that punches the breath out of your lungs like back home. No, this was a sticky heat. Maybe it was just the sheer amount of pavement in Disneyland, but Gabe felt like he was being baked from the inside out. His clothes were clinging to his body, and he just felt terrible. Connie’s cheeks were red and she wouldn’t let him put her down. The two year old was losing the battle against the heat, and she was taking her pain out on her father. DJ, on the other hand, was thriving. He was so wired on sugar that the heat didn’t bother him, nor did his mother’s poor attitude. Nancy had never done well in the heat, and today was no exception. She was carrying an umbrella and whining every couple of minutes about how hot she was, like no one else was hot. If he was perfectly honest, he was a minute away from strangling his wife. Gabe never thought he’d ever say this, but he was starting to miss New Mexico summers.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to adjust to the Californian heat. They’d eaten ice cream. They’d drank water. They’d sat in the shade. Nothing was helping, which meant they needed to take drastic measures. And at Disneyland that meant either one of two air conditioned options: Pirates of the Caribbean or It’s a Small World. He and Nancy weren’t sure how Connie would react to pirates, and that was why they found themselves standing in front of the flamboyant monstrosity that was It’s a Small World. 

After waiting almost an hour in line, the annoying song had faded into background noise. Well, for him at least. Nancy kept complaining about the ticking of the clock, but it was keeping DJ entertained, and that was all Gabe could ask for. Connie kept fussing, but she was mostly just laying on Gabe’s shoulder, her heat bleeding into his own and making him hot as hell. Why they had thought going to Disneyland in the middle of July was a good idea was beyond him. 

Once they sat down on the hot boat, Connie’s fussing kicked up a notch while Drew kept sliding his hand into the water and splashing Nancy. Gabe was a second away from snapping at his six year old when the boat glided into the cool, dark space that was It’s a Small World. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he let the music and the blessed air conditioning wash over him. Yes, the music was annoying. Yes, the animatronics were outdated. But fuck if it wasn’t appealing as all hell to his inner artist. Maybe Small World wasn’t so bad after all.

2021

As DJ raced ahead of them, his mouse ears almost fell off his head as he led them through the crowded sprawl of the Small World Mall. Even though the trip had mainly been about Bella, his eldest child was far more invested in the trip than the rest of them were. More out of habit than anything else, Gabe kept his eyes trained on his son as Johnny pushed the stroller containing a drowsy Bella. Sure, it was hot as hell, but it didn’t feel as sticky as it had when he’d come with Nancy and the kids. Or maybe he’d just gotten used to the humidity of New York summers. All he knew was that it didn’t feel quite as terrible as it had all those years ago. The company was also better than back then, too. There wasn’t quite as much heat induced bickering as there had been back then.

They hadn’t made it halfway through the mall when DJ was already bounding back over to them. Sometimes his son was a broody millennial, but most of the time he was just this human golden retriever with boundless energy. Disneyland was bringing out this particular personality trait in tenfold.  “Okay, I know the plan is to go to T-Double O-N T-O-W-N, but hear me out. Small World is only a fifteen minute wait.” He announced, sounding excited about the entire situation. 

“You want to go on It’s a Small World?” Johnny asked, confusion etched across his features. Not that he blamed Johnny for being confused. Up until this point the only rides DJ thought were ‘must ride’ were roller coasters and thrill rides. And his son had a list. A very thorough and long list rated by thrill factor, and whether or not Bella was tall enough to ride.

DJ nodded. “It’s my favorite ride.” He said, which was a surprise to Gabe. If he’d been asked prior to that statement, there would have been at least six other rides he would have sworn were his son’s favorite, but once it was said out loud, Gabe found that he wasn’t at all surprised. He honestly wasn’t sure how much his son had even remembered from their first and last trip to Disneyland, but of course he’d remembered Small World. “You remember, right, Dad?” He asked, eyes almost pleading. “We went on it three times in a row.”

Gabe didn’t have the heart to tell him that they’d only gone on it three times in a row because Connie had fallen asleep and the cast member working the ride felt bad about waking Connie up. Well, that and the look Nancy had given the poor twenty-something had scared the girl to death. Nothing on earth would have forced that girl to make them get off the ride. The funny thing was that Nancy had hated Small World, but she’d loved the twenty minutes of air conditioning. Instead of telling his son any of that, he smiled warmly at him. “I remember that your mom lost her sunglasses and we had to buy her Minnie Mouse ones that she hated.” His eyes twinkled with fond memories.

Apparently Gabe’s response signaled to DJ that it was a done deal, and they were going on the ride. He grabbed Johnny’s arm, giving Gabe less than a second warning to take control of steering the stroller. His son normally was skittish about letting people into his life, even Johnny who’d been a permanent fixture for over fifteen years, and seeing him guide his stepdad around... Well, it did things to Gabe. His insides felt like mush as he heard DJ announce, “Johnny, you’re going to love Small World.”

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: The Jason Project

Summary: Jason had just wanted to see his autopsy report, he had only wanted to know what information Bruce had about his death. And when Bruce hadn't given it to him, he had stolen it. He hadn’t meant to stumble upon the bucket list of a dead child and the footage of a grieving father crossing one item after another off the list.

AN: Because I stayed up until 2am and then had to spend the entire day writing the best Jason & Bruce angst I’ll write this year. Yes, I wrote nearly 5.000 words in one day. Warnings for Bruce’s suicidal tendencies after Jason’s death.

The anger was still burning in Jason’s stomach when he was already halfway across the city, far away from the manor and Bruce’s self-righteous, arrogant, condescending fuck-all damning attitude. Green had taken over his vision, and Jason had only started to get back some resemblance of conscious control when Crime Alley had greeted him. He wasn’t clear on what exactly he had said to Bruce once the screaming had started, but Jason also didn’t care. None of his so-called-siblings ever stood up to Bruce’s authority, but Jason wasn’t like them. He didn’t just back down and roll over like a good little soldier when Daddy said ‘no.’

Fuck them.

And fuck Bruce in particular.

Jason had been playing by the rules for months now. He hadn’t killed, hadn’t used excessive force – he hadn’t even antagonized the other kids. And for what? Only to be denied over and over again.

No, Jason, you’re not taking that patrol route. No, you can’t work on that case. No, don’t take your guns. No, you can’t look at the files I collected of your death.

No, I don’t fucking trust you with anything, no matter how hard you try.

The USB drive in his pocket was just another proof that Jason would always be the black sheep – no, he wasn’t even the black sheep. That was probably Steph. In Bruce’s mind, Jason was the wolf in sheep’s clothing, just another threat, a ticking time bomb, for this city.

After all, he was the only one who hadn’t been granted access to the files Bruce had on him. Dick could take a look at what Bruce thought of his golden boy, the Replacement could and even the Demon brat were allowed to see the bi-monthly – or even more often? It wasn’t like Jason had access and could see them – evaluations Bruce wrote on each of them.

The best part of this whole affair was that Jason hadn’t even wanted to see those. He didn’t need a physical reminder of how much of a disappointment he was in Bruce’s eyes.

He had only wanted to see his own autopsy report because Jason needed to know. Talia hadn’t been able to tell him which scars were the Joker’s fault, which ones Jason had earned in his time as Robin and which ones he had already had when Bruce had adopted him.

Jason couldn’t recall those memories himself. Or rather, he couldn’t trust those memories. Often enough Willis Todd’s face morphed into the laughing grimace of the Joker beating down on him again and again, and Jason just wanted to know so his head could stop spinning and his body would start feeling like his own once more.

He got uncomfortable in his body sometimes. Bruce probably had notes on that too. Had seen Jason twitch one too many times too often and written down PTSD, anxiety, dysphoria and a whole lot of other diagnoses.

Fuck him, Jason thought again when he finally arrived at his safe house. Jason had wanted to see only one thing, but now he had gotten every file, every single thought and he’d throw them all in Bruce’s face the next time he saw him. He’d do it right in front of the others too. Who knew, maybe Replacement had some unmentioned thoughts about being replaced himself?

Jason locked the door behind himself and activated his security system. The last thing he needed was anyone barging in when he was in the middle of another existential crisis. The safe house he had chosen to hide away in was his most secure one. State of the art defense and comfortable on the inside, prepped to keep someone on death’s door alive for ages.

Carefully, Jason took the USB out of his pocket and laid it on the table. Then he got out of his uniform and headed for the shower. The water was almost scalding, but Jason preferred it this way. There were days on which temperatures meant nothing to him. He could walk out in shorts in the middle of winter or be wearing four layers in summer. He just didn’t feel the difference. Today wasn’t one of these days, but it was close enough.

When he was done, he got dressed in sweat pants and a hoodie. Soft, warm, and kind on his aching bones.

He skipped dinner.

He hadn’t prepared anything because he’d thought he would be eating at the manor tonight and he was too lazy and too nervous to make himself something now. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to stomach it either.

All that was left to do now was put the damn stick into his laptop.

The USB was cold in his hand, freezing really, and Jason had to force his hand to stay steady. The laptop screen lit up and the files loaded. He hadn’t really expected this many GB to be on him, but Bruce had never been anything but thoroughly.

Jason Peter Todd, the first line read. His birth record was in there, the old one and the original one. His adoption papers, ID and passport and a bunch of other things. Jason wanted to get to the file he was actually here for first. The rest he could still read later on. He had all the time in the world now.

Or at least a week until Alfred talked some sense into Bruce.

Robin, skipped, school reports, skipped, vacation – what the hell was that doing here, skipped.

Ethiopia.

The cursor hovered above the file and Jason wanted to open it, he really did, but then the name of the folder below that caught his interest.

The Jason Project.

What the hell was that?

A 30 step plan to rehabilitate him and make him a good Robin again?

Jason scoffed. He double-clicked on the Ethiopia file. The documents in it were sorted by date, very neatly and labeled to the heavens.

Autopsy report. April 28th. 2am.

It was just one click away. He’d finally know if Bruce had been able to tell how often the Joker had taken the crowbar to Jason’s head, how much it had hurt, how much he had hoped that his Dad would come and save him like he had all the times before?

Jason returned to the overview and opened the file beneath Ethiopia.

He was such a fucking coward. He finally had what he’d wanted to see, and then he couldn’t open it because his heart sped up and his breathing got a little uneven like it always did right before Jason fell into a panic attack?

Well, it had been almost three full weeks since his last one. It was time for a new one.

“Shit,” Jason cursed and closed his eyes.

He could see the flames dancing in front of him, hear that deranged laughter, high pitched and mad.

Okay, alright. He got this.

All the time in the world left for him.

He’d just start with something else first. Losing a few laughs about Bruce’s dumb rehabilitation plan was a good, no, a great idea. He could write one for Bruce right after and mail it to every member of their little family. It was petty, yes, but Jason could do a lot worse, and it was only because this city needed a functioning Batman that he didn’t.

Thus he opened The Jason Project and clicked on the first document. He expected something like a diagram measuring the Red Hood’s aggression to the number of times he messed up, but instead, he came face to face with a video of Bruce.

He looked so young and exhausted.

Bruce looking tired was nothing new, it was sort of his permanent state of mind, though Jason thought he used to be less dead on his feet before Jason had died.

Bruce’s age, however, caught Jason off guard. This video was at least what? Five years old? Maybe even a little more. What was this? Against his better judgment, Jason hit play.

X

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Bruce said. “It was fine. Everything was fine, and then your English teacher called about a project you handed in before- and I just- I don’t know. I don’t even recall what happened after, except hours had passed and I can’t recall a fucking thing-“

X

Jason hit stop. This wasn’t what he had expected. The Bruce on the screen looked like he was going to cry and Jason didn’t have any memories of Bruce ever actually crying in front of him. Though this wasn’t in front of him at all, was it?

So Bruce had recorded himself talking to Jason. Maybe. Was this a video diary? Jason looked over the other files and no, they seemed to be pretty mixed from writing to photos and audios.

He bit his lip until he could taste blood. Should he keep watching?

Hell, why shouldn’t he? These files were in Jason’s folder, he damn straight deserved to watch them.

He clicked on play again and started watching.

X

“Your project was supposed to be about things you looked forward to doing in summer. And you wrote about The List. Our list. All the things you wanted to do someday because I’m ‘stupidly rich and stupidly rich people spoil their children.’“ Bruce swallowed. “I forgot about the list. It was still there where you left it. Pinned against the corkboard above your desk.”

Bruce took a piece of paper out of his pockets.

X

Jason remembered writing that list. It had been days before his first birthday at the manor and he hadn’t expected anything whatsoever. But then Bruce had asked what Jason wanted and he had written a list of the dumbest rich kids gifts he could think of and handed it to Bruce.

And Bruce had taken it seriously. He had seen nothing wrong with taking Jason on vacation to the freaking Caribbean for two weeks. His only concern had been getting someone competent enough to cover his night shifts, and Kate and Babs had gladly volunteered.

It had been the two best weeks of Jason’s life.

On Jason’s birthday, midnight, they had sat on the beach and talked about all the things they really should do someday and as soon as Jason had come home, he had sat down and written it all down.

That had been the birth of The List. And every once in a while Jason and Bruce had picked something from the list and done it.

Those had been the good times. Jason could feel the dread rise in his stomach, but he refused to stop the video. He had decided that he’d go through all of this tonight and he would.

X

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I told Dinah and she said it might help me to do something with it. So I will. I’ll do everything on this list, all the things you wanted to see and- I’ll tell you all about. When the time comes-“

X

When.

When as if it was something sure, something soon, something planned-

X

“-I’ll tell you all about the things you wanted to do so you won’t feel like you missed out. I’m so sorry, Jaylad. I’m sorry, my son. I should have been there. I should have been there for you-“

X

The video cut off.

Jason was frozen in his seat. Something wet rolled over his cheeks and he immediately reached up to wipe the tear away. This wasn’t fair. He hadn’t thought about this, about all the things he had missed out when he was dead and later on when he’d been training.

He hadn’t spent a second thinking about catching up with the rest of the world.

X

Diamond Cats

Nolan Street 134 9am – 6pm M-T 9am – 9pm F-S

Fri 05/15/2014 11:32am

PURCHASE Donut, sprinkles   1,12$

3x Coffee             10,5$

TOTAL               11,62$

TIP                        300$

Thanks for supporting a local business!

THANKS FOR THE TIP MR. WAYNE.

COME BACK WHENEVER YOU WANT.

CATS ARE GREAT HUGGERS.

AND WE’LL MAKE SURE THE PRESS DOESN’T

KNOW YOU COME HERE. I’M SORRY FOR

YOUR LOSS.

X

Jason stared at the receipt, unsure what to think of it. He remembered that cat café. He and Bruce had passed it as Batman and Robin on patrol one night after chasing after Catwoman. Jason had joked about going there with Selina someday instead of running after her when it was freezing and raining. Bruce had rolled his eyes at him and said something about going there just with Jason as well, and no begging about taking a cat home.

So was this Bruce collecting proof he’d actually gone out and done something from the List? The rest of these documents would be full with little things like this. Jason’s missed opportunities, Jason’s lost childhood.

He needed something strong if he wanted to make it through the rest of these. Why didn’t he have any drinkable alcohol in this safe house? Or cigarettes. Anything to make this easier.

He continued on, this time greeted by an audio file.

X

“I’m in Hollywood and let me tell you, it’s not as shiny or impressive as everyone makes it out to be. And the food isn’t even nearly as good as Alfred’s. I think the salmon they served at the buffet was closer to its due date than it should be. And the biscuits are super dry. You would have hated it. But breakfast in Hollywood can be crossed off the list I guess.”

X

A postcard from Disneyland, accompanied by a photo of Bruce in Mickey Mouse ears.

X

Another photo of a couple fries and burgers with Gotham harbor in the background.

X

“Do you- do you remember that documentary about the most spectacular libraries? I’d injured my leg and we didn’t go on patrol, but I couldn’t fall asleep so you sat with me. We turned on the TV and they were talking about all these libraries. Your eyes were shining, you looked so stunned like you didn’t believe the manor’s library could be bested still. And then they started talking about the Biblioteca Joanina in Portugal and you- you started jumping up and down on the sofa when they said that bats lived in the library. You wanted to rush down to the Cave and collect some bats for the manor. And- it’s so pretty, Jason. It’s so beautiful and you would have loved it. I can almost see you here right next to me and god- why didn’t I take you here? Why didn’t I take off a week and just took you here?”

X

A postcard from Kyoto and a photo of Bruce dressed in a yukata. Next to him stood Katana, holding an umbrella over them both.

X

Another photo, this one of Bruce dressed as Superman standing in front of a building Jason recognized as one of the orphanages funded by the Wayne foundation. And next to him was Clark Kent in a Batman costume. Jason couldn’t believe he was seeing that correctly. They both seemed to be handing out candy to children.

“It’s Halloween,” the audio file repeated. It was Clark speaking. “He’s doing better, but I wasn’t sure whether going out with children was a good idea, especially since what happened with the-“Clark stopped speaking, and Jason could hear him struggling to find the right words. “What happened. I thought Bruce was going to quit the League after I stopped him, but he hasn’t. Diana and Hal are keeping track of Arkham right now and I’m checking in on Bruce. I don’t know- I don’t know how you usually do these recordings, Bruce. Or if you’ll ever listen to this one here. But we’re here for you.”

X

The next video was of a room Jason would recognize everywhere: the halls of the Globe Theatre. He had begged Alfred and Bruce to take him there when they’d been in London for a weekend once, but they hadn’t had the time.

The room was packed full and the play seemed to only just begin.

“Thank you for coming tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen! This performance is sponsored by an anonymous donator, who only asked us to perform in honor of one Jason Todd…”

X

Jason pushed the laptop off his legs and stumbled into the kitchen. He needed air. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and marched into the direction of the balcony when he stumbled over his discard uniform.

In his attempt to catch his balance, he dropped the glass bottle, which broke as soon as it hit the ground.

“Damn it,” Jason cursed and took a step back only to hiss and jump up.

Blood dripped to the ground.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Jason maneuvered himself away from the glass shards and hobbled to his first aid station. He took out alcohol and bandages and began cleaning the cut on his foot. First, he pulled out all the shards, then he used the alcohol to disinfect the wound. It wouldn’t stop throbbing even after Jason had bandaged it. He took one look at the mess he had made and decided he could clean up another time. Silently counting to ten, Jason leaned back and closed his eyes.

The boy who had died in that warehouse would have loved to know that this was how he had been remembered.

Jason didn’t want to be that child.

He mourned him anyway.

X

Another video, this time no Bruce in sight but a lot of injured animals. Wildlife rehabilitation center could be read on one of the signs in the recording.

X

The sound of classic instruments playing various movie themes. Harry Potter, Titanic, Star Wars – Jason recognized most of them.

X

A stack of DVDs.

X

The camera was focused on Bruce and his desk. A stack of documents was waiting to be signed on the right. A colorful collection of pens and pencils in an ugly handmade ceramic mug. A photo in an overly fancy frame of Bruce, Barbara, Dick and Jason sitting at the living room table playing Monopoly.

“You always complained about the fact that we don’t take photos in uniform, so I collected some. Or rather, picked them up from someone who collected them.”

Bruce smiled a little pained. Then he held up a photo album, pages upon pages filled with photos of Batman and Jason’s Robin. Some of them were blurry, others stunningly clear and pretty.

“Did you ever notice a kid following us, Jay? I didn’t. I didn’t notice a child following us into Gotham’s darkest parts. He could have gotten hurt, and I wouldn’t even have known. His name is Tim by the way. He’s the exact sort of boy you would have befriended instantly. Smart kid, figured out our identities years ago from a simple flip. And- hell, you’d hate his parents. Jack and Janet Drake, our neighbors actually. They leave Tim alone for most of the year, they weren’t even there for his birthday. They have a kid waiting on them, and they don’t appreciate it one bit. I’m sure you’d have a couple more words to say about them that Alfred wouldn’t approve of. Anyway. Do you know you’re his hero? Yesterday- Tim saved me yesterday. I was going to die. I was almost okay with that as well. You’d be so disappointed in me, but I’m so tired, son. Tim took one of your old uniforms and saved me. He did well given that he doesn’t have training. He said Batman needs a Robin and maybe- maybe he is right. But what if I- what if he dies? I can’t let another child die, and this one isn’t even mine. I wish he were, but- Just, please promise me you’re watching over him, Jay. He loves you, and he needs someone and I don’t know if I can be that person.”

X

“This one wasn’t on the list.” The video was shaky. People could be heard and seen rushing around Bruce, most of them speaking Italian. “But I saw them on my way to the meeting and there was this boy- I could have sworn he was you, Jason. He was wearing a hoodie, just as red as your favorite and his hair was black too, if a little longer than you kept yours. Only his eyes were green. I can’t even tell you how glad I am that his eyes were green, because for a moment I thought the new pain killers were also interfering with my other meds. But the point is, I saw these and thought you’d like them.”

The camera moved to show a couple Venetian masks lying on the table. One was black and reminiscent of Batman’s cowl and besides it laid a smaller green one decorated with fake and cheap gemstones. Another mask was shaped like a W, then there was a blue, red and yellow one.

“Justice League masks,” Bruce said. “They are cheap and look ridiculous, but you would have loved them. I think I’ll keep them as a New Years gift for the League.”

X

Jason was woken up by the sound of his doorbell ringing. He had made it through all the documents, fifty they must have been. It had taken all night and Jason felt hollow. Those things had been for a boy that would never get to see them and Jason was painfully aware that they hadn’t been meant for him.

Nevertheless, he had to choke down those feelings for now and deal with whoever had decided to disturb him.

He managed to make his way over to the display screens showing who stood in his entrance without too much hissing. He was ready to shout at whoever wanted something from him to go away, only for the words to get stuck in his throat when he realized who was standing there.

Bruce.

Civilian clothes and all.

Oh no.

No, no, no, nonono.

Jason couldn’t deal with that now. He didn’t want to stare into the eyes of the man he’d seen cry. He couldn’t. Not now.

The doorbell rang again.

And again and again and Jason couldn’t move.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when Bruce’s shoulders sank in defeat and he turned around. He was leaving.

He was leaving Jason behind once more.

Suddenly, it seemed like Jason couldn’t get to the door fast enough. His foot screamed in protest when Jason rushed forward and threw the door open.

Bruce turned around and stared at Jason with wide blue eyes, and Jason didn’t know what to say.

“I still haven’t seen Romeo + Juliet,” Jason blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

Bruce stared at him like he couldn’t understand what was going on in Jason’s head, which was fair because Jason had no idea either, so he just kept on rambling.

“The Leonardo di Caprio movie. We only ever watched these super old black and white Shakespeare movies, but I think we should give this one a shot, right?”

Bruce was still staring and it freaked Jason out. Bruce knew. Of course he knew that Jason had stolen all the files and watched them and bawled like a baby because even death couldn’t teach him that the world was a vicious monster that enjoyed breaking people into pieces until they didn’t know who they used to be.

“Jason-“

“I saw the stupid files,” Jason interrupted him. Better to get this out of the way now before they started shouting again. “The videos about the List and all the things you did, and it’s not fair that I didn’t get to do any of that and that these were the end of me. I- I don’t know. I’m tired, Bruce. I’m really tired of you not listening to me and that everything has to be a fight. We used to be better than this.”

Silence followed Jason’s statement and for a moment he thought he’d finally done it and ruined everything. Not the killing, not the disobedience, this talk would be what finally crossed the line. Jason could see it in Bruce’s face.

“I know,” Bruce replied slowly. “I know and I’m sorry, Jaylad.”

Jason’s brain short-circuited. What?

Bruce didn’t notice Jason zoning out, still stuck on that first sentence and kept talking.

“But I can’t shake off the feeling that every time I take my eyes off you, you’re going to disappear again. Back to Crime Alley or to another country or just somewhere I can’t reach you. So tell me what to do, Jay, because I don’t know.”

This used to be easy. He’d been able to ask everything and get a reply. He hadn’t had to worry about what topics they talked about or what he demanded. Sometimes he hadn’t even needed to voice it. Bruce had already known.

“You could start with trusting me for once,” Jason said. “That’s all I ever wanted. Just getting the same amount of trust as Dick. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Silence followed in which they both mustered the other. Bruce looked older than he was, more exhausted than yesterday as well and he was wearing comfortable clothes, those he only put on at home or if he didn’t want to be recognized outside.

Bruce’s eyes darted away from Jason, taking in the sight behind him. It wasn’t a pretty one. Jason had fallen asleep without cleaning up.

“Are you injured?” Bruce asked.

That must have been the most unsubtle topic change of history.

“There’s glass and blood on the ground,” Bruce continued, diving head-first into detective mode.

Jason took a deep breath and bit on his tongue so that he wouldn’t go right back to where they had started.

“Already bandaged.”

“Oh, okay then.”

Bruce’s words made Jason’s sight flash green for a split-second.

“What? No more inquiries? No interrogation about what I was doing?”

Bruce hesitated, then shook his head. “No, I- I’m supposed to trust you on that.”

Jason could nearly hear the unspoken question mark tagged onto the end of that sentence. This was bound to be the worst conversation on the planet.

“Great. Thanks. So, if that was everything, can you-“

Jason didn’t get to finish as two arms suddenly wrapped around Jason. His first reaction was to fight and get out of that grip, until he realized that it was supposed to be a hug. Alright. Okay. They were hugging now.

“This isn’t going to fix us,” Jason mumbled into the crook of Bruce’s neck.

He didn’t know what hugging Bruce was like. It used to be like holding onto a mountain, or a big tree trunk. Nothing could move Bruce and Jason used to be so small, he had been able to climb on top of him and get carried around the whole house.

He wasn’t that child anymore. That child had died years ago.

“I know,” Bruce said. “But can we stay like this a little longer regardless?”

Jason’s foot hurt from standing so long already, but he didn’t mind. This way he had a little more time to hide his tear track, even though Bruce must be able to tell he was crying from the shaking of his shoulder and the wet spot on his jacket.

Just a bit longer.

[windermeresimblr]

The Scotsman and the Mystery of El Bosque Del Fauno, Chapter Eight

The end (or is it?) of Alasdair’s Adventures behind the jump...

The world flickered back into view, and Alasdair found himself stripped bare and strapped to a table, unable to move. For a moment, he thought he was paralyzed, perhaps to witness his own dissection while still living, and despaired; soon, the medicine fog began to clear, and he realized he was simply bound too tightly to move more than his eyes and mouth. He was, unfortunately, still naked. 

“You’re finally awake,” said the Guardian, looming over him. “Good. I was worried XJ had gone overboard with the tranquilizers. We didn’t expect you to put up such a fight.”

“Not you again!” Alasdair grumbled. “If you mean to kill me, do it now. I’m not going back to that cell.”

“What a drama queen! I can’t just kill you, you know,” the Guardian said, looking annoyed. “You still have a role to play in the timestream. Well, multiple roles. Which is why you’re here, anyways.”

The Guardian gestured, and a globe emerged. “You’ve seen a globe before, right?”

“I’m not so unlearned I think the world is flat. I’ve sailed--”

“Sure you have! Anyways.” A few more flicks of the being’s hands, and Alasdair eventually realized what he was looking at.

“Holland? Why are you showing me Holland?”

“That’s where our next bubble is headed. So, the Dutch Republic, circa 1608, give or take a few weeks and the change from Gregorian to Julian and maybe a couple of hundred miles in any direction, up, down, or sideways. Do you know anything about that time?”

Alasdair wondered, not for the last time, if he really had died and gone to hell. “War with England, sometimes. War with Spain, more frequently. Pirates in the North Sea. There was some business with tulips and buying on credit. Lots of people roaming about with neckerchiefs starched out like millstones. Rembrandt, of course, and Vermeer. There were some English garrison towns...”

“Groundbreaking. What did you do, read Lonely Planet the night before the test? Well, there goes Bee getting any help with that term paper.” The being gestured again, frowning, and now three portraits hovered between them. They were all of himself, although the dour faces and severe mustaches--now he knew he’d look right awful with a mustache--made him wonder if the Guardian hadn’t gone digging in the McCarric vault.

“You have to choose a new life. So, you’re either of these three pillars of society.”

“Do I have to have a mustache?” Alasdair asked.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” the Guardian said. “Yes, you can stay clean-shaven if you’re so horrified by growing a mustache.”

“Do I get to know anything about what I’m getting into?” Alasdair snapped. “I’m not just choosing a new life based on how least poorly-groomed my face would be, am I?”

“I have to explain everything for you, ugh!” The being said. “Next time, I’m picking for you.” 

“Next time?!” Alasdair cried. “Oh, ye gods and little fishes, preserve me from ever seeing you again!”

“Ń̶͓̟̤̞̉̽̔ę̵̡̼̮̣̯̜͆̒̇̒̀̒͒͜v̵̭̮̳̝̗̩͐̋̍͆̊̑̔͗͗͝ͅe̷̢̢̝͖̞̟͐̌̑͊͋͛̆̀͝r̸̘̗̭̲̃͊̂̽̀̐͘̚͘͝ ̵̧̮̫̯̙͖̂͋̓̊̾̚m̵̡̬͈͎̀͛̈́͝͝i̶̧̳̮̦̩̹̘̼͊́̽̎͠͝ͅṅ̴̰̪̘͚̩̬̝̮̋̀͌̃͌̓̅̽͘ḏ̷̡̲̟̳̜̙͛̌̂̕͠ ̴̢̩̗̻͎͈̥̆̓̋̌̓͋́͐͘͘ͅţ̴̜̓̒̏͊͌ḧ̴̨̗̻͍̭̔̌̇́͘͜͠à̷̹̼̞͍̪̻̞͖̣͗́t̴͇̳̞͈̭͇̙̀̑̃̎̿͠!̴̢̲̹͍̫̘̎̓̐̀̉̊̈́” A pointer, as if the Guardian were a schoolteacher explaining a lesson, also materialized from nowhere. 

“This is William Beaton,” the being said, pointing to the man on the left with a black feathered hat. “He’s an apothecary in Flushing. Unmarried, no children--yet--” 

“I can’t be an apothecary,” Alasdair pointed out. “I don’t know anything about medicine. And I don’t speak Dutch! I’m not about to send myself hurtling into the past to poison someone and be burnt at the stake!”

“We’ll teach you everything you need to know.” Somehow, Alasdair was not convinced.

“I don’t think I want to be an apothecary. Who are the other two?”

“This is Red Finbarr of Barra, a privateer--”

“Absolutely not! I’m not ending up in a gibbet!”

“Why are you so picky? Do you know how excited some people would be to become a pirate?”

“Also, my uncle--my father’s family has relatives in the Caribbean,” Alasdair said. “Surely someone as knowledgeable as you--”

“You’re not even biologically related to most of them! And Finbarr was never known to go deeper into the Atlantic than the Faroes--”

“What’s all this past tense and ‘he was known to’? Are these real people I’m replacing?”

“Not really? I mean, they’re more...aggregates. It’s not really identity theft, or anything.”

Alasdair had a horrifying image of someone stealing his life, some hapless outsider (the bewildered apothecary, or worse, a corsair--heaven only knew what the third person would be)  beguiled by the Guardian into living out the rest of his days. A surge of anger flashed through him--that was his family, however distant, his commission, his friends, his horse, his books--at least he didn’t have a wife or a sweetheart, to also yield to this imagined impostor. (And, of course, he wasn’t really the type to give someone horns, even in the hypothetical; the thought of some burgher’s wife thinking he really was her Jan or Pieter, dandling someone else’s children on his knee while they had no idea who he really was, made him faintly nauseous.) “I’m not stealing someone’s life! That’s horrid!” 

“Fine, Mr. Picky. You don’t want to stay in the Nexus, and then it’s too immoral to go back into reality... Here’s door number three--if you don’t choose one of these, I’m turning you into a goat. A sentient goat.”

“Or you could just kill me. I think it’d be easier,” Alasdair said. 

“No. Killing’s too good for you.” The being stabbed the pointer rather viciously this time. “Alexander Cummings, a saffron merchant living in Campvere.”

“That’s a tulip he’s holding, not a saffron.” Alasdair thought for a moment. “Why are you so insistent on these three...guises? Are they going to replace me?”

“No, they all turned up their noses at your life, too,” the Guardian said, rather nastily. “Every person has their own...significance in the time stream.”

“So you want me to muck things up even further, then.”

“I have a few people in the region who also went through the Nexus. I want you to keep an eye on them.”

Alasdair had a mental image of some of the nastier members of his father’s crew...and his mother’s less scrupulous protectors. He did not much care for the idea of being an enforcer for the Guardian’s schemes. (Perhaps, though, a saffron merchant would have less chances for skulduggery than a corsair or an apothecary? Surely this Alexander Cummings wasn’t the type who personally went to the Ottomans to find his goods, or squabbled with Venetians in squalid back rooms!) “And what’s in it for me, if I’m your enforcer?”

“You’re not sent back to the Stone Age or turned into a goat? Isn’t that enough of a benefit for you?”

“I suppose. But I still don’t speak Dutch, and my hair’s awful short compared to his.”

“We have some time until the rift opens.” The Guardian snapped their fingers, and another group of mechanicals emerged. One had a tailor’s ham in its hands and pins in its mouth; another had a precarious tower of books; a third had a pair of scissors and a curious-looking bottle.

“Meanwhile, you’re going to be getting a bit more...hah...out of date.”

Alasdair was soon dragged off into a room with an array of strange devices throughout. He was pushed onto a platform, and then the harrying began. “Arm out, please,” said one mechanical, who then began measuring him for a new suit of clothes.

“The muttonchops have to go,” said the other, tilting his face its way, and Alasdair flinched at the advancing scissors.

“But they make me look dashing!” he protested, to no avail.

“Compiling trade route statistics,” said the third, its jointed fingers and stalk-like eye breezing through the stack of books with a dizzying speed Alasdair envied. “...Bingely-bing! Personality programming complete.”

“Personality what? I’m fine the way I am, thank you!”

“The hair needs to grow at least five inches at the sides...and he needs a goatee...”

“Och, no.”

“Green wool doublet and cannions, perhaps a nice mulberry sleeve in velvet…”

“No! No velvet! It’s too hot for velvet--”

“Enabling time dilation…”

His hair and facial hair grew at an alarming rate; the mechanical with the tailor’s ham whizzed about him, poking and prodding, until suddenly he was encased in a costume that itched and made him long for a good pair of trousers and a shirt. His hair and beard, even his eyebrows and nails, were trimmed as if he were a topiary in a garden. His mind was overwhelmed by new knowledge, facts and grammatical clauses and memories that he knew weren’t his and had never happened to him crammed into his skull until he felt he was going insane. Perhaps he had.

“Time dilation complete.”

Blinking, he looked at the mechanicals surrounding him, his reflection in the glass. That was, indeed, his reflection, he realized with mounting horror. 

“What have ye done to me?” he cried, looking at himself. His hair was slicked back and curled under at the ends, grazing the starched millstone ruff he was wearing; he had a mustache and goatee that made him look a pompous fool; he was, indeed, clad in green wool and mulberry velvet. “I look awful!” (Well, his calves looked excellent, but calves did not a man’s appearance make.)

“Stop whining!” said the Guardian, who had come into the room when he was unaware, or perhaps while he was contemplating the disastrous...thing on his upper lip. While some of his men had grown them, falling into the French idea that it was dashing and that their waxed mustaches were simply teeming with masculine derring-do, he had always thought they looked rather foolish. “You look nice in green, at least.”

“But I--”

“It’s time to go, you wouldn’t want to be late to your future, now would you?” The Guardian seized hold of him by the shoulders, clawed hands gripping his thrice-damned velvet sleeves so tightly he thought he might actually be mauled.

With that, he was once more shoved through a dizzying array of corridors until he was brought into a room that resembled something like a canal lock, only there was no water. “Suppose this is a canal lock, and not just another strange little room. Suppose they unleash the canal the instant I let my guard drop. I’d be drowned like a rat,” he thought to himself. “I suppose drowning is better than whatever was meant to happen to me in the woods, but what a choice.”

“Must you be so melodramatic?” The Guardian said, stepping behind a partition. “All this frowning and sighing and raising your voice. I can’t wait until you’re inflicting this Lord Byron nonsense on someone else.”

“Wh--how dare you, sir!” Alasdair spluttered. “I’ll have you know--”

Before he could make his reply--certain to have more than a few oaths and imprecations--a bright light flashed; he felt himself pulled once more by an unseen force, forward and back and side to side... 

Credits

Now and forever, thanks to all of you who read this and left such nice comments! 

Of course, my eternal thanks and gratitude to @danjaley, who was so gracious as to allow Alasdair and Daniel into the McCarric(k) clan, and for creating an excellent stable of poses; @moocha-muses, for letting me borrow Dan O’Doyle; @rennylurant​ for costuming advice and squealing over renaissance fashions/advice; @studiok2sims, for even more excellent poses and advice; @tolkiensimmer​ for advice on lighting and costuming; and @treason-and-plot for helping me get “unstuck” on several occasions and finding certain things I needed for the sequel. Why yes, Virginia, there is a sequel. It’s my NANOWRIMO PROJECT. MUAHAHAHAHAHA.

Happy Halloween!!!!!

[honestgrins]

Adventurous || Klaroline

Bill Forbes can’t let his daughter marry a pirate, especially not the worst of his kind.

.

Caroline stared down at her plate, half-heartedly pushing roast vegetables no sailor would be rationed while at sea. The ship rocked beneath their dining table, but that was hardly what made her queasy. "I thought I was being helpful," she pouted. "You asked me to befriend Rebekah so as to endear our family to Governor Mikaelson. I did that, yet you're sending me away."

"You know I only want what's best for you." Her father sounded tired, and guilt only twisted her stomach further. Bill Forbes had never wanted to drag his family into the business, but it became necessary when Liz died, leaving him to raise their daughter in the midst of building his reputation as a respectable merchant. Since finding success in the Caribbean, however, young Caroline had been exposed to far more of the world than he'd hoped for her. Her safety would always be his priority. "You've kept my house for longer than you deserved, precious. Now, you deserve to keep your own, and I think you'll like the Lockwood boy. His father and I have worked together for years, and you'll be back home in Virginia."

Roughly pushing her chair back, Caroline paced the length of her father's cabin. Of all his ships, Elizabeth proved to be the best for personal travel, especially when bringing her along. Their quarters were generous, allowing her to expend all her angry, nervous energy. "I barely remember Virginia! You're just leaving me there with a stranger, who is to be my husband."

Bill squeezed his knife, though he didn't rise from his seat. "We're lucky to find you a decent husband at all, Caroline. You'd be wise to remember that."

All the air rushed from her lungs. She felt wrung out, nothing but shame left clinging to whatever remained of her. The independence granted by her father's business had made her bold, too bold. Sneaking her lover into her bedroom was daring in the first place; allowing him to stay the night had been utter foolishness. The household staff was loyal enough to her not to spoil their secret, thankfully. Rumors of the Klaus Mikaelson falling under her spell, however, managed to reach Bill's ears anyway, the dishonorable nature of his intentions to be assumed as fact - her own intentions and feelings be damned.

With a deep breath, she instead found a rage that had long built within. "I will not keep apologizing for loving him," she finally said, her tone cool and even. "I let you confine me to the house, I let you insist I accompany you on this trip, but it's not enough. You didn't bring me to keep me away from him, you brought me to send me away altogether. Even from you."

Pain filled his expression, and he looked nearly torn. "If I could keep you home, I would," he swore quietly. "Our position on the island has become untenable."

"Because Klaus wants me to be free," Caroline accused.

"Free to embarrass yourself and ruin both families with your...affair."

She shook her head, almost frantic. "Because he loves me! Because he wants to show me the world, because he knows I'll never leave while you need me. Clearly you don't, or else why send me back to Virginia?"

"A pirate feared throughout the sea has staked a claim on my daughter," Bill seethed. "I don't intend to give him the chance to avenge that claim and leave you in the crossfire." When she opened her mouth to argue, however, he raised a quelling hand. "He's a reprobate and vicious man, Caroline. Surely, you understand why I secured you a safe home and a kind marriage far from him."

Despite the pleading words, all she heard was condescension and judgment. "You don't know him. He's spoken to you once and your mind is made up."

"A murderer and a thief dared to ask for your hand over tea in the governor's parlor, as though the whole island wasn't aware of their strained relationship or his own crimes against my colleagues and friends." Leaning forward, Bill pointed at her with his knife. "Whatever you and his sister planned for his redemption, it won't work and I refuse to let him cow me into submission."

A terrible understanding dawned on her. "You think he wants to use me against you," she realized. "A pawn to keep you under his thumb."

"Governor Mikaelson favors me among merchants, your pirate has taken notice. Involving himself in my business and some particular dealings would allow him to destroy his father - politically, financially, and essentially ruin the man."

"Good," Caroline spat, her arms crossed defiantly. Even if she'd liked the governor from their limited interactions - and she didn't - that goodwill was easily cut down by the stories Rebekah had shared and Klaus only alluded to with dark eyes. Had her father managed to include her in his business, she would have made her opinion on the man very clear.

Thankfully, a knock at the door interrupted whatever character reference Bill might have argued, and they both turned to find the Elizabeth's captain in the threshold. Over the years, Caroline had come to consider Enzo a friend, which made him agreeing to bear her to Virginia a betrayal. Well aware of this, he had taken pains to avoid her on the first day of the journey. She glared at him, and he grimaced before facing her father. "Begging your pardon, but a ship approaches. Fast. There are large cannons clearly visible, yet they've made no attack."

"Yet," Bill reaffirmed with a tired, resigned look.

Enzo’s gaze flicked back to her, and Caroline felt her heart race with anticipation. “It appears to be The Rogue, sir. I don’t relish our chances against Klaus Mikaelson, even if we weren’t running a skeleton crew."

It had been a rather hasty voyage, with little actual cargo to stow or protect on board. Speed was of the essence, and they’d left port as soon as the sails could be raised and managed. Few would challenge a rig without valuables onboard; apparently Klaus was one of them - though Caroline could argue that Klaus found her person to be very valuable.

Sighing, her father pinched the bridge of his nose. “What would you have me do, Captain?”

"There's a small chance we could outrun them if their current pace slows to meet us and we catch a favorable wind before they do," Enzo offered without any of his usual bravado. "Otherwise, we allow the ship to be boarded and hope for a polite negotiation. At worst, he sinks us all."

"He wouldn't do that." Caroline ran to the door, slipping past her father's grasping hands to storm out to the deck. Her head whipped from side to side, only to find an anxious group of sailors awaiting orders and staring at a break in the horizon. With a tight grip on the railing, she could feel her heart pounding. "He wouldn't do that," she said again, her voice a mere whisper as she tried to convince herself.

Klaus Mikaelson wasn't a good man, she knew that. Every story she heard would be worse than the last, blood trailing behind him at every dock. The Rogue and its crew of brigands were infamous for stealing an empire and enforcing their pirates' code on less honorable - yet somehow more respectable - traders. For all the proper training her father tried to instill in her, Caroline always adored the image of a life at sea. None seemed more romantic than that of a pirate, the raw freedom of it all so tempting.

As she grew up, however, her responsibilities grew as well. Freedom was all well and good, but someone needed to keep the house in order and ensure their family was above reproach. Oddly enough, it was her father's suggestion to create ties and affection with the governor via his daughter that led her to crave freedom once more.

Her nails scraped at the salt-worn wood, the ship in the distance appearing slightly larger with every minute that passed.

"Sure you know what you're getting yourself into, gorgeous?" Enzo had managed to sidle up next to her without her noticing, her focus utterly absorbed by the thought that Klaus was coming for her. "If we don't run, you'll end up on that ship. Maybe for the rest of your life."

A smile lifted her lips. "A girl can dream," she answered wistfully.

One afternoon at the governor's estate, Rebekah had waved off a turn in the garden, claiming the sun was too much for her delicate skin. Caroline, unable to help herself, eagerly enjoyed the chance to explore without a chaperone. She'd pretended to be surprised when she found Klaus lounging beneath a tree, laughing when he pulled her down to enjoy other explorations. They later basked in the warm light, her left hand tucked into his shirt, just over his heart.

"What's it like to sail wherever you want?" she had asked, curious. "How can you even decide where to go with the whole world before you?"

His fingers had brushed over her back, gentle at the loosened ties of her corset. "The whole world is before you, too, sweetheart. All you have to do is decide you want more of it. Then, you take it."

She had chuckled and propped her chin on his chest to meet his eyes. "And if I wanted more of you? These stolen hours are lovely, but few and far between."

"I'm here for the taking," he'd vowed, his grip on her tightening as he reached for another kiss.

Smiling against his lips, Caroline had wanted to believe him - that he could be hers. "I thought you were the pirate."

"There's nothing a pirate loves more than enticing another to join the crew." Another deep kiss had distracted them for a long while. "Once you're on my ship, I'll take you wherever you want."

"And I'll be the captain's mistress?"

He'd smirked, kisses turned sweet. "You'll be the captain, and I your most devoted servant."

And his ship was there, racing on its way to her.

"Caroline," Bill said in that disappointed tone of his, approaching her from behind with arms crossed. "Whatever he's promised you, whatever it is you're hoping for, it will only end in heartbreak and danger. You cannot risk our family like this, not for him."

The sea breeze on her face smelled fresh and wild, and she could almost pretend she were a bird soaring above them all. To be so light and joyous and free, everything her father was trying to take away from her. "I can do whatever I want," she grinned. "Klaus helped me to see that."

But her father scoffed. "Of course he did, because he's convinced you that you want whatever he wants. Convenient, isn't it?"

"He asked me to marry him," she pointed out, breathless when she could finally make out shapes on the other ship's deck. People. Him. "Even if it's all a trick, he needn't go to such lengths."

"So he can trap you and our family into furthering his interests, Caroline. I raised you to be smarter than this!"

She pursed her lips. "To me, it seems I'm getting married regardless of the outcome. You lose me anyway. Why shouldn't I choose the path that might make me happy?" They stared at each other, both too stubborn to look away first.

Enzo coughed, clearly uncomfortable. "Sir, it's time. What course of action would you prefer?"

Pleading with her eyes, Caroline still refused to beg aloud. She watched as her father took in the serious lines of her face, his own conflicted for the first time since she'd challenged his plan. Two deep breaths, and that conflict gave way to a sad calm. "If she's right, there's no use running if he intends to catch us, however long it takes. Drop anchor, let the pirate prove he can board peacefully. That he means us no harm, outside of stealing my daughter," he muttered to himself.

Caroline gripped his arm as Enzo moved to instruct the crew, and she squeezed when the ship noticeably slowed. "Thank you." He covered her hand with his own, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "He's not stealing me."

"No," Bill gravely agreed. "You're going of your own volition, which is much worse."

If he had slapped her, it might have hurt less. She backed away on instinct, only for him to hold her more tightly. "Trusting a pirate is going to get you killed, Caroline. I won't be able to protect you. Not from him."

It wasn't worth spitting the bitter defenses back in his face; he wouldn't be swayed. Her heart broke knowing he would never forgive her for this. She thought they had done things right, she and Klaus. They fell in love, made promises to each other. Klaus had even gone so far as to try and get her father's blessing to marry. How many pirates would do that for a woman they'd already bedded? It had to be real.

It had to be for her father to look at her like she was lost to him. Her eyes burned with tears, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she looked out to watch The Rogue approach and prayed she wasn't wrong.

.

His grip tightened on the rigging with only the speed of the ship to comfort him. Elizabeth wasn't much of a conquest on a normal day with smaller than average cargo holds meant for travel supplies and more living room for passengers. She could be quick when she wanted to be, but the main sail had slackened considerably, and Klaus released a pained breath as the gap between them closed. 

He'd caught her. If he didn't think Caroline would run away by her own desire should he try, he might never let her out of his sight again. Oh, but that was a fight to be had when she was back in his arms.

The crew had given his tense form a wide berth as they rushed around him, pushing the ship faster than was probably wise. When their captain had called them to action, he was near to growling at them until Marcel swept in to give commands. "Let me worry about the sailing," his first mate had reasoned with him. "You work on how to get your girl back without bloodshed. From what you've told me, the lady isn't likely to forgive harming her family." 

Unfortunate paternal affection aside, Bill Forbes had proven to be a surprisingly difficult adversary, one that couldn't be borne for much longer. For her, Klaus was willing to negotiate the boundaries of her father's influence with generous terms; since learning of his plan to dispatch her to a husband in Virginia, however, that spirit of generosity had been greatly tested. A part of him feared he'd kill the man on sight, had given Marcel his pistol and knife as a precaution. The rest of him couldn't climb from the horror of what might have been had Rebekah not alerted him to the plot.

As often as he'd offered his sister a chance to escape Mikael's house, he couldn't help but to be grateful that she'd resisted so far. Otherwise, she wouldn't have overheard their father complaining about losing Bill's input for the month it would take to deliver Caroline to Virginia. Worse, he might not have met Caroline at all.

She'd looked beautiful the day he first saw her, peering through the titles in the library. Embarrassed to have been caught, her cheeks had flushed a pretty pink, clutching the hand that had been gently stroking spines to her chest. But then she frowned upon seeing him, eyes tracking down to his worn clothes and dirty boots. She greeted him warily, excusing her own presence as a guest of Miss Mikaelson.

"They're not my books, far be it from me to forbid you from them," he'd teased, helping himself to his father's rum. "Bekah doesn't usually take to others, I'd hate to scare off a new friend."

Her eyes had narrowed. "You're awfully familiar. One of her brothers?"

He smirked behind his glass, giving her an appreciative glance. "Smart as you are fetching, though I'm quite sure my name isn't welcome in these hallowed halls."

"But your person is," she noted with some humor. "What's your profession, Mr. Mikaelson, if I may be so bold to ask?"

"Bold, indeed." He'd always liked that about her; Caroline was a curious one, a question on the tip of her tongue and just itching to ask. Whenever they were alone, she never bothered with polite rules of conversation, instead following her own train of thought until she knew what she wanted to know. "I'm a sailor by trade, Miss...?"

Staring at him with fascination, she seemed to light up with an expression he knew well. Many of his men wore the same one as they looked out on the open ocean for the first time, or when they noticed some new creature crashing against the bowels of the ship. She held a spirit of adventure in her heart, kindred to his own. "Oh, that must be so exciting. My father runs a merchant's fleet, but I don't get to sail nearly as often as I'd like. Even less now," she added, her smile fading.

Klaus hadn't liked the despondent weight that fell over her, but Rebekah burst in before he could ask about it. "Nik! Father will be home in an hour, but you must stay for tea. Ah, I see you've met Miss Forbes," she rambled on imperiously, leading one of the servants into the room. "We'll need an extra place setting, Marie."

He gave a mocking bow. "I am at your leisure, dear sister." Turning to his new acquaintance, he dipped his head more graciously. "Miss Forbes."

"Caroline," she insisted with a quick dip of a curtsey. Despite the sheen of manners, he could see the wheels turning in her mind, and his grin widened at the moment of realization. Her voice turned faint, but not with fear, he was pleased to note. "You're Niklaus Mikaelson."

Rebekah was quick to correct her, "Captain Niklaus Mikaelson."

"A captain." Caroline had nodded, and he could hear what she really wanted to say. A pirate.

"So you've heard of me." His smile turned predatory, showing off his teeth like he was baring fangs. "Fantastic."

But Miss Caroline Forbes wasn’t one to be cowed, no matter the many horrors attributed to his ruthless greed. Instead, she asked voraciously about his travels, the places he’d been that she could only dream of. In one breath, she would condemn the violence he’d committed in a nearby port and wonder at the people he’d met there. Her life had become increasingly sheltered as her father’s business grew, many of the characters he cavorted with not unfamiliar to Klaus in his own work. 

Rebekah had bored of the conversation quite early, choosing instead to design her next dress while they argued the merits of one bounty over another he’d collected. Lively and fierce, Caroline had no qualms in disagreeing with him, sure his opinion of her wouldn’t hold much sway in the marriage market she and his sister had dreaded together. 

Though he had fun teasing the prospects bandied about for Rebekah’s hand, Klaus was confident he could gather the funds necessary to bribe their dear father to hold off any negotiations she wasn’t thrilled for. After all, Governor Mikaelson was a proud and ambitious man, and there would always be a better offer down the line. 

When the topic was Caroline’s intended fate, amusement was the last thing on Klaus’s mind. No amount of money would lend him sway with Bill Forbes, a man determined to hate him and everything he represented. Holding his daughter hostage was a card the man was all too thrilled to play if it meant keeping her away from a pirate - even if that pirate would do anything to have her.

Even though, against all odds or reason, he loved her.

His love could have been married across the ocean before he had a chance to say goodbye. A paralyzing rage bled through him at the thought, and it wasn't eased by the fear Caroline was a more willing participant than he assumed. She’d never hid the duty she felt to make a safe match, if only to stop her father worrying after her. With the right husband, her life wouldn’t have to change overmuch. An absent father had left her rather independent, marrying another merchant or even a rising Navy man would lend to a similar freedom should he permit.

“And what’s to stop me from seducing the mistress of the house while the poor sap is away?” Klaus had teased that first time he’d stolen into her bedroom, eager to tempt her out of her dress. It wasn’t love yet, not for him, but it was a desire so strong that even the possibility of being shot upon discovery couldn’t force him to behave - not with her hair falling in soft waves down her back or the enticing length of her legs as he slowly lifted her shift. 

She scrabbled at his back beneath his shirt, just as eager to taste him and the rebellion he offered. “The mistress herself, I trust,” she flirted, though reinforced her point with a dig of nails into his skin. “I wouldn’t want to dishonor my husband, after all.”

Hesitating ever so slightly, Klaus forced a huff of a laugh before distracting them both with a well-placed hand between her thighs. The thought had haunted him long after he left her sleeping peacefully, that she would be tied to some other man, to whom she’d make promises for the rest of her life. There would come a day when he might slyly glance her way, only to find her watching a husband she called hers.

Over time, he realized why that image bothered him so much.

And now that she was his, well and truly his, Bill Forbes thought he could tear them apart. But he’d caught them; Klaus could finally see her on the deck, eagerly leaning against the rail. Caroline was always eager, the implicit danger of the ocean beneath being half the fun of it. His heart pounded with how beautiful she looked, her hair flowing loose in the light wind his sails caught, bringing them together.

Impatient and fuming, he climbed up into the rigging and tugged one of the ropes that seemed long enough to breach the distance between ships. A few sailors milled about the Elizabeth’s deck, though none seemed to be prepared for a fight. No weapons were drawn, in any case, and Caroline wasn’t being held back. She only smiled up at him, relief and love clear in her eyes. “Marcel,” he called out.

The men barely looked up from their efforts to prevent a collision, and his first mate shouted back without a thought. “Go!”

A firm grip on the rope and a deep breath was all Klaus needed to let his weight carry him from the Rogue, his legs strong as they absorbed the impact onto the other ship, like he had a hundred times before. As a pirate, Klaus had learned to be prepared for the fight - even a peaceful boarding could turn nasty fast. He was lucky, then, that Bill Forbes recognized defeat and didn’t try to kill him anyway, because Caroline launching herself into his arms wiped every threat from his mind. Instead, he squeezed her tightly, desperate to believe he would get to keep her. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he reassured them both, murmuring it over and over in her ear. “You’re safe.”

“You came,” she cried into his neck. Her arms clenched around him, nails digging into his worn vest. “You came for me.”

“Always,” he promised. His grip wouldn’t slack, and fingers carded through her hair without permission. Still, he lifted his eyes to her father, enraged in his own right. He couldn’t hurt the man, not without hurting Caroline as well, and the quarrel seemed moot if the Elizabeth had given up the chase. “I meant what I said,” he nodded as he invoked their last meeting in the governor’s parlor. The attempt at appearing respectable had only deepened the contempt in Bill’s eyes, despite the more than generous offer of a loving marriage for his only child. “She will want for nothing, and all I have and am will be hers. Is hers already.”

Pale and shaking with ire, Bill wagged a threatening finger in his face. “The wealth of a pirate is short-lived and wasted on drink and whores,” he accused. “You’ll bring nothing but pain and suffering on my daughter, a pirate’s wife,” he all but spat.

Caroline finally lifted her head, but her arms only tightened around his waist as she faced what remained of her family with a stern glare. “A captain’s wife,” she corrected, nearly snarling. “Whether or not you believe it, I know he loves me.”

“Ruin,” Bill warned. “He will ruin you. He’s already destroyed any prospects that would have kept you on the island.”

“I don’t need prospects, I have exactly who I need.” She tilted her chin up to Klaus, and he swore never allow himself to dim the fire in her expression. He loved her for everything she was, for defending him when his own parents never bothered. For choosing him, time and again. “Marry me, Klaus.”

Her eyes flicked to the captain lurking on the edge of their group, a supposed friend of hers she’d mentioned once or twice. Blinking, comprehension dawned upon him. Klaus squared his shoulders, not letting her go for a second. “Captain,” he said in his politest tone, the one reserved for pestering Bekah in public or particularly testy parleys. “Might you honor us with your witness?”

“Please, Enzo,” Caroline added, her eyes wide with hope.

Wetting his lips, this Enzo slowly looked to Bill. “Sir...”

Caroline suddenly lurched from his arms, but Klaus forced himself to calm as she reached for her father’s hands. She was fighting for him. “I understand if you’ll never forgive me, and I even understand if you choose to disown me after this. Please,” she entreated, “please stand with me while I marry the love of my life.”

On his honor as a pirate, whose word was only as good as his actions, Klaus would be a husband she could be proud of - a love worth testing that of her own parent. When her watery eyes met his, his chest filled with a warmth that weighed him down in the best way. He felt grounded despite the rocking of the ship, settled in a way the ocean would never be.

It was how he first knew he loved her. He had put off a number of voyages to woo her, under the guise of paying his sister long neglected visits, only to spend more time with the pretty guest and her sharp tongue. Tumbling into her bed once - then twice - had been good fun, tentatively growing into an unfamiliar affection. The time came when Marcel had a line on new quarry, the crew restless to get back to the sea and fill their pockets again, and he didn’t relish leaving Caroline behind as he had so many others. 

Rebekah must have warned her, for she had clearly been expecting him when he climbed through her window, pulling him in with tender kisses and gently urging him back to her bed. With the hours dwindling, though, he reluctantly collected his clothes while she watched. “Wait,” she’d called, rushing to her desk wearing only a hurriedly fastened dressing gown. Pressing a sealed letter to his chest, she allowed him a soft kiss goodbye. “For when you can’t sleep.”

He never could the night before sailing, an affliction of overwrought planning and impending adventure that no amount of rum or tea could solve. Frowning in confused amusement, he slipped the paper into his jacket and left her with yet another lingering brush of her lips. 

How many other lovers had written him a message upon departure, Klaus couldn’t begin to count. Sweet promises of a home for him to return to, wicked plans for when he did. As the moon shone into his quarters that night, curiosity overwhelmed him as to which woman Miss Caroline Forbes would prove to be. Regardless of the contents, he was more than sure he’d loyally return to her all the same. 

Then he opened the letter, his smirk falling slack. She’d written nothing, merely touched the paper with her favored scent. He closed his eyes and held it to his nose, breathing deeply enough he could almost imagine her on the ship with him. 

And he slept peacefully, resolved to bring her along the next time - perhaps to never let her go again. Once they married, he'd never have to. She would be his.

His wife.

“No.” Bill’s spiteful tone was clear, and Klaus curled his fists at the way her face crumpled in response. Her father, however, felt no such compunction to offer comfort to his only child. “I can’t. I won’t. I might not be able to stop you, but I refuse to be a party to what I truly believe is the worst mistake you will ever make.” Ironically, he’d never seen the family resemblance so well until Bill trained a stern glare upon him.

Caroline rolled back her shoulders and stepped more surely between them, secure with Klaus at her back. “You’re wrong, but at least it’s my choice,” she replied, her voice calm despite the somber note of disappointment. 

Shaking his head, Bill tossed his hands in the air as he stalked back toward his cabin. He called out, still angry. “When you regret this, don’t ask me to rescue you!” A door slammed shut, leaving them on the deck with a chagrined Enzo.

"He'll come around, gorgeous. He always does," her friend offered, watching Klaus with a wary eye. "Still sure about marrying this one?"

With a low growl, he was relieved to have left his weapons with Marcel. He dropped his lips to Caroline's ear, trying to ignore the stream of tears running silently down her face. "We can head back to port, let Bekah handle arrangements for a more dignified wedding, if you'd like." His enmity with his father limited certain opportunities, but the Mikaelson name and the exotic treasures of a pirate would enable some social dignities. "It's up to you, love. Always."

Finally, she managed a wan smile, growing brighter by the second when she turned her face up to him. "You raced here to save me," she teased quietly. "A wife seems a nice prize for your efforts."

"Caroline."

Her hands lifted to cup his face, determination clear in hers. "I won't regret this. I want you."

"You have me," Klaus vowed. "Forever, I am yours."

"My husband." A weight appeared to lift from her as tears filled her eyes again, this time with a happier sheen. "Good enough, Enzo?"

Clearing his throat, this Captain Enzo barely covered a laugh. "By my authority on this vessel, I declare you married." They were kissing before he even finished, and he didn't bother to stifle his amusement. "All right, carry her off, Mikaelson. I'll get her things tossed over to the Rogue before you graciously leave my ship in peace."

Without looking away from his bride, Klaus nodded. "My first mate will be on hand for you," he said, sweeping Caroline up into his arms. His voice dropped as she nuzzled into his neck. "Ready to board, sweetheart?"

She laughed, a bright noise that hit straight to his heart. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

He took advantage of his hand placement to pinch her ass. "Your smart mouth is going to get us in trouble, I just know it."

"Only the fun kind," she promised. She furrowed her brow at the narrow plank Marcel had managed to fit between the ships, and Klaus felt her hold around his neck tighten. "Klaus."

Shrugging, he kissed her temple. "Where's the adventurous woman I married? Hard to see the world if you're scared of a life on deck."

Caroline winced. "It's the between I'm worried about, Captain."

Not wanting to worry her further, Klaus hurried across with all the confidence he'd earned over years at sea in far more dangerous circumstances. He landed hard on the Rogue, though his grip on her didn't waver in the slightest. "Ye of little faith, wife," he joked, enjoying the way she blushed with pride. "And I believe you're the captain now, with I your most devoted servant."

Her expression fell in utter shock, a pure delight shining from her eyes. "Wherever I want to go?" she recalled, wonderstruck. 

"As long as I'm with you." One close call at losing her was more than enough for one lifetime. "Where will it be?"

"The captain's quarters," she decided at once, gamely ignoring the hoots and hollers of his - their - crew listening in. "Then...everywhere."

Grinning, Klaus leaned in for a kiss, again earning whistles. "Aye, aye, love."

[bitchy-marvel-dude]

Future’s Past

TW for: Health issues, foster care, minor descriptions of child abuse (not graphic)

This is a reincarnation au i’ve been thinking about for a while. Hope you enjoy. More to come soon.

AO3 link here

 Alejandro was born on the last day of June and boy was he mad. He was an angry individual even from the beginning, letting out gut wrenching wails as he was forced from his warm, safe home into a cold, unforgiving operating room. There were blurs of light all around him, smears of gray and white and black, faces not yet focused.

They had shoved something up his nose, down his throat, taped large pads to his little chest, and stuck him in a large plastic tube. Later, Alejandro would find out that the purpose of all of this was because he was born too early - two months early, to be exact. He would find out that his lungs were underdeveloped, something that would affect him into his adult years. He’d find out that there had been a hole in his heart and that, later, they’d had to split his chest open to fix it, which kept him from doing any activity that was too strenuous for the rest of his life. And, perhaps worst of all, he’d learned he had been born half-deaf, and that he had to use hearing aids. 

 Because of his many health issues, it surprised none of the doctors when the mother declared she didn’t want Alejandro. The baby was placed in foster care, but was bounced around a lot due to no one being able to accommodate for his needs.

 No one seemed to want to take the boy to his speech therapist or one of his many doctor’s appointments to make sure his heart and lungs were okay. No one wanted to learn sign language, but no one seemed to want to buy the boy hearing aids so he could understand what they were saying either. He ran through at least six homes a year, his carers not able to handle the boy’s excess energy or his odd fixations. 

 Alejandro finally learned how to communicate when he was five years old, after his foster family rushed for someone to teach him before school started. The boy could hear, he just couldn’t hear very well - the voices around him were like a swirl of jumbled, faint words and sounds. It was really quite irritating. 

 But, fortunately, Alejandro took to sign language like a duck to water. He was fluent in ASL by the end of Kindergarten. It didn’t do him much good since his foster parents never seemed to put in the effort to learn themselves, and not even the teacher in his special class knew it, but it was an accomplishment for the boy nonetheless. 

 It was when his latest foster family dumped him onto a new pair of inexperienced parents and the bruises started appearing on his arms and legs, however minor the injuries were, when his memories were triggered.

 It had been when his foster mother slapped him for the first time that his past life came rushing back. Snippets, at first. A tall, broad man with fiery red hair, smelling of booze and with stumbling steps. The slap hadn’t hurt, not that much anyway, not with how wasted the man was, but it was obviously an important memory if it was the first one to come back to him…

 He had rubbed a hand against his stinging cheek and contemplated the memory in his small bedroom. 

There was a notebook in his backpack. Brand new, meant to be for reading class, though Alejandro knew nothing would be put in it besides a few cut out pieces of paper. He took one of his new pencils in a chubby, uncoordinated hand, writing down the memory on a page of notebook paper, trying to get down as many details as possible. 

Long, red hair pulled back into a ponytail… booze, probably whiskey… a sharp sting on his cheek that faded quickly… 

He was missing something. A blank. He had everything else, but there was one key piece he needed to know why this memory was so special….

He thought about the feeling that had washed over him when his foster mother had hit him.

Confusion, fear, shock, betrayal… 

But that doesn’t make sense, Alejandro thought. I’ve known her for less than a day… unless the feelings came from the memory.

Fear. The fear obviously came from the man. From the booze on his breath and the mean look in his violet-blue eyes.

Confusion… it was obvious that that had never happened before, if he had been confused… perhaps it was the first time his past-self had been hit?

The shock obviously came from the slap itself, but the betrayal… had he been close to the man that had hit him? An uncle, perhaps? Or a brother?

But the memory was triggered by my foster mother hitting me, his brain reminded him. So it was probably a parental figure of some sort. Maybe my father…? 

Well. He would find out soon enough.

Once the first memory was triggered, it was only a matter of time before the rest came flooding in.

Most people got their first memory when they were twelve to thirteen years old. Usually triggered around the time the child hit puberty. Of course, that wasn’t the only time a person could get their first memory, it was just the most common. 

For example, those who were born farther into the past - say, the 1600s - were more likely to start remembering things in their twenties, or even their thirties. Memories are triggered by similar situations occurring to an especially strong memory from one’s past life. Because of this, and because the world is so vastly different now than it was in the 1600s, it takes a while for people to experience that. 

Getting your memories before the age of ten was incredibly rare, though not unheard of. It usually happened if your past life had died less than twenty years before you were born, especially if, in your past life, you died young. 

Alejandro was a bit of an anomaly. So far, he didn’t know what century he had been born in. He didn’t know too many details about his past life. He only knew the basics, from brief flashes of old memories. The smell of the ocean, the feeling of hunger panging in his belly, vibrant red hair falling in his face as he ran across the beach, close to the water, a woman in long, wrinkled skirts following behind him, smiling at him fondly. 

That was another important clue that Alejandro had jotted down, the memories keeping him restless until he could write down every last detail. The sight, the feeling, the smell, the taste…

Not the sound. The universe couldn’t even be merciful enough to grant him with clear sounds from over a hundred years ago.

The skirts suggested that his past life had been at least two hundred years ago, maybe a bit longer. He knew he had lived next to the ocean, perhaps somewhere on the coast? Though that made no sense, either, given the time period, and the water was far too clear, the air far too warm…

Which left the Caribbean. 

He wrote down what he knew, every fact, every tiny, dismal thing. He knew he had had stringy red hair. He knew he lived on an island. He knew that he had lived centuries ago, given his mother’s clothing, and that they weren’t particularly wealthy, given the state of said clothing.

He knew his father had hit him. He knew he was drunk when he did. He didn’t know how often his father had hit him, and he didn’t know how often his father had drunk. These remained mysteries, for the time being, at least until he could figure it out…

He flexed his fingers, ran them through his thick brown hair. He was frustrated. But he was going to figure it out. It was just a mystery, a lot like the ones he saw on TV where he knew who the murderer was halfway through the film while the protagonist remained oblivious… Except, in this situation, he was the protagonist, and the universe was watching as he came undone. 

He finally got his hearing aids, and most of his memories, when he was nine years old. The hearing aids were because the grouchy, middle aged man that had taken him in needed him to be able to hear if he was going to help him in his scrap yard.

The hearing aids were cheap, and they fit awkwardly on his ears. They were heavy, and they rang sometimes, and they never seemed to be in the right setting. He loathed them.

In the years since he first got his memories, he had long since stopped referring to himself as ‘Alejandro’. Alejandro was the name his birth mother had given him before abandoning him just because he couldn’t hear well. He loathed the name more than he loathed his own miserable existence. 

He’d taken to calling himself Alexander, and telling others to do it as well. Alexander was the name his past life’s mother had given to him, and Alex liked her a lot more than he liked his own mother.

Alexander was currently struggling to lift up a large piece of scrap and separate it from all the other junk. His foster father, per usual, sat in the shade with a busted up radio and a class of spiked ice tea, watching him work and calling out to him unhelpfully whenever he slowed down.

And, of course, he couldn’t defend himself. His foster father didn’t know sign language, and Alexander didn’t know how to talk properly, as he’d never learned. He understood what others were saying, but whenever he talked it came out all garbly and weird. 

Alex knew he wasn’t supposed to be working. Not in the heat, and certainly not with anything as heavy as metal. His doctor reminded him of it whenever his foster family bothered to take him for a checkup - your heart is too weak, Alejandro, your lungs too. You work too hard, your heart could give out and you could die, no joke.

His current foster father seemed to take it as a joke, however. Because he had Alexander working as hard as ever. From seven thirty AM to six PM, separating scrap metal, getting sunburn on his arms and neck and little shallow cuts on his hands. At least he was up to date on his tetanus shot.

He should’ve been in school, learning. But his foster father, Gabe, had insisted upon him being home schooled, only to force him to do all his work instead of teaching him. Figured. 

Alex let out a sharp breath as the piece of scrap he was holding cut into his palm. The sweat only made it sting. He took in a wheezing breath. His shoulders ached. Blood was dripping down his palm. He felt like he was about to faint. 

He breathed in sharply, but it still felt like it wasn’t enough. His hair was so drenched in sweat, it felt like his hearing aids were slipping and sliding. They never did fit properly. 

He saw Gabe shift in his seat, looking like he was moving to stand up. He rubbed his hands up and down his jeans, drying them off. The cut burned. He picked up the scrap metal, and threw it toward the correct pile. He tried to distract himself by going through old memories - memories of John - or Jack, as he was prone to calling him -, of Gilbert, of Washington, his stern commander, of his dearest Betsey…

God, he missed them. Every day, he missed them. He even missed Jefferson, at times. 

He was thinking about Jefferson, and his dumbass purple jacket, when a sharp pain lanced through his chest, and his knees buckled, the world going dark.

[leoandreeda]

Samurai references in One Piece

Even when this is "short" this took me a long time to made but I finally finished it. I know that maybe I do not have ALL the references, but I'll mention the ones I've been seeing since I'm watching One Piece again. Also you'll read a lot about Zoro because he seems to be the character in which Eiichiro Oda likes to represent these warriors. I couldn't avoid pointing them out, especially since we're actually in Wano, to show you all a little of the influence they have in One Piece (at least in this arc.. or just in Zoro...). Of course there'll be manga spoilers.

1. The breath of all things.

While Zoro and Daz Bones were fighting in Arabasta, Zoro sees that he is at a disadvantage against his rival because this one is the user of the Devil fruit of steel, and that is a material that he wasn't capable of cutting. After a few attempts, he remembers a particular moment from his childhood about one of the lessons that his teacher and Kuina's father, Koshiro, teach him after a young Zoro asks if it is possible to cut steel. Koshiro gives him a demonstration when he tries to cut a piece of paper with his sword, but fails. After receiving a confused look from his student, he says what is in the pic beneath.

This teaching is inspired by one of the legends of Masamune Ozaki. In this story, Masamune (Who was not a samurai but a blacksmith who still was closely related to them) is challenged by his disciple Muramasa Shinji to see who of the 2 is the best blacksmith in Japan. Masamune accepted the challenge and after days of dedication and effort he created Yawarakai Te (Soft Hands / 柔らかい手). Muramasa also worked tirelessly and, finally, shaped Juuchi Yosamu (10,000 cold nights / 十千夜寒).

To test the value of each of them, Masamune and Muramasa were summoned on the riverbank one day at dawn. Once there, Muramasa submerged the first the tip of his sword in the water, against the current. Juuchi Yosamu, the Muramasa blade, cut everything that came close to its edge: it split the leaves that floated in the river and cut in half the fish that swam nearby. It even cut the morning air and the same sunlight. Masamune recognized with a deep reverence the great work of his disciple Muramasa. Indeed: there could not exist in all of Japan a sharper blade than that blade and only a Grand Master could make a sword like Juuchi Yosamu. But now his turn had come. He closed his eyes for a few moments and unsheathed Yawarakai Te. The brightness of the soft forging of his blade was reflected on the water while the old blacksmith dipped the tip of his sword into the river. And, then ...

Nothing happened because the fish that came close to Masamune's sword swam peacefully around him, without getting hurt. The leaves that floated down the river collided with it, turned on themselves and followed their course where the current led without splitting or cutting. Sunlight shone on the sword and the wind whistled softly as it struck its edge. Muramasa began to laugh at his master's sword. "You are no longer able to make a sword that really cuts. Now the best blacksmith in Japan is me" he said. Masamune did not answer. He drew his sword from the water and, still smiling, dried it first and then put it in its holster.

An old monk who had seen everything from the other shore said: "There is a sword that is very well made, that is very beautiful and sharp, but is eager to cut and does not discriminate against who or whom. But the other sword is undoubtedly more beautiful and more perfect because its edge is still finer and does not need to cut what is innocent and does not deserve to be cut. There is a sword that takes away life and another sword that gives it. "

Note: Of course this is only a legend since Masamune Ozaki and Muramasa Shinji are many years apart (almost 100 I suppose), so I understand they did not even know each other, but you get the point.

2. The Kitetsu.

The kitetsu are a "trio" of Yōtō ( cursed swords / 妖刀) that are said to bring misfortunes to their owners until they find death in horrible ways. They are demonic swords whose thirst for blood is insatiable and whose edge and ease to cut things are incredible, almost incomparable.

Now, this is related to one of the aforementioned blacksmiths, specifically with his clan, the Muramasa. Muramasa Shinji was a person of unstable and violent character, it was said that his swords leaves, shorter, more curved and more affiliated than those of Masamune, instilled in the warriors that carried them an uncontrollable desire to kill.

But the swords of Muramasa fell into disgrace when Tokugawa Ieyasu arrived at the shogunate, at the beginning of the 17th century, due to the many misfortunes that these swords caused to his family: the Kaishaku (end of the seppuku ritual in which the assistant beheads the suicidal with a katana) of Ieyasu's son, Nobuyasu, was made with a Muramasa; in his childhood, Ieyasu was wounded with a Tantō Muramasa; Ieyasu's grandfather was killed with a Muramasa katana; Ieyasu's father was attacked with a wakizashi Muramasa. Therefore, the shogun banned the use of Muramasa clan weapons in Japan. Even the Bugyō (commissioner / 奉行) Nagasaki, who was a collector of Muramasa weapons despite the ban, was executed under direct orders from the Shōgun (army commander/ 将軍) Tokugawa Ieyasu for considering this as an obvious conspiracy against his clan.

For all this, they said, Muramasa's katanas brought their owners misfortunes and unnecessary deaths, while those of Masamune were only unsheathed when the situation inevitably required it.

3. Taken from movies.

Maybe some of you already know it, but I do not lose anything mentioning it. Issho (or Fujitora) is based on Zatōichi (座頭市), the protagonist of a television series and a large number of films about a blind, but very skilled swordsman.

Literally is the same thing without scars, they even have the same sword... However, the designs are not the only thing that Oda has been inspired to add to his work. There are a number of thoughts/quotes that he has also taken from different movies like this one, that he says is one of his favorites, called Shichinin no samurai (The Seven Samurais/ 七人の侍).

I won't make much spoilers. In one scene of the film, while the protagonists are looking for another samurai to join them, they hear that one has arrived at the town. To test if he's worth of joining them, one of them hides to the side of the door to ambush him, saying: "If he is a true swordsman he will be able to dodge it, a samurai never lets alcohol take control on himself". Does it remind you of something?

4. Roronoa Zoro's "true" inspiration.

Even though we all know Zoro is based on François l'Olonnais, who was the cruelest pirate of the Caribbean Sea; I can say that he is also a little based on Date Masamune.

Excellent military tactician, was popularly identified because of the lack of one of his eyes, commonly being called "dokuganryū" (Dragon of a single eye/ 独眼 竜). The exact cause for which he lost his entire eye is not known, but it is said that as a child he lost it because of smallpox and to save himself he took it off. After this, his mother told him he could never become a warrior, explaining to Masamune's father that having just one eye already put him in an abyssal disadvantage on the battlefield. Because of that, he swore he would never let anything else get over him, not even something like an illness. At the young age of 17 or 18 years old, he took his father's place as the leader of Date's clan; later becoming one of the most powerful Daimyō (大名) of the old Japan.

This fiery samurai was also known because of his cruelty and cold personality. Not caring who he was talking to, he'd always be a prepotent and shameless man who gained the respect, but mostly fear, of those who were around him.

5. Pirate hunter's journey.

As we all know, in the begining of the serie when Luffy asked Zoro why he sailed, the swordsman told him he was looking for someone (Dracule Mihawk) but then got lost. Sailing to the sea to find recognition and become the greatest swordsman, as he promised to Kuina, sounds like certain practice called Musha shugyō (warrior training/ 武 者 修行) that's based on traveling or pilgrimage to which the ancient samurai were ascribed. A practitioner of this concept has to roam around Japan practicing and honoring his abilities without the protection of his family or his school, all alone and exposing himself to the dangers necessary to prove his worth. The possible activities of the adventurer could include training with other schools, fighting a duel, working as a bodyguard/mercenary, and looking for a Daimyō to serve.

Soooo he found a "Daimyō" to live and to die for.

Note: I'm not saying Zoro is a samurai, in fact and sadly, he isn't. I repeat, I'm just pointing things that I can relate to them.

6. Kaidan.

Kaidan (怪談) is a Japanese word consisting of two kanji: 怪 (kai) meaning “strange, mysterious, rare, or bewitching apparition" and 談 (dan) meaning “talk” or “recited narrative.”In its broadest sense, kaidan refers to any ghost story or horror story, but it has an old-fashioned ring to it that carries the connotation of Edo period Japanese folktales. Kaidan entered the vernacular during the Edo period, when a game called Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai (A Gathering of One Hundred Supernatural Tales / 百物語怪談会 ) became popular. This game led to a demand for ghost stories and folktales to be gathered from all parts of Japan and China.

Originally based on didactic Buddhist tales, Kaidan often involve elements of karma, and especially ghostly vengeance for misdeeds. Onryō (Japanese vengeful ghosts / 怨霊) are far more powerful after death than they were in life, and are often people who were particularly powerless in life, such as women and servants. You all know who were servants? There's certain transtalion or meaning to samurai that says "those who serve in close attendance to the nobility"; Not only that, since Kaidan appeared in Edo period these warriors are the co-protagonists of many of those stories. If we look up at some of those stories we can conclude something; at least two of them are the "inspiration" to certain samurais in Wano and they are Kin'emon and O-kiku. We need to be clear on something, they are considered ghosts by the people of Wano that seek to avenge Oden's death so thinking that Oda made this on purpose is pretty logic, right?

Lets start with Kin'emon. He's, at least a bit, inspired in Botan Dōrō (The Peony Lantern / 牡丹燈籠) This tale tells that on the first night of Obon, a beautiful woman and a young girl holding a peony lantern stroll by the house of the widowed samurai Ogiwara Shinnojo. Ogiwara is instantly smitten with the woman, named Otsuyu and vows an eternal relationship. From that night onward, the woman and the girl visit at dusk, always leaving before dawn. An elderly neighbor, suspicious of the girl, peeks into his home and finds Ogiwara in bed with a skeleton. Consulting a Buddhist priest, Ogiwara finds that he is in danger unless he can resist the woman, and he places a protection charm on his house. The woman is then unable to enter his house, but calls him from outside. Finally, unable to resist, Ogiwara goes out to greet her, and is led back to her house, a grave in a temple. In the morning, Ogiwara's dead body is found entwined with the woman's skeleton.

Why I relate Kin'emon with this story? To be honest it reminded me of him for dumb reasons ;;; The woman's name sounds like Kin'emon's wife's name, O-tsuru. Also I have the feeling that he won't be able to resist any longer being apart with his wife, wich he seems to love very much. Or not necessarilly because he wants to be with her but to warn her to run away at some point and someone will notice and bla bla bla.

Now, O-kiku is inspired by the history of Banchō Sarayashiki (The Dish Mansion at Banchō / 番町皿屋敷 ) that tells that once there was a beautiful servant named Okiku. She worked for the samurai Aoyama Tessan. Okiku often refused his amorous advances, so he tricked her into believing that she had carelessly lost one of the family's ten precious delft plates. Such a crime would normally result in her death. In a frenzy, she counted and recounted the nine plates many times. However, she could not find the tenth and went to Aoyama in guilty tears. The samurai offered to overlook the matter if she finally became his lover, but again she refused. Enraged, Aoyama threw her down a well to her death. It is said that Okiku became an Onryō who tormented her murderer by counting to nine and then making a terrible shriek to represent the missing tenth plate – or perhaps she had tormented herself and was still trying to find the tenth plate but cried out in agony when she never could. In some versions of the story, this torment continued until an exorcist or neighbor shouted "ten" in a loud voice at the end of her count. Her ghost, finally relieved that someone had found the plate for her, haunted the samurai no more.

In some versions of the tale, Okiku is a maid who incurs her mistress' jealousy. Her mistress breaks one of dishes that Okiku is responsible for and Okiku commits suicide. Similar to the other versions, her ghost is heard counting the plates, but her mistress goes insane and dies.

Did you notice the same name, that in her first apparition she is holding a plate and that she refuses someone who's looking for her to be his lover? Hmmm.

7. Extras.

These are just mentions so I'll compilate them here.

⦁ Zoro's name in Wano is Zorojuro, which sounds a lot like Sanjuro, the name of the protagonist from another samurai movie called Yojimbo (which probably Zoro got his personality from); casually made by the same director from The seven samurais, and a lot more movies about these warriors, Akira Kurosawa.

⦁ It's possible that Shuusui is based on, it is said to be, the best sword ever made by Masamune Ozaki, called Honjo Masamune. I think this sword was "stolen" and is still lost.

⦁ Zoro's way of seeing the world is absolutely based on Miyamoto Musashi's lessons writen on his book Go Rin no Sho (The Book of Five Rings/ 五輪書). Not only that, Musashi felt that he won his duels not because he had mastered the strategy, but because he was stronger, prepared or just lucky... we all know Zoro likes to leave all to luck.

⦁ Vivi calls Zoro "mr. Bushido". Bushidō (武士道) is a strict and particular ethical code to which many samurai gave their lives, which demanded loyalty and honor until death. If a samurai failed to maintain his honor, he could recover it by practicing seppuku.

⦁ O-Tama saying that is a disgrace for a warrior to feel hunger is also said in The Seven Samurais.

⦁ The Gorōsei (The Five Elders / 五老星) the leaders of the World Government and, as such, the world's rulers and the highest authority only below Im, are based on The Council of the Five Regents, or council of the five great elders (go-tairō / 五大老). This was a council formed by Toyotomi Hideyoshi to govern Japan instead of his son, Hideyori, until he came of age. Hideyoshi chose his five most powerful daimyō for this task: Ukita Hideie, Maeda Toshiie, Uesugi Kagekatsu, Mōri Terumoto and Tokugawa Ieyasu.  With the creation of the council formed by five people, Hideyoshi hoped that the different components of the same one would be balanced, preventing that none of them took control of the power. However, almost immediately upon the death of Hideyoshi in 1598, the regents were divided into two groups: Tokugawa on the one hand, and the other four on the other. The war, however, did not begin until the mid-1600s, ending the same year at the Battle of Sekigahara, where a difficult peace was agreed upon that left Hideyori alive and in control of Osaka Castle.

⦁ It was said that Miyamoto Musashi, the most famous samurai of all time, could win any duel with one look. Ehem... Haoshoku haki?

⦁ The Iaidō (居合道) is a Japanese martial art related to the unsheathing and sheathing of the katana. It was practiced by the samurai, especially in the Edo period. These techniques arise mainly to be able to attack or defend at the same time that it was unsheathed, beginning therefore the confrontation with the weapon still in the saya (sheath) and unsheathing with the appropriate speed to attack or counterattack the opponent without giving him time to react. The main idea of Iaidō is to be able to react correctly to any unexpected situation. The first letter 'I' has as a translation of its ideogram the meaning of Spirit, Being, Will and also Intention, therefore, decomposing the term Iaidō we find its philosophical meaning as "the path of the harmony of the Being or the path of union of the spirit "('I' is spirit, 'ai' unite or harmony, and the suffix 'dō' way). I don't know about you but it reminds me a bit of the meaning of Wado Ichimonji (Straight Road of the Harmony / 和道一文字); of course not ignoring that this style is used sometimes in the serie.

⦁ In the second point "the Kitetsu", I also mentioned that there was a certain time in Japan when Tokugawa Ieyasu banned muramasa's swords around the country. Well, in chapter 926 we were shown that civilians couldn't carry weapons because that would be a clear statement of rebellion, just saying.

⦁ Ishho is based more in a Sōhei (Warrior monk / 僧兵) than in a Samurai.

⦁ Even when Miyamoto Musashi was known for fighting with 2 Bokken, he had an actual sword. The Tsuba of this sword, now in the Art Musseum of Fukuoka, is a little bit similar to Wado Ichimonji's tsuba.

⦁ Shimotsuki Yasuie or better known as Tonoyasu or Yasu, the happy man from Wano that lives in Ebisu, was shown to be based on the Shōgun mentioned in the second point, Tokugawa Ieyasu. The most famous Shōgun in the story of Japan.

⦁ Gyukimaru on Oihagi Bridge is based on Saitō Musashibō Benkei (西塔 武 蔵 坊 弁 慶 1155 - 1189), popularly called Benkei (弁 慶), Was a Sōhei who was under the orders of the samurai Minamoto no Yoshitsune. He is generally presented as a man of great stature, very strong and loyal, and is one of the favorite characters of Japanese folklore. Tells the story that Benkei would have been located on the bridge Gojo in Kyoto, where he challenged each warrior who passed, taking the sword of their defeated opponents, reaching a total of about 999 swords. In his 1000th duel, Benkei was defeated by Minamoto no Yoshitsune, son of the warlord Minamoto no Yoshitomo. Therefore, he became a warrior of Yoshitsune and fought alongside him in the Genpei war against the Taira clan. Curious, don't you think?

⦁ The relationship between O-kiku/Kikunojo and Kin’emon implies that they’re very close, we can see it in their flashbacks and even when they reunite, however, if we look at things in a more... real life way, we can say that their relationship is, or was, influenced by Shudô (衆道 ). Shudô was a samurai custom in which adult samurai engaged in pederastic relationships with younger samurai. This custom is most prominently seen, or discussed, in the Sengoku and Edo periods. The older man in the relationship, known as the nenja (念者), and the younger man, known by a variety of terms including wakashû (若衆), formed a close, tight personal relationship with one another. A nenja typically engaged in such relationships with only one wakashû at a time, and vice versa. Though much discussion today, based in modern/Western social mores about homosexual relationships, focus strongly on the homosexual sexual acts involved in the relationship, Shudô relationships went beyond this, and were strong personal and sentimental or emotional relationships, which involved as well strong elements of mentorship. Mentorship and training in the "warrior" lifestyle and values of the samurai was a major element of the relationship.

This is all I have so If there's something I missed please let me know, thanks for reading.

[propheticfire]

Magic

(Viren & Soren & Claudia, modern AU) A Dragon Prince fic:

Traipsing through Disney isn’t exactly how Viren had planned to spend his birthday, but between work and school, this week was the only one that had fit into his and the kids’ schedules. It’s been a year since the divorce, and the kids are adjusting as best they can, but he’d wanted to do something to help take their minds off it. He’s tried so hard to enjoy himself too, but every part of him not covered by clothing has been sunburned more than once. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get the chlorine smell from the resort pool out of his hair. Parts of his body ache that he didn’t even know existed. His voice is hoarse, his head hurts, there are blisters on his heels, and if he has to hear “It’s A Small World” one more time he might just throw himself into the moat around Tom Sawyer island and let the riverboat run him over.

But the kids…

It’s day five, and somehow they still have just as much energy as day one. The joy that lights up their faces every morning as they enter the park has been worth every sore muscle and sleepless night. Soren has not stopped talking about Pirates of the Caribbean, running around their hotel room with his plastic sword and feathered hat, forcing Viren to hold Claudia “captive” so he can duel him to save her. “But I don’t have a sword,” Viren protested, the first time. And Soren came back with, “Pretend you’re a dark wizard, Dad! Use magic! You’re an evil pirate wizard!” Claudia, for her part, has insisted she’s capable of saving herself, and has assembled and disassembled her Haunted Mansion attic diorama kit twelve times already since yesterday, in varying ways. They’re a little disappointed they won’t get to go on Space Mountain again before they leave, but only a little. Because today…

…is Star Wars day.

If Viren had backpacks with leashes on them, he would have used them, because the kids are already trying to take off in different directions as they enter this part of the park.

“Dad! Lightsabers! I wanna get a lightsaber!”

“Look Daddy it’s Rey!”

“Dad I wanna fly the Millennium Falcon!”

“Daddy can we get some blue milk? Or some green milk? I want blue and green milk! Does that make turquoise milk? Do they have purple milk?”

As tired as he is, Viren can’t help but smile at their enthusiasm. “Questions, so many questions! Yes, we can look at the lightsabers. No, you are not gong to build your own. I will try to take you to meet Rey. Yes, Smuggler’s Run is on our to-do list. Yes, we will get some colored milk. I don’t think they have purple. Just don’t get too far ahead of me. There’s a lot to do and I want to make sure you stay close so we don’t waste time.”

Claudia is too excited about the milk, so that’s the first place they head, even though it’s on the opposite end of Star Wars land from where they are. Ah well. Viren can modify their itinerary a bit. They’ll just work their way back down to this end instead.

Or at least, that’s the first place they would have headed if both Soren and Claudia hadn’t gotten distracted by toys.

“Dad look! There’s the lightsabers! Can we see them? Please can we see them?”

“Is that a bantha? And a porg! And…I don’t know what that warty-looking one is but I want to pet it!”

They’re both tugging at his hands, so with a sigh he lets them lead him into the toy shop. Immediately they pull out of his grasp, Soren toward the lightsabers and blasters, and Claudia toward the stuffed creatures. He tries to grab their hands again, but they’re too fast.

“Kids! Wait! Stay togeth— Come back— Oh for goodness’ sake, Soren! Claudia don’t go too far!”

The shop isn’t that large, though, and he can just make out Claudia’s form on the other side of a kiosk, so he opts to trail after Soren. He’s the more likely one to run off or accidentally break something anyway.

After exploring the shop a bit, Soren runs up to him, a lightsaber in one hand and a blaster in the other. “Dad! Dad look! Now I can be a smuggler Jedi!” He brandishes them both with enthusiasm. “Can I get them?”

Viren tries to catch his son’s flailing arms. “You can be a smuggler or a Jedi. Not both. You have to pick one.”

Soren considers, then finally thrusts the lightsaber at his father. “This one.”

“Very good. Now go put the other one back and find your sister. I’m getting in line.”

The store had started filling with people as they shopped, and the checkout line is getting lengthy. He’ll have to hurry if they want to stay on schedule. He steps into the queue as Soren scampers off.

Soren reappears once with a stuffed warty toad-like creature. “Claudia wants this. We’re gonna go look at the blasters again, okay?”

“Okay, but you can still only get one—”

Soren is gone before he can finish the sentence.

“—thing.”

Eventually, he reaches the front of the line. He pays for the items—how are these things that expensive?—and weaves through the people back to the lightsabers and blasters.

“Soren?”

He doesn’t see his son. Or his daughter. He looks around the area again. They’re not there. Okay maybe they went back over by the stuffed animals.

They’re not there.

Maybe they went up to the register to find him.

They’re not there.

Maybe they’re somewhere else in the shop.

Not there.

Maybe they went outside to wait?

Not there.

They’re not there.

Where are his kids?

He takes a deep, slow breath, trying to quell the cold dread that’s quickly building in his stomach. They can’t have gone far. They obviously did. There’s only so many places they could be. They could be anywhere. Maybe they went to find an employee to help them. Maybe someone took them.

There are a couple other shops adjacent to the toy one. Viren walks through those. Checks every corner, every hiding place around and behind every kiosk and clothes rack. There’s still no sign of them.

Where are his kids?

Maybe they did go to the milk stand after all. Soren had asked for a map of the park, presumably to tape it up on his wall when they got home. Maybe Claudia had insisted and they’d gone on ahead. But if he goes there, and his kids come back to the toy shop, then he’ll miss them. But he can’t stand here and do nothing. He walks one last time through all the shops he’d checked. Still no sign of them.

Having made his decision, he takes a breath, and heads for the milk stand.

They’re not there either. And he hasn’t seen them on the streets, or in the line for Smuggler’s Run. That cold panic constricts his chest, weighs down his limbs. This is the last thing he needs. Four days at Disney and he’s held it together, and on the final day he loses his kids. How could this happen? How could he let this happen? He should have never let them out of his sight, he should have designated a meeting place for them here, he should have gotten the backpacks with leashes, he should just never have come—

“Excuse me, are you Lord Viren?”

He snaps his head around. The speaker is…an employee, he thinks. They’re dressed very Star Wars-y, but they have a nametag and an earpiece. “My name is Viren, yes.”

“Could you follow me, please?” the employee says. “Your children are waiting for you.”

Oh thank goodness.

“What? Where? You found them?”

The employee nods, and says something into the earpiece, then beckons him to follow. They lead him back through the Star Wars attraction, all the way back to almost where he’d first entered. There, talking happily with the actor playing Rey, are his kids. He nearly collapses with relief. They’re okay. They’re safe and they’re okay.

“Dad!”

Soren notices him and waves. It’s all he can do to not run over and gather his son in his arms. Claudia sees him too, and tugs on Rey’s outfit. She crouches down so Claudia can whisper something in her ear, and smiles.

The employee who had led him here stops before them and announces, “Young Master Soren and Padawan Claudia, we have located the dark wizard Lord Viren, as you requested.”

Soren and Claudia clap. A few more employees gather closer. Something tugs at the back of Viren’s mind. It feels like there’s more going on here than it seems.

Rey stands up and approaches Viren, his kids in tow. “These very bold and thoughtful younglings sought me out to tell me that today is their father’s birthday. They love their father very much, and they wanted to surprise him with something nice.” She nudges the kids, and they run to the edge of the little half circle that’s formed around them, taking some things from the employees standing there. When they come back, Claudia is holding out a piece of chocolate cake, and Soren is holding up a shirt with Darth Vader’s silhouette on it, that reads “BEST DAD IN THE GALAXY”.

“A little Disney magic, from our family to yours,” Rey says, and then she nods at Claudia.

Claudia immediately bursts out into song. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!” The gathering crowd quickly catches on. The third line is a garbled mess between “Lord Viren” and “Dad” and “Daddy”, but by the end, Viren is blushing hard and there are tears in his eyes. He kneels down and envelops his children in a hug.

“Please don’t ever run off like that again,” he says quietly, “I was so worried. But thank you.”

“We love you Daddy,” Claudia says.

“Yeah Dad,” Soren echoes. “We love you.”

“And I love you. Now, who’s ready for Smuggler’s Run? I think it’s almost our turn.”

“Yaaaaaay!”

The kids run back to Rey to say their goodbyes, and the actor hugs them both, before nodding in his direction, a genuinely delighted smile on her face.

“I do believe these younglings are safe in your care. Happy birthday, Lord Viren.”

(Also available on AO3)

[lokimostly]

Polaris (Ch.3/?)

Loki x Reader, Pirate!AU Word count: 2,834 Warnings: none Summary: Your life has always been set in stone. Born to a wealthy merchant family in the Caribbean, you’ve spent your years as an heiress in the daytime, escaping at night to wander the streets of St. Thomas. Now, on the eve before your life settles into mundanity for good, you discover someone who could change everything– if you choose to trust him, that is.

A/N: HUGE round of applause and thanks to @yespolkadotkitty, my friend AND beta reader (!!!), whose writing you should also check out! Enjoy!

Chapter One ~ Chapter Two ~ Chapter Four ~ Chapter Five ~  Chapter Six ~ Chapter Seven ~ Chapter Eight ~ Chapter Nine ~ Chapter Ten ~ Chapter Eleven ~ Chapter Twelve ~ Chapter Thirteen ~ Chapter Fourteen

The noise of the ball could still be heard until the late hours of the night.

You, however, decided to retire as soon as you returned from the gardens, returning to the main hall as discreetly as you could and requesting that you be showed your rooms.

Your father had obliged and blamed  “overexcitement” for your eagerness to retire, which you didn’t bother to argue. Whatever aided you in escaping this night– in escaping Loki – you would gladly endure.

It felt like an eternity before your father made a motion and drew your attention to the far corner of the room. Thor was there, smiling like he’d never left as he took your arm and escorted you to the guests’ wing.

As the sounds of the string quartet quieted, your thoughts only increased in volume. Once again you found yourself at a loss for what to say to Thor. But before you could think of anything, he beat you to the chase.

“Did my brother keep you entertained?” He asked, looking down at you.

Your grip on his arm tightened subconsciously when your mind returned to what Loki had said in the gardens.

Tell me, little one, when you’ve finally wedded him and resigned yourself to a life full of everything you despise, how long will it take before I find you in my bed, whimpering in the dark, begging me for the comfort your husband cannot give?

You cleared your throat, hoping that the crimson rouge on your cheeks would hide your blush. “Yes. He was… charming.”

Thor chuckled. “That does sound like Loki. He has a reputation for charming his way into a woman’s bed on a whim.” He smiled, like this was a fact he was unbothered by.  “Though I’m sure he behaved for you.”

You tried to laugh, and it sounded hollow. What would Thor think if he knew what Loki had said? How he’d pinned you down like a cat with a mouse, watching you squirm beneath the claws of his words if only for his own amusement? Or worse, that you might have, possibly, maybe, enjoyed it?

Luckily, the gilded door to your room saved you from continuing that train of thought.

“Well,” you said quickly, letting go of Thor’s arm and giving him the briefest of smiles. “Good night, then.”

Thor returned the smile – though his was certainly longer and more genuine – and kissed your hand in farewell. “Goodnight, my lady.”

The term of endearment rang unpleasantly in your ears and you did your best not to grimace, slipping inside your room without a word.

The door clicked shut behind you and you slid unceremoniously to the floor, letting your head fall back against the wood while the most miserable sigh of your life passed your lips.

You hated it with every fiber of your being, but Loki was right. You were tired of Thor already.

Your eyes shifted listlessly over the room and you pulled off your slippers, pushing yourself up again. Despite the size of it, the bedroom felt stuffy and confined. A four-poster bed canopied with luxurious red curtains took up a ridiculous amount of space. There were a few dressers, a vanity, a clawfoot tub hidden behind a folding screen. Your window – the first thing you checked – was sealed at every edge, with no hinge or latch in sight. No nighttime escapes, then.

You went into the bathroom, wriggled your way out of your dress, undid the last curls of your hair, and scrubbed your face red until the garish makeup was gone and the water from the faucet turned clear.

When you changed into a chemise and fell onto the bed with a dramatic exhale, all you wanted to do was sleep.

But once your head hit the pillow, all you could think of was Loki.

Try as you might to push him from your mind, Loki wormed his way into your subconscious. The light of the sun faded from your window, the stars came out and twinkled, the music from the dancing hall permeated the walls in low tones, and still you couldn’t escape him. When you finally fell asleep somewhere in the long hours of the night, he walked through your dreams. Your sleeping eyes could see him more clearly than if he stood in front of you: his white billowing shirt, raven hair curling in the wind. You thumbed over the curve of his lips in your mind, traced his jaw and ran your hands down his chest.

Your dreams pulled you deeper. He was everywhere, now – his hands gripping your hips, pressing his lips fervently to yours while a pleasant buzz filled your nerves and warmth pooled in your stomach. Even in sleep you could taste him, the salt of the sea on his lips mixed with something sweeter. You moved with him like the tide, gasped for breath at his attentions, arched your back when his hand disappeared between your legs, and––

You jolted awake with a gasp. The quilts were quickly abandoned when you threw them off and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, setting your bare feet on the cool floor while your chest heaved for breath, a thin layer of sweat over your skin.

“What the hell?” You breathed weakly, pushing your hair back and trying to quiet your pounding heart. Your eyes were wide in the dark.

You didn’t sleep again that night.

~

The terms of your engagement were solidified that morning.

While last night’s gala had been a stressful coming-out to high society, today’s more mundane events were much easier to keep up with. You saw nothing of Loki, and barely any of your fiancé – there were a few more words spoken, engagement rings gifted. The golden band and heart-shaped garnet around your finger felt more like a pair of handcuffs.

What vague idea you had of your future was outlined more clearly over breakfast: you would leave this week on a ship called the Marie Valette for a town in southern Norway – Thor’s original home, apparently – and the wedding would take place there, in about six months’ time. According to your father, the traditional waiting period would “allow you time to acclimate to your new life.”

To you, it sounded like plenty of time to conjure an escape plan. Or, if all else failed, plunge into the ice-cold waters of Scandinavia and drown.

Thoughts of a similarly dreary nature were occupying your mind when you took to wandering the halls on the third day of your stay, looking out at the gardens through the tall glass windows. It was too hot to be outdoors, and even inside the sweltering temperatures couldn’t be avoided. Strands of hair clung to your skin and beads of sweat trickled down your back. What you wouldn’t give for a shirt and trousers instead of the heavy, cotton dresses you were expected to wear.

You twisted the ring on your finger and stared up at the thin wisps of cloud against the blue sky, thinking about your betrothed – who you’d seen exactly none of since your second day here. He was always called away to the tasks that required more attention and care from him than you did. Though, it may not have been through any fault of his own; Odin was grooming Thor to take over his empire, and no doubt it was a challenging and time-consuming task. Had your father ever entertained your interest in his business, you might actually know something about it.

Maybe then I would’ve had something to talk with Thor about, you surmised.

Apart from his constant absence, there was nothing inherently wrong about Thor. But as kind, as polite, as congenial as he was, you still couldn’t bring yourself to love him. Every brief interaction was entirely performative. You couldn’t help but feel like it might be the same on his end: he always said just enough, had some practiced excuse to leave, and whether or not it was legitimate, the fact remained that you were left alone.

And then there was Loki.

Your mind had plagued you with insatiable dreams of him for three nights in a row. You tried desperately to convince yourself that it wasn’t him you desired – just the freedom he represented, the mystery and allure of a life to call your own. So why were your dreams full of nothing but tangling your hands in his raven locks, pressing yourself against him and kissing him, tearing open his shirt and running your hands over the warm skin beneath?

Something large and hand-shaped pulled you from your thoughts when it ghosted over your back, and you shrieked.

“Heavens, aren’t we skittish,” Loki observed, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. His handsome face was decorated with a smirk – the kind that inclined you to think he startled you on purpose.

You pressed your hand against your chest to calm your pounding heart and glared at him. “What do you want?”

Loki clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, raising an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, little one, I might think you didn’t care for me.”

Your mind flashed back to the dreams you’d been having, and your face flushed. “Evidently you don’t,” you managed, smoothing down your dress and pushing a strand of hair back to retain some semblance of composure. “I want nothing to do with you.”

“Don’t you?” He asked, tilting his head and clasping his hands behind his back. “I came to say goodbye.”

Your irritated demeanor faltered. The only interesting thing in your life – loathsome and irritating as he was – was about to leave you. “Oh?”

Loki’s sea-green eyes caught the change in your voice and he chuckled. Damn it, he had you positively wrapped around his finger.

“My ship leaves in a few hours. It seems our coincidental encounters must come to an end. Your journey to Europe is not a short one, so this will be our last meeting for some years, I’m afraid.” He turned slightly solemn at this, and you were suddenly reminded of the polite, eloquent Loki you met in the tavern.

“Oh,” you repeated, and tried your best not to look disappointed. “Where to?”

Loki shrugged, unclasping his hands to pull at the dark fabric of his wide sleeves. “West. I’m overseeing a shipment of goods to Kingston.” He said it like he’d practiced and recited the fact many times.

Your eyebrows pulled together slightly and you took a moment to marvel at the fine features of his face. If you didn't know better, you would’ve thought he was carved from marble. The sharp lines of his jaw and mouth, combined with the softness of his ocean eyes... he was a mystery inside and out.

You remembered what Thor had said about him. He has a reputation for charming his way into a woman’s bed on a whim.

"You're staring again," Loki pointed out, smirking.

Your eyes snapped a bit wider and your forehead wrinkled in a defensive frown. "Well, if this is the last time I get to see you, I'm allowed to look."

Loki chuckled deep in his chest- a musical sound that echoed against the walls. He took a single step towards you, but it enclosed you. You moved backwards out of instinct, staring up at his face as the honey-coated words slipped through his lips.

“But you want to do more than look, don’t you?”

This time, you didn’t slap him. Instead, you stood speechless while your face burned and your stomach twisted into pleasant knots. Of course there was no way he could know about your dreams, right? Or were you truly that easy to read?

No, he couldn’t possibly know. He was trying to goad you for his own amusement. 

You blinked. Of course. He’s only teasing me because he can’t have me.

The realization was strangely freeing. To your surprise, you smirked. “Well, I might suggest that you stow me away aboard your ship and get me out of here, but…” You raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Like you said before– you would rather I resign myself to misery and come crawling to you later, yes?”

Loki’s smile still hovered over his lips, but you could tell that you’d caught him by surprise: his hands had dropped, and his beautiful eyes were narrowed. Calculating. Curious.

“I couldn’t,” he said slowly. His eyes flickered over your face, and he shook his head as his smile faded. “I couldn’t take you away. Not for the reason you think, but I… ” A distinct moment of palpable silence stretched between you like a chasm, and you found yourself wondering who you were looking at. This merchant’s second son, this courteous stranger, this aggravating man you couldn’t stop dreaming of.

Who was he, really?

Then, just as quickly as it happened – gone. Loki smiled easily and took your hand, raising his eyebrows as he pressed a farewell kiss to your knuckles. His breath was warm on your skin.

“You must write to me, though,” He said, straightening with a wicked smirk. “I can’t wait to hear of your plans to escape. I’m sure they’ll be positively thrilling.”

“Something tells me that if I confided in you, my plans would mysteriously fail,” you insinuated, narrowing your eyes.

Loki shook his head, stepping back. “Little one, if there’s one thing you can count on me for, it’s not to spill your secrets.” He winked.  “I already know one or two, don’t I?”

~

“Daughter, have you heard a word I’ve said?”

You were pulled out of your thoughts with a jolt and cleared your throat. “Yes,” you lied, turning your head to look out the carriage window. The green palm fronds and cobbled buildings of St. Thomas passed by as you journeyed towards the docks, where The Marie Valette was waiting.

You were leaving today.

“I’m told the estate and grounds are even grander than the ones here – it’s been a family home for generations. You’ll be well-occupied until your fiancé arrives.”

“Why isn’t he going there now?” You asked sullenly, glaring at the people who you passed like they were to blame for your state of being.

“He is the heir to the largest shipping company in the Caribbean. I think you can count on him to be busy.”

“Of course I can,” You spat sarcastically, feeling your blood heat up and rush to your face as your anger crested. “A husband who’s never there, while I live in a country I’ve never been to, away from everyone I know. How could I possibly be unhappy?”

“I know you’re still cross with me,” your father said, notably exasperated, “but I believe you will come to respect Thor in time.”

“Respect,” you repeated.

“Yes.”

“What about love?”

“Love?” Your father chuckled, like it was a ridiculous question. “I had no idea you were interested in such a thing. You never have been.”

Your nostrils flared and your blood boiled, but you didn’t respond. There was no point to it – and if this was the last time you would see your father for half a year, you didn’t want it to end in a shouting match.

The carriage slowed to a stop and the valet opened the doors, helping you out. You stepped onto the road and the smell of the sea hit your face, warm and salty-sweet, and your heart wrenched. It was the same scent that permeated the memories of your nighttime excursions.

The sea in Norway wouldn’t smell the same. It wouldn’t look the same, either– there would be no aqua blue or pale white sand, only deep, dark green and ice-cold waves, breaking endlessly against the rocky shore.

You wished now that you knew how to swim – maybe then you could jump ship while still in the southern hemisphere. Compared to the cold and lonely future that awaited you across the Atlantic, living alone on a desert island didn’t sound so bad.

The valets took your trunks away to be loaded onto the ship. Your father exited the carriage and came up beside you, smiling and squeezing your shoulders. “Come now, chin up. You’ll be living in luxury, after all. Odin’s ships are the Caribbean’s finest.”

You hummed flatly, looking out at the row of ships docked in the port. Big and small, old and new, their names printed in wide letters along the hull. Carved birds, mermaids, and other figureheads posed stoically on the bows of their vessels. Sailors and merchants hauled cargo, passengers fussed over their belongings. But something was missing.

“Father?” You asked slowly, gripping his sleeve to get his attention while your eyes trailed along the docks. Your brow furrowed and you shook your head. No, you weren’t mistaken.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Look,” you said simply, and nodded to the bay.

The Marie Valette was nowhere to be seen. 

-----

A/N: thanks for reading! The tag list is still open. xx

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