#sorry if anomaly looks greatly out of place

[p3rry-pi3]

Sometime After Weirdmageddon—The Saga

Mabel was soon informed of the moth via dipper and they both watched as Ford fed it

[mango-bango-bby]

Yandere Miguel O’Hara pls?

He lost Y/n, his wife, she die in his multiverse. When he went into different multiverse to take care of anomaly villain, he met a spider woman. Her mask cut off by villain only to reveal Y/n, his wife. Miguel plan to take Y/n from her home and keep her from losing again.

Take your time.

♡ Together Again ♡

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, kidnapping, Miguel has reader tied up, my first time writing Miguel so if he’s ooc just ignore it 😭😭

Summary: Miguel lost you and now that he has you again, he’s never letting you go. Even if you aren’t his Y/n (Yan!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Miguel lost his whole family. You and your daughter and there wasn’t a single day that went by when he didn’t think about it. It was his fault, he killed both of you. Even if indirectly, he killed you. He still wore his wedding ring because he couldn’t bare to let you go.

When he realized that the new spider-woman with them, was you. He had to take you. Yes, it might destroy your world. But he couldn’t lose you again. He gently tilts a photo on the nightstand to look at you. It’s a family photo of all of you from his universe.

“Y/n, you’re not going to get anything out of struggling like that” Miguel says calmly watching you struggle against his webs. You weren’t his Y/n but that didn’t matter to him, you were still you. And being spider-woman was to dangerous for you. He can’t lose you again.

And he knows keeping you here means your universe would fall apart but frankly, he doesn’t care. He is never going to lose you again. You see to try and yell something at him but he can’t make it out, he silenced you with a web over your mouth.

He walked over to the trash can, throwing away parts of your machine that helped you create webs. You only created webs through technology which worked well for him. You had no real powers, you can’t try to escape with them. “You’re going to tire yourself out” He sighs, watching you struggle to get out of his webs.

You yell something but it’s muffled. He looks down at you, grabbing your chin in his hand so you’re forced to look at him. He’s looking at you with stern eyes.

“Y/n, I told you to stop struggling. Be obedient. I’m not letting you out of those until you’re obedient” He says, his voice stern as if he’s talking to a small child or even a pet. You looking at him will such anger in your eyes.

You never looked at him like that before. Or his Y/n never looked at him like that. But he got you to fall in love with him once, he could do it again.

His gaze softens as he’s looking at you. “I’m sorry, love, did I scare you? I didn’t mean to yell at you” He gently pets your hair, he never wants to scare you. Your whimper as he leans down, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

He smiled slightly, walking over to the nightstand. He picks up your wedding ring, he finally has you again. He walks over, picking up your hand. Miguel tries to ignore how you flinch away at his touch. He slides the wedding ring onto your finger. It fits you perfectly.

He softly smiles, placing his forehead against your hand that’s now clad with a diamond ring. He sighed, content.

“My Y/n… I missed you…”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

(A/N: Eeeee, my first spiderverse fic!! I’m so excited, I hope you guys like it!! I changed up my formatting a bit so I hope you all like that too!! Also I’ve been getting a couple requests for Miguel where he speaks Spanish so if any darlings know how to speak Spanish and would be willing to help me, i’d greatly appreciate it 🙏🙏)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

[februarybluues]

enemies with benefits. || 1. - p.u.n.k boy!

warnings: swearing, fighting, you and hobie hating each other, reader gets slightly injured but nothing that bad, horrible british (i'm very sorry🙏 )

part 2 - wounded.

You were bold, abrasive, honest, and never afraid to fight for what was right. He was the exact same - if not even worse. Logically, it was obvious for people to assume you’d be best friends. But, they couldn’t be further from the truth.

You heard a lot about Hobie. Mostly from Gwen and Miles rambling about ‘how awesome he was’. They told you about his cool style, his badass attitude, how caring he was, and pretty much everything there was to know about him. When they said he was a great guy, you almost believed them. But, your opinion quickly changed when you met him for the first time.

Miguel had called you to see him immediately, without giving any context as to why. Logically, you were confused and quite frankly, a bit scared. Did something happen? Were you in trouble? Needless to say you rushed over to him as quickly as you could.

“Y/n. New mission for you. There’s an anomaly that’s broken free and it’s jumping from dimension to dimension, wreaking havoc. I need you to stop it from corrupting anything, alright?” his face remained stoic as he spoke in a low, orderly tone. You smiled. It was no secret to anyone that you loved to fight. Whether it be fighting a villain as spider-woman, or fighting a sexist scum as y/n. You loved to make the world a better place. And you looked sick as you did it.

“Got it. Just send me the location and consider it done.” you responded, eagerly. Miguel cleared his throat, which caught your attention. “No, no, no. This is way more dangerous than your usual anomaly. You can’t do this on your own. Which is why I've assigned Hobart to be your partner.” You looked at him, confused. “Hobart? Who the fuck is that?” Without missing a beat, you heard the sound of rustling behind you. “M’right here.” you turned around, only to be met with a cocky smile, and a thick english accent. You quickly examined him. He was your stereotypical punk; tight jeans, combat boots, a sleeveless vest that was littered in pins and patches, and a guitar on his back. Everything about him screamed asshole. It was then that you realised he matched Gwen and Miles’ descriptions. There was no denying it, you were looking at the infamous Hobie Brown.

“You must be Hobie.” you held your hand out to him for a handshake. But he pressed a kiss to it instead. “The one and only.” he winked at you. You pulled your hand back, rolling your eyes at him. ‘Great.’ you thought to yourself. ‘He’s one of those people. A selfish, self-absorbed, cocky flirt.’ your head already jumped to conclusions, despite not knowing him for more than five minutes. You hadn’t realised you had been staring at him until he spoke up again. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” you scoffed at him, turning to talk to Miguel instead. “You can’t be serious. You know I work alone. I always work alone. I can handle this by myself.” Miguel shook his head, not wanting to hear your complaints. “I know. But, this is a job for two people. And, I firmly believe that you guys will work together greatly.” As much as you wanted to fight alone, you knew Miguel was right. You sighed. Hobie opened his mouth to speak again, but you cut him off before he could spew another snarky comment. “If you-” “Shut up with your elitist bullshit. All of you punks are the same.” You turned around yet again to look at his face. He immediately perked up with slight anger. You were testing his patience. “Aye. I’m no elitist! I don’t believe in’at crap! I don’t believe in labels!” your smile got smaller, but it stayed there nonetheless. “Yeah well I don't believe that you’re as cool as they say you are. Bet you’re just all bark and no bite.” his lips quirked up into a slight smile, completely disregarding what you had to say. “They? Who’s they?” his eyebrow raised, which made you notice his abundance of piercings. You'd be lying if you said they didn’t suit him. “Miles and Gwen.” you answered, the tone of your voice was slightly annoyed. He lit up slightly at the mention of their names. “You know Gwendy ‘n Miles?” “So what if I do?” His eyes grew wide, you could see the cogs whirring in his head as he put the pieces together. “Wait. A’you tha’ badass that kicked the teeth in o’that group o’knobheads?” Ah. So, gwen and Miles must’ve talked about you as much as they did him. Fucking hell his accent was almost incomprehensible. “So what if I am?” you crossed your arms at him. He scoffed. “And here I thought you’d be nicer.” you rolled your eyes and focused your attention on the portal you opened up. “Come on, we can finish this up later - after we’ve beat this bastard.” You spoke, pointing inside the portal. For a split second you both shared a smile. “Right behind you, mate.” And with that, you walked into the portal, mockingly mumbling his accent as you did so. “mate.” 

You landed in the alternate earth with grace, quickly scanning the area to make sure no one was there. And then Hobie arrived. His chest bashed against your back, which caused you to almost fall forward. “Whoops. Sorry about tha’'.' he smiled, but he wasn’t sorry. His voice was laced with a teasing venom. You turned your head to look at him. “You did that on purpose, prick.” you scowled at him, and his smirk got wider; cockier. “Yeah, I did.” he admitted. You couldn’t believe him. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s just get this over with.” you put your mask on and looked around for the anomaly, swinging your webs from building to building as you flew around. It was then that you spotted it; a big, scaly monster. Its skin resembled that of tar; sticky and black. Accompanied by a menacingly sharp smile, its fangs were almost as big as you were. Your eyes widened with subtle fear as you watched it engulf its surroundings. You signalled Hobie over to you, careful as to not make any noise. He followed, his once-teasing demeanour gone without a trace. He was much more focused on taking down the anomaly now. “Fuckin’ ‘ell. That’s a big one.” he stated, looking at it before attempting to jump at it. but, you grabbed onto his arm to prevent him from doing so. “Are you crazy?” you whispered. “You can’t just spring into battle without a plan!” he groaned impatiently, you quickly shushed him as to not catch the creature’s attention. “Right then, what’s your plan then, missy?” he crouched down next to you, looking down at the enemy from the rooftop. The spikes on his mask shimmered from the sunlight, almost distracting you. Almost.

You snapped back to reality and shared your plan with him. He listened intently to everything you had to say - for debatably the first time ever. He had no snarky comments to share. You almost thanked him for his maturity. Once you finished telling him, it was time to initiate the plan. “Lead the way.” he said as he watched you walk towards the edge of the rooftop. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what was to come. Without any delay, you jumped forward, latching your web onto the nearest building and springing into the creature's field of view. Once it saw you, it instantly began to attack; sending a few of its tentacle-like arms(?) in your direction. You dodged each of its attacks, cutting off one of the arms in the process with a powerful kick. Hobie remained on the rooftop, waiting for your signal. He watched as you fought. Soon finding himself lost in his thoughts. You fought the creature with expertise, swiftly gliding through the air as you dodged each attack flawlessly. He was in awe. He had underestimated how strong you were. But, there’s no way he was admiring you, right? He was just caught off-guard. Definitely. Which meant, it was his turn to show off. He wanted to impress you. And soon enough, his time came. You gave him the signal and he quickly sprung into action. He pulled the guitar from his back, holding it from the neck as if it were a weapon. 

The two of you worked together to take the anomaly down. Although you hated to admit it, you made a great team. Miguel knew that, which is why he put you together in the first place. But, before you managed to successfully beat the monster, you got distracted. You watched as hobie ripped tentacle after tentacle from it and didn’t notice the one that was flying right at you. It lashed you right in the chest, making you grunt in pain as you fell backwards. Hobie must’ve seen this happening because before you made contact with the rough concrete, a familiar web enveloped you, lifting you back up. “Careful, love. Wouldn’t want ya ruinin’ that pretty face o’yours.” You ripped his web off of you, and smiled through your mask. - grateful that he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t need your help!” you yelled at him, jumping back into battle. He laughed, which annoyed you even more. Successfully fuelling the energy you needed to knock the anomaly out. You delivered the final blow; kicking it right in its eye, which was apparently its weak spot. “Whew..” you let out, landing on your feet as you looked at it. Hobie landed next to you, placing his arm on your shoulder. “Nice one,” he said. He sounded sincere. You nodded before going back to work, informing Miguel that you had successfully taken it down. Hobie’s hand stayed on your shoulder, tightly but not enough to hurt. 

Although he was an asshole, he was starting to grow on you.

“How ‘bout we get some dinner - on you, aye? it’s the least you could do considering i saved y’life.”

“Get a grip, Hobie.”

Nevermind.

[gay-dorito-dust]

please can i request headcandons of the spiderverse people finding out their best friend reader is the protege of Miguel O’Hara

A/n: Miles’ head cannon is gonna be a bit angsty as it’ll probably take place during the events of the movie. So sorry if you wanted something fluffy.

Also I’m sorry for the severe lack of characters, I kinda ran out of ideas on how others would react. 🦦

Miles finding out that you, his best friend whom he probably said a-lot of embarrassing shit to out of the sheer comfortability level he had with you, were the protege of Miguel O’hara was definitely a wild ride.

Especially so considering all the shit he’s endured during his visitation of the Spider Society.

Naturally he’s going to feel hurt that you didn’t disclose this information to him because he thought you were genuinely good friends. But would be willing to hear you out on what you have to say because he genuinely wants to know why.

So when you tell him that the reason you were so quiet about being Miguel’s protege was the same reason why you didn’t disclose to Miguel that he was your best friend. You told Miles that your mentor would think you a vulnerability much like he did in regards of the relationship between Gwen and himself.

It’s not that you were ashamed of Miles, no, never. He’s your best friend and you loved him greatly and told him that pretty much every day whilst going out of your way to answer all his questions about the spider society when Gwen failed to do also, including stuff regarding his place in all of it.

Your friendship with Miles meant a lot more to you then being apart of some stupid society that was extremely selective on who they recruit.

But you understood and respected Miles’ need for space away from you to think on things before you then promptly left to head back to the spider society before Miguel grew suspicious of your whereabouts and who you were with.

Just give him some time. He’s been through enough and never got the chance to properly sit through his emotions.

Hobie would probably look you dead in the eye as he’s holding you by the shoulders and in all seriousness says, ‘blink twice if your being held hostage by that tyrannical dictator prick.’

Hobie would’ve notice the similarities in you and Miguel fight almost instantaneously since he’s a very observant dude and if he was anyone else, he would’ve just shrugged it off as you imitating Miguel for shits and giggles.

But Hobie would definitely have an inkling that something was going off between you and Miguel long before you told him about being his protege. He thanked fuck it wasn’t anything romantic in the slightest.

Though he would defiantly have a few questions on why it was that you’d let yourself be taken under his wing. Were you dismantling the system from the inside out but we’re playing the long game like he was? Or were you made into being his protege without having a say in anything?

If it was the first one then he’d clap you on the back with pride but if it was the second one then he’d more then happily suggest in teaching him a lesson in trying to take advantage of his mate.

But if it was neither option and that you just really wanted to learn from him and grow to become a better, stronger, faster Spider-Person then Hobie would back off. Hobie trusts you enough to make your own decisions and to take care of yourself.

But that don’t mean he ain’t in your corner when the time comes because he is and always will be looking out for you no matter what and he’ll gladly intervene when he thinks Miguel is being too hard on you, or he just straights up takes you back to his dimension when he thinks you need a break from it all and spend time with him and causing chaos together.

Gwen would’ve probably found out that you were Miguel’s protege when it seemed that whenever the big boss man had to go on a mission, he’d always have you pair up with him despite being quite capable at taking on anomalies on his own.

She’s observant in her own right but not to the same extent that Hobie is but that’s neither here nor there.

She thinks it’s pretty cool that her best friend was the protege of the big boss man himself, but knew that there was a lot of pressure and stress ridding on your shoulders when it comes go being the protege of man who created the Spider Society.

But I’d like to think that you’d both show off what Miguel/Jessica taught you to one another as you goof off in some other dimension together during a mission.

So now and then she makes sure that you’re okay after hard missions, whether they be solo or duo with your mentor, and making sure your eating, keeping yourself hydrated, but most importantly Gwen’s making sure you’re taking breaks in between tasks so you don’t become fatigued and burnt out later down the line.

Whilst originally thinking that you being Miguel’s protege was cool and all but she does worry about you, especially when he gets himself into a violent outburst and starts throwing shit with out rhyme or reason.

Gwen can’t help that she’s overprotective of you and wants to keep you safe even if your in a place that’s meant to be a safe space for all spider people. She’s already lost Peter and she wasn’t about to loose you too because your mentor didn’t think you were up to snuff. She didn’t want to be at the Spider Society if you weren’t and didn’t care if that made her more of a liability in her peer’s eyes.

[thesugarhole]

78 anomalous phenomenon: HUGE disambiguation page. not to be confused with abnormality (behaviour). none of them seemed particularly creepy, sorry.

79 bermuda triangle: i always thought the bermuda triangle was gonna be a bigger concern in my adult life than what it is. like lava and quicksand. turns out its not that big deal! not creepy

80 overtoun bridge: may i suggest a dog fence? sorta creepy. the 'possible explanations' tab always makes it loose its whimsy

81 the mad gasser of mattoon: repeat. look above

82 chupa (anomaly): "Wikipedia does not have an article with this exact name." anyway CHUPA-ME OS TOMATEEEEES

83 silverpilen: disambiguation page. assuming its the "The Silver Train of Stockholm", sure, its creepy

84 lost Dutchman's gold mine: man i dont... care about any of this. not creepy

85 aokigahara: creepy. i dont like the prospect of being in a place and finding suicide victims overall

86 pope lick monster: OH MY GOD, THE FUCKING GOATMAN AGAIN??? I. DONT. CARE. GROW UP

87 shadow people: duplicated. already addressed.

88 steam tunnel incident: redirects to james dallas egbert iii. not creepy

89 montauk project: not creepy

90 moll dyer: not creepy, just tragic.

91 belchen tunnel: we have myths exactly like this here. meh.

92 boy scout lane: forests will do that to ya. the legends are always similar to one another, it stops having oomph after a while.

93 the devils footprints: redirects to devil footprints, repeat, already addressed.

94 chase vault: finally a good fucking legend that isnt just 'this person fucked off and died/disappeared/was a witch/ was a demon'. creepy. i will say though my bar for what is creepy in this list is like, in hell already due to how disappointing this ended up being.

95 dyatlov pass incident: creepy! about time. i sleep so peacefully knowing ill never go hiking mountains or spelunking caves or any of that crap

96 tunguska event: repeat, already addressed

97 borley rectory: i will say its creepy but its due to my own biases of liking haunted houses. having the first paragraphs being like 'this guy said shits haunted. the shits-haunted board disproved it though' doesnt exactly set it up to be creepy.

98 clapham wood mystery: she has it all. not creepy

99 reality shift: Wikipedia does not have an article with this exact name. anyway, this has been too memed to death for me to consider it creepy. it would make for an interesting horror story premise, if someone is willing to take the bait.

100 moberly jourdain incident: god forbid women do anything. not creepy

101 ed gein: i dont need to reread this article to know this was a scary mf, creepy

102 adam (unsolved thames murder case): redirects to adam (murder victim). creepy.

103 who put bella in wych elm?: meh.

104 cleveland torso murderer: its creepy enough.

105 monster of glamis: redirects to thomas lyon-bowes, master of glamis (born 1821). this just feels mean spirited, honestly.

106 ediacaran biota: how is the creepy? the miracle of life <3

107 h. h. holmes: ah, the house trap man! or murder castle whatever. that part is interesting, even if greatly fictionalized. the rest is whatever.

108 loveland frog: "The so-called "frog" was more likely a large, tailless iguana" maybe its the monster of glamis, who emigrated."

109 mariana ufo incident: fun!

110 amelia earhart: not creepy.

111 valentich disappearance: redirects to disappearance of frederick valentich. a ufo? ok. not creepy. i think people overall underestimate how deeply terrifying the ocean is; if a pilot vanished without a trace, the ocean got them. its really that simple most of the time.

112 original night stalker: redirects to joseph james deangelo. huh?? former police officer... and still alive. creepy.

113 black dahlia: this one is well known, i think. its creepy to me if only because ive learned of it when i was still impressionable.

114 joachim kroll: ah. him. creepy. so many lives ruined...

115 peter kürten: creepy.

116 gilles de rais: is it serial killer hour? ok. meh

117 joseph vacher: more bizarre than anything. "In the video game Genshin Impact, the character "Vacher" (Marcel) during the Fontaine Archon Quest is inspired by the real-life Vacher." lol

118 melonheads: it took me to a short page saying "theyre a group of fans that wear melons on their heads for games." which i thought was funny. then i saw "for the legendary creature, see melon heads" and soured. more american cryptids... well, the ohio legend was funny at least.

119 d. b. cooper: oooh, ive heard of this guy. being in that situation would be scary, but i wouldnt call it creepy.

120 philadelphia experiment: a fun urban legend. its like that creepypasta where a whole town disappeared with no trace, living a giant crater. was that a creepypasta or something else? idr.

121 mokele-mbembe: its adorable.

122 new jersey devil: redirects to jersey devil. already covered. i peaked at the disambiguation page, but nothing differentiating enough stood out to me.

123 allagash abductions: "Wikipedia does not have an article with this exact name." suggested i searched the website instead for different spellings; saw this "He also investigated and wrote about the Allagash Abductions, an alleged multiple persons abduction case, which was cast into doubt by one of the four witnesses in 2016." doesnt sound interesting.

124 midgetville: stupid. offensive, even. feel free to look up "portugal dos pequenitos", which is slightly in line with. whatever op wanted to pass up as creepy. the buildings are cute and the history may surprise you! (its dictatorship)

125 gef the talking mongoose: redirects to just gef. its a mongoose that was reported talking. what do you want me to say about it.

this one plays guitar.

126 villisca, iowa: if i have to read one more page about the US im gonna end up on the serial killers list real soon. an axe murder of a family happened there. ok. do you know how many locations suffer murders of families, with or without axe? grow up

127 tunguska event: this is the third time this fucking article is listed aoifiddpogfkd

128 decompression sickness: creepy! ocean and pilot related! yay!!

129 diving medicine: hmmm... scary. not creepy. you gotta do what you gotta do i guess

130 decompression illness: see 128

131 air embolism: oooough this one always scared me. creepy

132 john fare: "John Fare (sometimes John Charles Fare or John Fahey or John Faré) is a fictional performance artist who allegedly used robotic surgery to remove parts of his body onstage as part of his act. His final performance was allegedly suicide by beheading." insane way of opening an article. i can dig it. creepy and fun urban legend

133 kuchisake-onna: its kinda overused, so its lost the edge. and tbh i dont like how many different accounts of how you should treat an encounter with one there are. pick a struggle... but sure, yea. creepy.

134 the licked hand: oh, hey, humans can lick too. we thought you died. poor hypothetical puppy :( its creepy.

135 raymond robinson (green man): again, its just mean to put these types of things on a "creepy list".

136 albert fish: repeat. already addressed.

extra, 1 nightmarchers: hmmm. creepy.

extra, 2 list of unusual deaths: finally, a classic. creepy, and fun to go through. i didnt know cocaine bear was real.

extra, 3 rat king: poor things. not creepy, i just feel sad for them. hail ratma

extra, 4 lina medina: repeat, already adressed.

thank god im done with this and never have to look at it again!! (since it seems like it hasnt been updated in ages anyway) analysis and closing thoughts in next reblog

i gotta be honest, the 136 creepy wikipedia articles... arent that creepy. theres one or two that sure, its unsettling info but i dunno. feel a bit misled

[lunarianillusion]

A change in fate

authors note: Sorry this chapter took a while, writers block is a pain and school takes a lot of time. Still I hope you enjoy this chapter and this story is now also on archive of our own under the same name. Now on with the story.

a maribat fanfic

Chapter 07

Marinette had been greatly relieved when Mist had returned so quickly and seemingly having succeeded in their mission. The miracle box safely tucked in their tail, a ball of memories between the leopard’s jaws and Wayzz sitting upon their silvery head. A small smile graced her lips at the sight.

But the small moment of joy had been shattered when a. unknown presence made themselves known. How had she not noticed them, she was the true holder of the miraculous of emotions, she could feel everyone’s emotions within a six-mile radius clearly. Even if she could not on a person’s scent, she should have been able to sense his emotions long before they made themselves known. So, how had she not been able to sense them following her guardian. 

In a quick and flowing motion Royal shifted into her battle stance. Her fan at the ready in one hand miracle box in the other, Mist had her claws out and growled from deep in their throat and Wayzz nuzzled into the female’s neck hiding away from the possible danger. All their eyes focussed on the figure that now slipped out of the shadows.

To a certain degree the wielder of the peafowl was relieved that the intruder was neither Chat Noir nor her replacement. That however did not rule out the possibility that this was another akuma, albeit a better dressed one. The male wore upon a quick glance a near skin-tight suit made out of a reinforced material she could not quite place. His main colors consisted of red and black with a golden yellow coloring for his utility belts, that sat on his waist and crossed over his chest. Overall a decent ensemble, definitely better than what some akumas wore. The only things that really did not sit well with her was the length of the cape and that bloody cowl!

The male raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and moved his head to bear his throat. “I am not here to fight you, Blue Royal,” the stranger stated calmly. “Or should I refer to you by your old identity, Ladybug.”

The blue clad hero went absolutely rigid at this comment as did her companions. How? How did he find out?

Seeming able to read her body language he went on to give her a simple explanation on how he got to this revelation. He told her about how he had been there when the last akuma attacked and had made the connection due to her mannerisms around the so-called heroes and her overall combat experience. For not even someone trained in any form of martial arts, no matter how long they may have trained, would be able to pull of what she did in that little of time without real life experience. And from her reaction he could tell that his theory was correct. Great so she ratted herself out, well done Marinette.

“Who are you?” she more demanded then asked.

“I go by Red Robin and I was formerly known as Robin and protégé of the Batman of Gotham. I have come to Paris to offer you my help in taking Hawkmoth down,” Red Robin told her, while looking straight at the female before him. Though his eyes were covert by the cowl’s white lenses, Mari swore their eyes were locked.

“And how am I to be certain that you are not one of His akumas or accomplices?” The blue clad girl asked skeptically with a cold tone her eyes narrowed into a glare. The tension in the air could almost be touchable as the two continued their stare of.

Red Robin nodded at her reasoning, seeming to understand her suspicions and following cautios manner. “Understandable concerns. Though I doubt I shall be able to put your worries to rest, with just my words. But quite a few people have made my existence public to the world. I hope that when you have seen that you can be assured that I am here to help,” He spoke calmly as he lowered his hands.

“Not very secretive of you to become known to the public, protégé of the Bat,” Royal could not help to comment. It gained a small chuckle from the male before her. “Well the existence of the League is not really a secret either, hence why I were the cowl,” He bantered back. Marinette could not help her lip twitching upward even as she kept her look skeptical. For her nerves were not put to rest.

Since she could not sense his emotions, he must have a strong control over them, she focused her connection to miraculous to look into his soul. It was in correlation with a trick that Duusu had been telling her about during training. How when transformed a true soul can look through the eyes of their kwami and gain the ability to see someone’s soul. It was however a very exhausting technique and she would most likely have a massive headache in the morning, but it was a small price to pay to see if he was a threat.

The only thing giving away her use of this skill was the thin glowing ring of silver surrounding her pupil.

His souls held several shades of blue implying to someone who was loyal and strong of mind. But the colors were dull and several cracks could be seen in the core of his soul and were festering in a malicious black veins. While black could been seen as a color of mystery, which would fit with his secret ID, the way the veins seemed to be invading re-laid to him being hurt greatly. From Blue Marinette could tell though was that the vigilantly infront of her was being sincere to her at the moment. Though it took a second as she got distracted by the sight of his soul.

Still best to play save and do a background check on this ‘protégé of the Batman’ when she got back to her room. “If I were to believe you and you truly are here to help end the reign pf Hawkmoth. How would you be able to help me?” The female asked firmly as she called off the leopard beside her.

“Do not assume me to being rude, but even though you are capable the akuma’s in battle. Far better then your stand in or the mangy cat. I have come to surmise that detective work is not your forte,” Red Robin answered as he took to leaning on the railing. “I was trained in the fields of being a detective, combat and stealth by one of the best that I know of. I believe if we combine both our skills, we will be able to finally to put the plague that Paris is under to rest,” he finished.

He was not wrong she did need help in that department. She could deal with the combat part more easily now than in years past, having learned from experience. Though she had also collected some leads on the possible identity of Hawkbitch, she was unsure on how to follow up on said leads. If he truly was trained by the Bat of Gotham, someone who was considered the number one detective, he would definitely be a useful asset to the mission.

She only had one question left.

“Why now?” The question seemed to startle the vigilante before. The raw emotion in her voice a reflection of her young thirteen-year-old self, sounding so tired and confused. “I sent a message to the league years ago. Why is their only now a response?”

The male’s expression turned soft at her tone of voice and seeming to understand why she would ask this. “I have no excuse to the sheer incompetence of the one who thought your call of distress was nothing more than a prank. The suffering and deaths of the people of Paris is not something to be brushed off as a prank,” he seethed in anger a small flicker of emotion slipping from his control. Telling the blue clad hero of his sincerity.

A beeping sound of the peafowl wielders miraculous rang through the air. Six minutes.

“I get the feeling that our time is limited so I shall get to the point. Will you give us working together a chance?” And that was the question wasn’t it. Could she trust him to help her?

No, she could not, but she needed someone who could dig deep. And if the Bat had trained him his skills in what he mentioned prior would definitely of use to the cause. Still, he was an unknown with strong control of his emotions and even by looking at his soul, she was able to get more information on the male, she did not feel that she had a good read on him. So, this would be a gamble on her part. She needed a second opinion.

Turning her head, she looked at the little turtle god on her shoulder. For while she and Fu had not always had been able to see eye to eye, Wayzz has always been there to come to some sort of compromise. The little kwami always staying level-headed when there was a whirlwind around him and for that she was grateful. So, she knew she could trust him with being her second voice. The kwami and omega duo locked eyes into a silent conversation as Mist kept watch over the anomaly.

The omega’s eyes soon locked back on the vigilante’s masked once, her decision made. Marinette only hoped she would not come to regret this in the future.

“We will meet to compare notes and come to a full partnership arrangement on Wednesday at eleven p.m. at the arc de triomphe. Should there be an akuma attack before that time I want you to focus on evacuating the civilians away from danger. Try not to get spotted by Chat or LB for I belief we both agree they are not to be trusted,” the peafowl wielder informed the male of her decision. She barely made out the smallest amount of tension leaving his shoulders as Red nodded his head in agreement.

“To that we can most certainly agree,” Red Robin voiced. “Then we shall leave further questions to each other for Wednesday.”

The silence that followed his statement gave the vigilante the impression that it was time to leave. However, as he was about to take of the hero Paris called for his attention once more. Turning back to the blue clad female he motioned for her to continue. “Can you make certain no other heroes come to Paris,” her command gained her a curios tilt of the other humans head, question implied but not voiced.

“When I started being a hero, I thought the JL would be able to help, but after some research of the battle tactics they would only bring more problems than actually solve. For most league heroes seem to rely on an emotion power boost,” Red nodded along with her statement gears starting to turn. “And with Hawkmoth feeding on those emotions would make them a liability.”

“Agreed, I for one do not want to fight a mind controlled and upgraded superman,” The cowled male answered giving her some assurance that he would make sure the league would not interfere with Paris.

Being assured things would be stable until they could talk things out in two days, the two bid each other goodnight. 

As Red Robin took off into the night Blue Royal took one more look at his soul, but instead of looking at his core she observed the spectral dragon that was coiling around his soul. It was the mark of a true soul. Which led to the question: Was that Timothy?

The nudge of the leopard beside her snapped Marinette out of her head and back to reality. Swiftly she and her companions took off to her nest. She had a lot to think about, to plan for and to do and the night was not getting any younger.

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[minseologs]

stars above

ft. _Neo94 tw// themes of heavy grief 

Minseo visits the family mausoleum just in time before she leaves the country. It was an open visitation for anyone, the marble columns show the care and thought it was placed in. Truly, the family had money to ensure only the best for them when they greet the after life. The little urns line up against the wall with her ancestor’s and the recently deceased. The most recent one was Jinwoo’s.

“Hey baby,” she smiles softly, as if she really was talking to his physical form. The glass cube had some of his favorite toys while Minseo leaves his favorite snack of sweet puffed rice. She realizes someone must’ve visited there recently as well because there was something stuck on the corner of the glass. It was a single glow in the dark star.

“I see uncle Neo visited already.”

~

It was the wrong time.

He wasn’t sure what he was gonna see, or how much he’ll see— if there was to see anything at all. Surprisingly enough, Minseo has taken care of her surroundings. There was no anomaly to say that she’s been getting to trouble. Seeing her face to face was a different story though. He’s seen and felt that.

Dejection.

No matter how much she had pushed him away like everyone else, he sticks. Not just around, but quite literally. Because Neo was going through something similar, he just never told his side of the story. Though the person in front of him took care of his short stay, he could tell she was just hiding. And he didn’t like it. So when soft cries were heard in the afternoon, he takes this chance to confront her about it.

“Noona….?” The soft cries in the other side of the door pauses. “I know you don’t want to hear me talk now but… you know, you can cry it out.” No response. He sits with his back on the door, the floor in his gaze as he goes on.

“Do you want to hear a story?” He smiles gently, as if Minseo was right there. Herself, on the other hand, could only remember how he held her hand when the funeral happened. It was comforting, his presence.  “My mom… is up in the clouds now, too. I can’t fly, but I’ve been going somewhere I can hike up to. It helps me breathe when I feel suffocated. The higher the better. I talk to her sometimes there”Up there. He was pouring his heart out, and she couldn’t help but forget her own problems. Her eyes shut with the thought of it, he continues.

A click on the door was heard. He looks to it and opens it just a crack. His eyes look for her in the slowly darkening room, the sun setting giving them somewhat a privacy that this is the sadness they shared. Minseo had herself pressed against the wall, beside the door. The room was supposed to be Jinwoo’s the little traces of the child greet him: from toys, to the small bed. She was looking up to the glow in the dark stars in the ceiling.

“Do you remember the stars we put up back home?” Yeah, I helped you. “When Jinwoo was afraid to sleep on his own, I’ll hold him and look at the stars with him until he fell asleep. I’d tell him stories… anything, everything... I’ve never been much on sticking anything in my room but I kept it there because I know it’ll make him happy.” He creeps in the room, settling by her side. “I’m sorry, for being like this, by the way — “

“Tell you what— the mountain next to here—“ he asks, smiling as if nothing is wrong. “We should go up there.”

“My ankle is hurt.”

“I’ll carry you.”

It took awhile to convince her, but he was relentless. The two eventually compromised, and Neo really did carry her to the half way point of the trail, where they can see the house. It was getting dark and it wasn’t safe. But for some reason the countryside’s appeal made them forget that. The town’s lights begin to flicker on. A breeze was introducing itself to their presence in the field. Rustling of the greenery sings with it.

Neo’s voice suddenly calls out, she wasn’t sure what he was saying— it was in a language he knew. 

“Mae! I’m here with P'Minseo!” He screams at the top of his lungs, which greatly concerns her. She was confused. “Jinwoo-yah!!” He switches language she can understand. “It’s Uncle Neo.    I'm sure you're there telling my mother about all your adventures, right? You're missed a lot…!” He encourages her to do the same, suddenly patting her. She wasn’t sure to do it, nor did she have any strength anyway. He takes a deep breath, to release his own stress. This relaxes Minseo for a moment.

“Jinwoo…” her voice was meek, feeling a little stupid she was doing it. Louder, he said. “Jinwoo…?” Louder, noona. “Jinwoo…!”

Louder.

“JINWOO!!” she yells. It felt great. She takes a deep breath, “Jinwoo!! I miss you!!!” She was screaming so loud her body was following along. Every single breath she can hold was taken out. “I’m sorry..! Mama is sorry!!” Her voice breaks. Neo let’s her keep going. “I love you..!”

I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry.

Her body falls to the ground. A blood-curling scream was heard. And again. Once more when it echoes near by. Her fist hits the ground repeatedly that takes his form to hold her in his arms as he too, shares her pain. 

Anguish. Torment. Loss. 

It was hurting Neo but he didn’t care at that point while his tears fall quietly as she lets emotions out. It scared him. He has never seen this Minseo. She was always poised. Always gentle, and sometimes mischievous. For the first time, she was able to let out how she truly felt. What she really felt. 

The sun disappears with a soft haze from the moon gives them light. He held her tightly to prevent herself from doing any more damage. One can only imagine her emotions bottled up, spilling to be heard from the distance. There was nothing left. There truly was nothing she could do. Her son is gone, and that’s that. 

She eventually calms down, and they share a comfortable silence. It was getting cold. Their sniffling made them chuckle a little. In a way, Minseo was glad it was Neo to witness her breakdown. She labeled him as one of her closest confidants. 

“Oh… look,” she smiles gently, feeling a sense of relief after everything. The night sky begins to twinkle as a star pops up above. Her arms gently hold Neo, just like the way he held her son before. The bond connected them like siblings would, their friendship surpassed after that. It was her turn to give him comfort. “Do you think he heard us?” Another star appears, it twinkles while Neo was looking at it.

“Loud and clear, noona.”

[jojoimaginestories]

Anomaly (Dio Brando)

Anomaly

Paring: Dio Brando (Part 1) x Fem!Reader Words: 1049 Warning: Super Fluff, Kind!Reader, Dio’s a bit domesticated Requested By: None

**Gif is not mine**

To most, Dio was an anomaly. He fit in perfectly with rich society, despite having come through  a near dirt-poor family back in London, had near-perfect grades, despite you were sure that he never studied for a thing in his life, and he was a real looker for women. In fact, that last part actually got him together with you in the first place. It was quite an odd day. You were finished studying in the library when you ran into the tall gentleman known as Dio Brando. This was also the day you two met. He was tired of all the women in the school harassing him to take them out places, so he was certain that you were just about the same as they were.

“Excuse me, sorry for bumping into you,” You gave a soft smile and walked past him calmly.

He blinked in confusion as you walked away from him, focusing on ahead rather than look back at him. You didn’t spare him a second glance.

She is either stupid in realizing who I was, or she just thinks of me as another ordinary person, Dio thought as he walked in the opposite direction of where you were going.

As the days went by, you were caught in Dio’s glances more and more as he gained some form of an interest in you. He had studied you from afar, and thought of you as a delicate flower. You read a lot, to his surprise. You switched between studying and enjoying a good entertaining book. He found out through Jonathan what your name was, though he didn’t want to at first because he didn’t want to be bothered by him in the slightest.

You were (Y/n) (L/n) of the (L/n) family. Certainly, you were rich by some standards and it turned out that your father managed a large company that boosted some of the economy greatly. So, your name wasn’t tossed out just for fun. Your family was meant for business. Your mother was a famous entrepreneur, one known for her fashion lines. Your parents, together, were a great match, and the fact that they produced you meant that you were also a great anomaly that Dio stumbled upon.

Despite having servants, which he learned about from listening to other students, you made your own meals. You preferred not to overwork servants after their own basic duties they had. You were very gentle and kind-hearted. You were so nice to others too. It was hard for Dio to get you out of his head at this point.

One day, he decided to approach you. Something along the lines of what you were reading.  It was in public, and other girls watched in awe as he walked across the courtyard you were in. They thought he would approach one of them. When he slipped past them and approached you, they were heartbroken and jealous of the attention you gained from him.

“Miss (L/n),” Dio hummed. You looked up to see him stare at you with his hands in his pockets. “You know, I don’t see a lot of women carrying a book as thick as yours around. Is it that good of a read?”

You smiled softly and nodded. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s Jules Verne, Twenty Thousands Leagues Under the Sea,” You hummed.

“I see. Care to tell me about it?”

It wasn’t long after when he started courting you. He thought you were the one person in this world he wouldn’t annoy him to insanity. You were calm, collected, and in fact, you were just perfect to match him.

“My dear,” He hummed as he leaned towards you.

You sat in his large mansion where his minions did every bit of his bidding. You were reading another book, calmly and collectively.

“Yes,” You asked, turning to face him.

“Are you comfortable? Are you enjoying your tea?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yes, I am,” You hummed with a smile.

“Good, good,” He hummed. He stood. “I’m going to go for a bit, would you like me to bring anything back for you?”

“Hmm… May I have some chocolate? I haven’t had some in a while, and I would just love some right about now.”

He nodded. “As you wish.” He bowed his head and kissed your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He walked away from you. As he shut the door, he gave a small growl. His feeding was getting so absurd. He wanted to spend time with you, but as a vampire, his feeding came at random times, and it was getting ridiculous that he had to separate himself from you for the time being. He couldn’t bring himself to turn you into a mindless slave, just like those who served him. You were his delicate flower. If he harmed one of your petals, he wouldn’t forgive himself. In fact, he knew Jonathan was plotting against him, and if he brought you into this, it would only be worse for you to have to deal with your love. He gave a quiet sigh, and resumed to walking off.

--

You leaned against Dio after returning from a few days. You knitted a scarf for the change of seasons, and since Dio operated in the evening, you thought that making him something to keep him warm was more than likely.

“My dear,” He hummed quietly.

“Yes,” You asked, pausing to listen.

“Would you love me if I was different than others?”

“Whatever would you mean?”

“If I wasn’t as… pure hearted… as others, I mean. What if evil tainted my heart?”

You looked at him before looking forward. You returned to your knitting. “I believe everyone has a little corruption in their hearts. Some have it more than others. It is based on others experiences of how much corruption they have. But you? I love you for you, and every part of you is perfect to me. So, don’t worry about it for my sake.” You smiled at him. “I’m alright with every part of you.”

He slowly nodded. “…Alright…” He sighed.

“Something clouding your mind?”

“…I don’t want anyone to take you from me.”

You slowly nodded. “Alright, my love. I will be with you for as long as I live.”

[imagine-loki]

Hiding In Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Two AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé.

You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.

How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

Raven worked diligently on the room. Growing up, she had to adhere to the very strict upbringing which she had that did not permit her to do very much for herself, which always irked her greatly. There were some things that she knew she would never be good at, cooking being one such example. Somehow, she still had not figured it out for herself, she managed to set a bowl of porridge on fire. She loved sewing and embroidering, she loved working the needle and thread until a design was created, it was something she always adored so much so that her maid used to be forced to endure Raven staring at her as she mended anything that needed fixing through the years but such was seen as beneath a princess so she did not get to do it often herself, though she had convinced the maid to teach her. She also liked to decide for herself where she would place her belongings and how the room should look but such was not allowed and she was often admonished for doing such things. She was the daughter of the king, she was often told, she was not to do such menial things, they were beneath her station. The issue for Raven was that she was the only daughter of the king, born amidst four brothers. Something of an anomaly in Ljósálfar royalty. Very few Light Elf kings had ever sired a daughter. She often felt something of a black sheep of her family, never truly feeling like she fitted in.

 Her brothers always knew what it was they were to do with their lives; the eldest, Dafydd was to be king, trained for the role since childhood, he would be a good king, if not slightly fond of a hunt more than a trade meeting, the second oldest, Johann was a soldier at heart, earning his way legitimately through the ranks of the Ljósálfar army and would by everyone’s predictions, be general someday. With a good relationship with his brother, it would be nothing but a blessing in everyone’s eyes as kings and generals often clashed heads. The third, Richard was to be made Lord of the Lowlands, a title usually bestowed to the second son of the King but Johann renounced his claim to it as high ranking soldiers were not allowed such titles and he rather earn his own, so that left Richard with a good living as well. The last and youngest, Kieran had learnt early that fighting was the exact opposite to what he wanted in life. Instead, he loved tending to its injured and much to his family’s startled pride, he decided as a youth to become a healer and was studying diligently to do so. Amongst them all, Raven’s life seemed somewhat less defined yet incredibly more restricted. She was given no role for so long and now was forced to one she knew she would most likely have but to one she never thought possible. She could not fathom how it came to be that she was to wed someone so notably high born as the second prince of Asgard, the son and brother of the current and future Allfathers. When her father first stated it, she thought him to be having some form of a peculiar joke, but when his face remained stoic and none seemed to see anything funny in what was being said, she realised he was entirely serious. 

She loved the sound of the cloth squeaking against the mirror as she worked. If anything, the experience was fun for her. Most days were dull and boring for her, long hours of reading and writing in areas that were entirely uninteresting. She liked a good book on occasion but she liked them to be on matters that interested her, most commonly, a genre known as thriller, not something befitting a princess. She often hid those books so none would know she read them but then it made finding time to read them difficult. This far surpassed reading about the history of trade between Alfheim and Vanaheim. Most would think her mad had she stated such, but it was true nonetheless. 

She heard Loki’s return before she saw him. A low irate growl rang out around the rooms. “Maid...Norns, what is your name again, Raven...no, Brianna...Norn’s what is it?”

“Breanna, Your Grace.” Raven rushed from the bathroom where she had been shining the glass to see Loki, noting the manner in which he was presently standing in front of her, hair tousled, twigs in it and a mud smear on his face. “Oh, are you alright?”

“Well, at least one person cared to ask me and it had to be a foreign maid, of course, not my supposed friends or indeed my family,” Loki growled to no one. “I am fine. Breanna, of course. Run me a bath.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she bowed and rushed into the bathroom once more. 

Loki watched her for a moment before walking in after her. “Where did you learn to bow like that?”

Raven, thinking the question to be entirely obscure, turned to look at him. “Sorry, Your Grace?”

“Who taught you to bow? You’re female, females do not bow, you are supposed to curtsey.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice as he spoke. 

“I…” Raven had only done the bow to be swift but seeing his reaction, she was unsure what to say. “I don’t have the balance for that.”

Loki’s brow rose. “The balance?”

“I tried but it ended badly.”

Loki folded his arms and leant against the door frame, a smile forming on his face. “Well now, this sounds interesting.”

“I tried to learn, I was even given a tutor because I was not getting it. I kept crossing my ankles wrong and I ended up….” Her eyes darted to the side embarrassed. 

“Oh, please continue.”

“Falling….into a…” She toyed with her hands slightly. If Loki had not been listening so astutely, he would not have heard the final word that she all but mouthed. “Fountain.”

Loki tried, to his credit, not to laugh at her. He bit his lips together and willed himself not to do so but he failed as her face went an interesting colour of red at the memory. He did not last long before his failure became vocal and he laughed heartily at it. 

 The laugh was not a malicious one, something she could take solace in but it did not stop her feeling embarrassed. The story was a true one, she did indeed struggle to curtsey when she was young. With her brothers, in informal settings, she did bow but had long mastered the curtsey also. Her unique form of training in that her unsuccessful attempt led to a thorough soaking left a lasting impression on her. “So as you can see, bowing suits me better.”

Loki cleared his throat and forced himself to stop laughing but his smile was still blatant. “I would wager that was somewhat hilarious.”

“It would have been, I laughed myself for a time, only my father saw it and was none-too-pleased. He did not think it to be so amusing.”

“He sounds as stoic as my own father.” Loki all but snarled the words, his previous good humour dissipating as he thought of his father. 

“I do think them to be of similar mindsets.”

“At least you are free of your father. I am stuck seeing mine every day.”

“I know him to be strict but if I am honest, I miss him and the rest of my family dearly. Being on an entirely different realm is so difficult, a lot of the time.” Raven did not mean to be so honest but at that moment, it slipped through.

“I wish I could be on a different realm. I am sick of them all.”

“We all think that until we get that wish, then all we wish for is to have what we had before.” Raven felt herself becoming slightly annoyed at Loki, her tone became more clipped as she spoke. “I will get your bath readied, Your Highness. I would suggest that you ready yourself for such without twigs in your hair.” She gave another slight bow before turning to continue her work, not wanting to accidentally reveal her true identity to him. 

Loki, stunned into silence by her demeanour and tone and the manner in which she spoke to him, took a moment to look in a mirror to assess his appearance only to see her words, to be honest. There was indeed debris from his scuffle in his hair. Miffed at everything, he decided to say nothing more, allow his maid to do as she was supposed to and prepare for his bath. 

*

Loki had no idea what it was that was used for his bath, but his aching muscles seemed to soothe as soon as he submerged himself in the water. He groaned from the comfort of it all before enjoying his bath, his tension disappearing as he did so. 

When he came out of his bath a time later and into the front part of his rooms, dressed in only his pants, he noted that his maid was busy trying to organise some books. “Do you find such things taxing?”

Raven looked over her shoulder at him. “When one decides to have no order at all, I find it distressing, not taxing.”

Loki felt insulted by her tone. “I do have an order, excuse you. Just because you cannot see it does not make it so.”

Raven stood back slightly. “It is neither chronological nor alphabetical, it makes little to no sense.”

Loki frowned. “Chrono….how in the realms would you even know the chronological order?”

“So because I am a maid, I cannot know the chronological order, is that what you are saying? Do you think me to be so unintelligent as to not know the order of some books? Do you look down on others so?” she did not snap the words emotionally as others would at being spoken to in such a tone but kept her voice calm yet clearly displaying how insulting his words were. 

“I did not claim that you were unintelligent.” Loki found himself backpedalling very quickly. “Only, those books…”

“Are of Alfheim, as I am, so of all the maids here to have any knowledge of such things, I should know such and do not even dare suggest that you think it’s because I should not know how to read.”

“Do not put words into my mouth.” Loki became angered at what she was implying. Especially ones so demeaning.”

“The words already in there do not seem much better.”

For a moment, both royals stood face to face, glaring at one another. “Before I went for a bath, you seemed to be the only one to care about my wellbeing after the situation today but now you are worse than others.” He turned to leave.

“I should mention, your female companion called by while you were in the bath,” Raven informed him. “She let me know your opinion on us dim, airheaded Light Elves and your opinion on our Princess, the one you are to marry. What can I say, it left a bad taste in my mouth.” Raven walked off leaving Loki startled in her wake. 

[wolfpawn]

Hiding in Plain Sight, Chapter 2

Story Summary - Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other. How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

Chapter Summary - Raven starts to work for Loki but it is not long before she is tested and is forced to remain calm in fear of revealing herself.

Previous Chapter

Tags - @peppermint-j  @alexakeyloveloki @myblissfulparadise - it won’t let me tag you. 

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Raven worked diligently on the room. Growing up, she had to adhere to the very strict upbringing which she had that did not permit her to do very much for herself, which always irked her greatly. There were some things that she knew she would never be good at, cooking being one such example. Somehow, she still had not figured it out for herself, she managed to set a bowl of porridge on fire. She loved sewing and embroidering, she loved working the needle and thread until a design was created, it was something she always adored so much so that her maid used to be forced to endure Raven staring at her as she mended anything that needed fixing through the years but such was seen as beneath a princess so she did not get to do it often herself, though she had convinced the maid to teach her. She also liked to decide for herself where she would place her belongings and how the room should look but such was not allowed and she was often admonished for doing such things. She was the daughter of the king, she was often told, she was not to do such menial things, they were beneath her station. The issue for Raven was that she was the only daughter of the king, born amidst four brothers. Something of an anomaly in Ljósálfar royalty. Very few Light Elf kings had ever sired a daughter. She often felt something of a black sheep of her family, never truly feeling like she fitted in.

 Her brothers always knew what it was they were to do with their lives; the eldest, Dafydd was to be king, trained for the role since childhood, he would be a good king, if not slightly fond of a hunt more than a trade meeting, the second oldest, Johann was a soldier at heart, earning his way legitimately through the ranks of the Ljósálfar army and would by everyone’s predictions, be general someday. With a good relationship with his brother, it would be nothing but a blessing in everyone’s eyes as kings and generals often clashed heads. The third, Richard was to be made Lord of the Lowlands, a title usually bestowed to the second son of the King but Johann renounced his claim to it as high ranking soldiers were not allowed such titles and he rather earn his own, so that left Richard with a good living as well. The last and youngest, Kieran had learnt early that fighting was the exact opposite to what he wanted in life. Instead, he loved tending to its injured and much to his family’s startled pride, he decided as a youth to become a healer and was studying diligently to do so. Amongst them all, Raven’s life seemed somewhat less defined yet incredibly more restricted. She was given no role for so long and now was forced to one she knew she would most likely have but to one she never thought possible. She could not fathom how it came to be that she was to wed someone so notably high born as the second prince of Asgard, the son and brother of the current and future Allfathers. When her father first stated it, she thought him to be having some form of a peculiar joke, but when his face remained stoic and none seemed to see anything funny in what was being said, she realised he was entirely serious. 

She loved the sound of the cloth squeaking against the mirror as she worked. If anything, the experience was fun for her. Most days were dull and boring for her, long hours of reading and writing in areas that were entirely uninteresting. She liked a good book on occasion but she liked them to be on matters that interested her, most commonly, a genre known as thriller, not something befitting a princess. She often hid those books so none would know she read them but then it made finding time to read them difficult. This far surpassed reading about the history of trade between Alfheim and Vanaheim. Most would think her mad had she stated such, but it was true nonetheless. 

She heard Loki’s return before she saw him. A low irate growl rang out around the rooms. “Maid...Norns, what is your name again, Raven...no, Brianna...Norn’s what is it?”

“Breanna, Your Grace.” Raven rushed from the bathroom where she had been shining the glass to see Loki, noting the manner in which he was presently standing in front of her, hair tousled, twigs in it and a mud smear on his face. “Oh, are you alright?”

“Well, at least one person cared to ask me and it had to be a foreign maid, of course, not my supposed friends or indeed my family,” Loki growled to no one. “I am fine. Breanna, of course. Run me a bath.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she bowed and rushed into the bathroom once more. 

Loki watched her for a moment before walking in after her. “Where did you learn to bow like that?”

Raven, thinking the question to be entirely obscure, turned to look at him. “Sorry, Your Grace?”

“Who taught you to bow? You’re female, females do not bow, you are supposed to curtsey.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice as he spoke. 

“I…” Raven had only done the bow to be swift but seeing his reaction, she was unsure what to say. “I don’t have the balance for that.”

Loki’s brow rose. “The balance?”

“I tried but it ended badly.”

Loki folded his arms and leant against the door frame, a smile forming on his face. “Well now, this sounds interesting.”

“I tried to learn, I was even given a tutor because I was not getting it. I kept crossing my ankles wrong and I ended up….” Her eyes darted to the side embarrassed. 

“Oh, please continue.”

“Falling….into a…” She toyed with her hands slightly. If Loki had not been listening so astutely, he would not have heard the final word that she all but mouthed. “Fountain.”

Loki tried, to his credit, not to laugh at her. He bit his lips together and willed himself not to do so but he failed as her face went an interesting colour of red at the memory. He did not last long before his failure became vocal and he laughed heartily at it. 

 The laugh was not a malicious one, something she could take solace in but it did not stop her feeling embarrassed. The story was a true one, she did indeed struggle to curtsey when she was young. With her brothers, in informal settings, she did bow but had long mastered the curtsey also. Her unique form of training in that her unsuccessful attempt led to a thorough soaking left a lasting impression on her. “So as you can see, bowing suits me better.”

Loki cleared his throat and forced himself to stop laughing but his smile was still blatant. “I would wager that was somewhat hilarious.”

“It would have been, I laughed myself for a time, only my father saw it and was none-too-pleased. He did not think it to be so amusing.”

“He sounds as stoic as my own father.” Loki all but snarled the words, his previous good humour dissipating as he thought of his father. 

“I do think them to be of similar mindsets.”

“At least you are free of your father. I am stuck seeing mine every day.”

“I know him to be strict but if I am honest, I miss him and the rest of my family dearly. Being on an entirely different realm is so difficult, a lot of the time.” Raven did not mean to be so honest but at that moment, it slipped through.

“I wish I could be on a different realm. I am sick of them all.”

“We all think that until we get that wish, then all we wish for is to have what we had before.” Raven felt herself becoming slightly annoyed at Loki, her tone became more clipped as she spoke. “I will get your bath readied, Your Highness. I would suggest that you ready yourself for such without twigs in your hair.” She gave another slight bow before turning to continue her work, not wanting to accidentally reveal her true identity to him. 

Loki, stunned into silence by her demeanour and tone and the manner in which she spoke to him, took a moment to look in a mirror to assess his appearance only to see her words, to be honest. There was indeed debris from his scuffle in his hair. Miffed at everything, he decided to say nothing more, allow his maid to do as she was supposed to and prepare for his bath. 

*

Loki had no idea what it was that was used for his bath, but his aching muscles seemed to soothe as soon as he submerged himself in the water. He groaned from the comfort of it all before enjoying his bath, his tension disappearing as he did so. 

When he came out of his bath a time later and into the front part of his rooms, dressed in only his pants, he noted that his maid was busy trying to organise some books. “Do you find such things taxing?”

Raven looked over her shoulder at him. “When one decides to have no order at all, I find it distressing, not taxing.”

Loki felt insulted by her tone. “I do have an order, excuse you. Just because you cannot see it does not make it so.”

Raven stood back slightly. “It is neither chronological nor alphabetical, it makes little to no sense.”

Loki frowned. “Chrono….how in the realms would you even know the chronological order?”

“So because I am a maid, I cannot know the chronological order, is that what you are saying? Do you think me to be so unintelligent as to not know the order of some books? Do you look down on others so?” she did not snap the words emotionally as others would at being spoken to in such a tone but kept her voice calm yet clearly displaying how insulting his words were. 

“I did not claim that you were unintelligent.” Loki found himself backpedalling very quickly. “Only, those books…”

“Are of Alfheim, as I am, so of all the maids here to have any knowledge of such things, I should know such and do not even dare suggest that you think it’s because I should not know how to read.”

“Do not put words into my mouth.” Loki became angered at what she was implying. Especially ones so demeaning.”

“The words already in there do not seem much better.”

For a moment, both royals stood face to face, glaring at one another. “Before I went for a bath, you seemed to be the only one to care about my wellbeing after the situation today but now you are worse than others.” He turned to leave.

“I should mention, your female companion called by while you were in the bath,” Raven informed him. “She let me know your opinion on us dim, airheaded Light Elves and your opinion on our Princess, the one you are to marry. What can I say, it left a bad taste in my mouth.” Raven walked off leaving Loki startled in her wake. 

[abluescarfonwaston]

   Fair warning, this is a lot lol

Miles finished putting on mascara and walked over to his closet.

   The only person that ever stayed over was Franzy, and he wasn't too worried about her looking through his wardrobe. The silver-haired man moved to the back of his closet and found a skirt. The light red was the same shade as the suit he wore in court. Miles zipped up the back of the skirt and adjusted it at the waist. He moved over and put on a white blouse and threw his jacket over it. Next came the hair extensions, which were, of course, the same as his hair so that it seemed more natural.

   Surprisingly, the prosecutor was almost an expert at walking in heels, but he dressed up a lot, so it became easier after a while. The media was on his back all the time; Newspapers, journalists, even Ms. Hart. "Am I that much of an anomaly?" He thought when she had approached him.

   Miles didn't like all the attention of being "The Demon Prosecutor." He cringed at the thought of it and swore he'd find a way to have it revoked.

 

  The man walked out of his room, down the hall. He walked into the foyer and rubbed Pess behind the ears. The dog wagged her tail and barked. Edgeworth walked out the door, locking it behind him.

   "The car might attract too much attention." He said to himself. Miles walked. He walked for a while, turning down roads and sidewalks. Finally he made it to the park.

   Maya was on the prowl. She was scouting some very pretty ladies to go out for a burger with.

   "That Franziska lady didn't respond!" She wailed when Nick asked what she was doing.

   "Welcome to my world, Maya." He sighed.

   Maya laughed and said "Yeah, but at least Edgeworth makes up excuses." The young spirit medium grabbed Phoenix by the wrist and pulled him over to a food truck. "Nick I'm hungry. Can you get me a burger and I pay you back later?" She said, smiling coyly.

   "I'm 90% sure that you don't even make money." Phoenix grumbled.

   "Rude." Maya said, sticking out her tongue.

   Maya turned around, fully prepared to chain herself to the food truck to get the lawyer's attention. It wasn't her fault that she was hungry. She sat down on a bench, pouting.

   The spiked lawyer rolled his eyes and turned to order a two burgers. As Phoenix had his back to the park, Maya was still a woman on a mission. She scanned the park, up and down, when a familiar almost pink caught her eye. Maya stood up, squinting at the figure a couple yards away.

  "Nick! Nick I'm going. I saw someone pretty, don't wait for me!" She called over her shoulder before breaking into a sprint to the lady. "Hi! I'm Maya, I- hold on let me catch my breath." The figure in front of her stopped abruptly. The woman turned, her bangs falling into her eyes. The lady, despite wearing heels made chasing her quite difficult.

   "Almost lost her!" Miles thought as he ran. He stopped for a moment, hobbling out of the shoes and ran even faster. People were staring. The mascera was starting to run and his lipstick got smudged when Miles wiped his face. He rounded a corner and hid behind a wall. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bricks.

   "You know, that's not a very good hiding place. Are we playing tag? Don't worry, I won't tell Nick." The girl said, suddenly appearing in front of him. "Oh boy. I have some wipes if you need them."

   "That won't be necessary, thank you though. I- um, I don't know who this Nick person is, or why you approached me, what's happening?"

   "How do you change your voice like that, Mr. Edgewo-" Maya was cut off by Miles, putting his hand over her mouth.

   He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Come with me, I'll buy you lunch and we can discuss this." Edgeworth's voice had returned to it's normal rich baritone.

   "Well, I can't turn down a free meal." Maya said, after removing the hand from her face.

   Miles walked off down the road, only stopping to put the heels back on and make sure Maya was following.  She was. Miles walked into a small diner. The waiter showed them to a booth in the back. "If you would wait right here, Ms. Fey, I'll be right back." Miles walked to the restroom. "Dear God, how did this happen?" He grumbled. After having fixed his makeup, The prosecutor came back out and sat down.

   "Order anything you'd like, Ms. Fey." Edgeworth said. "Now, I know you'd probably like an explanation."

   The waiter interrupted, setting two menus on the table. "Ah thank you." He walked off, smiling.

   "Now, back to the matter at hand." Miles said, turning to the girl across the table. "I want to say immediately that this," he looked down at the skirt "isn't a hobby or something of the likes."

   "Well, I'll say this, your makeup is wonderful and the skirt fits you very well. I won't judge. But why did you dress up?" She said, tilting her head.

   "The- I'll be straightforward with you, everyone is constantly chasing after me. Everyone wants to know if I forged evidence, if rumors about me are true, it's tiring. So, I dress like a woman to throw them off my trail. Only you and Ms. Von Karma know about this. Skirts are quite comfortable though."

   "Oh my god, I know right? I've been trying get Nick to wear one for forever. You know how he is, though. He's so bullheaded."

   Miles opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted by the waiter. "Are you ready to order?"

   "I'll have the burger, extra ketchup, with a side of wings and some tea." Maya said eagerly.

   "I'll just have a water." Edgeworth said. "Ms. Fey, if you wouldn't mention this to Wright, I'd greatly appreciate it."

   "Nick? Oh I'd never. You can count on my lips being sealed." Maya laughed.

   The prosecutor in disguise sighed in relief. "So, what were you and Wright doing in the park?"

   "Well, Ms. Von Karma turned me down to go eat, so I was looking for another girl to ask out. Nick was just along for the ride." Maya giggled before adding "I was going to see if you were free, you look very pretty, but it was mostly the color that caught my eye. It looked familiar, so I went to catch up with you and.... Well here we are!"

   "Well that's certainly and interesting tale. I'll have to scold Franziska for not spending the day with you." He chuckled.

   Once Maya had finished eating, she stood up. "Thank you for the food, I should probably get back. Nick must be worried sick, I left in such a hurry. I guess I'll see you in court some time."

   "At least let me accompany you back to the park." He insisted.

   "Alright, come on!" Maya said, already walking out the door.

   Edgeworth caught up with the spirit medium and walked with her until they were almost a block away from the park.

   "MAYA! MAYA WHERE ARE YOU?" Phoenix's voice rang out.  Miles flinched at the voice, but Maya's head whipped around.

   "I'm over here, Nick. I'm fine." Maya called back. Phoenix ran over and hugged the girl tightly. He was almost sobbing into her shoulder.

   "Nick, what's wrong?" She asked, concerned.

   "I thought I'd lost you again. Don't run off like that, you had me scared. It- It reminded me of that case. I don't like thinking about that." He said, his voice barely a whisper. Maya rubbed his back in smal circles, attempting to calm Nick down.

   "I'm fine Phoenix, I'm okay." She said. Phoenix straightened up at the use of his name. He was so used to her nicknames, it caught him off guard.

   The lawyer wiped his eyes and pinched his nose. "Where did you even go?" He asked, bewildered.

   "I told you, I saw a lady that I thought was pretty and went to catch up with her." Maya said, pointing at Miles, who'd been silent the whole time.

   "Ah, I'm sorry you had to put up with her, she's a-" His voice trailed off as he looked at Edgeworth. "You... Hmm. You look familiar, but I can't-"

   "What's the matter, Nick?" Maya asked.

   "Where have I seen... No. I know who you look like now, gah I'm sorry, you looked like an old friend." Phoenix chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "It's almost scary how much she looks like him. That's, wow, that's like the exact same color, and your bangs-"

   Phoenix froze when he made eye contact with the steel gaze. "Miles?"

   "Surprising, isn't it?" Edgeworth said, gripping the crook of his elbow. He averted his gaze, looking over at a woman walking her dog.

   "Maya, can you pinch me?" Phoenix asked, his eyes glazing over.

   "Okay, it didn't have to be that hard. Can- Can you explain what's happening?" Nick asked, very obviously still confused.

   "Calm down, Nick. Don't be so narrow-minded. It's to throw off reporters." Maya said, exasperated.

   Phoenix's face was beggining to turn red. "Mi- Miles I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I'm going to stop talking."

   "It's fine, Wright." Edgeworth finally released the grip on his arm and looked at the blushing attorney. "I can imagine this is quite shocking. Anyways, I'll be off." He turned to go, but Phoenix grabbed his hand.

   "Wait! Um, well, I- You look nice, Miles. You can pull it off." Phoenix let go of the other man's hand and turned, grabbed Maya and left. He hadn't moved that quickly away from anyone in a while, and he was a mess.

Miles: Everyone is constantly chasing after me. Reporters. Franziska. Wright. You literally ten minutes ago.

Maya: *Chewing her burger* Huh wonder what that’s like.

Love it Aramanna!!!!!!!!

[mint-yooxgi]

Red Silk - Slight Yandere!Incubus!Jongdae X Reader

Slight Yandere!AU & Incubus!AU - Part of the 12 Days of Lust collab

Disclaimer: I agreed to write this as part of this collab before everything with Jongdae was announced. If this fic makes you uncomfortable, you do not have to read it. I am simply using him as a face claim, nothing more.

Genre: Horror, Angst, Mature, Smut (Sub/Dom Themes, Restraints)

Pairing: Jongdae X Reader

Words: 5,334

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

Summary: Living in an apartment complex, preying on the innocent became almost second nature to Jongdae. Careless whispers into the night of countless victims claiming to love him never meant anything to him, until you came along. Now, he will stop at nothing to have you, wanting to bind you to him for all eternity. He’s fallen for you, but is it even possible for a demon to love?

A/n: My apologies if this story seems rushed, as I went for a slightly different approach when writing it this time. Please do check out the other fics in the collab by some other amazing writers if you have a chance! I hope you enjoy. As always, I do not believe Jongdae would act like this, this is just my interpretation of the archetype. There will be no part two to this. Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

He finds it almost comical. The reactions he gets from his victims of the previous evening whenever they see him in the hallway. Many are embarrassed, for how could they be having dirty thoughts and dreams about their kind, unsuspecting neighbour? That is, if he lets them remember.

He usually only lets a few remember their dreams from the previous night, mainly for his own entertainment purposes. Seeing them shy away from him, or avoid his gaze when he sends them a smile in the hallway simply feeds his amusement.

Never has he returned to a victim more than once, for he hasn’t felt the need to. Many of his victims are delusional anyways, thinking that this one night of passion within their subconscious means something more. 

Some even go so far as to confess their love or adoration during these times, only serving to annoy him. All he wants to do is feed, not hear about the feelings of his food. Most of the time, he can block it out, but more often than not, it’s too hard to ignore. It’s starting to really get on his nerves.

As a demon, Jongdae has never known, or felt, love. He doesn’t even know if it’s possible for him to love, but he hasn’t ever wanted to know, or tried, for that matter. He always found it trivial, in a sense. Something humans use as a distraction from their everyday lives. 

The news of a new tenant moving in next door peaks his interest. There hasn’t been a new resident in his building for at least six months, and his options are starting to run dry. He’s ready for a fresh face, a fresh start. A fresh meal.

He has to admit, living out an ordinary life in amongst his victims is a fairly wise choice, not to mention easy. Every week or so, he can choose a new victim who is willing to let him into their mind. All he has to do is just put a passing thought through their mind about him, and see if he in turn peaks their interest. If that’s the case, he’s in for a good meal that night, as long as the subject is willing.

The day you move in next door, he does his best to make a good first impression on you. The smile you give him when he offers to help you bring in some of the boxes for you causes a subtle smirk to pull at his lips. This is a good start, and hopefully, by the end of the week he’ll be able to have you all to himself.

By the time he’s finished helping you bring in all your boxes, he watches you plop yourself into one of your chairs in the corner of your living room. He almost misses the way you tilt your head back and roll your neck from all the boxes scattered around blocking his view, but he catches it, and something within him jolts. He finds it odd.

Opening your eyes once more, you notice him already staring at you, seemingly zoned out.

“Oh, sorry, normally I would ask if you wanted to stay for dinner, but I literally have no food,” you say, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you grip the arms of the chair in your hands nervously.

“It’s alright,” he smiles back at you. “I get it. If you want I can order a pizza?”

“That’s really nice of you,” you pull yourself up and back onto your feet, “but no thanks. I get that I just moved in and everything, and you seem like a nice guy, but I don’t want you getting the wrong impression.”

Shit. Can you tell what he is? There’s been a few witches and spiritual people he’s come across that could tell what he was almost immediately, so maybe you’re one of them. His heart nearly skips a beat in his chest in worry. Was he too forward with his intent?

“I-“ He feels like a fish out of water, for he doesn’t know what to say.

“Last time I just moved in to a new place, I had three different neighbours all hit on me within the first week, one of them even helped me move in like you did,” you say. “And now you’re giving me the wide-eyed look… fuck, you’re probably just a nice guy- look, I’m sorry, I’m probably just talking myself into a hole here. Why don’t we just start over?”

“Okay,” he trails off slightly, watching as you breathe a small sigh of relief. He thinks it’s cute how flustered you get.

“Anyways, I’m (Y/n), your new neighbour. Thank you for helping me bring some stuff in,” you smile at him once more, and he blinks once before smiling back at you.

“It’s no problem,” he replies. “If you ever need anything, I’m right next door, so don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks,” you say, leading him to the door before bidding him a good evening, before proceeding to close the door in his face.

He lets out a small sigh in disappointment. He was hoping to get to know you a bit better, but it looks like you have a higher guard than he originally thought you did. He could tell his staring made you a bit uncomfortable once he thought about it, hence your reaction. Looks like you’ll be a bit of a tougher prey to catch, which will make his reward all the more sweeter when he does get to indulge himself in you.

For the next week, you continue to plague his thoughts, filling much of his mind with fantasies about you and what it’ll be like once he’s finally able to have you to himself. Though, he finds it strange, considering he’s never thought this intensely about his next victim. So much so, that the next time he invades someone’s subconscious, he imagines that it’s you he’s with, and not Bethany from twelve-c.

Every time he sees you in the hallway, he makes an attempt to talk to you, wanting to bury himself into your subconscious just as you’ve infected his. He asks questions, mainly to get to know you better, but also to gouge a sense of what you like and don’t like. So far, you’re an anomaly of which he cannot figure out.

Looks like his regular approach isn’t going to work in his favour.

  It takes him another full week with him talking to you in passing until you genuinely invite him over for dinner one evening. You tell him not to think too much into it, but he can’t help it. Maybe you’re finally opening up to him.

He can’t wait for it to just be the two of you. Maybe this opportunity will give him a chance to figure out these weird feelings he’s been having about you recently. However, stepping into your apartment reveals two of your friends already sitting in your living room, sipping on drinks of their own.

They introduce themselves as Hyuna and Kaylee, your two closest friends. He can feel Kaylee not so subtly check him out, and usually it wouldn’t bother him since it’s what he’s used to, given his species, but since it’s in your home, your living room, in your presence, it makes him uncomfortable.

Currently, he’s in the middle of a conversation with Hyuna when Kaylee excuses herself to ‘help’ you in the kitchen. He does his best to focus on the conversation at hand, but he can’t help but overhear what Kaylee says to you in the kitchen.

“Your neighbour is kinda cute,” he nearly rolls his eyes at her words.

He hears you chuckle, “woah, slow down there tiger, you just met him.”

“Do you mean to tell me you have your sights set on him?” She quirks a brow, her words peaking his interest further, sitting with bated breath to hear your response.

“Oh no,” you laugh, flicking off the stovetop. “He’s all yours. Just don’t make it awkward like the last time.”

He has to keep his expression from falling as he continues his conversation with Hyuna. You’re not interested in him? At all? Has he done something to turn you away from him? Do you not find him attractive? Has he no effect on you, at all?

Out of the corner of his eyes, he notices Kaylee coming out of the kitchen with a smug grin on her face, and he nearly scowls. If she thinks she’s getting anywhere with him, she’s wrong. You are all that he wants, and the longer he goes without you, the more he craves you.

You end up sitting across from him at the dinner table, and he does his best to brush off all of Kaylee’s advances. He nearly jolts when he feels her brush her foot against his leg, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his lips from curling in disgust.

In the back of his mind, he wonders why he’s not taking this opportunity to use Kaylee to make you jealous. Normally, he’d have no trouble doing so, but something tells him that that wouldn’t work in his favour, and that you’re not the jealous type. He lets out a small breath, one that isn’t noticeable to you or your friends. Hopefully, he can just get through this night, and focus solely on you.

Despite Kaylee’s failed attempts at flirting serving as a distraction, Jongdae still can’t help but feel like the night is over all too soon. He wishes he could just spend some more time with you, alone, and without any distractions.

Figuring he shouldn’t overstay his welcome, he leaves before either of your friends, telling you that he has an appointment in the early hours of the morning tomorrow. 

Thanking you for the meal, he bids you a goodnight. However, what he doesn’t expect is for you to pull him into your embrace.

He stands there for a good few seconds before his mind registers he should hug you back. He takes this opportunity to breathe in your scent deeply, and his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head from the euphoric feeling that travels down his spine.

All too soon, you pull away, sending him one final smile as his body almost robotically walks him out your front door and into his own apartment.

His head is still reeling from what has just occurred. His vision blurs at the edges as he finds himself falling face first onto his bed in a daze. The tips of his fingers feel as if they’re buzzing with electricity, his whole body on fire from when he held you in his embrace, but most of all, he can’t get your scent out of his mind. Another shiver runs down his spine as he recalls the way you felt in his arms, your scent filling his senses once more. 

He’s never felt anything like this before, nor experienced anything similar. He knows now, that he can’t let you go so easily. He won’t give up until you’re his, and only his. No one else is deserving of you, especially not after what he’s just experienced with you.

Flipping over onto his back, he stares at his ceiling. He needs to find a way into your life, as something more than just your neighbour. He’s decided that his end goal now isn’t just to have you, but to make you his, in every meaning of the way. 

Over the next few weeks, he does his best to get closer to you in any way he can. From what he can gage, it’s working, and he could not be happier. Kaylee has finally taken the hint that he’s not interested in her, and has since stopped flirting with him whenever she sees him. Yet another reason he can’t help but be filled with joy, for he takes this as a step in a positive direction towards having you to himself.

Despite his advances, he still hasn’t made any major progress with you, still not being able to tell if you like him or not. He even attempts to enter your subconscious almost every night, but you still are reluctant to let him in, so he backs off. 

Each night that passes makes him more desperate for you, wanting nothing more than to feel your skin beneath his touch once more. He wants nothing more than to hear you call out his name in ecstasy, into the darkest hours of the night, fulfilling your deepest fantasies that only he can fulfill. 

One thing that he finds himself doing more often than not is sitting against the wall that separates your apartment from his, just to feel your presence more clearly. Sometimes, if he’s lucky, and he concentrates enough, he can listen in on the conversations you have when one of your friends are over.

Tonight is no exception, hearing you talking with Hyuna through your walls after settling his back against his own in order to hear you better. He can feel his heart thumping against his chest as he hears your voice, your laugh, in response to something she’s told you. He hopes to be the cause of your laugh soon, to see you smile for him, and know that your smile will be only for him.

“So, how’s Hyojong?” You ask, causing Jongdae’s brow to quirk slightly in curiosity.

“He’s great! He took me to the night market the other day and it was so sweet,” Hyuna replies, and the way her eyes begin to twinkle makes your heart warm for her, a smile caressing your lips. “What about you? Any new potential romantic partners in your life?”

The wiggling of her eyebrows suggestively causes you to let out a small giggle, “girl, my love life has been as dry as the Sahara lately.”

“What about your neighbour? He seemed interested in you when he was over for dinner that one time,” she says, and you shrug one of your shoulders, and he can’t help but quirk a brow at her words.

“He’s cute,” Jongdae can’t help but smile at your confession, “but I’m not sure.”

He frowns.

“How come?” Hyuna asks, her brow furrowing slightly as she looks at you.

“I don’t know, it’s just this feeling I get,” comes your reply. “Besides, he’s probably not interested in me.”

“Have more confidence in yourself, anyone would be lucky as fuck to have you!” She says, hitting the side of your arm lightly.

“Tell that to my ex,” you roll your eyes playfully, only causing Jongdae’s brow to furrow even more in discontent.

“Well, just because he couldn’t handle your boldness, in more than one way, doesn’t mean he’s right,” she chimes in.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you grin. “Some men just don’t like a strong willed woman in the bedroom that knows what she wants. Also not my fault he didn’t know what a clitoris is.”

At that, you both laugh, making Jongdae smirk. So your last thing didn’t know how to please you in bed? Not a problem at all for him. He’ll do whatever he can to please you, in any way he can. From the sounds of it, you prefer the more submissive type in the bedroom, a fact which sets his whole body tingling. He hasn’t been with someone dominant in a while, and he can feel a shiver of anticipation run down his spine at the thought of you being the one to break that dry-spell.

“Why don’t you give him a chance if he asks you out?” She quirks a brow in your direction once you’ve both calmed down.

“Maybe I should,” you hum, setting his heart racing in his chest, hope budding in his mind of a future with you. “That is, if he asks me out.”

“Just keep your mind open to the idea, and you’ll be surprised at what can happen,” she winks, standing up from your bed and stretching slightly. “Anyways, I should probably get going before it gets too late.”

“Alright,” you nod, standing up as well and walking with her to the front door of your apartment.

After bidding her a goodnight, you decide to get ready for bed, seeing as it is late, and a sudden wave of tiredness has hit you. Your mind keeps replaying your conversation with Hyuna, deciding that you will pursue whatever happens between you and Jongdae, should something arise. You do really like him, and besides, he’s really sweet.

Meanwhile, Jongdae lays on his couch, eyes closed with a large smile on his face. He has a chance with you, and that’s all he could ever wish for. Tonight, he’s going to attempt to enter your subconscious once more, and if he can’t, he vows to himself that he won’t try again until the two of you are actually in a relationship. A fact of which he knows he won’t ever stop until you are bound to him in mind, body, and soul. He’ll have you, even if it’s the last thing he’ll do.

Relaxing himself further into the couch, he does his best to calm himself down, and not get his hopes up too much just in case you block him out for another night. However, he can’t help but to feel giddy, given the new information he’s just learned tonight. Whatever fantasies you have, he’ll fulfill them all.

The next hour that passes as he waits for you to fall asleep feels like an eternity. He wants to make sure that you really are asleep before he attempts anything, but he cannot help but feel giddy, as if every second that passes is time spent that he could be sharing with you.

Finally, he decides it’s time to see if you’ll let him in.

Focussing his energy, he keeps his eyes closed, allowing for his being to gravitate towards your subconscious. Each moment that brings him closer to you sends a jolt of electricity coursing through his veins.

He finds it interesting, entering each person’s subconscious. Sometimes it’s a door, other times it’s a window. Basically, whatever the person’s consciousness deems necessary as an entranceway, that’s what it becomes.

Yours, however, is one of the most beautiful marble archways he’s ever seen, almost as if taunting him with your beauty, even subconsciously. Each time he’s attempted to pass under it, an invisible force has stopped him, meaning your subconscious is closed to him. This time, though, he approaches carefully, almost as if the archway is a wild dear which can be spooked quite easily, and he doesn’t want to risk it running away.

Taking slow, almost hesitant steps, he brings himself closer and closer to your subconscious. Carefully lifting his hand, he tests the waters, seeing if there’s still some sort of invisible barricade up preventing him from passing through. When he feels none, he presses on.

A smile tugs at his lips as he’s able to pass through the archway without struggle, knowing that this will be a night he won’t soon ever forget. He knows that now, things have changed, and he’ll make sure to make you his, no matter the cost.

All is silent for a few moments as he waits for your subconscious to overtake him. He allows for you to take full control, letting you create the scenario that will take place rather than him creating it like usual. His vision fades.

Needless to say he’s quite surprised to find himself bound to your bed once his eyes regain focus, feeling something soft around his wrists which are tied to the posts above his head. Shifting his gaze, a smirk pulls at his lips as he sees the red fabric binding his hands to your headboard.

Hearing the door creak, he looks over to see you walk into the room, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt as far as he can see. He nearly groans at the sight.

“Oh? What this?” You quirk a brow, smirk tugging at your lips. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He watches your form walk over to him, coming to trail a finger down his chest which he’s just noticed is bare. A shiver runs down his spine at your touch, only serving to make your smirk deepen.

“Is this all for me?” Your voice is teasing, making him groan.

“All for you,” he nearly whines, “only you.”

His words hold so much truth within them, but you won’t know. At least, not yet.

He sees you smile in response, your hand halting its movements in order to splay itself across his chest. His skin feels as if it’s on fire wherever you touch him, only serving to make him crave your touch even more, wanting to feel every part of you pressed against him.

“Please, let me touch you,” he begs, eyes conveying the desperation he feels at finally getting to have this moment, only for him to be tied down and unable to feel your skin beneath his own fingertips.

“Patience, baby,” you say, crawling on top of him on the bed. “All in due time.”

With those words, you begin to trail kisses across his chest, trailing your lips up his neck and nipping at the skin of his jawline, eliciting small moans from his throat. Biting down on a particular spot draws a low groan from his lips, him having to close his eyes briefly to avoid you seeing the darkness that swirls deep within his irises.

You take your time, trailing your hands over the expanse of his chest before shifting your body downwards, and allowing your hands to trail up his thighs. He watches you carefully, chest rising and falling with every breath he takes as he feels you hook your fingers in the briefs he’s wearing, pulling them down his legs before tossing them somewhere in the room. He feels his cock twitch as he watches you lick your lips, nails biting into the skin of his thighs.

His breath hitches in his throat as he feels your hand wrap around the base of his cock, throwing his head back as he feels you begin to move your hand along his shaft, watching his every expression carefully. A small fuck escapes his lips once he feels your mouth gently encase the tip of his cock, sucking lightly as your one hand continue to work over the rest.

Ever so slowly, you take him into your mouth, and he can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. Never, in all his fantasies, could he have ever imagined how good this would feel, and knowing that it’s you just makes it even more intense.

You take your time with him, bobbing your head a few times before pulling off of him and running your tongue up his shaft. He can’t help the moans that slip past his lips at the feeling of your mouth caressing him so gently, for it’s better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His breathing deepens as you continue to build him up like this, pulling away each time before he can reach his climax, of which frustrates him to no end. However, he’s also somewhat grateful for this, for he wants to be able to feel you coming around him as he comes with you for the first time.

By the time you pull away for the third time, he’s a panting mess. His hair sticks to his forehead as his chest heaves with every breath he takes. Though, he wouldn’t have it any other way, for it’s you that’s doing this to him, and not anyone else. He just can’t wait for the day when he can repay the favour.

“Please,” he manages to get out, causing you to look up at him in interest.

“What is it, baby boy?” You quirk a brow, sitting up on your knees as you look over his state of being, smirk pulling at your lips.

“Please let me touch you,” he whines, tugging once more at his restraints in an attempt to reach out to you, though without much luck. “Let me taste you."

“You’re so cute when you beg,” you giggle, and he swears its one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard. “Alright then, baby, since you’ve been so good.”

Crawling up his body, you position yourself just above his head. It’s at this point that he realizes that you’re not wearing anything beneath that shirt of yours, and he nearly growls out his approval. He can see the way your folds glisten with your juices, only serving to make his mouth water in anticipation for what is soon to come.

As soon as you lower yourself to him, his mouth is on you, licking and sucking at your entrance to gather every single drop you have to offer him. He makes sure to focus his attention on your clit, using his tongue to flick at it as you arch your back above him, fingers tangling in his hair as you begin to grind down onto his face.

He swears he’s never seen a sight more beautiful than you above him like this, using him for your own pleasure. He can’t help but let his eyes bleed black as he watches you move above him, your chest rising and falling as whimpers of his name slip past your lips; a symphony to his ears.

He can feel you getting closer and closer to the edge, so he makes sure to give you everything he’s got, wanting to see you fall apart for him. Sucking your clit into his mouth, he then soon begins to thrust his tongue rhythmically into you, allowing you to control the pace as you continue to grind yourself down on his tongue.

Just before he can feel you reach your peak and drink in the beautiful nectar that is your orgasm, you’re pulling away from him. 

He lets out a whine in disapproval, pout on his lips as he watches your panting figure hovering above him. 

He licks his lips, collecting the lingering taste of your essence onto his tongue. You’re one of the sweetest things he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting, and since it’s you, he can never get enough.

“Fuck, you really know how to use that tongue of yours, don’t you?” You says, breathlessly.

He can only grin widely at you in response, heart soaring at your praise as he watches you adjust yourself so you’re now straddling his waist before aligning your entrance with the tip of his cock.

A low moan escapes his throat as he feels you ever so slowly sink yourself down onto him, enveloping his cock within your warm walls. His head tilts back and he finds himself having to close his eyes once again in order to not alert you to their change in colour.

His arms strain against the fabric of the silk, wanting nothing more that to break free and grip your hips as you begin to move above him, circling your hips as you squeeze him, as if he’s made for you. He’s starting to think that he is, or at least, that you were made for each other. Everything about you is perfect to him, and he couldn’t ask for anyone better.

You start to pick up your pace, moving above him and snapping your hips into his. He loves the feeling of your chest pressed against his as you begin to bite and nip at the sides of his neck once more. All he wants to do is kiss you, break free from his restraints, wrap his arms around you, flip you over, and give you everything you deserve, and so much more. For now, he’s content letting you live out your own fantasy. There’s always next time.

He can tell you’re getting closer to the edge with every movement of your hips, for the breathy moans of his name you let out right beside his ear are one of the greatest things he’s ever heard. He can feel your tight walls beginning to rhythmically clench around him, and he knows he’s not too far behind.

After a few more thrusts, he feels you coming around him, your essence flowing into him as you let out a high pitched moan. It’s the final push he needs to throw himself over the edge, thighs clenching as he releases deep inside you, a low groan of your name slipping past his own lips.

The two of you stay like this for a few minutes, him just basking in the aftereffects of your orgasm. This whole experience has exceeded any possible expectations he could have had, his heart hammering away in his chest as he now feels connected to you in a way he’s never felt before.

Unfortunately, all too soon, he’s ripped away from you and thrown back into his own consciousness laying back down on his couch in his living room. 

Opening his eyes, he allows a blissful smile to overtake his features, feeling the early morning sun shining on his skin. He’s never felt this full after a feeding before, in more than one way.

He knows one thing for sure now, though. You complete him.

Getting up from the couch, he decides to get ready for the day. After a quick shower, he throws on a fresh pair of clothes and decides to go for a morning walk since he’s in such a good mood.

On the way out of the door, he happens to catch you in the hallway. The smile never leaves his face as he watches you take notice of him, but quickly avert your gaze, shyly, in the next moment. He can tell you’re feeling slightly embarrassed seeing him now after the dream you has last night with him. He can’t help but find it cute.

“Good morning,” he says, seeing you finally lift your gaze to meet his own.

“Morning,” you smile back, and he swears he can feel those butterflies in his stomach that people always talk about.

“How are you today?” He decides striking up a casual conversation with you on the way to the elevators can’t be a bad thing.

“I’m alright,” you reply. “You?”

“Never better,” his smile widens as he watches you shyly avoid his gaze once more.

The two of you step onto the elevator in silence, and he notices you looking over at him out of the corner of your eyes. His heart can’t help but swell at the thought, pride filling his chest, knowing that you like what you see.

All too soon, the elevator dings on the ground floor, and you’re stepping out into the lobby. He freezes for a moment, somewhat caught in a daze as he catches your scent in the air once more.

Snapping back to his senses, he manages to catch up to you just before you can exit the building.

“Wait!” He calls out, watching as you turn around to face him.

“Yes?” Your brow quirks.

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to have dinner with me sometime?” He asks, hope shining in his eyes as he stares at you.

“I would love to,” comes your reply, and he feels as if all is finally right in the world.

He sees you smile before turning and exiting the building like you had originally intended. He watches your figure move down the street until you disappear around a corner, eyes flashing black briefly in content. 

He’s on the right path of making you his once and for all, and if this is what love feels like, he can’t believe he’s been missing out on it for all these years. However, if there’s anyone he wants to be experiencing these feelings with for the first time, he’s glad that it’s you.

[flutteringphalanges]

Hold Me Tight Under The Moonlight

Summary:  It's 1945 and the war with Germany is officially over. While all of Whitby has its own means of celebrating, Count Dracula has something a little bit more intimate planned for his night with Agatha. A surprise that surely will be memorable.

Chapters: 1/1 *Complete*

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

A/N: Just a little, fluffy fic for you folks! Thank you again to my partner-in-crime, @mitsukatsu​, who makes all of this possible! She is responsible for this glorious cover! Please go to her tumblr and check out all of the fantastic art she does!  I hope you guys like it! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

Read on FFN and AO3

It was well into the night and yet, the atmosphere in the old tavern, Prospect of Whitby, was only growing. Cheers and loud conversations intermingled, all sharing the same theme. The war was finally over. Hitler was dead. Germany had surrendered. And soon, loved ones, some separated for years, would be reunited. It was cause for celebration. Peace would once again find England.

"Can I get you anything, Miss?"

Agatha turned her head to see a young man standing before her. A soldier. Handsome, with a wide smile and the brightest green eyes she'd ever seen. His accent was clearly American. New York perhaps? She'd never sampled one before, as tempting as it always was. Unlike someone, impulse control and resisting temptations came easy to her. But even though she fought it, her throat always burned making it painfully aware of her true nature.

"Oh, I'm quite alright," she assured him with a soft smile. "I don't drink."

"It's the end of the war," the young man laughed. "Can't you make an exception? Why, I…"

"She said she doesn't drink," came a low voice.

The scent of fear knitted with the sweet aroma of the soldier's blood. Agatha didn't need to turn around to know who stood looming over her. She chewed on her lower lip, biting back a grin as Dracula glared menacingly at her suitor. So overprotective. Almost annoyingly so. But she'd be lying if she didn't admit that it was charming in its own way. Not that he ever had a reason to be so possessive. Her heart, though still for decades, belonged to him. Just as his centuries old one was her's.

"I'm sorry," the man stumbled over his words. "I didn't realize she…"

"Wasn't alone?" Dracula finished. "Far from it. Now I highly suggest that you run along. It's never good to stray away from a party. Especially when it's so late."

Agatha rolled her eyes and turned forward, listening as the human scuttled off. She pretended to be interested in a spot on the counter as the other vampire sat beside her. It was rather surprising that it took him this long to locate her.

"Well, I didn't expect to find you here," he commented. "When I invited you for a drink, I hadn't intended on going to a pub."

"I know," she replied, trying to feign disinterest. "I desired a change in scenery. The war is over. What a time it truly is to be alive."

"Yes, yes, I know," the other vampire waved dismissively. "But with such festivities, we are missing out on a great opportunity to savor the diverse nightlife." He always had quite a way to put things. Even making the idea of sucking blood from a helpless human appealing. A trait she both despised and desired in him. "Won't you join me?"

The former nun turned her body just enough so that she was facing the majority of the bar patrons. People watching was something that fascinated her. It still hadn't quite sunken in that she was immortal. That sooner or later, every single being in the room would die. It certainly showed that life shouldn't be taken for granted. An acknowledgement she always did her best to keep in mind.

"Look how happy they are," she mused. "It's good to see that around."

"Your sentimental nature is both alluring and bothersome," her mate huffed. "There will always be more wars, more victories, more celebrations...you'll grow tired of it eventually. Humans are rather predictable."

"Was I?" She questioned, finally meeting his gaze.

"You were...an anomaly," the Count smirked. "A rare specimen amongst a drab populace."

"How poetic of you," Agatha snorted. "I'm surprised it took you centuries to find someone who could stand you."

"Ah, and it's always reassuring to see that both your sarcasm and quick wit have survived far past our first introduction those many, many years back." Dracula grinned, leaning close so that their foreheads touched. "I'd begin to worry if they didn't."

"You have a very odd way of flirting." She remarked, cocking an eyebrow. "One might even find it a little endearing."

"And that someone being you?"

"Perhaps."

She smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth before pulling away-much to the other vampire's dismay. By dawn, many ships would be docked at the port awaiting to transport soldiers back home-whether that be the United States or elsewhere. But until the sun rose, they seemed more than content to spend their last hours in England here.

"Have you reconsidered my proposal?" Dracula ventured, breaking the silence. "About leaving this establishment and going somewhere more private?"

"Do your intentions involve the consumption of blood?"

"Originally," he admitted. "But I'm assuming that is no longer an option. In any case, I'd at least like to leave here. Go somewhere more fitting. If you'd be so kind as to humor me."

Agatha looked at him thoughtfully. "Where did you have in mind?"

The Count was smiling once more as he extended a hand towards his mate. "I believe it's best that I show rather than tell," he answered. "It'd ruin the surprise."

If she had known that they'd be taking a midnight stroll through the fields, Agatha would've certainly put on different shoes. Her heels sunk into the soft ground, still saturated from the morning's rain and she found herself gripping onto Dracula's forearm to keep from slipping out of them. They'd be ruined for sure, but she didn't mind that much. She'd never really been into material things-something the Count didn't exactly understand. So there wouldn't be any shock if he'd immediately replace them.

"So," the former nun began, cutting through the silence. "Can I at least ask how far we are from your destination?"

"Reasonably close," he answered. "Not much longer now."

They kept walking, the breeze picking up and bringing with it the salty smell of the ocean. It reminded her of home. Of Holland. Of when, as a child, her family would travel to the sea. Good memories she hoped would stay with her as the years passed. That's why she'd grown to love Whitby. Watching as the little seaside town developed over time.

"And here we are!"

It took Agatha a moment to register where they were. More so why than anything else. Before them stood the ruins of what used to be Whitby Abbey. She remembered very clearly when it was severely damaged in the Raid on Scarborough, Hartlepool and Whitby in 1914. It had been the first time she'd witnessed war. Something that she would never forget.

"The Abbey…" She said slowly, looking at him in amusement. "Are you saying I should rejoin the Church?"

"I was going for the more ironic aspect of it," he smirked. "Though, you did wear that ridiculous habit of yours very well...even if you do look better without it or," and his eyes grew dark. "Without anything on."

"We didn't come up her for just sex did we?" Agatha snorted, arms folded over her chest. "While I'm quite fond of you, I'm not in the mood to roll around in the mud like some pig."

"A very beautiful pig," he added, earning him a smack on his arm. "What? I'm merely being honest."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Count Dracula," the former nun grinned. "Especially when you're doing a terrible job at it."

"Very well," the vampire sighed. "But we shall be revisiting this subject later. For now, my main reason for bringing you here," he motioned forward. "Ladies first."

The abbey was one of the greatest highlights of Whitby, provided that it offered such a great view of the town and the ocean depending on where a person stood. Agatha stood in the very center of it, watching as lights twinkled in the windows of nearby houses. She felt Dracula join her by her side, his fingers lightly brushing against hers. It truly was a wonderful place.

"Gorgeous," he commented.

"It is, isn't it?" Agatha greed.

"I wasn't referring to the view."

The former nun turned and eyed the Count's crooked smile. Her own lips pursed as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. They stood there silently, gazes locked on one another until a faint noise cut through the air. Music. Distant, most likely from one of the far off houses, but clear enough to be picked up by their heightened senses. Dracula once more held out his hand towards her.

"Might I have this dance?"

In the beginning, Agatha might as well have been born with two left feet with how poorly her skills on the dance floor were. She stumbled. Tripped. On more than one occasion stepped on Dracula's toes. It took months on his part to teach her to teach her to the point where one might consider her remotely decent. But it was worth it. She could now dance, on his lead of course, without feeling like a total fool. And so, with a small smile, Agatha took his hand.

"Are you surprised?"

Dracula watched her closely as they spun gracefully, careful to avoid pieces of stray stone that stuck up from the ground. Their dance floor was far from an ordinary ballroom, but they weren't exactly ordinary people.

"If I had known you planned to take me dancing, I would've dressed better for the occasion," she smirked, leaning into his chest. "Perhaps I was wrong about you lacking in the department of romance. This is rather nice."

"I try my best for you," he grinned. "Emphasis on try."

"And tonight you successed." Agatha complimented, gliding gracefully across the grass. "I'm impressed."

"Oh?" Dracula's movement changed to match the rhythm of the song. "Do I win an award?"

"Yes." A small smile played across her features. "You get to bask in my presence."

Her mate snorted, rolling his eyes. "You are quite the tease, Agatha Van Helsing."

"I am, as you put it, an anomaly." The woman replied, pushing herself onto the tips of her toes. "And you're very lucky to have me."

"I am."

Their lips met and though her blood no longer flowed in the way that a human's did, warmth spread throughout her. Dracula's arms wrapped around her waist as she allowed her eyes to close. There was no fiery passion, no animalistic hunger behind it. It was sweet. Endearing. One of her favorite moments to drink in and savor. Even when she pulled back, Agatha made sure not to break their embrace.

"Well, I suppose I should plan outings like this more often," he chuckled.

"I'm not one to object," Agatha replied, allowing her head to rest against his chest. "Thank you."

"Anything for my love," Dracula murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Even if it means I must act mawkish."

"If it is any consolation, I think it's rather becoming," she responded playfully. "I quite enjoy this side of you."

Before Dracula could reply, there was a faint buzz of static before the music, wherever it was being played, switched. A new melody began to float through the air and Agatha's eyes gazed off into the distance. Off to where the horizon was still blanketed by the night.

"Come," she finally said, catching his stare. "You owe me at least another dance before sunrise and I quite like this song. Let's celebrate tonight and however many nights we'll have together to follow. We can both afford to be sappy for now."

Dracula chuckled, his dark brown eyes meeting the blues of hers. "If that's what you want," he smiled, touching his forehead to hers. "Then may I have this dance?"

"Always."

[smallcowplant]

Hi! I'm sorry to bother you with writing advice but, I know that some of your projects take place in like, universes that aren't our own and I was wondering if you could give me some advice on how not to info dump about the world and how it works, bc I find myself doing that and I feel like it would be very confusing for the reader. Thank you!

Hello! You’re absolutely not bothering me, don’t worry! I love talking about writing!

A little bit of a preface: 

At the moment, the only project I’m working on that takes place in an alternate universe is Jinx (and I suppose TSS kind of does, but it’s very much more real-world). And perhaps, this sci-fi story I have bubbling in my head. But that’s a conversation for another day.

I don’t ever really go Full Fantasy (mostly bc I really don’t like writing in that genre lol), I just take fantasy elements and adapt them into a reality that is very similar to ours!

I remember reading something in a Rainbow Rowell book about the character putting on makeup for the first time: “she looked like herself, but with the volume turned up” or something along those lines….and for whatever reason that really stuck with me. My worlds ARE our worlds….just with the volume turned up. (Take that to mean that I build my worlds off of the reality we exist in, just adding in fantastical elements.)

Btw, I’m writing this as if you’re asking me about a sims-based story, so I apologize if it’s not 100% accurate to you!

EDIT: THIS TURNED INTO A GENERAL RAMBLE ABOUT WRITING/STORYTELLING IN GENERAL BC I AM RIDICULOUS AND ONCE U GET ME STARTED I CAN’T STOP I’M SORRY

Personally, I’ve noticed that taking away writing that is separate from the pictures (i.e. NOT writing an extended caption under the screenshots) has REALLY helped me stray away from info-dumping. 

Relying solely on the captions on my screenshots has forced me to truly pay attention to how I’m framing a scene! I think my brain switched between writing for a drabble/a book to writing as if I was making the screenplay for a tv/film! 

Tumblr is an inherently visual platform, just like film or television, so focusing on the visuals instead of long descriptions works better for me. A lot can be conveyed by facial expressions/angles—-framing your character as significantly smaller compared to something else can convey the vastness of the problem/how alone they feel, framing them as staring up at something skewed can suggest that the thing puts them off-kilter, cutting back to character reactions (without words) can quietly show the audience how each character is feeling.

But anyway……

This also really depends on the POV of the character(/s) you’re telling the story through. 

Is this a Call to Adventure/Hero’s Journey-type story? Where your character(/s) are thrust into a new world/journey that they know nothing about?

If so, consider

Is your character an outsider/transplant to this world? Like, did they fall through a portal/through the pages of a book/stumble into this realm unwittingly? 

Or are they an insider to the world….have they lived in this world their whole life, only to discover something earth-shattering about their status quo that NEEDS to change (take down a big bad/search for their identity independent of their previous role/etc.)?

This will greatly impact how you share information with readers. 

If your character is new to the world, there will probably be your fair-share of Harry Potter in Diagon Alley-esque scenes, where your character stares open-mouthed at the world and ask a ton of questions to their guide. 

If your character is part of the world, they probably have a good grasp on what the world is like/what’s going on. They will know things the reader does not, and will start off with different motivations and ideas than the hapless newcomer. 

I think that it’s good for YOU as a writer to know your world inside-and-out, but your audience doesn’t necessarily need to be the same (at least, at first). 

Plant breadcrumbs through scenes—-a comment here, a poster/paper there, an action here—-that show your reader things about the world…..you want there to be curiosity with your readers….how does this work? Where did this come from? Why is this the way it is? Those are questions that build interest, and they are the ones you, as a writer, MUST have answers to (even if you don’t share that info fully).

Side-note, but I’m a big proponent in my stories for SCENES TO MATTER. 

If I feature a scene in my stories, it HAS to matter for the bigger picture. 

They have to function as plot/story-driving scenes. That doesn’t mean that they all have to be fast-paced, action/heavy scenes. 

A lot of the scenes I like to write are intimate, casual conversations between characters or small, introspective views of character’s daily lives. A scene with two characters talking can bridge the gap between intense/plot-heavy scenes AND reveal valuable information to your readers. 

A good slow-paced scene:

Tells us something new about a character/characters.

Reveals something about the world.

Builds a relationship/dynamic with the characters/world they live in.

A bad slow-paced scene:

Rips us out of the story only to have the character(/s) state something that we already know/waste time. (I used to have PLENTY of these scenes in my old sim-stories. The character would wander away from the excruciatingly slow-moving plot to comment that they were lonely/confused/scared…and those scenes didn’t add anything, lol. They just sat there, like a boring journal entry where all you do is go to the grocery store and take a nap.) 

Is one that you could completely omit from the story and nothing of value would be lost. 

Basically, if you find yourself having characters fuck off away from the plot just to state the obvious/describe the situation to us….cut it. You can convey emotions/problems through scenes/dialogue without having to be tedious!

Think of IRL conversations and how they work—-you may have a couple occasions where friends/acquaintances catch you up on drama/information, but they usually don’t dump EVERY person’s name/motivations/relationships. Think….what do your characters know? What do they not know? How do certain characters view each other/the world? How would they communicate that?

The great thing about storytelling is that you aren’t trapped into only showing what your characters know—-you can cut to a scene completely divorced from their POV (i.e. the villain/another world/etc.) and give that perspective to the audience. 

Just keep a tab on what 1) you know as the writer, 2) what your audience knows and 3) what your character knows. These are most likely all different things. You’re the Dungeon Master, baby! You hold all the cards and you know all! (You can use this to sow doubt/drop foreshadowing unbeknownst to your audience/be selective with what you show!)

tl;dr: focus on understanding your plot/plotting in general—-once you know what you’re going for, you can trim the fat. be selective with what you show/what your audience see’s. try to treat your creation like it’s real—for example: on Earth, how does humankind function? what are the rules/status quo/known truths? what are the anomalies/oddities? apply that to your story. don’t dedicate entire scenes to explaining the world your characters are in—–SHOW us (whether in visuals/interactions/dialogue), don’t TELL us outright. your audience is smart, and they can put things together over the course of the story. if your world has rules, remember them. they don’t need to be outright stated, but if certain things are not possible, communicate that through actions in the story. 

[thevampireauthoress]

One Shot Fic: Time-Breaker

Jameson was late, again, but this time it wasn’t his fault... not quite. You just can’t get this brand of hat anymore, pursuing it was the only option, he told himself as he kept a firm grip on it. In those elongated moments, the rhythm of the raindrops splashing and his feet hitting the ground seemed to be the only sounds in the city. He fished his pocket watch out of his waistcoat and tried to hold it still enough to read. Giving up, he dropped it back into his pocket next to a scrap of paper. He would have to apologise to his client for his tardiness.

Tardy described Jameson Jackson very well. Never the first one anywhere and often delayed on understanding jokes, though many times the first to tell them. His fashion was late and so were his mannerisms, but in a city such as this it was easily waved away. He was grateful for that.

He slowed as he reached again into his pocket. Drawing out the scrap of paper, he squinted at the barely legible scrawl. Next to the dumpster - Carthage Street. Carthage Street was close, or it had been the last time he was here. Following his foggy memory, he arrived with a suspicious lack of difficulty. With a name like Carthage, Jameson expected it to smell burning and salt, instead the stench of old garbage and urine met his nostrils. Towering blocks of sardine-can flats lined the street; a cat hissed in the darkness, startling him.

Against his better judgment, Jameson made his way down the passage; thin, artificial city light crawled around corners, trying to peek at the dingy scene. A bundle of scraps against the wall moved as he approached, both parties hesitant. Jameson’s footsteps echoed as he came closer until the figure sat up to face him. Their skin was so translucent it looked grey as it reflected the strangled streetlights, everything about the thin man was pale, aside from his hair. Thick and dark, slick with grease and possibly infested with something Jameson didn’t want to think about. A dull, barely cognisant recognition showed on his face.

“You... came?” Eyes, misty with early cataracts, shone with diluted hope.

Jameson forced his hands into slow but brief answers, “I’m late. Sorry.”

“Safe now?”

Jameson hesitated, “Yes.”

The figure shifted, standing on unsteady legs, grasping for Jameson’s gloved hands, which he gave. As he stood the pale form upright, a violent thumping came from the dumpster. Freeing his hands, he turned to the young man with scars on his face,

“What was that sound?”

“Bad man? Dinner?” Hungry eyes moved towards the sound.

Jameson decided not to ask what he meant. The young man swiped his striped sleeve over his mouth, wiping away a string of saliva. Glancing over the pile of scrap the man had been unearthed from, he seemed to have no personal effects. Odd, Jameson mused, distinctly odd. Finding no more reason to stay in an alleyway that reeked sweetly of rotting things, he gestured to his companion.

“Time to go.”

“W....wait,” the soft slur of speech spilled from trembling lips, “who’ll look after my rats?”

“I don’t know... but they will be fine.” he added as the milky eyes grew concerned.

“Where we goin’?”

“A better place.” Jameson really hoped he was right as he took his companion’s elbow and led him through the streets. The man’s slight stoop and shuffling gait made for slow going, so unbearably comparable to the movement of the earth’s crust that Jameson considered asking the man if he wished to be carried.

Instead he focused on getting a good look at his companion; his messy hair had a purple tint to it, hands with dirt-clogged nails played constantly with his ruined sleeves. Eyes dark with bruise-like circles around them were starting to close in tiredness.

“Have you been on the streets long?”

“Always.”

Jameson’s eyes narrowed in thought, but he said nothing, only stroked the strange man’s arm. The stench of decay had followed the man, clinging to his skin like ticks.

Wall after wall of dirty, graffiti-covered city block passed the pair, until Jameson began to recognise the neon signs and sharp corners as being close to his client’s meeting place, he checked his watch and drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. His companion turned at the sound.

“Nearly there.” Jameson soothed.

“You stay with me?”

Again Jameson hesitated,“No.”

The man’s eyes glistened wetly and, without a word, wrapped himself in a hug around Jameson’s midsection. Jameson tensed at the sudden, unexpected contact, but put a hand on his charge’s back.

“Come visit!” A muffled, teary voice pleaded.

He brought his arms into the grayscale man’s sightline.

“I will do my best.”

Jameson never made promises that weren’t contracts, signed by both parties, but he really did intend to keep this one.

Turning the last corner, someone in a long-sleeved shirt and beret was waiting for them, in the unlit street Jameson couldn’t see their face. Standing with his charge at the alley’s mouth, he waited for his heart to slow before moving his hands in speech.

“I apologise for my lateness.”

“Worry not, my friend, you are here now.” A thick, jovial french accent answered him. “And you have brought the young man. Good, good.”

Jameson nodded the stooping man forward, in his periphery, he noticed a door to his left swing into the house. The pale figure sniffed the air, unsure. His tentative, scuffing footsteps marked his ungainly movements. Jameson gazed at both figures, his client and his charge.

“Take care of him, please.” He signed, partly at his client, partly to the universe.

A smile twinkled in anonymity’s eclipse. “Of course we shall.”

As the shadow-toned beret wearer drew the pale man into the dark, towards the open doorway, Jameson noticed many pairs of glittering eyes staring out. He wondered how many washes it would take to get the smell out of his gloves as he made his departure.

The clouds overhead glowed an eerie hue of orange and brown, yellow lights and walls of dark brick passed him as he walked. Was it the light pollution or the peculiarities that happen around him sepia-toning the world? He wasn’t entirely certain.

Time breaks around Jameson. He isn’t sure why. Threads of ideas try to pull themselves together but they tangle when he tries to interfere. Minutes and hours slip away like fleeting laughter. Weeks. Months. Years. He loses track of everything and everyone, but nothing seems to change. An anomaly is he, Jameson decides. Never fitting in but never being overtly questioned, like a spare vigilante in a comic. Hero or villain; he wondered where that arc would take him, if he chose such a career trajectory.

A woman with a scarf around her face met him on a corner, a piece of paper in her hands. Fixing his monocle in his eye and smoothing his moustache, Jameson sighed and read the contents. Nodding and signing it, he disappeared down a dead end alley and didn’t come out.

......

Schneep / Jackie / Marvin / Chase / Anti (?)

......

PART 2 BABEY... I’m not as happy with this one, but I can’t figure out what I’m not happy with -_-

I honestly don’t know what this is, I guess it’s because JJ seems so disconnected from all the other egos, he seems like a perfect go-between between canon and non-canon. Also I wanted to write the zombie boi and time anomalies. Sue me!

More ego one shots coming soon, any constructive feedback you could give would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Tagging everyone from last time plus a couple more who expressed interest :3 (if you don’t want to be tagged or if you do, shoot me a message)

@kate807 @drunkpmacultist @sptgd @lilakennedy @kcarrollworld @khushiudasi @luvstoriesatstoplights2 @flamingarbagecan @rozapast @aaliyah-j-hall @septicuniverse @chaotic-cheshire @the-rampaige @maybekatie @amyxmiaplay

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3984 Chapter: 7/? Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 7

As he had silently promised himself, Madara did think about what Susumu-sensei and Hashirama both said to him. The idea that one had to work to fall in love still baffled him, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to wrap his head around it, but one thing did stick out for him as only logical. If he wasn’t going to have a chance to achieve the happiness he should have been able to have in life then there was no point in making himself even more miserable than he needed to be. It would be best if he and Tobirama got along, at least.

Where he balked was having to make that first move himself. For all the unfairness he was already suffering he thought in this he should be allowed a bit of selfishness. Tobirama had grown up expecting this sort of misery so obviously he should be the one to make the first effort, not Madara who was still trying to get used to the fact that his life would always be empty of love.

The problem chased him around for several days and kept him just preoccupied enough not to think it was all that weird when he noticed his husband watching him a little too closely during meetings. Generally the two of them avoided looking at each other when at all possible so having Tobirama spend several days eyeing him contemplatively should have awakened suspicion or worry or some kind of self-preservation instinct. Madara’s only excuse was that Tobirama’s gaze seemed to have absolutely no ill intent, no dire under-handed plan with him as the target. All he did was stare with those pretty red eyes that any Uchiha would be jealous of.

Madara was ashamed to say that he didn’t fully register the anomaly until a bigger one came along when Tobirama approached him of his own free will while he was doing nothing more than sitting at the island in their kitchen with a mug of tea. Sudden movement in the corner of one eye sent him leaping right out of his own skin, mug falling on its side and sending tea rushing across the surface.

“Shit,” he growled quietly. “I thought you were gone.”

“Ah.” Tobirama blinked at the tea with the same old dead expression as always. Madara spun to reach for a towel but when he turned back Tobirama had one hand hovering over the spill and lit up with chakra. One twist of his fingers and the liquid followed where he beckoned it like he was some sort of water spirit, back in to the mug that he had already set back to rights.

Rather than thank him Madara grunted and pulled his tea closer to inspect it for any funny business. His husband watched him for a moment before sighing and looking away.

“I need to speak with you about something.” He looked up again at Tobirama’s voice.

“Those proposals I sent in yesterday are no longer up for debate,” Madara ground out, hackles up before anything else had been said. He was all ready to defend the papers he’d spent several weeks redrafting each time Tobirama brought up another point of contention during council meetings – but the subject was waved off with a quick swat of one pale hand.

“Not that.” If Madara didn’t know better he would have said by the shifting of weight and refusal to meet eyes that Tobirama was nervous. “As a…member of the clan I asked around and apparently overseeing the training of the younglings is your purview. Unexpected, I have to admit.”

“Okay…?”

Taking a deep breath and letting it back out in a rush, Tobirama raised his chin to look finally meet Madara’s gaze with an almost defiant expression. “I was going to do this anyway but Hashirama has been badgering me and there really is no point in pissing you off more if it isn’t necessary. I would like your…permission to train Uchiha Kagami. You seem close with the boy so he probably would have said something eventually anyway.”

Shrugging lightly as if to convince himself he didn’t care all that much, Tobirama looked away again, focusing out the window at the trees rustling in the wind. Madara stared.

“You want to train an Uchiha child?” he demanded. Tobirama gave him one sharp nod.

“Training the younglings has always been one of my duties. Or it was until I effectively left the clan. Kagami is…different from the other Uchiha that I have met. Affable.”

“Right.” Drumming his fingers in the island between them, Madara squinted. “There has to be more to it than that.”

He almost had a moment to feel smug for guessing right until the other man’s reluctant response took all the wind out of his sails – out of his lungs as well, leaving him feeling rather like he’d been punched in the gut.

“It was my thought that proving I can care for one of your children would endear me in some slight way to the others so they might not detest me quite so much. Earn their trust, so to speak.” Clearly forcing the words outs had cost him greatly but that was definitely not what Madara focused on. He was more stunned by the words themselves than the effort behind them.

“Wait, you think my clan hates you? All of them?”

To Tobirama’s credit, he refrained from snarkily pointing out that they were technically supposed to be his clan now as well. With a tight jaw and clenched fists he asked, “Don’t they? When I draw near they stop speaking. When I come around the corner they stop laughing, stop smiling. All signs of joy flee at first sight of me. To you they nod and smile and chatter. To me they bow and speak formally and then hurry away as quickly as they can. I think it’s more than clear that I am not welcome anywhere in this clan.”

Blinking slowly, Madara bit the inside of his cheek and wondered if perhaps the two of them were both doomed to misinterpret every social interaction they ever experienced. It would be ironic, if nothing else, for that to be their only commonality.

“My – our people do not hate you.”

“I’m sorry, did you listen to a word I just said?”

“They don’t!” Madara rolled his eyes. “If you had bothered to ask any of them they could have explained that they were trying to make you more comfortable!”

“By alienating me?” Tobirama gave him a dubious look.

Frustrated, Madara curled the fingers he had been drumming. “No! You’re always so…so…formal! Distant! They’re trying to act more appropriately to your station so they don’t insult you with frivolity!”

“Insult me with frivolity? They think I don’t want them to be happy?” By the end of his question Tobirama’s voice had trailed off and Madara was nearly shocked right out of his socks as he realized that his husband was actually saddened by the thought that others might be unhappy because of him. It was oddly human of him.

Slightly uncomfortable with this revelation, he brought his arms close to cross over his chest and muttered, “They’re perfectly happy; just a bit more restrained because they – and I, to be honest – thought you would prefer more formal interactions. They’re showing you respect.”

“I see. I had no idea that was the general opinion of me.”

“Well your general opinion was that they all hated you so it’s not like that’s much worse.”

Tobirama scowled but for once the expression seemed turned inwards at himself. “It baffled me that Kagami could be so different from the rest of his clan, so cheerful when everyone else who spoke to me seemed so insular.”

“Kagami is no different from the rest of us,” Madara snorted. “He’s just too enthusiastic to keep it in his head when his mother tells him to remember his manners.”

“I prefer him the way he is.” Tobirama shrugged.

“Do you?” Humming thoughtfully, Madara realized with no small amount of surprise that it seemed he hadn’t needed to make the first move after all. Susumu-sensei’s words bounced off each other inside his head for the thousandth time, echoed by Hashirama’s voice insisting that his little brother wasn’t actually a closed off robot, that he was somehow worth getting to know. Before he could stop himself Madara allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and asked, “Do you like kids or something?”

He wondered if it was the question itself or just the fact that he had asked it that gave Tobirama such a startled look on his face.

“Yes,” was his simple answer.

“Huh. I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Why, because I am so cold and formal?” Tobirama ground out and Madara couldn’t really bring himself to be angry about it because yes, that was exactly why.

“It was a misconception,” he admitted instead. “One that you have now cleared up.”

Tobirama watched him carefully for a few moments, probably trying to determine whether or not he was being sincere, then finally nodded to close the subject. “Do I have your permission, then? To train Kagami as my own student? You have my word that he will receive my best efforts.”

For a second Madara hesitated, not sure how to voice his single protest without being insulting. Despite what it might look like to anyone observing them they were actually making more progress with each other in this single conversation than any they’d had before. Not a single intentional insult so far. He would call that progress!

“I can only see one difficulty, being that you are a water natured shinobi. Kagami is fire natured, like almost all Uchiha tend to be, and he will eventually need someone who can teach him the clan jutsu.”

Not looking the slightest put off, Tobirama hummed in thought. “I would ask that you simply teach me the clan jutsu but I’m entirely certain that would be breaking some sort of rule. Are spouses allowed to learn clan jutsu? I suppose if they are it would still require a level of trust which…does not exist here.” The simple hesitation at the end of his sentence was significant in some way, Madara was sure of that, but he would have to mull it over later. Something else required his attention first.

“How on earth would I teach them to you?” he asked. Had he not just said that he knew the man’s nature was water? Yet Tobirama only shrugged and casually rocked his world yet again with a single calmly spoken sentence.

“I can use all five nature releases,” he said, “so it wouldn’t be a problem for me to learn them.”

“You…what?”

Tilting his head, Tobirama drew his brows together in a contemplative frown. “I was given to believe that was fairly common within the Uchiha clan. Your dōjutsu allow you to instantly memorize and copy jutsu of any nature beyond kekkei genkai, correct?”

“Yes but – wait, how did you know that?”

“I…asked?”

Madara blinked. “Asked who? When? And why were you asking about our eyes?” Suspicion reared its head and Tobirama clearly knew the lines he was thinking along because contemplation quickly turned to confused offense.

“As soon as I learned that I was engaged to you I wished to know more. Was that not you who answered my letters?”

“What letters!?”

“I sent dozens of letters when I was told of our engagement! We were going to live together but we’d never met; I wanted to know you, to understand the people that I would be living among. I assumed it was you answering my questions.” He looked uncomfortable with the idea that he had been communicating with some unknown entity.

“No…I had no idea you ever sent anything.”

On his part Madara couldn’t decide which made him more uncomfortable. The fact that someone had been answering his mail without even informing him that it was there or the fact that someone had so easily sent confidential information about their clan’s most prized treasure – their own eyes – out in to the world in letters that could have fallen in to the hands of practically anyone without them even knowing.

He would have to look in to who did something so stupid. Izuna wouldn’t be the one. His brother was even more suspicious and protective of their clan secrets than Madara was. Susumu-sensei certainly knew how to imitate his style of writing but he couldn’t imagine how she would know he was receiving mail or how she would have been in the right place to intercept ‘dozens’ of letters without him noticing. Not to mention that she wouldn’t have any motive that he could think of to do that.

The only other person he could think of was his father but the old coot didn’t strike him as the type either. Unless…

“Were they sealed?” he asked with dread curling in his stomach.

“Yes. Every letter was sealed to open only if I penned the correct kanji on the outside. Why?”

“Mother fucker!” Madara looked around for something to hit but everything in range was breakable. “You were writing to my father. He’s never sent a letter he hasn’t sealed; it’s the only fūinjutsu he knows and he likes to show it off.”

Tobirama thought for a moment. “Your eyes can’t copy fūinjutsu?”

“No, they can’t.”

“Oh. I never thought to ask, I simply assumed. Although I suppose I can understand the logic of it if how your Sharingan works falls in to the theory I was able to cobble together from the sparse information I was allowed to know. Tell me, if you see someone release a jutsu but you don’t see the hand seals they used to activate it then can you still imitate it?”

Blinking even harder now Madara tried to follow yet another jump in topic. He was having a little trouble keeping up, answering out of reflex as he reeled along behind the other man and tried to figure out what they were really talking about. “Ah, no. We need to know how to use the jutsu of course.”

“Yes, of course. Excellent. So I was right then!”

“About what!?”

“That’s why you wouldn’t be able to learn fūinjutsu just by looking at a seal, even if your Sharingan were activated! Because you didn’t get to watch when it was originally laid!”

Madara wanted to respond somehow, never a fan of being left in the dust to feel like he was too stupid to follow a conversation, but he found it quite difficult to think past anything except the brilliant, lopsided grin splitting Tobirama’s face in half quite suddenly. In all the time since they had married he had yet to see the man smile even once. He was a vision. He was also apparently off on an excitable tangent with no intention of slowing down.

“So if you do see someone laying a seal would you be able to memorize it then? Or would fūinjutsu be different because it relies a little more heavily on the environment and the materials used rather than just the base chakra of the one who draws it?”

“I don’t…know.”

“Hmm. Something to test! Excellent! I’ll have to ask Kagami if he might help me record some results, he did express some interest in returning to the lab. Very interesting! I wonder if–”

As though entirely forgetting that they had been in the middle of a conversation, as if everything they had just been talking about was already erased from his mind, Tobirama spun on one heel and walked away muttering under his breath the whole time. Madara stood in the kitchen and watched the man turn left out of the doorway. Then ten seconds later he passed the doorway again in the opposite direction. Had he forgotten where he was going in his distraction?

It took a while for Madara to move again. All he could see in his mind’s eye was the afterimage of that incredible smile. More than human, more than just aesthetically appealing, he had looked happy. Now that was a word Madara had never thought he would ever associate with someone like Tobirama but there was no denying what he had seen. A small part of him wished he had taken the time to activate the Sharingan they had been talking about and demonstrate its memorizing prowess by imprinting that unexpected gift in to his memories forever.

The moment he realized where his thoughts were headed Madara scrambled up out of his seat. He didn’t even want to look at the clock as he snatched up his obi and made himself a little more presentable on the run. With how long they had stood there chatting it would be a miracle if he wasn’t late to work.

Most of the journey across the village passed him by in a blur of distracted thoughts, the majority of them centered around a husband he’d thought he had figured out. Evidently his sensei and Hashirama had both been right to tell him to look deeper. Well, to be fair, Hashirama was the only one who had insisted that there was anything deeper to look for. Susumu-sensei had mostly just told him to get his head out of his own self-centered ass.

Either way he was hardly about to rush off and tell either of them that they had been right. Surely they would figure that out on their own eventually – and then hopefully never bring it up to him again.

Not wanting to be caught showing up late by his father, Madara figured his best bet would be to slip in the window of his own office and threaten Hashirama in to silence about his untimely arrival. It seemed like such a great plan right up until the moment he was sitting astride the window sill with one foot still outside and both of his father’s eyes staring him down from the doorway. He was all too familiar with that fire and brimstone expression and for a single moment he considered spitting at the man’s feet in anger of his own. It was sad the way he was getting used to holding that hot ball of betrayal in his stomach when he met Tajima’s eyes. How dare he answer letters meant for someone else? And how dare he never deign to so much as mention them? He spent enough time reminding Madara how important it was that their marriage stay together, one would think he’d be the first to help them along with that.

But the moment passed and Madara schooled himself in to a carefully blank expression. Nothing good would come of yelling at his father for something that happened months ago and he knew damn well he would never get the apology he wanted. The best thing right now was to redirect the anger he was already being faced with. It was always better to just get the truth over with when Tajima brought out that particular pinched expression. Across the room Hashirama kept his eyes on his own work and tried not to look like he was cowering while Madara brought his second foot in to the office.

“I apologize father,” he mumbled, not actually sorry at all. “I was speaking with Tobirama and we simply lost track of time.”

“Speaking with your husband?” Tajima lifted one eyebrow and Madara hesitated. He would be the first to admit that it sounded unlike him but it was the truth!

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll let it pass this once. Finally a little effort; I would hate to discourage such behavior.” With a warning look that he would not be so lenient if this happened again, Tajima dropped a handful of scrolls in his inbox, demanded they be looked over by the end of the day, and then left.

Madara slumped down in to his chair with legs that felt like jelly. A smiling husband and a lenient father, what other surprises would he have to deal with before noon?

While he tried to convince his heart to stop racing Hashirama was just peeking up from his own space across the room. If he’d been watching for it he would have seen the worrisome grin spreading across his friend’s face, not nearly as attractive as his brother’s and generally the herald to much more chaos. Probably. Madara was actually a little worried about what Tobirama had wandered off to do.

“Sooooo…” Hashirama appeared at his side like a ghost and Madara startled violently for the second time that morning.

“What?”

“You were chatting with your husband were you?” the man grinned at him, leaning down to rest both elbows on the desk so he could drop his head in both palms. “Things are improving then?”

“It was one conversation,” Madara snarled.

He shoved the unwanted elbows off his work surface and reached for the scrolls his father had dropped off for him but Hashirama was far from deterred. A second later it was an unwanted rump planting itself across the spot he was about to fill with parchment and important duties.

“Tell me everything! One conversation can pave the way for many more! You’ve been having such a hard time with all of this, can’t I be happy for you that it looks like things are finally on the up?”

“Would you go away and let me work?”

“Come on! Please? Just tell me what you two were talking about!”

“Ugh!” Madara rubbed and the bridge of his noise impatiently. “He wants to train a student. That’s it. Now will you screw off? You heard my father, I have to get these done by the end of the day and I already had a full plate!” There really was no point in starting a discussion about the whole letter fiasco right now. Maybe his friend would have some insights in to that but that was best left for later; they were supposed to be working right now.

Hashirama didn’t protest when he was pushed off the desk again but he did make soft little cooing noises as though his brother taking on a new student was the cutest thing ever. Which didn’t make a lot of sense. Hadn’t Tobirama mentioned that training the younglings had been one of his duties before their clans moved here and he was married off to someone else? Madara wondered vaguely who had taken up that duty in his absence. Overseeing the new fighters was his own responsibility as well, technically, but he had taken to delegating that task to others since discovering early on that he was a shitty teacher.

Despite his insistence that he had a lot of work to do Madara found it difficult to concentrate with so many new thoughts about Tobirama bouncing off each other inside his head. It had never occurred to him that anyone could misconstrue a bit of polite behavior as hatred but now that it had been pointed out he could see how being treated differently by an entire clan might give that impression. Between that, the shock of having him ask to personally train little Kagami – when had they even met? – and the curious offhand statement about some kind of lab, Madara despaired of the idea that he would be able to accomplish even half of what he needed to get done that day.

For once, however, his thoughts of Tobirama were not filled with anger or grumbling about how much he hated the man. It wasn’t much progress yet but he had to admit that even a small step was big for them. Perhaps it was a little early to say for sure but Hashirama might have actually been correct for once. Things might finally be on their way up.