#there’s something really beautiful about hearing someone speak their mother tongue it’s so fascinating to me but then again i am possibly

[emmcfrxst]

finished season 1 of narcos 🫡

[thed4rkhand]

Moon in the signs

So here’s another post that you guys can relate to! Since most of my astrology stuff is related to Vedic astrology, remember to always go a sign back (a scorpio moon is a libra moon) if you’re used to western astrology. Remember that house placements play a huge role in determining role of planets, so that may affect this! 

Trigger warnings - too many just be careful.

Moon in the signs-

Moon in Aries

These people tend to be a bit vain honestly, very concerned about their appearance and physical health. They tend to be impulsive and head strong. Great placement for lawyers, and gives a natural talent at debating. The mother might’ve been been a career woman, and they can often resemble their mum’s in appearance. Their mother is concerned about status. Their mother could’ve had a public career, or is maybe very argumentative.These people are always concerned with what others think of them. They keep their surroundings messy and disorganized. They could’ve grown up in a large house. They have a habit of cutting people in conversations. These people always want to be in a relationship, and are innately very just in their ways. They may be extremely protective of their homeland and culture, and may be insecure about their family relationships (toxicity in the family) or wealth. They may always be thinking about foreign lands or be lost in spirituality or daydreams.

Moon in Taurus

These people definitely resemble their mother, and are very close to their mother’s side of the family. They may always be wondering about wealth or their looks. They may be into singing or music. They can be very confident in their looks, almost obsessive in love matters. They have fascinations with the moon. They’re extremely curious with such a placement, and often have mental health issues. They like looking at people’s eyes and often are brilliant at subjects like accounts and psychology. They enjoy learning about the occult. They may attract stalkers in life, and may themselves love digging up information about people. They may network through their mother, and have many foreign friends. They might be very fond of children and the creative arts. Such placements also usually love history and are fascinated with the courtly lives of that time. They may have vivid violent or sexual dreams with such a placement. Stop cutting people in conversations geez. Sometimes can be so self absorbed.

Moon in Gemini

These people are those whose minds run at the speed of light. Honestly the wittiest people around, those people obsessed with puns and word plays, also very sarcastic at times. They love to travel a lot. They may be great at academics without even trying, and they always have the best luck. Their mom’s might be foreign or speak a foreign tongue. They are inclined to be writers or IT professionals here, great with technology. They think a lot about their extended friend circle and cousins here, may be that social butterfly kind of a person. They may learn a lot from their father. Their upbringing could have been traditional and religious. They may live away from their birth land, and their mother could be a medical professional or may be into occult herself. They could’ve switched houses a lot. They could always feel like an outcaste, and may have a deep love for animals and mediation. They may always appear sleepy with their eyes half open. They may be fond of milk products. Their mother might love garlic and onions. They’re extremely curious and try to be righteous in every situation. They’re lactose intolerant. Could be a worshiper of shiva

Moon in cancer

These are the people who over analyze everything, every single thing. Believe it or not, some of the most cunning people have this position. They can be very competitive, but in a passive aggressive way. They want to do jobs like medicine, or alternatively cosmetology. These people or their mothers, love milk products. They tend to be very traditionally beautiful, and so very moody. In my opinion, they’re the most likely to cheat someone to gain something. Their mothers had a huge influence in their life. Their mother might’ve had a very traditional upbringing. Their mother could’ve smothered them in affection, and been one of those therapist type moms, alternatively, completely narcissistic mom. Their mother could be very spiritual, or their grandparents (on mom’s side) die young. Mother could hear voices. Sometimes they may use people for career gains or sex. They give really tight hugs. Also, snakes. Now this is only for late degrees, they dream about snakes, meet snakes, fascinated by snakes, have eyes like snakes. List goes on. Might be into cars and mechanics

Moon in Leo

So damn creative, the most creative of anyone I’d say. Love children and definitely want to have them. Their mum’s were probably very involved in their education and upbringing, especially education. Mother might’ve been very eccentric and maybe of a different background. Mother is very lucky in life without trying, and mother may be very famous in her field. The native might be very famous in their field. Mother might be stunning. Mother may come from a rich or powerful family, might be very family oriented and may enjoy singing a lot. Mother may be into interior designing or architecture. These people literally sit on their bed and work instead of tables. Very sexual and have trouble sleeping. May be materialistic early on, will go on to become extremely spiritual. Very into reiki and meditation. They’re great critics and into art/movies. They have have a lot of hairfall. People could directly tell you to marry them without a relationship, or people want to get into a relationship with you.

Moon in Virgo

Obsessed with their routine. Could be close to their mother’s siblings. Love small animals. Always falling sick or getting stuck in loans. May be great at math. Could be extremely insecure and might constantly find themselves without friends. They might think a lot before making friends. They may be very spiritual and always thinking about spirituality. Could also be thinking about aliens and extra-terrestrial creatures alot. Mother’s could be writers or IT professionals or they themselves could be into this. Further they could want to be doctors or bankers. They could also be very creative. They could want to go abroad a lot or be fascinated with such cultures. They may cherish their alone time a lot. Back problems and always sore. Kidney problems. Sleep problems and probably art critics. Very critical of foods and people. May have a lot of hidden enemies. Mother had a sad life. They love painting, reiki and tarot. Beautiful hands, healing hands and may pursue art. May get complimented on hands a lot. May have had to fight for everything. Really into comics and movies? Also they never post photos unless they’re with friends. Also their phones have a gazillion photos that they should delete but they just hoard.

Moon in Libra

Future budding lawyers here, have an interest in public policy with this placement. Very conscious of their looks and what others think of them in general. The people pleasers of sort. Will be extremely close to their mother, and will be very motherly in nature. Very good childhood, fortunate childhood. Really into real estate and cars. Mother is very proud of her culture. Find peace of mind in relationships and partnerships. Love doing group work. Have a lot of open enemies in life, may try to push you down. Great memory and might collect photos and postcards. Don’t like having their photos clicked alot, do it only for memory. Really like jewelry. Mother might have reproductive issues, you may also. You’re close to your grandmother. Into architecture and designing. Attracted to athletes. Also you have far too many shoes. Very independent. Speak up for the unfortunate. Always in love triangles. Also you are always balancing between the spiritual and material world. you can never make up your mind. Might have anger issues. Also, mother might have issues with one eye, or you might. Mother may play a role in your marriage.

Moon in Scorpio

The people who are so deeply engrossed in occult. Frequent depression is seen here. Might have blood circulation issues or even creating problems. Always want to get to the bottom of an issue or discover hidden knowledge. May want to or already does interact with spirits or see spirits. May like treasure hunts. Toxic relationship with mother or family. Very critical of oneself. Very intense and likely to be extremely possessive of people and objects. Likely only has sisters and no brothers. Mother supports creative passion or is creative themselves. Mother could be a psychologist or you could be. Mother may have foreign friends. Mother could be very dominating. They have trouble concentrating on issues. Very open minded. They want to be friends with people into occult. They’ll be the kind of people to be against traditional dogmatic thinking, and love people who can criticize them. These people can be extremely jealous of other people’s success. They don’t mean to, it just happens subconsciously. Very secretive in nature. Mother’s death will bring you money. Mother might have inherited a lot of money. Mother may have had a miscarriage.  People sexualize them a lot. Think about death and rebirth a lot, a lot of gore. Existential crisis.

Moon in Sagittarius

My language experts. They speak multiple languages. Very academically focussed. Mother took over the position of the father or father took over the position of the mother. Mother could be foreign. Mother may have health issues. Mother could work in healthcare or finance, and is a perfectionist. Mother could speak multiple languages. Mother pampers the sibling, mother likes small animals. Traditional upbringing or mother is strict. Religious or spiritual family, probably traditional too. Travelled a lot. Very fond of foreign cultures and food. Might want to become a teacher or professor. Them or their mother love garlic, ginger and onion. Never get over heart ache from relationships. You go back and forth with morals and ethics. A lot of vegetarians and vegans. Write books on science fiction or astrology. Maybe want a youtube channel or blog. Back and forth between spirituality and materialistic world. They love guitars. Could be a worshipper of Ganesha. Sometimes you do spiritual stuff for selfish reasons. You want to be the first person to arrive to an appointment you’re probably running late to.

Moon in Capricorn

They crave for a large family and status. They’ll always have you back. They could have crooked noses or prominent noses. Large dark circles. They crave to be famous, especially in entertainment or politics. They’re extremely hardworking but they have the worst luck. Mother might work in a cooperative. Mother might be a lawyer or deal with contracts or the government. Mother might be very invested in her marriage. Mother can or maybe you can hear voices or be schizophrenic. You might be into music. Mother might be a loner. Father may be moody or work for the government. Your father might have a large network circle. Shark tank kind of situation where you’re always striving for more in work. People might like a hard mattress on their bed. People in authority often baby you or pity you. A lot of humiliation and bullying. Mother could’ve done this to you. Yellow tint to eyes and hair. Could be fond of yellow or gold colour or  the metal. Loads of struggle in your life. You might see paranormal things or even dream prophetically. You love to give advice. Did I mention you hear voices? Different languages and strange words even. Great at technology and love going to concerts. May own musical instruments and keep them in the bedroom.

Moon in Aquarius

My social butterflies, please calm down. They honestly have this strange fascination with middle east and the Mediterranean. Also love space and stars. Could’ve had ego battles with mother or father. Very aloof to what people think of them. Mother might’ve died young or has a lot of health issues. Dual personalities and control issues. Mother is into occult or you are psychic. You are have great intuition or psychic abilities and mother’s side of the family is close. You can feel the paranormal at times. Love being alone and exploring places. fascinated with the renaissance period, also nude paintings. Adore cats and other felines. May be associated with cat like qualities. Mother may have inherited a lot of money from her parents. Mother may have mental disorders or is a perfectionist. They may want to go into modeling or dancing, alternatively, careers of theoretical physics and space. Mother may be a social outcaste. They may have assumed the role of an older sibling or acted as a mother to their own mother. May keep musical instruments and keep them in the bedroom, especially drums or other percussion instruments, or pianos, sometimes guitars. Great at technology. People may say you’re your father’s split image. Love techno music and love to sing. May want to get a telescope. Also they love plants. You could’ve shoplifted as a kid. Very principled in life. Like polarizing jobs, think doctor by day and tarot reader by night. People are very surprised to find these people being into the occult. Fascinated by shows like game of thrones.

Moon in Pisces

The daydreamers are here. Could get into spirituality either very late or very young. Over analyze every single thing. Mothers may be foreign or into psychology. Mothers may speak foreign tongues and practice astrology. Mothers could work with foreigners and write or teach as her profession. Mother’s father was a big influence in her life, she looks like her father. Mother fights with her mother. Father could’ve cheated on the mother. You may not get along with your father. You may think about foreign cultures a lot, be fascinated with the paranormal and occult easily. You may mediate. You teach other’s about occult. You have prophetic dreams and are extremely empathetic. Can feel auras and energies. Can have issues with your eyes. Might have a strong third eye. You have ankle or foot ache often. You have calcium deficiency. You have reproductive issues. You will excel in foreign lands. Prone to depression and love thinking about death and rebirth. Musically talented, are excellent writers. Feel like someone is always watching them. Tend to be taller than their husbands. Can hear voices from angels or spirits very easily. They may speak in your head often and direct you. Could’ve grown up near large water bodies. Duality between what they want and what they think they ought to. Again, being accountants by day and strippers by night kind. Love being alone and are very eccentric people, could be addicted to substances and love having their own corner to retreat into. Could be vegan or vegetarian. Huge animal rights advocates.

Anywhoooo, be sure to let me know if you enjoyed it! Reblog and Share!

[theredsuzuran]

Douma x reader - Innocence

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Took me a long time to upload a new content am so sorry for the delay I was really busy with school assignments therefore I cannot manage the time to write. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors on my behalf, I hope you enjoy.

Warning : Dark themes like gore, blood and violence, degradation and swearing, mature content.

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The moon shone brightly above the sky as it's light leak through the branches illuminating the famous building of the eternal paradise cult. A new set of followers rushed into the dwelling in hopes of fulfilling their selfish desires, diminishing their agonies and enriching their possessions. However a particular human with her tattered kimono seem not to be interested to convey anything although the people around her would die to witness even a glimpse of the charismatic leader as for now she was busy running along the wide long corridors

The sound of thumping footsteps echoed throughout the building as a herd of followers attempted on catching the miscreant who disrupted the peaceful atmosphere prevailing over the supreme cult. The already annoyed and frustrated people were all worked up to catch the energetic human who on the other hand have thoughts of escaping this place they called paradise. If only she was careful enough to notice her mother's strange behavior soon as they entered the place but how can you possibly blame an innocent little girl like her, or so she thought. Afraid she might lose sight of her treacherous mother who abandoned her just moments ago she desparety stumbled her way out although that didn't concerned her simple thinking process but that's exactly how complicated the situation was.

Turning one last time to look behind if those weird people were still following her or not when suddenly she bumped into a Tall muscular figure standing infront of her soft delicate frame she must have missed him approaching while focusing on looking behind. "Please just leave me alone!" The girl fumed coherently still overwhelmed by the amount of people rushing towards her like waves something that she was not accustomed with as for eighteen years she lived indoors interacting rarely with anyone and playing with dolls most of the time.

"Watch your tongue brat" one of the men standing beside the tall man spoke with disgust hinted in his voice. "Crouch down you insolent woman, where's your gratitude it's because of lord Douma's benevolence that you are still here or you'd be rotting in the street thanks to your mother", the people around her started whispering and murmuring behind her back but she was not bother since her senses were filled with newfound wrath how dare they insult your angel like mother? No longer able to contain your anger you shouted with tears "Then take me to my mother, I don't want to stay here alone".

"Your mother abandoned you here so shut up and deal with it, now move your way for master" the man grunted irritatedly motioning the other followers to grab her and take her away.

"No don't touch me" she wiggled under their grip rushing towards douma blocking him from entering the room by grabbing his arm tightly "I am not going anywhere until I know where my mother is" she cried loudly making the demon flinch with surprise, how pitiful the creature looked in his polychromatic eyes. He have seen many humans crying before him for obvious reasons which honestly have become his monotonous routine but somehow this girl acted quite weird being her age, interesting him enough to investigate. As he was about to speak the man beside him pushed the girl hashly making her lose her balance and fall on the wooden floor.

"How dare you touch master with your filthy hands bitch" he lift his hand to slap her tight in the face but someone grabbed his wrist just in time to save the girl from further humiliation.

"Silence" all the questioning glances, judging looks and whispering stopped at once as douma spoke nonchalantly making the latter shiver in regret.

"I am sorry douma sama" the man uttered in pure horror having no intentions to displease his beloved lord. "I was-"

"I don't want to see that happen again, understood?" He replied coldly still maintaining his wide smile as the previous chaos shifted into complete hush. The man lowered his head down with shame nodding silently. Douma averted his attention and glanced at the figure underneath making the girl jolt a bit but his once frightening demeanor changed into a cheerful and optimistic one in matter of second upon seeing her.

"Please take her to my chamber and treat her wounds" the man clapped with a wide grin plastered on his face. A group of female servants came rushing to help picking her up. The girl being too bewildered did not protested and simply follow his tone as if she was hypnotized by his neatly decorated persona.

The girl was immediately taken away without delay and as per douma he needed to attend his cult duties. First of all she was washed and changed into a beautiful kimono as soon as she stepped inside, then she was escorted into a room filled with antiques and lavish items which she have never seen. Her face lit up with fascination as she began venturing those decorative pieces.

"Looks like you have ease down a bit, good good" A familiar tone struck in her ears startling her a bit only to turn back and view the handsome cult leader although it was a bit strange because she did not heard anyone approaching.

"Aww did I scared you?" He laughed covering his face with golden fans.

"No I was just- you came in without a warning, I was taken aback" she explained blushing trying her best not to act immature to which douma laughed uncontrollably as he found this human's expression adorable say entertaining in his words.

"D-dont laugh at me" she pouted crossing her arms in the attempt.

"I am sorry (y/n), you really amuse me" he replied still grinning. However there was a moment of awkward silence between them as he uttered her name abruptly.

"I didn't tell you my name.." after a long pause she replied to him with a confuse look in her face.

"I know everyone's name who are living under my supervision including yours besides what kind of cult leader I am if I don't have basic information about my fellow followers. Oh look I have been talking to you without giving the chance to let you talk my bad" he laughed again waving his fans creating another awkward situation. Causing you to sweatdrop on his remark.

"Say (y/n) how old are you?" to which she replied enthusiastically "I am 8 years old and will turn 9 soon"

"Ah you don't look like one" douma grinned closing his eyes in the process.

"Yeah I get that a lot" she remarked shyly.

"Your mother is one of my followers" he continued

"Really?" her eyes sparked with hope as she approached douma with anticipation grabbing his arms for the second time starling him, she really like holding hands eh? he have experiences like that but somehow this girl made him feel different so he allowed her but then she stopped halfway through her words "I really miss her it's been a week since she left me here" her voice dropped with sadness.

Douma felt no sympathy for humans or anything as such, he have learned to fake his emotions from a very tender age eversince he was born to the extent that even seeing his mother killing her husband mercilessly failed to evoke feelings within. He clearly did not understand what she was feeling he just stared at her with a blank expression only to replace it quickly with a grim look even faking few tears. "(Y/n) chan you know its okay you will still have me" he patted the girl in an attempt to comfort her.

"Friends?" (Y/n) replied between her tears.

"If that's how you want us to be" douma smiled at her gently shocking himself for a second because he didn't think of smiling?

Things escalated soon after that incident, (y/n) was a kind and compassionate person from inside and out and in not time the cult followers started loving her presence. As often douma would let her accompany him and most of the time she stayed by his side following him everywhere and he didn't mind that at all moreover he appreciated her company. (Y/n) was like a fresh bud to him who depicted innocence and purity he loved spoiling her with expensive gifts yet she never showed signs of greediness and genuinely appreciated his thoughtfulness slowly forgetting the past life she was in and cherishing her friendship with douma. At first she was reluctant and didn't like getting so much attention but in the course of time she bonded better with everyone and was quite content with the life she was leading. As for douma he began to depend on (y/n) to the point that not seeing her face for even one day would make him go insane and he didn't understand why not like he want to because all he cared about was how she made him feel so many varieties of pleasant emotions he wish he could feel. Eating her was out of context.

However all good things must come to an end for he is someone to not rest in peace after the sin he have committed for centuries. Seeing douma paying her more attention, spoiling her with a ravish lifestyle and even letting her stay by his side all the time made some of his cult members terribly envious they wanted to punish her for taking their chances of stealing the spotlight. There was this one room that he forbade his followers to enter for obvious reasons and specifically for (y/n) because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. This was exactly what they wanted (y/n) to do break the rules and Douma's trust. Like that there would be no more favouritism on her with others.

"Ah (y/n), there you are" one of the female member approached her one fine morning.

"Yes how may I help you?" She asked cheerfully

"Lord douma have asked for your presence in the forbidden room tonight and he said its urgent"

"Aren't we all prohibited to go inside"

"Oh (y/n) it's true master have arrived today and he wants your presence"

Upon hearing that news her heart elated with happiness, it has been two weeks since he last saw douma around and she missed him but something felt off about the whole situation douma always sees (y/n) first before tending his followers then why did he not come meet her did he not miss her like she did?

She was lost in her thoughts until she found two hands waving and snapping infort of her face.

"Don't be late, okay?" With that said the female hurried back into other room leaving (y/n) behind even though the situation seem kinda odd maybe douma was busy afterall.

At night (y/n) went into the restricted area. She stood infront of the shoji door in absolute dilemma debating whether or not to enter the room or go back. There was her desire of meeting douma on one hand and not breaking his trust by entering the room on the other. In the end she decided not to but as she was turning back she heard someone grunting in pain behind the closed doors being a compassionate person, she decided to open the door and enter into the darkness adjusting her eyes in the process, a pungent smell hit her nostrils making her cover her mouth and to her absolute terror the scene infront of her made her puke in disgust.

A pile of Mutilated bodies, mostly women laid around lifelessly on the blood stained tatami mattress. Many having no limbs, some headless and organs missing from their body as if someone had ate all of that. The whole room was a mess full of unfortunate people. She felt sick and began crawling down her way back from the corpses. However she felt a tight grip on her left foot upon looking down she witness the sight of a woman her intestines oozing out of her stomach begging for help. (Y/n) stood there perplexed unable to say anything chocking through tears.

"I told you not to come here, why?" (Y/n) turned her head violently to see douma standing in a distance his countenance cold and sinister evident that he was highly displeased upon seeing his innocent flower disobeying his instructions.

"It's not... like... what you see" (y/n) cried fearfully but douma didn't seem to buy it well in a blink of an eye she found herself in Douma's arms as he aggressively dragged her out of the room.

"What's going on douma" no word came out from the usual lively douma.

"It's hurting me your grip" no reply again to which she forcefully tried to stand still with all her strength. This time douma stopped his features hidden under his bangs making her unable to figure the expression he was carrying.

"Is this why douma forbade us to enter the room" no reply

"Are you responsible for murdering those innocent people?" No reply

"DOUMA" she shouted

"Why you want to join them?" Douma finally looked at her his eyes glowing dangerously proving his existence to be something unnatural. (Y/n's) eyes widen at his remarks as tears rolled down her visage.

"I hate you.." she murmured

"What?" He tilted his head letting his guard down a bit at her hurtful comments.

"I HATE YOU" she pushed douma roughly and flew from the place running deep into the forest for she knew who he was and what he is capable of doing. Tearing down she constantly reminisce the moments she shared but she cannot allow herself to sympathize his heinous crimes. Why is it that the people I love are always taken away from me? She thought. Exhausted from running she halted in order to catch her breath while glancing back to see if he was following, there was no one indeed so a sudden feeling of relief gushed in her body. However turning her head back she saw him standing inches apart from her face which made her shiver and fall onto the knees.

"Why are you running away from me (y/n)" he said apatheticly his head lowered at her level. She did not reply and stayed quite.

"Is it true that you don't love me after all the things I did for you?" Covering his face with one hand his eyes glowing under the moonlight a look of dejection written on his face. There was complete silence in the forest except the sound of rustling trees.

"Answer me" holding her face now firmly he growled making her flinch under his breath. In one last desperate attempt (y/n) tried to stab douma with a tree branch she found laying on the ground but unfortunately douma was faster and easily dodged the attack and in a swift motion he hit her with immense strength causing her fragile little body to tremble in pain as she coughed mucus mixed with blood.

"How foolish of you" he crouched down her height staring intensely at the quivering figure of the miserable girl. As for (y/n) her body ached but more was the tightness in the chest that she was experiencing in the moment.

He pulled her by the hair roughly making her scream in pain although at this point all she could manage with her cracking voice were inaudible screams.

"Why did you disobey me? (Y/n)..." who knew beneath that friendly kind face was hiding a undeniably deadly and calculative demon and at this point it was clear for her that he was anything but human.

"Who are you?" these few words manage to escape from her shaky lips in between low grunts.

"I am the leader of the eternal paradise cult"

"Wrong" to which he tightened his grip making her shriek again.

"You humans are so dumb believing in the existence of primordial deities where in reality its just a myth, a fairytale, created for pleasuring the sufferings of mere human. Being superior than you mortals I wanted to make these pitiful existence happy and that's why I was born and what you saw there" his lips curved into a cheeky smile revealing his deadly fangs creeping the shit out of the already scared girl. "I eat them so that they can always be with me and attain salvation" a sinister laughter escape from his mouth as he covered it with his golden fans. (Y/n) unable to process the new sets of information knots formed in her stomach making her sick in the guts.

"I ate your mother too, oh she was ungrateful after all the things I did to her just like you" protruding her eyes with pure shock she felt her veins popping out and blood boiling in pure rage.

"You are a monster, you think your stupid morals would persuade people to think like you do, I despise you douma I thought we were friends and you took away the one I cherished the most?"

"You think your mother loved you?" Douma snapped. The duality of this was man was insane, all the things he does or says are plastic.

"She never cared for your life, you want to know why? I will tell you since you insist" douma dragged her out of forest holding a fistful of her hair tightly inflicting great discomfort to the girl while he continued with his harsh statements and deliberate insults.

"You were just a burden, behaving like a fucking child with the alluring body of yours"

"No my mother promised me..she would protect me.. you are lying"

"While you were crying everyday inside my shrine that lowly woman enjoyed her life indulging in adultery with various cult members leaving her sick husband and mentally retarded daughter in the dark" every word he uttered spread vemon into her ears.

"Still she wanted more and more and more, what a greedy whore" douma continued.

"Do you know how much difficult it was for me to control myself around you? While you sway your hips and act innocently making those hungry men lust over you, how much dumb can you be?"

"What do you mean I don't understand.. douma"

"I did everything I can for you yet you remain ungrateful, disrespectful? Well guess its runs in your blood and I thought you are innocent but it turns out that you are just like the rest of them, naive"

Her eyes widened with every hurtful remarks he made about her and she did not understand why she felt that way shouldn't she be resentful towards him for killing her beloved mother but here she is weeping constantly because douma was treating her like he never did before.

"But that's fine (y/n) I can not bring myself to hurt you I love you and we shall always be together whether you like it or not" nothing reached in her ears anymore as her body grew numb. Her eyes shut as she carried the unbearable pain in her heart slowly loosing consciousness and remaining sanity.

It would have been easier if she died but alas a mere human like her is doomed at his mercy.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

All Over Again - Chapter 4

Summary: What was lost can be found. 

Warning: 18+ Smut, Language, Violence. 

I was in the holiday spirit so I wrote this chapter. Kind of just filler stuff and LOTS of fluff. Enjoy!

Ch. 3

* * * * * *

“Awe, look at you in your fall colors.” You tease.

Wanda laughs, eyes on something ahead of her before she focuses on you,“ Laura gave me the scarf. I didn’t realize how cold it’d be today.”

You find your eyes looking at the window of your hotel,“ is it snowing there?”

Instead of answering, she flips the camera and you see the mix of leaves and snowflakes falling.

As beautiful as National City is, you admit you miss the weather in New York. The snow and leaves falling added to the holiday spirit. The white and shades of red screamed Thanksgiving. 

“You could always come back, at least for the day.” Your friend says, the camera turning back.

With a shake of your head, you tell her,“ I’d never make it back in time. Besides, Lena insisted I spend the day with her.” 

The brunette wiggles her eyebrows playfully. Only for her jaw to drop at the expression on your face.“ Oh my god you like her!”

“What? No.” You try to play it off with a laugh.

Good ole Wanda though, she can read you like a book(without the powers).“ That’s why you were so eager to go back to NC. You have a crush!”

“No I-” do you?

The idea isn’t far fetched. Lena’s an incredibly attractive woman. Intelligent, caring, ambitious, funny, genuine. But you have far too much going on with your emotions to even consider liking someone. Right? 

Were you not just telling Natasha how much it sucks to see her with Bruce? How could you go from hating to see that to suddenly liking someone? Is that really how your emotions are choosing to work?

Escaping the onslaught of thoughts, you find Wanda smirking at you.“ You like her.” She says with a nod and smile. 

“Doesn’t matter whether I do or not. There’s too much going on for me to be exploring something like that.”

She scoffs,“ yeah right. As we speak you’re on vacation. There’s no greater time to explore. And if you like her, you deserve to pursue it. If anyone should get a chance at happiness, it’s you.”

Damn. Could you have asked for a better best friend?

“Have I told you that you’re one of the few things I’m thankful for Wan?”

Blushing a little, she tells you,“ you hadn’t but I knew already. I’m thankful for you too, I-” a sudden swirl of emotions race through her eyes, red magic flickering with it,“ I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these last few years.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, but I’m glad I could be there for you.”

It’s quiet on her end for a moment before she can pull a smile,“ love you Y/n, Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Love you too Wan and Happy Thanksgiving.”

With an over exaggerated kiss blown to the screen, Wanda hangs up, the lingering picture of her smiling face on your screen before it goes back to the generic wallpapered home screen.

You take a second to yourself, eyes trained on the city outside. 

There may not be any snow, but NC definitely has its own way of showing the holiday spirit. In that, a lot of the skyscrapers have large light displays on them. And where there are trees, the orange, red, and yellow leaves fell from them. 

Eventually, you get up to get ready. Taking a shower and putting on an outfit that reflects the season and holiday. 

Having everything you need, you call a car, waiting for it in the lobby with a cup of coffee. Once in the car, you let Lena know you’re on your way. 

It leaves you a little unnerved when she doesn’t reply as fast as usual. In fact she doesn’t reply at all but her doorman let’s you up so you know she’s home. 

When she pulls her door open and you take in her slightly frazzled state you frown.

“Should I have waited to come by? Is everything okay?” 

Lena’s heart melts at the worried expression on your face, a smile forming,“ no it’s fine I just, I forgot most restaurants are closed on Thanksgiving.”

A gasp leaves your lips,“ Miss Luthor,” you press a hand to your chest,“ take out is not a proper Thanksgiving meal.” 

Her mouth opens to reply but seeing your expression has her keeping it to herself. 

The few nights you’d spent here, you know Lena doesn’t keep her fridge and cupboards stocked.“ Come on, we’re going shopping.”

Lena will admit, she had a bit of a slow moment, wondering what shopping would do to solve the food issue. Arriving at the store though, she realizes you meant grocery shopping. 

Walking around the store with you pushing the cart is probably the most domestic thing Lena’s done in a long time. She finds herself falling in deeper with you as she sees how, almost childlike you are: riding on the cart every so often, throwing completely unnecessary snacks inside, and doing small little celebratory fist pumps when you find exactly what you need.

“Okay,” Lena breaks the quiet,“ are you secretly a chef outside of being an Avenger?” 

Currently the two of you stand in her kitchen, smooth jazz playing through the room’s speakers, Lena’s usual glass of wine on the counter mere inches from your glass of bourbon, as you prepare dinner. Admittedly Lena isn’t all that good at cooking, so she’s slightly fascinated with how easily you move about. 

You raise an eyebrow, fingers sprinkling seasoning over the Cornish Hens,“ what’d you mean?” 

“I just- you seem to be really good at this.” She gestures to you and the spread of food in front of you. 

Shrugging, you tell her,“ I just learned from my dad. He literally taught me everything I know.”

There goes that tone again. Your voice sounding far off. You reminiscing.

You slide the pan into the oven, setting a timer, and looking back with a smile, nodding for Lena to come over. 

She stands at your side, arms brushing with every move as you raise the lid off the skillet, steam rising from it,“ now don’t go sharing this recipe with anyone Miss Luthor.”

The CEO chuckles,“ well if it’s good I’ll have to capitalize on it.”

You laugh, eyes shutting with the action. So you miss the look Lena gives you, pride at being the reason you’re laughing and a longing to make that smile last.

From there you tell and show her the way you’d been taught to make yams: nutmeg, brown sugar, vanilla flavor, and butter. Then turning them over so the seasonings reach all the vegetables.

Grabbing a smaller spoon, you scoop some of it up, and hold it out to her. A hum of approval leaves Lena’s lips at the taste of it.

“That’s incredible.”

You watch the way her tongue runs over her lips, catching the remnants of the food, and resisting the urge to reach out and run your thumb across the pink muscle.

Opting to nod and jokingly say,” oh I know.”

She laughs with a shake of her head. 

It goes like that as you continue to cook. Once a dish is done, you give Lena a taste and she tells you how great it is. Until you’re setting it all out on the table in front of where Lena set out the plates and silverware. 

You both fix your plates and refill your drinks before sitting down.

“I’ll admit, this is a million times better than take out.”

While you hadn’t mentioned it before, you have to now,“ please tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve had a home cooked meal for Thanksgiving.”

The CEO shrugs, a sad smile covering her lips as she says,“ well I’ve spent the last two in my office.”

You raise your eyebrows,“ and before then?”

“Meals were made by the chefs. And holidays with my family were usually, well awkward. With the tension between myself and my mother and Lex’s silence. . .”

Reaching over, you cover her hand with yours,“ family can be tough. But from what I’ve seen it seems you have a decent one.”

The brunette looks at you quizzically. Did you not hear what she just said?

“Not the Luthors,” you clarify,“ I mean your chosen family. Kara, Alex, everyone else. They care a lot about you and you love them too.”

Lena smiles fondly at that. It’s true.“ And here I’ve yet to see your family, related and chosen.”

“As far as my given family goes, it’s just me and a few distant cousins. My mom was never around much and my dad passed years ago. Right after I’d graduated college actually.”

There’s the confirmation of her thoughts. Though she wishes it’d come at a different time. 

She tries to lighten the mood,“ chosen?”

“Also complicated,” you chuckle,“ there’s all kinds of dynamics going around with them but we have each other’s backs in the end. I’d give my life for everyone one of them.”

“Anyone in particular?” She finds herself having to ask.

Praying silently that there isn’t. At least not in the way she’s referring to.

You nod with a smile,“ Wanda. She’s my best friend. A sister really. We’ve been close since she joined the team.”

She smiles for two reasons. One: you’re single. Two: it’s cute that you have someone like that. 

Throughout dinner you both joke and talk about lighter topics. Despite the numerous looks you give each other, neither of you catch it. 

When dinner is over(and leftovers are put away) you tackle the dishes and then move to the living room with your dessert. 

“Okay, apple cheesecake. Never knew I needed it.” She says with a chuckle.

Your eyes widen in agreement,“ I know right. Apart from strawberry and classic New York, it’s my favorite.” 

“I’m going to need you to make both of those for me, for research purposes.” She adds the last bit with a wink.

Laughing makes you lean just a little closer and Lena loves it. A quiet buzzing grabs yours and Lena’s attention. 

The woman pulling her phone out.“ Speaking of desserts, my chosen family has an abundance of it and has invited us over.” 

“Ooo, yes, I love desserts.” 

She smiles at you in amusement and together you both get ready to leave, Lena insisting that you bring your cheesecake. 

Unsurprisingly, christmas music is all over the radio on the drive over. You can’t say you expect anything less. 

With Lena at your side, you knock on Kara’s door. The blonde pulling it open in seconds. 

“Lena, Y/n, hi.” She hugs the both of you excitedly. 

“Thank you for inviting us.” Lena tells her friend. 

Stepping into the apartment, without a thought, you’re helping Lena take her coat off as she’s holding your dessert in one hand. With a blush, she thanks you, and you miss the wiggle of Kara’s eyebrows in her direction. 

Mon-El throws a hi your way and everyone else does the same.“ Do I see more desserts?” He leaps up, happily making his way over.

You accept the quick handshake he gives before looking over your shoulder to the pan in Lena’s hands.“ Yeah, Lena says my cheesecake is to die for and it’d be a crime not to share it.” 

The CEO’s jaw drops,“ I did not-” her elbow nudges your arm with a laugh,“ I didn’t say all that.” 

Placing a hand on her shoulder you smile,“ but I could tell that’s what you really meant.”

“So cute.”

Your eyebrows pinch together at Kara’s mumbled words. You and Lena? Could she see your crush on the woman as clearly as Wanda had? Is it that obvious?

Figuring she didn’t intend for anyone to hear that, you refrain from commenting. Instead walking with Mon-El to the kitchen island. 

“I never asked but what is it that you do?” Mon-El asks, head tilting in a way you’d seen Kara do a number of times. 

You accept the glass of water he passes you,“ I’m a weapons specialist for the Avengers, occasionally moonlighting as a hero.”

“Me too.” His eyes widen as does yours. 

“You’re a superhero?” 

The man’s eyes widen, uncertainty flickering through his eyes as they search yours. Then he chuckles and nods,“ yeah. Super being Alien. I’m from Daxam.”

“Daxam.” You’d heard of plenty of planets, never that one.“ Where is Daxam? I’ve been to a few galaxies and planets, I’ve never heard of Daxam.”

He thinks for a moment,“ I’m not sure what galaxy it would be in but it orbited Rao.”

“Rao? Is that like another planet or a sun?” 

Suddenly Kara appears at Mon-El’s side,“ what’re we talking about?” 

You send a glance to Mon-El, wondering if Kara already knows. His nod and pursed lips tells you she does.“ Mon-El was just telling me about Daxam and the-”

“Star.”

“The star it orbits.” 

It’s hard to place the expression on Kara’s face. Mainly because it’s a mix of a few emotions.“ Are you not surprised?”

You shrug,“ I am, just, well I’ve dealt with a number of aliens. Not many of them were good guys.”

Mon-El smiles widely, a matching one on Kara’s face. Little did you know, hearing that from you makes the blonde consider telling you about her heroic alter-ego.

Before she can mention it though, Winn comes sliding over, arms wrapping around you. Looking at him, you see the silverware hanging from his mouth. 

Patting his shoulder, you pull back a little,“ hey buddy, what’s goin on?” 

“This cheesecake is amazing.” His words come out with a little lisp due to the object in his mouth but you laugh nonetheless.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Finally he steps back and nods.“ How bout you show me where the rest of these desserts are.”

Together the two of you step over to the dining table where there’s a decent amount of desserts. You just have to put some of each on your plate.

When you plop down beside Lena she’s already wearing an expression of amusement. Looking at her, you smile softly,“ want some?” Her look of uncertainty makes you chuckle. Scooping a piece of pie up, you hold it towards her. 

Hesitantly she leans in and eats the sweet. Your eyes once again drawn to the way she licks her lips then back to her green orbs. 

“That’s really good.” 

You quickly eat a bite,“ oh wow, it is.”

“So!” All eyes snap to Kara as she walks over with the guys,“ we did this earlier but a few of us weren’t here so we’re going to do it again.” The woman sits on the arm of Mon-El’s chair.“ What are you thankful for?” 

Starting with herself, it goes around the room, until it gets to you.“ I am thankful for old friends and new,” you smile at the already smiling people around you,“ I haven’t known you guys long but you all mean a lot to me and I’m incredibly grateful to have met you all.”

Not being able to help herself, Kara throws her arms around you. Which incites Winn to hug the both of you and that just ends in a big group hug that dissolves in laughter.

* * * * *

Taglist: @username23345 @depressed-bi-bitch @fayhar @trikruismybitch @marvel-wlw @aznblossom @chicken-wang09 @bitchtits15

[teeztheflag]

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S i e b e n  S i n n e (Seven Senses) I

⋆ pairing: catking!san x reader (x human!woo young)

⋆ genre: yandere au, fantasy au, suggestive

⋆ trigger warnings ⚠️ strong language, yanderish behaviour, possessiveness, violence

⋆ words: 6,700

part I  part II  part III

a/n: this is (obviously) inspired by The Cat Returns (Studio Ghibli) and A Whisker away (Netflix); my Halloween gift to you guys & in celebration of ateez halloween performance video the black cat nero 

⋆  „Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. There has to be a logical answer for this! For everything!“

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„You are really out of your mind sometimes, (y/l/n) (y/n).“ Your friend Jang Mi side-eyes you suspiciously when she drags you through the streets of Seoul.

The only thing replaying in your mind endlessly the cat you just managed to rescue from a speeding car. How she or he stood up on the hind paws like a real human being. Those intriguing eyes that judged you mercilessly first and than seeming to spotten the wound on your head. When you crashed down on the side walk with the cat in your arms shielding it from the pain that would come. It felt like the cat would’ve known and understood what you had just done and that was quite fascinating.

No, never. It didn’t understand. It’s a cat. Just a cat. And it’s not uncommon they’re able to stand like you or me. Maybe it has an owner that trained him to do so.

Anyways. You were glad you did it. You love cats and in a big town like this it was common those beautiful creatures were driven over often. Also the cat you just rescued had such a beautiful reddish fur with a cute rosy pointing nose. It behaved like a damn human with it‘s gaze and attitude though...

You chuckle at this earning you another glare from Jang Mi. „That isn’t funny! You could’ve died, (y/n)!“

„I didn’t. And that asshole that drove the car should’ve known better to not speed so carelessly in a 30 zone.“

Jang Mi rolls her eyes and groans out knowing it‘s pointless to argue with you over these things. She knows you only since two years but in this short time the two of you became the best friends someone could imagine.

„Hey, Jang Mi. You know what? I am buying you some ice cream! To get that grumpy look off your face.“ The last words you emphasize with a funny voice to which your friend laughs out and pokes her tongue at you.

„Silly girl, you always know how to get me. Oh, gosh. Your head...“ Since she’s got a better look at you now your wound is not a nice sight to take in. You absentmindedly touch where her gaze lands and frown when you see the blood on the tips of your shaking fingers.

„Don’t worry. It’s nothing...“

„Yeah, hell no. We’re getting to a pharmacy first. I don’t even understand how you didn’t notice it yourself.“

You frown again. Suddenly it actually starts to hurt and you could facepalm yourself. Sometimes your clumsiness got on your nerves because you slowly became aware of the questioning gazes on your form by the passengers on the streets.

„Come on, babes. We get you treated. Don’t want your lover boy to freak out tomorrow!“ With that she started to speed away leaving you endlessly flustered. He wasn’t your loverboy but Jang Mi was so fast you had to catch her to get revenge.

This girl...

Your head hurt but the work due tomorrow wasn’t finishing itself. Your fingers found their way so often to the wound and everytime a picture of the cat flashed your mind.

„I hope it’s ok...“

Finishing the last task you groan out and sink back into your writing chair. Crap... The chilly summer air fills your room with a comfortable silence. You loved your windows open the whole night listening to the music of the town. It was a different atmosphere than back home on your farm. There you would only hear the crickets and rustling of the trees. It took some time to adjust to the new surroundings but you managed well. Hopefully...

After getting ready for bed you snuggled yourself under the covers and listened. Thinking back to when you came back home earlier a smile crept up your face.

„Did you got beaten?“ Your mother asked you wide-eyed. You couldn’t hold back the laughter that erupted afterwards and the look on your mother’s face of misbelief. But she smiled. She heartily smiled at you when you told her the story.

„Ah, my stupid daughter. You and animals. But you know what? How people treat animals says a lot about their personality. So I am proud my (y/n) is a good girl!“ She hugged you and you laughed again. Quite cheesy but okay.

Your eyelids got heavier and you felt yourself drifting into the dreaming land. Everything was calm and you felt safe.

Drums? You’re sleeping. It’s becoming louder and it annoys you. You groan and toss around in the bed coming more to your senses. How long were you asleep already? Making a move to look on your clock only confuses you. There were no numbers or anything.

Still in a foggy state you sit up and your gaze drifts to your window where the sound seems to increase in its volume more and more.

„At this rate they will wake the whole neighborhood.“

Curiosity killed the cat so you stood up and made your way to the window. Peaking out carefully you first see nothing. The street lights are on but the houses are dark. Nobody woke up yet? Turning your head to the left and to the right repeatedly you wanted to give up but then you heard it again.

A loud drum that makes your heart beat quicken and goosebumps rising.

„Aish, what is going on?“

You suppress a scoff when you see lanterns at the end of the street emerging. A festival move at this unholy hour? Oh wait, you don’t know how late it is.

Are you dreaming? You look back to the clock and still no numbers. You are definitely dreaming. It feels so real but you managed to have a lucid dream?

Suddenly a smile brightens on your face and you take a look at your hands in front of you wondering how everything‘s so realistic. No time to think longer you run downstairs and open the gate to the street looking for the lanterns and drums.

You only register now that you’re still in your pajamas but it is a dream so who cares. The music‘s becoming louder and louder. Your eyes shine with curiosity and your hands become sweaty what might happen. Then the first persons come into sight and you gasp at the rich clothes they’re wearing.

Hanboks with the most astonishing and eye-catching colors. Beautifully handmade lanterns and flowers of all colors. But something knocks the air out of you and you take a step back. The figures leading the festival move aren’t humans... They’re cats! Cats that are seeming to walk on their hind paws. Like the one you rescued today.

What a weird dream. The move goes on and on and you register the cats sometimes peaking at you mischievously. Until it comes to a halt in front of you and you can see a cat with grayish-brown fur stepping down from a sedan chair a huge smile on it‘s face.

The cats were still much smaller than you and you felt like an idiot standing there on the streets barefoot only in your pajamas.

You shriek back scared when the cat seems to bow and all the others follow suit.

„Mrs. (y/l/n). My name is Kim Hong Joong and I come in the names of our prince Choi. Our kingdom is very thankful you rescued our young prince. In his behalf and others we want to thank you with a gift.“

„How can you speak...“

The cat named Hong Joong looks up and takes something from his back which looks like a necklace. You carefully reach for it after every cat seems to wait patiently. When your fingers touch the material the cat‘s eyes seem to glisten and the others start to meow happily.

„Ehm, eh, okay? Thank you?“ You inspected the necklace and wonder what material it was. It was very thin and almost seemed transparent. Beautiful nevertheless.

„I am so happy you accept the offer, Mrs. (y/l/n)! My prince and king will be very happy! We will pick you up tomorrow evening when your quarters are ready.“ He bowed again and all the other cats, too.

Suddenly they continue their way leaving you dumbfounded in front of your house with the necklace tingling between your fingers.

Your teacher rambled about one of her favorite musicians since probably twenty minutes leaving the whole class groaning unhappily. With a pen between your teeth and the head supported by your palm your gaze drifts out the window to the school yard.

The dream you had was so confusing. After the cats were gone you climbed back into your bed not knowing how to stop your sleep. It also worries that you are able to remember every little detail. Maybe it’s like this when you’re lucid dreaming?

„Ouch!“ You pat you the back of your head where something hit you a few seconds ago. Turning around you come face to face with no other than Woo Young himself. The boy smirks at you and you roll your eyes picking up the little note he smashed in your direction.

„What‘s with your head?“

You deeply inhale and have to suppress a laugh. Scribbling down your answer and sending it back to your classmate you watch Woo Young‘s reaction.

He wears an apologetic look and then frowns and smiles.

„Because you just hit me with the killer paper? Jokes, you should see the other guy :‘)“

Woo Young quickly writes down while looking to the teacher once in a while.

You liked Woo Young for quite a while now. His open-minded and kindhearted character let you feel butterflies in your stomach so often. While you watch the boy like a lovestruck teacher he sends a paper back to you again but this time you catch it.

Earning the attention of the whole class and also your teacher.

„Mr. Jung! Mrs. (y/l/n)!“

After detention with Woo Young and some other students you and the back walk back the way to your house. Between chattering and laughing Woo Younh suggests to buy you some strawberry milk and take a last chill at the playground in your neighborhood.

Both of you sit on a swing next to eachother while the boy‘s eyes are glue to your form every so often.

„Oh, look!“ You point up to the sunset and giggle at how nicely the colors of red and purple seem to merge.

„It’s beautiful...“ Woo Young takes a sip from his own milk and agrees while not taking his eyes off you.

„Thank you, Woo. I mean I was really angry at you earlier but you made up for it!“

„Well, it’s not by fault your skills are so bad.“ He smirks at you challenging but you just keep your comments to yourself and start to swing a little bit.

„(y/n)? Would you go on a date with me?“

You caugh out some milk and Woo Young quickly stands up to help you by holding you.

Great, how embarrassing. Sometimes you wish the ground would open and you could hid away.

„Are you okay?“

„Yes, yes to both.“ You smile and Woo Young reflectors your face expression.

„Great, I was really nervous to ask you.“ His hand caresses the nape of his neck while he helps you to stand up.

Cute.

„I will plan everything! Maybe a picnic or we could do something adventurous!“

„I trust you to find something good and if you’re not we could always just take a walk in the park.“

„Alright. Then see you tomorrow, beautiful.“ Woo Young tries to be brave and places a chaste kiss on your cheek to which your body responds immediately with butterflies in your stomach.

You try to hide your face and say goodbye to him making your way home, too, with the palms on your cheeks to cool them down. Oh god what was this boy doing to you.

„Mrs. (y/l/n). We’ve searched everywhere for you!“

What was that? You turn around to find the source of the voice but you cannot spot anyone. Did you just imagine that?

„Down here, mylady.“

„Oh my god!“ With a loud thud you stumble back and land on your butt shock evident on your face.

„Y - you... you are...“

„Kim Hong Joong, at your service.“ The cat from your dream bowed to you and landed back on his four paws to tilt his head.

„Are you okay? Did this unworthy human harassed you or something?“

„I don’t understand... How and why. I am not dreaming?“

„You aren’t. If you thought so yesterday you weren’t, too. I am a cat and you a human and we‘re having a chat right now.“ His eyes pierced you and your actions carefully but you were just so confused everything started to spin around you.

„Cat - you’re a cat. You shouldn’t be able to talk!“ Hong Joong starts to emerge your form and meows sadly when you try to rob away from him.

„Mh, well, we don’t have time. They’re already waiting so we should go.“

„Go? Where?“

„To the kingdom of cats of course.“ Hong Joong’s meows loudly and you cannot believe your eyes when about a dozen cats emerge from the bushes and jump down from the roofs.

„I am not feeling good.“ You black out when the cats seem to get you on top of them and start to speed away with a magical fast pace.

„Oh no, she’s out...“ Hong Joong sits in front of you on the train of cats and observes you quietly.

You’re out of the town and it’s noise faster than ever and pass trees and farms in the last rays of the sunshine from today. While you’re still unconscious it’s already to late to flee when the train of cats slide through the portal and enter the magical world to the kingdom of cats...

You wake up with a groan clutching to your head immediately. Slowly coming back to your sense you can feel a fluffy blanket with your fingers and you turn over to snuggle deeper into the covers and cushions. It was only a dream...

Opening your eyes carefully your breath hitches and you sit up abruptly. This can’t be real! Where are you?

„Hello?“ You stand up and wander around the room you’re in. It is definitely out of time as it looks like back in 19th century out of a royal castle. The bed is huge with gold decorations and also the furniture looks of expensive wood and materials. It seems to be evening because it’s already getting dark outside.

How long were you gone? It was evening when the cats got you and... the cats got you here. Speaking cats. Oh god, you were finally loosing your mind.

„The fucking hell...“ Is that you in the mirror? The person looks like you but... there are (y/h/c) ears on your head. Cat ears... You touch the area where your human ears should be but there are not to find.

You feel the room spinning again.

„Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. There has to be a logical answer for this! For everything!“

The door opens and you feel yourself tensing up and backing away when about three females enter the room looking just like you. But with the difference that they also wear a tail on their backs that swing around happily which makes you think they’re excited for anything.

„Oh my! The cat ears and tail suit you nicely, Mrs. (y/l/n)! You’re purrrrfect!“ The other ladies giggle and you just stand there mouth open and shocked. You point at them hastily and scared.

„Who are you! What am I doing here? Where am I?“

„Sh, sh... You’re in the Kingdom of the cats and more precisely in the castle of king and prince Choi.“

„Are you joking?“

„No, we aren’t. You’re in a magical world and are going to live every cat‘s dream! Marrying our wonderful and gorgeous cat king Choi.“ The smiles doesn’t leave their faces despite knowing how worn up you are and exhausted, too.

„I - I, who am I going to marry?”

“Mrs. (y/l/n), you’re going to marry the king of cats! Isn’t it wonderful?“

„He, ehe, I don’t know what game this is but just let me go home and - “

„No times! We have to make you presentable for meeting our king! He will absolutely fall in love with you! Your fur already looks so nice and fluffy and that tail!“

Ah, yes. Don’t listen to me. And what’s that funny thing on your back? You turn forth and back and jump away when you see the thing swinging from side to side. You carefully touch it and feel that it’s very sensitive and almost ticklish.

„I’ve never known cats could feel so much with this thing...“

„Oh, we are. But humans are just plainly dumb and think it would be funny to provoke us with the smallest things.“ The others agree with the lady that talked the most out of them and you just hum at her.

„So let‘s get you ready and the king will help you with all your questions. In the end he will be your husband soon!“ They giggled again and emerged your form to sit you down in front of a smaller mirror in the room starting to brush your hair and comb it nicely.

After a while some of them come back to the room with a few dresses and let you pick one. What else could you do right now? You weren’t convinced this all was real by but maybe that king or whatever could help you. Also the ladies seemed to be very persistent on dolling you up.

„Look! What a beautiful queen we will soon have!“ The girl named Ye Ri says and points to the mirror while the others gather around to admire their work.

Suddenly someone knocks on the door and Joy walks over to open it. You frown when you see a man standing there bowing to the girls and you.

„Mr. Kim! The Miss is ready!“

„Oh, I can see. Are you feeling better, mylady?“

„Hong Joong?“

He smiles just like he did as a cat but now he also has only the cat ears and and a tail. He was still very cute and looked happy to see you.

„Yes, it’s me. It’s nice you recognized me in this form.“

„This form? So you can change?“

„Yes, every cat is able to change its form but we rather do that in our kingdom where no humans can see us.“

„Oh, wow. So can I change, too?“

„Yes, you can. But for now it should be better for you to stay in this form. We usually are how we are right now when being in society. You will soon see yourself. For now I am here to bring you to the king.“

„Of course, the king...“

The girls usher you out to follow Hong Joong through the long corridors of the castle and you often find yourself slowing down to look at all the art hanging on the walls and peaking into one room and another.

Suddenly he halts in his tracks and motions for two guards in front of the door to open it. They’re bowing for you and Hong Joong motions for you to enter the big hall where a throne and other furniture was placed like - indeed - for a king.

You step inside and they close the doors behind you with a thud that makes you jolt nervously.

Then you see him. Black ears and a black tail that is swinging calmly from side to side while he looks out of the window. His arms are folded behind his back and he’s wearing what seems like a red king jacket with golden emblems, a white blouse and dark trousers.

He indeed looks like a king, more like a prince so because he’s so young. The king smiles to himself hearing you walking to him warily and with careful steps. He looks down into his palm where your necklace is placed and caresses the texture.

You watch him turning around and it nearly knocks the air out of your system. He’s deadly gorgeous with black hair like the night and piercing eyes that resemble cat ones so much. If this wasn’t the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen you didn’t know. Or should you say cat?

„You’re here.“

You gulp and stupidly nod at him not being able to form an accurate sentence.

„Finally. My brother didn’t lie when he said you were the purest soul and lovely human he ever layed his eyes on.“

You cannot suppress the effect he has on you and wish that hole would finally appear. Before you can look away the king emerges your now a little bit trembling form and seems to analyze everything.

You can feel him looking at your ears with such fascination. He really resembles a cat. His tail touches your dress so often and you feel like he does it on purpose but when you look up he’s still right in front of you dazed by your looks and eyes.

You should ask him now. Although he was so beautiful and mesmerizing he was still a cat and in no way you could stay here and marry a cat. A cat king. But that didn’t matter right now.

„King Choi I - “

„San. My name is San.“

He purrs at you and you could’ve drop dead at the sound. It felt almost lewd like it was his way of flirting with you and damn it he was getting you with it.

Hence you and your love for animals and especially cats! They were just too elegant and cute to resist.

„S - San, I don’t know how to say this but - why am I here?“

His eyes widen and his orbs darken at your question, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Then he flashes you a dazzling smile with little fangs showing.

„We’re marrying, (y/n).“

„But - I mean, why me?“

„Because you rescued my brother, prince Jong Ho. You would’ve given your life to rescue one of us and you were lucky it was the prince himself. We take that very serious!“

„Ah, so that cat was your brother!“ He nods rapidly his eyes seeming to turn into crescents at your reaction.

„A thank you would have been ok, San. We don’t have to marry! I mean I am a human girl and you’re a cat, the king of cats to add. There will be better options for you, right? You don’t have to feel obligated or something, really!“ With every word you stutter San‘s mood seems to change from a playful into something tense.

„My love, cats only fall in love once in their life and after my brother told me about you I knew you were the right one! Also the king‘s wish is not to be declined, never.“

Your smile now also vanished from your face and you could facepalm. He didn’t want to let you go? Fine, you would find a way yourself.

„(y/n), you accepted my marriage proposal so there’s no turning back. In a week we‘re going to marry and there‘s no way out of the kingdom without my acceptance.“ He leans down and mewls into your cat ears that instantly react to the soft touch of his fingers. You tense and try to hold back from letting out any sound. He takes out the necklace of his pocket and places it around your exposed neck.

You groan unintentionally. This was the marriage proposal!

You want to talk to him longer and tell him that you wouldn’t marry him but when you smell the scent of food on the table at the end of the room your stomach has other plans.

San seems to be back to his sweet and inviting aura and glances down to you with loving eyes. „Let’s eat, love. You have to be hungry after the long journey.“ He professionally lays his arm around your waist and guides you to the table where you carefully start to dig into the delicious meals.

Thing two you loved endlessly. Food... Maybe one or two days with these expensive dishes wouldn’t be too bad? Hell, no, (y/n).

San‘s aura is calm again and he watches you with interested eyes how you’re eating everything the cooks prepared for this evening.

„From tomorrow on we will sleep together in my chambers. Today I well let you get adjusted to everything. If you want or need something Hong Joong will be your personal contact everytime.“

The slice of apple nearly slips into the false tract when he speaks about sleeping together. „I - isn‘t it too early to sleep in the same bed?“

„Don’t worry. Cats play by other rules. But I won’t touch you until we’re married. Then we will mate and I’ll take what’s mine, my beautiful (y/n).“

A sick feeling makes itself comfortable in your stomach at his words. He almost sounds possessive over you. Were cats like this? A thing you never payed attention to.

Still, there had to be a way out of here. Tomorrow you would try to leave the castle and get back to your world, as dumb as it sounded.

You were very tired and after eating San brought you back to the room you woke up earlier and left you there. As soon as he vanished out of your sight you felt like the air wasn’t suffocating you anymore.

He was charming and dazzlingly handsome but something just seems off. Fear and worry he would really not let you go crept up to you like paws with long and sharp claws.

He would understand. If he really liked you and fell in love he would let you go. That’s what you would do for the person you love, right? Let them be free and happy. Oh my, hopefully he would change his mind...

The next morning you wake up rested and stretch out to wake your still tired limbs. Instead of a yawning a long meow leaves your mouth leaving you to startle.

„Well, I have to get used to this...“ You stand up and find the bathroom to take a show having minor problems with your tail that seems to swing away everytime you try to wash it properly. It was funny how in everyone of their clothes a little hole for the tail was. You were also thankful your wardrobe didn’t only consist of dresses and changed into a pair of light trousers and a red blouse that you tucked into. The maids also arrived early to make your hair and make up which felt nice. You’ve never had anyone to make you feel so beautiful.

Being happy with your appearance you left the girls seeing Hong Joong already waiting for you in front of your door.

„Good morning, mylady! I am here to escort you to the breakfast.“

„Good morning to you, too!“ You smiled at the boy and followed suit. The room was opened with large windows where the sun peaked inside and outside you could see a big garden with many flowers and a big pond. It looked dreamingly...

„I am also admiring the view of the morning, my queen.“ Your ears twitch and you feel San coming up behind you his eyes only set on you which makes you flustered.

„You’re exaggerating, my king.“

„I am not. But maybe your right. No words can describe your beauty, (y/n).“ You giggle a little bit helpless and take a seat next to San to start the breakfast.

Then suddenly the door opens and a young man with reddish hair enters the room equally dressed to San.

„Brother!“ Jong Ho smiles spotting the two of you. The poor boy doesn’t know what tragedy he got you into.

„(y/n), my dear. Do you recognize me?“ A smile creeps up your face at the sight. The cat you rescued in it‘s other form.

„Oh my! You are him!“

„Yes, I am the cat. I am still so thankful for what you’ve done!“

„It wasn’t anything. You didn’t have to make your brother have to marry me.“ You giggle embarrassed but Jong Ho frowns at your reaction.

„Why? Nothing can be enough to thank my hero... Aren’t you happy?“ San‘s speak up before you’re able to.

„She’s a little bit overwhelmed but it will cool down after the marriage.“ He slips from his tea wearing a mischievous smile while you glare at the king. His brother suddenly smiles again being obviously relieved. That boy also seemed to be too pure for his own good...

The breakfast continued while the three of you have little chit chats with you asking more about the world and maybe getting information on how to leave from here.

San told you he had some business to do for the marriage leaving you to roam around the castle and the yards on your own. The perfect opportunity to get out of here. Your ears hang down at thought of leaving the nice people you met here but they would understand.

With the enhanced hearing and moving you were able to explore the ground and find a way to sneak out of the place through a door where no guard was.

You ran as fast as you could and after a while you emerged a little village where many cats in their original form and the other form were walking around. Meowing and talking everywhere leaving you fascinated. There was a little market where you saw a couple arguing over something and children playing around.

It was magical and beautiful. Probably more beautiful than the human world could ever be. Cats were watching you with interested eyes and you only realized you were caught when a little girl pulled at the hem of the dress of her mother pointing to you.

„Mummy, look! The lady!“ Oh no! You had to get away quickly or they would tell a guard. You turned around corners and saw the end of the village but before you could sneak out someone grabbed you by your arms and pulled you back.

It was a man with blondish ears and a loose blouse eyeing you suspiciously. „Please, let me go!“ His gaze turns down to your neck and he frowns loosening the grip around your arm.

„You’re the queen. What are you doing here? Without a guard?“

„I - I am not the queen. I have to get out of here. Of this world!“

„You sneaked out of the castle, right?“ You looked away ashamed of being caught and trembling of fear not knowing how San would react.

„Why do you want to go?“

„The king... he wants to marry me but I am here against my own will. I am a human being kidnapped into this world so please cat, have a heart and help me!“

„I think I understand and see your worry. You will adjust. I promise...“ Slowly he turned away something flashing in his eyes you couldn’t point out.

„No, please! I have a life outside of this world! My mum is alone and my friends and...“ Woo Young. It seems like the longer you were in this world the more you forgot about your own.

„Listen, mylady. I am not interested in our kingdom at all and couldn’t care less but if I help you they will probably kill me.“

„They would kill you? I thought cats wouldn’t be so cruel...“

He scoffs at you and looks around if no one is listening to you talking. „The king is merciless. If something gets in his way he...“

„I knew something about him was off... but I don’t think somebody knows that I am gone. They will probably only realize until it’s time for lunch. I have a real chance if you just told me where I can get back to the human world! I am begging you!“

The boy thinks hardly before answering. The portal was only half an hour away in one direction. If they caught him helping the queen to escape he would be so dead... but the desperate look in your eyes warmed his heart.

„For god‘s sake... you’re one persistent person.“ Yeo Sang explained how to leave the cat‘s kingdom and you didn’t wait another second to thank him quickly and speed away.

That necklace on yours would tell everyone who you were. Hopefully none other would cross your way now. He watches you running away with a frown. Good luck...

Your feet hurt by now bow after a while you emerged a forest and entered it with mindful steps. It was dark and you could hear so many things. When you stumbled over a fallen tree you landed perfectly on the ground on all fours and suppressed a laugh. Wow, that was really helpful. You stood up and went deeper and deeper into the woods until you saw something glistening and shining on a meadow.

That had to be the portal!

You run over the grass and stopped in front of it. Holding your hand out you reached for the light but before you can take a step forward something crashes into your side forcefully.

„I have her!“ You try to struggle out of the grip and a hiss leaves your mouth sounding like a very pissed of cat. Soon other person are coming and you can see black ears between them definitely belonging to the one you’re running from.

„Great work, men! Especially you, Min Gi!“

„Ah, thank you mylord!“ The men stands up and quickly other guards are taking your wrists and holding you up. You can see Hong Joong looking concerned at you while San seems to be something between amused and pissed off at the same time. Knowing you failed fear rushes through your system what would happen to you know. San comes up and stands in front of you to let his tail embrace your waist and push you forward to him. He takes your face in his hands and brushes your cheeks with his palms.

„I was so afraid. You seem to have lost your way, my little clumsy kitten.“ He sounded so honest everyone cooed at the two of you but you just gulped and didn’t loose the eye contact with the cat king.

„I am sorry, my king. I am really clumsy. Always been.“ He smiles sickenly sweet down to you and places a long and possessive kiss on your forehead. „And then someone tells you the wrong way, too. Tsk, tsk. There are bad cats out there, (y/n). But we will take care of those that are trying to hurt my beloved ones. I promise you.“

It feels like all colors leaves your face at the thought of the cat that helped against all his concerns.

„Please don’t hurt him.“ San ignored your pleading and takes you into his arms to guide you back to a carriage his tail not leaving your waist any second. Suddenly breathing feels suffocating again.

Back at the castle San enters his chambers with you still by his site and he emerges his king sized bed where he sits you down. He positions his hands on his waist and his ears twitch in annoyance. „I will torture that boy to calm my anger, (y/n). If you try to escape again he’s dead.“ His eyes are dark and you feel your eyes watering at his words.

„My king, please! I won’t try to escape again! I promise! Just don’t hurt him!“ You’re begging him and move to sit down on your knees in front of him but he just scuffs and moves away so your tail cannot long encircle around his legs.

„You should’ve thought about that before you ran so quickly away from my side. I will see you at dinner.“ You were hiccuping and crying for him but the merciless king locked his chambers and made his way to the dungeons. No one got into his way and he always got what he wanted. Yeo Sang knew about that and helped you anyways... What now? You were so close... You curled up on the bed calming down from the crying. How could you get out of this? How long would you still be able to remember your home? Your mum and Jang Mi... and Woo Young. He asked you on a date, right? Would’ve been it today?

„Gosh, Woo Young... Mum. Jang Mi. I am so sorry.“

It had been days you were missing. Woo Young sat on the swing his eyes glued to the sand in front of him. You sat next to him. Right there. You were here. Why did you leave? Did someone take you?

„Shit, (y/l/n) (y/n). Where the heck are you!“

„Problems in paradise?“

Woo Young slowly looks up to see a young man leaning casually against one of the playground furniture. He’s wearing a black hanbok looking very mysterious but he wasn’t much older than the boy himself. A small mobile stand is next to him adorned by many masks of all colors and forms.

„Who are you?“

The young man opens his eyes and tilts his head to the side grinning from ear to ear. „I am the one to help those in need.“

Woo Young scuffs and stands up to leave the playground.

„I know where (y/n) is. Well, more where she’s being hold.“

Woo Young feels a shudder going down his spine and rage rushing through him. He turns around and emerged the man with quick steps to take him by the hem of his hanbok. „You asshole! What have you done to her?“ He hisses out through grilled teeth feeling only more provoked by the latter.

„Hey, friend. Calm down. I have nothing to do with her missing.“ He carefully reaches for Woo Young‘s hand and takes it down.

„There you go. I can help you friend. Only if you are willing to do everything of course...“

„You - why would I trust you?“ Suddenly the man‘s gaze darkens and he chuckles deeply.

„I am your only chance to get her back.“ Woo Young thinks for a second. There were no signs of your leaving and no one has seen something... Maybe it was his only option to take the opportunity.

„Who are you and where is she?“

The smiles is back on the mans face and he takes a mask from his stand to hold it in front of his face and down again. „They call me by Seong Hwa. I am the one that you can also find by the ‚mask seller‘.“

„Daeng, I should’ve know you just want to sell something!“

„Hold up, Woo Young. Why would I know of her and your name? Why would I know you were the last one that saw here and asked her out on a date?“

„That‘s not possible... How can you?“

„I know many things. And I also know where your dear (y/n) has been taken to.“

„Okay, this definitely doesn’t make any sense but let’s play your game. Where is she and how can I get to her?“

„She’s far away. Very far away. In a world we also call the kingdom of cats. And... you can only enter it when you’re a cat yourself.“

„Tsk, and how do I become a cat?“

„It’s easy. This mask can turn you into cat. I will sell it to you and will show you the way. The rest you will have to do yourself.“

„How much?“ Seong Hwa‘s eyes widen. He wouldn’t have thought Woo Young would agree so easily.

„We will talk about the price after you rescued your princess, how about that?“

„Alright.“ With that Seong Hwa hands the mask over to the young boy and motions for him to wear it. When nothing happens Seong Hwa chuckles and pushes the boy so that he does a role and - to all surprises - changes into a small cat. „How magical, right?“ Seong Hwa chuckles darkly and tilts his head in amusement.

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↺ back to navi

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[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (12)

In Which Lila Learns about Skyrim

Ao3 | FF.net

Sorry for taking a bit with this chapter. It isn’t even very long. But I was in the hospital recovering from surgery. We’re coming up close to the end of the story, but there’s maybe two more chapters after this. 

(Psst this chapter has hints to the next story I’ll publish after this one...as long as my ideas don’t change lol)

--

Lila was fired. It was immediate when they found out. Everyone sat in class, the lecture normal and lulling everyone into a soft state of sedation. 

Then Lila screamed. The scream was the worst thing Marinette had ever heard. Immediately, everyone turned to look at her in horror. 

She started bawling. Huge gasping sobs of someone who’d been shot. 

“Lila?!” Miss Bustier gasped in shock and concern. “Are you okay?!” 

“I’m so sorry, Miss Bustier!” She wailed. “I just wanted to peek at my email and—and—Mr. Agreste fired me!” 

Plagg had to bite his tongue. He knew she was going to twist this somehow, but her sobbing was so beautiful to see. 

“Oh Lila, I’m so sorry. It hurts a lot to lose a job. Especially when they don’t tell you to your face. That’s no fair.” 

“He-he-he said that Marinette told him that I was making Adrien uncomfortable! She got me fired!” 

Gasps, all around. 

“What?!” Barked Marinette. “I had nothing to do with this!” Not exactly the truth...

“But that’s what Mr. Agreste said!” 

Plagg stood, placing his foot on the seat, the spurs on his cowboy boots ringing with the motion. He put his cowboy hat back on (since Mrs. Bustier had asked him to remove it for violating dress code...again.) “well now. Sounds like we got ourselves in a gosh darn pickle.” 

Nino snorted. 

“Adrien! You never said I made you uncomfortable! Marinette must have lied to your father!” 

He flicked the rim of his hat. ��Now slow your roll there, Buckeroo. I know my old man, and even if Marinette was mentioned in his email, it’s likely that he just wanted to place the blame on someone else.” 

Yes, throw the old man under the bus. He still deserves it, even with whole hearted apologies. 

“But you know, I do feel awfully bad for you, Lila. Losing yer job and all. How’s about I make it up to ya? I’ll come sit by you for a while. Keep ya company and cheer you up. Cain’t have gettin’ all akumatized up in here, you reckon?” 

Not that Lila getting akumatized was even a concern anymore. But the world wouldn’t know about Hawkmoth’s surrender until Emilie’s fate was resolved. Adrien’s family deserved that much at least. 

“Oh Adrien!” Lila cried. “You really are such a wonderful friend. But I couldn’t bear to make you move on my behalf. You need to focus on your work.” 

“A cowboy needs to be exceptional at multitasking. That is, as long as Mrs. Brassiere is okay with it.” 

Miss Bustier pinched the bridge of her nose. Usually, she was a very calm and level-headed teacher, compassionate and understanding. But Adrien’s antics were stressing her out massively. “Yes, Adrien, I suppose it’s fine if you move to—what did you call me?”

“Much obliged, Madam. If’en you’ll excuse me...” 

Marinette watched with fascination as Plagg gathered up his materials and moved to the back of the class to sit next to Lila. Then she glanced in her purse, where Tikki and Adrien were hanging out. They both shrugged. 

Due to the retirement of Hawkmoth, Adrien was now allowed to spend time away from the Miraculous without consequence. Plagg assured him that once the final condition was met, no matter where he was, his soul would return to his body. 

So he spent the school day with Tikki, and the evenings with Marinette. It was a sweet deal, and it really gave Adrien the time to bond with her without school or akumas in the way. 

He had even spent the night with her the night before, curled up next to her on her pillow, and purring every time Marinette’s hand glanced his fur. 

Nino leaned back in his seat. “Do you know what he’s up to this time?” 

“No idea...but I am eager to see where this goes.” 

Nino shook his head with a shrug. Two nights ago, when Plagg was arrested, Nino gathered all the money in his savings and went down to the jail to bail him out. 

Only to find out he was already let go. 

So he went back home, and called Adrien’s phone relentlessly, hoping for an answer. 

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Chat Noir returned and explained that he was going home now, thanks for having him, he had to watch the mansion because his sort of repentant father was going to Tibet to resurrect his dead wife. 

Nino gave up on logic and understanding, and just made sure Plagg had everything he had brought. 

Now he would wait until the whole situation blew over, and hopefully Adrien himself, in his own body, would explain it all to him. Plagg seemed to oversimplify everything to the point it became vague. 

Marinette, on the other hand, was very curious to see where this was all going. After all, Adrien’s previous tactic of being nice to Lila hadn’t worked. So what was Plagg hoping to gain from the same approach?

Wrassle her with his randomly appointed cowboy charm? 

In science, two classes later, Plagg had elected to sit next to Lila still, despite her protests. 

Marinette was close enough now to hear what Plagg’s master plan was. 

“So there’s like several types of Mer, right? But not like mermaids. This has nothing to do with mermaids. These are mostly elves, but not all. So there’s Dunmer, right? Those are dark elves. And Bosmer, wood elves, and Altmer, high elves. The Falmer are snow elves, but they’re all twisted and savage, because of the Dwemer, which are dwarves!” 

Marinette snorted a bit too loudly, drawing attention from the teacher. 

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, is something funny?” 

“No ma’am, I had a tickle in my sinuses.” 

“Ah, I see. Anyways, as I was saying...” 

Lila always sat in the back of the class, despite her many alleged disabilities. This was probably to get away with the fact that she rarely paid attention during class. 

It was the ideal place for Plagg to harass her and not get caught. 

Poetry in motion. 

“So you get to pick what race you want to be, but you’re always the Dragonborn. Despite the description, you don’t look any different. So a Dragonborn is someone that can devour the souls of dragons so they don’t get resurrected by Alduin. Let me back up, Alduin is an evil dragon that used to rule the world, and he’s resurrecting dragons so he can take over. There’s another dragon though, named Paarthanax, and he’s a good guy. He helps out the Tongues on the Throat of the World. Or the greybeards. Some call them Tongues, but in the game they’re called Graybeards. And the tongues are the monks that teach you to shout. And different shouts teach you different things, right? The dragonborn and the tongues are the only ones that are supposed to know how to shout, but there’s this other dude named Ulfric Stormcloak, and he knows Unrelenting Force, that’s the Fus Ro Da shout I was talking about earlier? He used it to kill high king Torygg to start a war. Oh yeah, so there’s nine holds with Jarls, right—“ 

The day ended, and Lila stood quickly. “Well Adrien, thank you so much for keeping me company today. I’m feeling a lot better. You can move back up to your old spot tomorrow.” 

“Well, you shore are welcome, Pardner. But sittin here in the back has been mighty nice. I think I’ll stay! You don’t mind, do ya? It’s awfully fun to have you as company!” 

Lila’s eye twitched, but she was aware that most of the class was watching them. “Yeah. That’d be...great.” 

“Darn tootin’! Well, you look like you’re in a rush, don’t want to hold you up!” 

“See you tomorrow!” She chirped, before hurrying from the room. As she passed Marinette, a dark look came over her face. The look of someone seething with rage and hatred, but trying to hide it. 

Marinette would have been scared, if Lila hadn’t been dealing with Plagg instead. 

Marinette went home, Tikki and Adrien talking to her from her collar. 

“I don’t know. Plagg was successful with the first two tasks, but I don’t know how he’s going to turn Lila over to the good side.” Marinette mused. 

“I don’t know if he has to. The condition is to just get her to leave me alone. He said he was doing some Pavlovian Jedi mind trick on her.” 

“Well, I sure hope it works. Speaking of, where is Plagg?” 

Adrien’s ears flicked. “He left pretty suddenly after class. I didn’t see him go. Hopefully, he went back to the mansion.” 

“Do you want me to call him?” 

“No, I trust him. He’s got things under control.” 

“Glad to hear it! Ready for snack time?” 

“Oh heck yes!” 

—

Lila had to actively stop herself from stomping all the way home. Frustration rolled off of her in waves, and she mildly wondered why she hadn’t been akumatized yet. 

Adrien Agreste was the most annoying person she had ever met. And oblivious too! He never picked up on any of her subtle hints to get him to shut up! She really didn’t want to be rude, because his friendship looked great on her, but wow. No wonder he didn’t have any friends. No wonder Gabriel was so protective of him. If he wasn’t cute...his personality was like a wet sock. 

And he was weird. Weird mannerisms, weird speech pattern, just weird. Hopefully she could either get used to it, or Adrien would get a clue to stop being so obnoxious. 

Finally, she reached her apartment. 

“Home mom!” She called. 

There was laughter in the kitchen. Her mother had a guest. While not uncommon, there was just a hint of dread that hung in the air. 

Lila walked to the kitchen, only to see Adrien sitting at the table, talking to her mother! How?! How did he beat her here?! How did he know where she lived?! What the hell was he doing?!

“Adrien?” Lila gawked. 

He rubbed his head awkwardly. “Sorry for popping in uninvited. I just...I was worried about you! You’ve been akumatized twice, and I didn’t want it to happen again since you were fired.” 

Lila’s face paled as her mother gave her a stern look. 

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, Missy. I didn’t know you were modeling. And you never told me about being akumatized!” 

Adrien gasped. “Oh no! She didn’t tell you? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that was a secret! I won’t say anymore!” 

“Any more?” Mrs. Rossi asked. “There’s more?” 

“Adrien.” Lila bit, in warning. 

“Well...I mean, you knew she was meeting with my father right? Something about being his muse?” 

Mrs. Rossi looked horrified. “What! You were talking to a grown adult man?! Were these visits supervised?!” 

Lila opened her mouth to answer, but Plagg beat her to it. “I don’t think so. Father is a very private person.” 

“Lila Giselle Rossi! You are sooo grounded! No offense to your father, Adrien, but meeting up with an adult man, unsupervised? And to what, be his muse? What does that even mean? It sounds gross!” 

“I swear nothing happened! He just wanted my opinion-”

“On what? What reason would he have to ask a 14 year old’s opinion?”

Plagg winced and looked at Lila. “I’m so sorry, Lila. I came here to help, but...” 

Lila shook with rage. Her mother was a complete pushover and believed everything she said. Now Adrien had sewn the seeds of distrust in her and she wouldn’t get away with any white lies ever again. 

“You’re dead,” She mouthed at Plagg. 

“Adrien, thank you for coming here and telling me all of this. I’m very grateful. But I think it’s best if you head home now. Lila has some chores to do.” 

“I understand, Madam Rossi. Again, I’m really sorry...I just wanted to help.” 

“Oh don’t worry, you did. This is for Lila’s own good.” 

He sheepishly looked to her. “See you tomorrow?” 

Her eye twitched. “Yeah.” 

And Plagg swiftly walked from the apartment, concealing his evil laughter until he got to the door. 

—

The next day at school, Marinette, along with Tikki and Adrien in her bag, arrived at school just a few minutes before the bell rang. 

Plagg was sitting at the front of the room, wearing a Pikachu onesie, and looking absolutely devastated. Nino sat next to him and had a hand over his face, doing his best to conceal whatever emotion he had. 

Everyone else in the room was avoiding them like they had the plague. 

Alya spotted her and came quickly, looping an arm through hers and escorting them out into the hall. “Girl, big news. I know you love Adrien, so this is going to be a blow. But here’s the thing...Lila told us this morning that Adrien came to her house yesterday and told her mom about her modeling job. Apparently, her mom didn’t want her working, and got upset that Lila lied. Adrien’s been insisting that it wasn’t on purpose, but everyone is kind of pissed at him anyway.” 

Marinette said nothing, but bit her lip. She knew that this absolutely was on purpose. 

“I’ll leave your actions up to you, but people are pretty mad at Adrien. Just letting you know.” 

“Who’s side are you taking?” 

Alya scoffed. “None. I’m staying out of this. Both people are in the right. Obviously Sunshine just wanted to prevent her from being akumatized. He was with her all day yesterday. It’s admirable, really.” 

“It is.” Marinette said with a smile. Though she was smiling for a completely different reason. There were no akumatizations anymore. Everyone was safe now. 

“We better get back in there, class will start soon.” 

So they returned. Miss Bustier was in, and ready to begin the lesson. 

Then Plagg raised his hand. 

“Yes Adrien?” 

“Before we start class, I want to say something.” 

“Go ahead, Adrien. The floor is yours.” 

He stood, and looked to Lila in the back of the room. “Lila, I know I apologized yesterday, but I’m really really sorry about outing you to your mom. I had no idea she didn’t know about your rendezvous with my father. I was just really scared that you were going to become akumatized, and I didn’t want that to happen. My friends are all important to me, and losing you would be like ripping out a piece of my heart. Could you ever forgive me?” 

Marinette glanced Nino’s face, which twitched to hide a smile. Then she looked at Lila, who looked calm, but her hands were balled into fists. 

After many breathless minutes, Lila smiled slightly. “I understand, Adrien. Of course you’re still my friend. I treasure you too! I’m sorry I got so mad.” 

“Hugs?” Plagg raised his arms. 

Lila could pretend to be happy and calm, but the paling of her skin could not be hidden. “Hugs!” 

Plagg brought her in for a squeeze, and the class ‘aww’ed at their make up. 

Except Nino, who let out the tiniest snort. 

Marinette flicked open her purse to look at Adrien. He mimed a gagging gesture back. 

And then Plagg took those last couple steps and joined Lila on her bench. No one tried to stop him. No one spoke up and said, “hey, maybe you should give her some space anyway.” 

They just all let poor, socially awkward Adrien push boundaries and take his seat. Because he had apologized so earnestly for trying to help. And she had forgiven him. So everything was fine now. 

Right?

As the lesson started, Marinette paid attention to the teacher. But occasionally, she’d hear the faintest whispers of Adrien’s voice (Plagg’s voice now). 

“...so it’s commonly believed that the Nord’s came from Atmora with Ysgramor, but they believe that they settled Skyrim, so they’re kind of racist to everyone else. But also, the Empire came in out of nowhere and tried to upheave their way of life, and even told them which Gods they were allowed to worship. High King Torygg was playing cordial with the Aldmeri Dominion, and some of the other Jarl’s didn’t like that. So Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Whiterun shouted him to death. Just like the Dragonborn can. Though it’s never explained why he knows how to do this. So this started a whole civil war…” 

Marinette chanced a glance behind her, and noticed that Lila had her head in her hands, and she looked absolutely miserable.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Golden Prince Naga Boyfriend (Shesmetet) 2

1 [NSFW]  -  3  -  4  -  5 (FINALE)

Divine Worship Part 2

“The prince’s betrothed is said to be coming today, from the Garnet Court,” Kira told you in the early hours, her voice chipper for the dawn still rising, “Princess Iseka is said to have the title of Rising Sun, like her mother.”

“I heard she liked to bathe in her handmaiden’s blood, to keep her skin youthful; a sorceress if you ask me.” Thaile: younger than you and waifish in size added behind you, brushing your hair with little consideration to get the tangles out. 

“You be careful with that tongue of yours, the Emperor could have it.” Kira hissed, a warning for the younger as she quietened for a moment. “I’m just saying.”

“The Prince won’t like to hear you speak so lowly of his wife-to-be, nor will they allow us to whisper secrets and gossip of her when she arrives at court for the fortnight. Once their vows are said, there will be no hiding from her.” Kira sighed, continuing to bead the headdress for the crown princess; glowing like gilded armour.

If only they knew what the Prince had said to me. A small smile appeared on your face: reminiscing over the Jade Prince’s words. His heat cycle had lasted for the week since you had been bedded to him; surprising to you that he had kept you coming to his chambers in the evenings to help him be rid of it.

You didn’t know how well you would be able to hide it from Princess Amvalma, for your nightly disappearances weren’t asked of or questioned when you had prepared her for sleep.

You weren’t even sure if her brother had been the one to brag to her about being able to bring you to his bed, but you were certain it would’ve taken long before the news would arrive for her to hear. She’s smart, her other handmaidens and ladies-in-waiting aren’t, the news will come swiftly with the wind.

Kira had been asking day in and out about what you got up to with Prince Shesmetet, and although it left you red in the face in sparing the details, she was still fascinated to hear it from you.

‘He seems smitten,’ She smiled to you, a frown forming at her next words, ‘but how long will it go on for?’

Not for so long, but you had been told not to feel disheartened by his lack of visits from you, promising you that final night that he would see you once more. ‘Little one,’ Shesmetet had you curled into his chest, tenderly stroking at the side of your face as your eyes grew tired for slumber, ‘rest assured, I have enjoyed your time too much to see you away so soon.’

But had he been lying? The Jade Court's living family line and its descendants were known for being sly around other nobles - to prosper and be the most known and richest to all the other empires - but he had been so kind to you, enamoured of you that it hurt to not spend evenings with him; held in his arms so lovingly.

It didn’t take long for his passion and physical affections for you to fester and make you feel so very fond of him.

“When will they marry?” You had asked the two, ignoring their talk.

“Before the season of the harvest, his Grace has proclaimed this before Prince Shesmetet’s anniversary of his two-hundred-and-eightieth year,” Kira said.

There was no denying there was a prang in your chest for the information you heard, and although you were simply one of Princess Amvalma’s favoured handmaidens, you yearned for a life where you could simply be more than that; especially in the eyes of the Jade Prince.

-

The Jade and glittering court had been packed to the brim with staff, lords and ladies alike, both human and Nagas, watching in wonder as they stared to the mighty Emperor, Eirgotzo on his gilded throne of heavy gold, the old emperor was the same colouring as his children, with streaks of grey in his hair for his much longer life; his eyes gold speckled with green, fitting for his title.

His two children stood on the side of him on the steps, dressed in their colours of gold and blacks: you had helped Princess Amvalma dress in an elegant jade with slits on each side of her long onyx tail, the beaded headdress atop her smooth long black hair like millions of glistening teardrops, her mouth always in a relaxed position to laugh.

Her brother was whom you had your eyes on for this time, for he was wearing a rapier attached to his hip for his grandeur, dressed in the familiar shades of gold and blacks with a shimmering sash wrapped around his waist and broad collar in the colours of topaz and gold, his arms crossed over his chest. Compared to in size of his sister, he was taller in height, by only a fraction.

The Rising Sun was as beautiful as she had been described: her tail colour of a flickering flame, her skin was a faded copper, similar to the fiery locks she had braided back behind her ears, and when she moved, you noted the jingles of small gold bells braided through; jingling gleefully.

It didn’t take long for it to annoy you.

The Princess Iseka had reached the steps below the throne, her shimmering bronzed eyes fluttering with the sharp smile she had on her lips, her attention falling to the Jade Prince. “Your Grace, it is an honour to be in your court, I have heard many stories since I was young of how fantastic your empire was.”

“The Rising Sun has a fitting title,” Emperor Eirgotzo replied down to her, smiling but not through his eyes, “We welcome you to the Jade Court.” He gestured to his children to his right. 

“My heir and beautiful daughter, the future Jade Empress, Star of the Sea, Princess Amvalma, and my son, The Young Flame and your husband-to-be, Prince Shesmetet.”

“Your Grace, Your Grace,” She sang when she looked especially towards Shesmetet, “I am honoured to finally meet you and to be your wife.”    

Reminded of his customs and manners in front of the entirety of court, Shesmetet slithered down to stand just on the step above Iseka, and dutifully taking her clawed hand into his own, kissing at her knuckles. “The pleasure is mine, Princess.”

Your temper would’ve boiled over there and then at the sight, but you had to remember that for foremost, she was to be his wife, and therefore, you would have to still respect her no matter what. As long as I remain the Star of the Sea’s handmaiden, I only abide by the court of the Jade Empire.

From the tops of the stairs, Shesmetet seemed to almost be scouting for someone amongst the large crowds, and almost out of sense, he had found you; scattered you didn’t think you would be found from the millions of faces. 

Your heart nearly sprang out of your chest when you swore he had winked at you; before returning to his place beside his sister as if nothing had happened, his father continued on with addressing his court.

-

The Star of the Sea had asked her ladies-in-waiting and yourself to draw her a bath that evening, using the scents that had been given to her as a gift from her future sister-in-law’s family. The scents of jasmine and lemon, drops of petals scattered on the surface of the water; a hint of sweetness that was needed for such a long day.

“Dear, stay with me, you can brush out my hair.” Amvalma had addressed to you with a warm smile, dipping her nude body into the heated water as she relaxed. Her bath and most of the baths were deep enough for all nagas to properly bathe in, the bath at least bigger than the ones you had been situated in that same evening you were to be in Shesmetet’s bed.

“At once, your Grace.” You bowed, gathering the items you needed as the Jade Princess dismissed her ladies, leaving you two alone in her bathhouse, situating yourself behind her as you took the hairbrush to detangle out her long locks.

You were more mindful of how you brushed out her hair compared to Thaile, who if given the job would’ve given the Princess a bald spot. Your gentle hands separated each section, starting from the ends and working upwards.

Amvalma hummed to herself, closing her eyes as you worked behind her, gently massaging her scalp the higher you worked. 

“What did you think of the Princess Iseka, your Grace?” You found your voice, knowing full-well that you were allowed to speak in front of the Princess no matter the question. You bite your lip, deciding how to question the Prince’s betrothed. “Her title is matching of her looks.”

“The Rising Sun, a fitting title for her late mother,” Hummed Amvalma, “but you would have to be blind to look at Iseka.”

You accidentally snorted, almost choking on your own saliva, urging the Princess to look back on you, her face warm with a large grin, knowing all too well that you were thinking the same. “Really? You don’t think she is becoming?”

Amvalma chortled through her flat nose, swatting the air as she cleaned herself nonchalantly. “My brother’s betrothed looks more like a black sun in a cold winter than one that is Rising,” she was sniggering to herself, “and she bores me exceedingly.” 

You had to control your laughter, making sure her ladies didn’t hear your responses to use against you, so you had to resort to chuckling quietly. “Alas, my old father thinks that she is a good match for him, but I think he could do better in his arrangements. Thousands of others would agree to themselves to have Shesmetet’s hand.”

“The ones he has bedded?” You asked.

“Precisely,” Amvalma began, her words made the hairs on your arms raise, “My brother has been with everyone who has caught his eye, but no-one who he has been arranged into marrying.” She shook her head at the thought, ink-black hair shaking around her, her locks beautiful. “It shall be a disaster.”

You remembered your fears for if she knew of what had happened between the two of you, now if she were to catch on that you had slept with Shesmetet, it too, would be a disaster.

“Has anyone caught the Prince’s eye so far?” You lamented, trying to suppress your sadness, not wanting her to know. “Perhaps,” Amvalma hummed in thought, “but he is rather secretive about it all as if he is trying to hide something not just from father, but from me.”

There it was: the pondering, the queries and theories, but you knew you wouldn’t come of this alive. Amvalma turned herself around to face you properly now, her golden eyes glinting in the candlelight of the room. 

“You know, you can tell me anything, I have no judgement nor shall you fear me, dear.” She reassured you, the smile dropping slightly on her face. “But, is there anything you wish to tell me?”

“Your Grace-- I-” You blubbered, finally feeling the idea that this would all go horribly wrong. The Jade Princess placed a warm tender hand on your arm, squeezing it carefully. “You can tell me anything.”

You could’ve jumped out the open balcony right there and then, fearing for everything, running out and fleeing before, starting a new life outside of the palace. You knew it was best, to tell the truth, it was better than for if it were to come out badly.

You took a deep exhale out from your nose, setting the hairbrush down. “Your Grace, the Prince-”

“Your Magnificence! Imported wine, a gift from The Rising Sun!” the figures emerged, the one who had come in first oblivious to the quietness of the bathhouse, the other ladies of Princess Amvalma coming in like an awaiting crowd.

Amvalma smiled respectfully, turning from you to look at the ladies waiting with a golden chalice with similar snake hilts curved around it. She settled their chatter as she thanked them, taking a glass as she was poured some.

She turned back to you, watching your sunken face as you finally had her eyes off of her for a moment, savouring in not having to spit out what had been chewing at your insides for ages. “Dear, are you unwell? Your face is pale.”

Your eyes flickered back up to meet golden ones, your eyes darting apprehensively, trying to form a smile back onto your features. “At the moment, yes, Your Grace, may I be pardoned?” You lied, taking the oils and scents as you were dismissed, wishing the Princess a good night, as you raced back to your own chambers, making sure to avoid anyone or anything.

- 

“His Grace, the Jade Prince is celebrating during the midday sun in celebration of the arrival of his wife-to-be. I heard the Rising Sun shall be wearing their engagement ring.” Thaile grinned from ear to ear, helping you sort through arranging the fruit; peeling mangoes and oranges into a large bowl for the guests to share amongst one another. 

“His Grace, the Emperor is pleased with the arrangement, wishing his daughter-in-law a prosperous marriage.”

You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face, reminiscing over Amvalma’s words, ‘It shall be a disaster’. You could only hope that this was true, that Shesmetet’s infidelity continued.

“Princess Amvalma gave Iseka her blessings, kissing both her cheeks, I saw it, I was there. It was beautiful.” The young girl swooned with naivety. If you knew one thing, lying was the best way to improve your situation, building you up on the scale; another chess piece that could win.

“If the harvest this year flourishes, it shall mean a bountiful marriage.” You stated, simply slicing the apple slices and throwing away the cores, “It has so far been dry.”

“You cannot say that! By the moon goddess, the harvest shall thrive, just you wait!” Thaile protested against your words, pouting her bottom lip as she sighed to her work so far. “We shall be needing another bowl from the kitchen, can you bring another?”

“Sure.” Just to get away from you, of course. You stood, putting your knife down and took away the heavy bowl full of fruit that could be sent to those who were placing food on the tables for the guests, leaving you to wander from the small courtyard back into the empty court, sticking to the walls and columns, hiding in the shadows as you walked up the stairs on the closed-off balcony. 

You could hear voices as you grew close, hushed voices, one more frustrated than the other. You came just close enough to hear a female voice hiss in wrath through the vacant hall.

“How dare you.” She hissed so low, you had thought they had been behind you. You stopped still in your tracks, pausing to listen in closely. “You may be offended, but you know she is important to me.” Another voice was followed, male and a velvety timbre, more smooth and calm in their tone as they spoke back.

“She is my handmaiden - a girl who came to me when she was ten!” She retorted back, her voice rising and never falling from her anger. “You never think, do you? I would be more than surprised if you had any sense in that thick head of yours, I think you share it with your cock.”

“You think this is some game?” She seethed, “You could’ve gotten her pregnant. What then? You would want your wife to be happy about you having a bastard with a lowborn? The bitch of a wife could have her killed.”

“Let you believe and think over these predictions, sister, you’re just like father, thinking over things that have rare chances of happening.”

Sister? Your eyes widened in realisation: it was Shesmetet, and so he was speaking with Amvalma. Oh, Gods, they could’ve been talking about someone you knew, or even-

“Do not bring her into this! She doesn’t deserve the heartache, the humiliation or even something much worse if Iseka finds out.” Amvalma warned. 

“I don’t care about my betrothed, her duty is for marriage, and there is nothing I find from the situation or her joyful.” Shesmetet heeded, “I do not care anymore, nor should I have the one I love taken from me for some other.”

You neared to the gap between the columns, trying your best to keep quiet and be unseen. “What are you trying to say, you blind fool? You love her?” The Star of The Sea had squinted her golden eyes towards her brother. 

“I’ve had enough time to spend with her through my evenings to know that she is unlike any other human I’ve met before, and I have chosen what I must do, regardless of what the consequences. I’m going to tell father, I’m calling off my marriage to Iseka personally.”

The bowl in your grip felt heavy like iron, your grip loses the grip of the bowl and soon you were squeezing your eyes shut at the loud clatter that crashed and echoed all along the walls of the golden hall, the two siblings head darting to the commotion, finding you there among the columns, a timid look in your eyes.

“Forgive me, I-I.” You flustered, trying to gather the broken pieces, failing at doing so, and hoping that if you were quick enough you could flee and get out before they could catch up to you. Your body moved to race down the stairs, but Shesmetet was there to move to the bottom of them to approach you, murmuring your name ever so softly along his lips.

“You realise father will have your head?” Amvalma remained in her spot, watching the scene unfold. The Jade Prince came to hold out his large hand, and gingerly you took it, meeting his strong arms as he embraced you, capturing your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

“I don’t care, I only care for one person, one who made me change my mind on humans because there is one good one in the world.” Shesmetet smiled, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Father will denounce you of your titles.” Scoffed Amvalma, crossing her arms, “You need to think this through.”

“I denounce them all then,” Shesmetet declared, to you in fact, still he stared down at you like a cheerful boy who was given the best gift in the entire world. “I would rather live in the ends of the earth with this one than to live as a chest pawn.”      

“Think this through,” You brought his attention back him, stroking up his smooth bare arm, “you will be letting go of everything you have and own.”

“I know, but as long as I get to spend a lifetime with you,” he grinned, kissing your forehead with ease due to his height, “that is all that will matter.”

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Among the Wild Things: Chapter One

For @pawsomelybuggy because she’s awesome like that. ^.^ <3

Read it on AO3: Among the Wild Things: Chapter One: Meeting

On the third day that the blonde boy visited the clearing in the enchanted wood, Luka’s curiosity won out.

“Are you planning on throwing yourself into that river, or are you just in love with your own reflection? You’re staring into the stream rather intently,” he spoke from the shadows and couldn’t contain an amused grin as the young man sat up on the bank with a jerk.

Adrien scanned his surroundings frantically, eyes searching the dim forest just beyond the edge of the oasis of light that was the clearing for the speaker. “Who…?” He swallowed hard. “Is-s-someone there?”

Luka had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a laugh. Mortals were kind of adorable when they were scared, and this one was quite attractive to start with. He intrigued Luka, so Luka had left him alone the previous two days and just watched as the young man stared into the river and sighed.

“Typically, there’s someone attached to the other end of the words,” Luka pointed out with a good-natured chuckle. “That’s the usual way…unless you often hear disembodied voices?”

Adrien gulped again, slowly getting to his feet and drawing the knife from his belt. “No, I can’t say that I do, but…I’ve heard that these woods are haunted.”

“If you knew, then why did you come here?” Luka hummed curiously, unable to figure the mortal boy out and fascinated because of it.

Adrien stiffened defensively, eyes narrowing as he raised his knife. “Show yourself!” he demanded, exuding bravado.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Luka snickered.

The human boy was very, very cute when he pretended to be tough.

“As you say, these woods are haunted. Do you really want to know if you’ve been speaking with some dreadful monster?”

To his credit, Adrien didn’t back down. He swallowed his fear and declared once more, “Show yourself! I am Prince Adrien of the Kingdom of Agreste, and I order you to identify yourself.”

Luka frowned at the idiocy of the boy, shouting his true name for any pixie to pick it up and wreak havoc with it.

He gave a snort as he took the form of a young man and stepped out into the light. “It is unwise, Prince Adrien of the Kingdom of Agreste, to give your name so recklessly.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as a handsome man a few years older than Adrien appeared with hair as blue as the river and eyes like two, clear standing pools of water.

“If you’re not careful, someone might take it,” Luka warned.

Adrien gaped at the stranger, struggling to string together thoughts. He had never seen someone so ethereally beautiful before. He couldn’t breathe, and his heart was beating its way out of his chest.

Adrien dropped his knife. “Who are you?” he asked in awe.

Luka smiled kindly, pleased at the effect he’d produced. “You may call me ‘Orpheus’, Little Prince.”

“Orpheus,” Adrien repeated as if in trance.

Slowly, Luka approached, stopping about two meters off and taking a seat by the river. “It’s dangerous here, you know,” he informed matter-of-factly as he slipped off his boots and dangled his feet in the water, delighting at the surge of power it sent through his being.

Adrien bent to retrieve his knife and slipped it back into its sheath. “It doesn’t look dangerous. This forest is beautiful.” He slowly lowered himself back down to sit on the bank and gaze into the glass-like waters of the river, periodically sneaking glances at his mesmerizing companion.

“The most dangerous things are often very pleasing visually,” Luka informed, pretending not to see Adrien gawking at him.

He supposed it was only fair. Luka had spent the previous two afternoons gazing, enraptured, into Adrien’s breathtaking peridot eyes while Adrien peered into the stream, completely unaware of his audience.

“Deadly creatures often make themselves attractive to draw in their prey, lull them into a false sense of security.” He turned his head to smile disarmingly at Adrien.

Blushing at being caught staring, Adrien bashfully looked away. “What’s so dangerous about these woods?”

“For starters?” Luka scoffed. “This river. A kelpie lives here.”

Adrien frowned, looking back up at Luka. “Kelpie?”

Luka nodded, kicking his feet, splashing gently.

“What’s a kelpie?” Adrien inquired hesitantly, not wanting to look dumb in front of the attractive young man.

Luka frowned, looking at Adrien hard before answering, “They don’t teach their prince about the fair folk in your kingdom?”

Adrien’s face flushed a deep scarlet of embarrassment as he looked down into the water. “My father doesn’t believe in them. He says fairy stories are for children. My mother used to tell me about the fair folk, but she…died…a few years ago.”

The way he fumbled over the word made Luka suspect that the death had not been due to illness or accident.

Adrien cleared his throat and attempted to distract from the implications of his unnatural pause, rushing to get back on topic. “I know some things, but…I’m sorry. I don’t know what a kelpie is.”

Luka nodded slowly, admiring Adrien’s sad, self-conscious expression. “It’s okay. It sounds like your father is to blame for your ignorance, then. It’s not your fault…. And I’m sorry that you lost your mother.”

“…Thank you,” Adrien whispered, a brittle, vulnerable word but very much heartfelt.

It touched something in Luka, seeing how completely Adrien had lowered his guard.

He wasn’t like other humans Luka had met. There was no aura of deception and greed. Though grown, he was still like a child, still innocent and naïve.

It made Luka want to protect him.

“Kelpies are water spirits,” Luka patiently explained. “They usually appear as black horses, but they can take human form as well. They’re excellent singers.”

“Are they anything like sirens?” Adrien wondered, scooting in closer, intrigued by the story.

“A little,” Luka allowed, wiggling his hand, open palm down towards the ground. “Kelpies sometimes lure their victims in by singing.”

“Victims?” Adrien shifted uneasily.

Luka nodded. “Kelpies drown people.”

Adrien shifted his gaze nervously towards the water before looking back to Luka. “Do you think…?” He moved back away from the river and closer to Luka, eying the stream warily. “You don’t think they’re actually real, do you?” he whispered, as if afraid of being overheard by creatures whose existence he doubted.

Luka chuckled softly as he closed the distance between them, coming within an arm’s reach as he clicked his tongue. “Oh, My Little Prince…kelpies are very real. Every bit as real as I am.”

Adrien gulped, reaching out to rest a nervous hand on Luka’s forearm.

The touch shot an electric jolt through Luka’s body, igniting warring hungers within him and leaving him torn about which to slake.

Adrien’s soft skin would be tender and delicious…but if Luka gave in to his stomach, there would be no way to satisfy the intense desire Adrien’s scent sparked within him.

It was best not to act now. After all, if Luka was patient, he could always decide to eat Adrien at a later date once he’d satisfied his lust.

Adrien, completely oblivious to the danger of his current situation and Luka’s intentions, tightened his grip on Luka’s arm, voice shaky as he inquired, “If a kelpie lives in that river, do you really think you should be kicking your feet in it like that?”

A thin smile spread across Luka’s lips, and he reached up to cup Adrien’s cheek, eyes suddenly dark like a storm at sea. “Sweet Little Prince,” he cooed, running his thumb along Adrien’s cheekbone and watching as the skin turned bright red. “I’m not the one in harm’s way,” he whispered.

Adrien’s breath hitched, and his pupils dilated wide as Luka leaned in and gave Adrien’s cheek a long, slow lick.

“You are.”

Luka couldn’t rationally explain what he did next.

Adrien was completely defenseless, and Luka could have done whatever he liked. He was master of the situation.

And yet, he thought about the beautiful, tragic-looking boy who had come to the clearing three days in a row now and sat by the bank of Luka’s river, staring into it—into Luka’s eyes—and sighing and crying.

Luka remembered the salty taste of Adrien’s tears as the stream assimilated them into its waters and carried them away, and Luka pulled back, releasing Adrien and slipping into the river, turning to water himself right before Adrien’s very eyes.

“These woods are dangerous, Little Prince,” his disembodied voice warned. “Tell your father that the fair folk are alive and well and not to wander too far into the forest. My kind are not usually as amicable as I’ve been.”

Adrien stared, trembling, at where Luka had been only moments before for ten full seconds before the peril he was in registered. When it finally did, he scrambled to his feet and ran, his heart pounding in his ears all the way home.

[ourneverendingpossibilities]

I’m Sorry (9/?)

Anime: Kuroko no Basuke Pairing: Aomine Daiki x reader Rating: K+ A/N: FINALLY!! After soo long, here’s ANOTHER chapter!! AHH. I hate to say it, but this story is coming to an end... I think there’ll be a few more chapters? Can’t guarantee.. But I’m grateful everyone has been patient with me!! You can also find it on my AO3!! Enjoy! ___________________________

The day you met Aomine Daiki, was on a clear blue sky.

You were practicing dribbling on a nearby court, moving the ball between your legs in a quick motion. It was one of your weaker moves, but you were at least good at shooting. It wouldn't be enough to win the next game though.. You frown, halting your movements and stare up at the hoop, as if studying it. How many times have you faced up against opponents taller than you? Surely there has to be a way to outsmart them and be able to reach the hoop?

The ball began hitting the cement once more, and you narrowed your eyes, making fake movements before spinning on your feet. Taking a jump back, you shot the ball into the hoop, watching as it effortlessly sinks in.. Wiping the sweat from your eyebrow, you sigh, staring at the ground... Is there a way to get better? How can you be the assistant captain if you can't lead your team with the captain?

"OI! Move off the court! It's not meant for girls!"

The voice cut you out of your reverie, and you glare, turning your attention to the group of boys... Great... You're going to be harassed once again from playing a 'boys' sport. You made your way to your ball, only to stumble when one of them grabs it, spinning it on his finger as he sneers at you.

"You think a girl can play against a group of boys and win?" he laughs, not bothering to look at you. It was clear to you he was the leader... His arrogance was evident.

"Girls can play any sport boys can!" you glower, eyes narrowing. "Besides, this is a PUBLIC court... Anyone can play on it!"

He sneers, stopping the spinning of the ball. He looks at it, casting a glance at you. He then starts to tease you with the ball, watching as you jump up and down, trying to reach it... Curse your height!

"How can you play when you're not even tall enough to reach the hoop??" He laughs, and then proceeds to throw your ball off the court... You gasp, turning to chase it, only to trip on his foot, and you almost hit the pavement. Hard...

Instead, you wind up in someone's arms..

"OI! Pick on someone your own size!"

You blink, gasping lightly as you inhale the young boy's scent, finding yourself blushing... He smells good... You look up at him, mouth parting as his beautiful navy blue hues meet yours, and you're suddenly tongue-tied... H...He's so....

Cute.

"Tch... Whatcha gonna do about it, shorty?" the older male sneers, not liking his bullying was being interrupted...

Aomine's snaps out of his fascination of you, turning to look at them, glaring. He puts you behind him, grabbing the ball from the other teen and laughs, spinning the ball on his finger...

"I'm gonna fight you! Four on one! If you can beat me, I'll leave with her and we won't be on the court again!" He replies smugly, bouncing the ball on the ground... "But... If I win..." He then charges at them, bouncing the ball between their legs, and throws the ball into the hoop with one hand.

"... You'll apologize to her and never step foot on this court again."

xxx

You watch the game, mesmerized by the young boy's plays... He was laughing, grinning with mischief as he made each shot, dodging each of their moves effortlessly... It was hard to believe he was your age.... He plays like a natural.. As if he breathes basketball...

At the end of the match, you're unable to tear your eyes away, feeling slightly flustered at the scene before you... No words could begin to describe what took place, and you feel rooted to the ground... Everything about this... Is surreal, and she finds herself feeling just a little envious... Not because of his skill persay... But because he looks like he's enjoying himself... And she finds herself wishing, he never stops smiling.

The thought makes her blush deeply, and she crouches down, burying her face in her knees.

"Oi! You okay?"

His voice brings her out of her turmoil, and she looks up at him, his gaze curious and a slight hint of worry. You immediately stand up, nodding your head as you dust off your shorts.

"A...Ahh!! I'... I'm okay!!" She looks around, noticing the males are gone... "W...What happened?"

He clicks his tongue, a soft frown on his lips, "I kicked their butts.." He replies, tossing the gross ball away. He didn't want to touch anything belonging to them.. He then runs towards the edge of the court, grabbing your long forgotten ball. He brings it back to you, holding it out towards you.

"Here!"

As if shocked, you take the ball from his hands, gasping at the small twinge of electricity... You hear it from his lips too, before looking up at him , swallowing the lump in your throat..

"T....Thank you..." you whisper, a tiny smile on your lips. He rubs the back of his head, unable to meet your eyes, a small blush dusting his cheeks...

"Those guys had it coming...:" he whispers, "Anyone can play basketball... and I was tired of them picking on you..."

You find yourself staring up at him, a tiny giggle leaving your lips.

"Y...You're a really good player... er..."

"D...Daiki..."

Your eyes widen at his stutter, but he says his name with clear conviction, and you're once again, amazed at his stature... And you feel... safe with him... Something you've only experienced with your father... Speaking of...

"AH! It's getting late!! I have to get back home!" you gasp, bowing at him. You meet his gaze, grinning at him brightly,

"Thank you Daiki!! I appreciate what you did for me!"

You then begin running off the court, only to stop at his voice.

"Oi!! I didn't catch your name!!"

You whirl around, eyes wide at his words, and you smile bigger, waving a hand.

"It's _______!"

You almost trip in your haste, but you had to get home! Otherwise your dad would start to worry... and he wouldn't let you out to play on the courts again! As you ran away, Aomine couldn't take his eyes off your form.. You were cute, and he had caught you training a little... He could tell you were a good player, and he hopes to see you again on these courts...

"Be safe, _____-chan...." he whispers, before he makes his trek back home.

_____________________________

~ Two years later ~

It'd been a couple years since you ran into Daiki on the street court... And you couldn't stop thinking about him... His enthusiasm for the sport your father played somehow renewed your interest, allowing you to bond with your father... It'd been rocky since you were forced to live with your mother, and during that time, you couldn't return to the courts, unable to meet with Daiki again... You wanted to play with him, get to know him as a person... Everything about him, it screamed at you.. Somehow you found yourself going to Teiko... Per your mother's request.

And that's where you now stood, in front of the gates, staring up at them with wide eyes... A prestigious school... The aura around it was powerful, and you found yourself sweating.. You were feeling anxious, having everyone's attention on you... Since you'd grown up, some of your assets... had well... stood out...

"Hey.. She's cute!! We should go talk to her!"

"I'm going to make her my girlfriend!"

"Let's get her to join our club!"

You started to feel your palms clam up, and you swallow the lump in your throat. All you want is to make it to homeroom, and relax. The first day is always the hardest, and you didn't want to fall behind... It was when you were heading inside you saw a flash of navy blue hair.. And it made you pause... You watch, eyes wide as the boy you met a couple years ago walks by, accompanied by a beautiful pinkette, and they seem very close... You wanted to shout his name, to confirm it was truly him, but something held you back.. Before you got caught, you ran up the stairs towards your class, unaware of those hues looking in your direction.

xxx

"You're _____-chan, right?"

You were in the middle of eating when the VERY same girl who you saw with Daiki earlier appears.. A huge grin on her face. You place your food down, tilting your head to the side..

"H...How do you..."

"It's my duty to know everyone ! I also heard of your basketball abilities!!" she grins, unaware of your inner turmoil... If this was Daiki's girlfriend... Why was she here in front of you?

"I want you to join the basketball team as an assistant manager!"

Her words bring you out of your reverie, and you look at her, stunned...

"...Eh?"

"I don't think Dai-chan has realized you're here.. But from your description, I'd say you're the same girl he met on the court a couple years ago!" she coos, sitting beside you. Her eyes were wide, but the sparkling effects were there, and you felt a twinge of guilt for the bluenette.

"He couldn't stop talking about you _____-chan! He was excited to meet someone who liked playing basketball like him! Though he was upset you didn't show up again after that."

'H...He talked about me?' you thought, eyes wide and a slight blush on your cheeks... Why was your heart, beating fast, as if you were running on the track? What kind of face would he make, when he sees you again? Suddenly, your stomach began to churn in knots, and you bite your bottom lip.

"W...What's your-"

"Oh! I'm Momoi Satsuki!! I'm Dai-chan's childhood friend!" She explains, understanding your confusion.. You let out a soft sigh.

"I.. I thought you were..."

"Dating??" She scoffs, making a face, "No way!! Dai-chan is more like a brother to me!" She pouts, before shaking her head, holding out a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, _____-chan!! I hope you'll help me manage the basketball team!"

You look at her, before your gaze goes to her hand, with a smile. Gently taking it in yours, you can feel the smile meeting your eyes, and nod. "I look forward to helping the basketball team!"

Little did you know, a certain someone was on the other line, tucked inside Momoi's pocket.

____________________

End of day came by in a flash, and suddenly you were dreading going to the gym... You wanted to, but the prospect of Aomine NOT remembering you lingers in your head. From Momoi's words, he DOES remember you, has even talked about you non-stop... Despite the one meeting... And yet, why wouldn't your heart stop fluttering?? Was meeting you that exciting for the bluenette?

"______-chan!!!"

Startled from your thoughts, you look up, watching as Momoi runs to you, grabbing your hand happily. She drags you towards three people... An older man, who you assumed was the coach... A guy you recognized as the team's captain, and senpai, Nijimura Shuuzo, and finally.. The red-head who was vice captain, and one of the smartest boys in Teiko..

Akashi Seijuro...

"This is who I was talking about!! This is _____-chan!!" She looks at you, gesturing to the three males, "This is the coach, Sanada-san... The captain, Nijimura-senpai, and vice captain, Akashi-kun!"

You take in each of their expressions, but the one sending chills down your spine the most, was the red-head. Despite him being your age, his demeanor spoke volumes, and you swallow thickly, bowing in front of them.

"I... I'm ______! I...It's a pleasure to meet you!"

You knew it was slightly rude not to say your last name, but you never wanted to be addressed so formally... Even in class, you'd rather be addressed by your first name. Most people respected that, and never questioned it.. And thankfully, the others nodded at you, accepting your introduction before talking to each other about the regimes... You look at Momoi, prepared to ask her what your duties were, when a very familiar voice echoed through the gym, causing you to gasp..

"_-_-_______?"

Turning your head around, you notice Momoi's smile, but find your eyes widening at the boy you met a couple years ago... He's much, MUCH, taller now than he was back then... And suddenly, you never felt so... small.

You give him a smile, lifting a hand in a hesitant wave, "H....Hi there..... Daiki-kun..."

When you greet him, you watch as his face lights up, and those beautiful blue hues sparkle until your skin was burning... And you longed to keep that smile on his face... It was as if the two of you were in your own worlds, only attention was on each other, and nothing else matters... You were brought out of your thoughts when he ran at you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder as he gives you a noogie..

"Be prepared!! I've gotten stronger! And I want to face off against you one day!"

You tilt your head in confusion, trying your hardest not to sound like an idiot... Because your entire being was screaming to touch him.. To hold him... And just like that day, when he had beaten those boys for you, Aomine was the sun, and if you got too close, you'd surely be burned.

__________________________

You let out a soft whimper, though it immediately vanishes when a tiny pressure rests against your forehead. You don't want to open your eyes, in fear he's going to leave.. He's not physically here... He's only here in your dreams... And you want to keep him here... You want his heat, his scent, his warmth... Everything Aomine Daiki is... You want to hold it in the palm of your hand... And yet, it's time to stop living in the past, and move on...

You slowly open your eyes, releasing a slow breath, and when you feel the swing shift, you realize one thing...

Aomine is resting underneath you...

When you fell asleep, you landed on his chest, and the whole time you were napping, he remained in place, keeping you close... As if protecting you from the cool breeze.. His heart continues to beat under your ear, and you were scared to move, in case he got angry, or he would place you down, leaving you alone...

Instead, his arms tighten their grip, and you snuggle closer to his chest.

"Miss me that much, _____?"

His voice is teasing, hot against your ear, and you feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment... C...Curse him!! Your heart continues to beat in your chest, and you knew... You couldn't get over him... Not even if you moved to a different continent....

Your heart would always be Aomine's...

Slowly getting up, you cast him a glare, half straddling his hips as you look down at him, pouting...

"I could say the same about you... Aomine-kun.." you murmur, not missing the frown at addressing him by his last name. You grab onto his sweater, and move to get off him, when he tugs you back into his chest, growling darkly.

"I...It's getting late!!"

"Don't care..." he mumbles, gently nipping your ear, "I'll stay the whole night if I have to..." he lets the words linger, and it makes your heart race... Letting out a soft gasp, you ignore the heat on your cheeks as you meet his blue hues...

Licking your lips, again ignoring the burning stare on your mouth, you whisper, "....Why?"

He clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes before leaning in, closer than before. His breath tickles your mouth, and you so badly want to close the gap... To just drown in him again and again.

"Use your head, _____... I know you're not stupid."

And when you open your mouth to retort, he swoops in, and silences your protest with his own, forever sending your heart into a frenzy.

[erzherzog-von-edelstein]

New Expectations

This is for @hetalia-writers-monthly

I am ever so close to being late to posting this one, because school work was quite a lot this past week. I would have written more if I had time. I hope to post a few other oneshots focused on this relationship at some time.

Summary: After her wedding, Empress Elisabeth struggles to find her footing in court life and the new expectations of her position. In the midst of her anxieties, a new friendship starts to bloom.

Prompt: Concrete: First day

Relationship: Empress Elisabeth of Austria and Hungary (platonic)

Word Count: 2,300

She felt like she was going to faint.

Her head was spinning, and she was certain that she would soon collapse on the floor. What a fine impression that would make on the guests. All of these important dignitaries would write back to their monarchs about how the new Empress was a weak girl.

She was sure that they could all see it through her pale lipped smiles that barely concealed her nerves. She could not help the terrible anxiety that gripped her, even if she wished she could be giddy and charming.

She had felt it through the whole wedding ceremony too, especially as the words “I do” had passed her lips.

There were eyes on her as she said it, expecting so much. She had felt their stares on her back the whole time.

In a moment she had gone from a Bavarian princess of no real importance to the Empress of an empire, and it had felt like a cage closing around her.

She knew that she loved her husband, but sharing the burden of expectation with someone who had been born to it made her feel dizzy.

If she did not love him so, she would have given this place to her sister Helene as had been planned. Helene had been better prepared, and had never been chastised for riding when she was supposed to be with her tutor. In many ways, she fit this spot besides Franz so much better.

But, Elizabeth couldn’t have denied her heart, even if she had tried. If she could have married Franz and avoided the title of Empress, that would have been her greatest happiness. If they could have stayed as they were on that magical evening in Bad Ischl then she could really be happy.

But, that was a childish thing to think, even if facing people for the first time as the Empress was making her certain that she would faint.

She was certain that they were all watching her, waiting for a single faux pas to prove that she had been the wrong choice. What would they say about her behind their fans or in whispers over dinner? She shuddered to think.

Her mother had often told her that her behavior was unbecoming, even if her father had indulged her in her sports and eccentricities. Surely the world would see her as just as unbecoming.

It had been easy enough to face the many people, whose names had blurred together after the third introduction, when she could hold onto Franz’s arm. It came easily to him, like a man who had been taught to do so since he was born. He knew which friends to smile at, and which to treat with cold politeness.

She felt like dead weight holding to his arm, but at least it kept her above water. That lasted until he told her quietly, “My angel, I must speak to my mother.”

Then he had vanished from her side, and left her to wander on her own in the sea of unfamiliar people.

She couldn’t breath with them all looking at her like that. There had to be some escape.

She turned around in the center of the room, looking for some respite. Her eyes caught a glimpse of night sky, and in a moment she remembered that there was a balcony. It would not be a real escape, but it might be an opportunity for a few breaths of fresh air.

As fast as she could walk without seeming to run, she walked to the balcony. The chill of the night air was as welcome as a lover’s kiss.

Elizabeth leaned against the balustrade and tried to breath. She could feel every rib of her corset as she drew in air.

The dress had been designed to impress the court by showing her slim figure. But, it was not helping her to breath.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on not fainting. Shutting out the world made it stop spinning.

There were a couple moments of welcome silence where the sounds of people faded into the background. Once there was relative calm, she opened her eyes again.

To her great surprise, there was a handsome man in a hussar’s uniform looking at her like he was waiting for her.

She could feel herself blushing scarlet at the idea that anyone had been watching her lapse in composure.

She wasn’t certain who he was, or if they had been introduced to each other yet. The people had all blended together in a confusing blur. From the uniform, she guessed that he was a Hungarian noble.

“Are you well, your Majesty?”

Elizabeth took a moment to process the voice.

The person in front of her was a woman, it seemed. The uniform had made her assume otherwise.

But, as she looked, she realized that the figure was a tall woman with her thick brown hair in a low ponytail. The woman’s face was as handsome as a charming young courtier. 

She swallowed the thoughts and questions and responded, “I just need a moment.”

The question seemed genuinely concerned, and it was not hard to give an honest answer.

She searched her mind to try to figure out if they had met before, but she was certain that she would remember. A woman in uniform was surely an unusual sight.

The woman stepped slightly closer and extended her hand, with a glass in it. She said gently, “Drink this, Your Majesty.”

Elizabeth felt like she may really keel over if she heard one more person offer her the deference that confirmed her position. She took the glass, which was cool to the touch, and said, “Please do not call me that.”

Then she paused, not certain if more alcohol would help the situation. The other woman seemed to see her hesitation and said, “It’s water, not wine, Your-“

She caught herself and then added with a smile, “What would you like to be called?”

The Empress put the glass to her lip, and took a deep drink. The coolness did help to center her. She answered the question, “I would like to just be Elizabeth.”

She knew it was honest. She would like to still simply be Elizabeth to someone, not the Empress. The other chuckled and said, “I’m Elizabeth too. Well, Erzsebet.”

She rolled the sound of her native language easily off her tongue. It sounded beautiful to the ear, even graceful in a way.

Elizabeth decided that she must ask, “Have we met before? I am sure I would remember someone like you.”

She stopped short of saying more. It would not be proper to say that she was fascinated by a woman who could wear a uniform like that.

The other smiled kindly and said, “We have not. I would have liked to meet you before, but Roderich doesn’t seem to think you need to meet the others you are going to rule.”

The name was familiar, since she had met Austria months ago. He was the severe looking man who was so kind to Franz, but who also treated her with disinterest. She was certain that he did not approve of the marriage from the way he acted.

He was Bavaria’s brother, but he seemed as different from her dear homeland as the night was to the day.

But, she slowly turned the sentence over in her mind before saying, “Then you must be Hungary.”

As soon as she reached the conclusion, it seemed like it should have been obvious. Of course Austria was not the only part of the empire, and she would meet the others in time.

The other woman inclined her head in a little bow and said, “I am, and I am glad to finally meet you.” Then, with sincere concern, she said, “Are you feeling better?”

Elizabeth took another drink of the water before answering the question. She did feel more grounded, though she felt like she would rather go straight to bed than to return to the crowds.

She took a deep breath and replied, “Yes, thank you for this.” She thought for a moment and then added, “And thank you for the company.”

A friendly presence had certainly helped to calm her nerves. Hungary replied, “I am happy to be of service. And I am glad that you got a chance to meet me before Roderich could tell you what to think. He is not very fond of me.”

Elisabeth found that strange, since Hungary was being so extraordinarily kind to her. She replied, “I am glad to have met you too.”

She hoped that she sounded sincere and not just nervous. She felt quite nervous.

Hungary said, in the tone of casual conversation, “I would like to ride with you before I leave. I have heard that you are an accomplished equestrian.”

Elizabeth smiled, glad to have a conversation topic that she knew well. She smiled back and said, “I would be happy to. You must see my horses.”

Hungary stepped slightly closer, which made the young Empress blush again. She said, “Are you ready to go back? The court is intimidating, but you will be get used to it.”

Elisabeth felt the blood drain from her face at the idea. The idea of returning to that crowd with all of those eyes made her feel light headed. She replied, “They will all look at me. They are waiting for me to do something wrong.”

Hungary shook her head and said, “They are looking at you because you are beautiful. It is not a judgement.”

Elisabeth blushed even more furiously. She felt odd and lightheaded, unlike she normally did when someone complimented her beauty.

She said, “I know that Roderich does not approve of me.” She was certain that it was true. He didn't hide his disdain for her presence, and she was uncomfortably aware of it every time they were in the same room. His eyes cast the harshest judgements, second only to her mother-in-law.

Hungary gave her a slightly pitying look and said, “Let me tell you a secret: I do not think he would approve of anyone who took some of his emperor’s time. He enjoyed having that devotion exclusively.”

She said it in a low, conspiratorial voice that made the young Empress chuckle. It was not likely that anyone would hear them out here, not anyone who would care.

She replied, “Do you know how to get him to like me better?” Hungary shook her head, “If you find the secret to that, let me know. I have been on his bad side for a decade.”

She extended his arm like a gentleman and added, “But it will help if you go back. He likes public dignity. Don’t worry, I will not make you face it alone.”

Elisabeth put the glass she was holding aside took Hungary’s arm, and decided that it was enough to help her endure the night.

Hungary led her back into the fray, and the strong steady arm was a very welcome support. Hungary spoke to her in a hushed tone, reminding her of the name of each of the nobles. Sometimes followed by a quip about how a general or a count was a stuffy royalist with no sense of imagination.

Elisabeth sometimes had to stifle a laugh with her hand. She couldn’t seem to enjoy this, even if she did.

Then Hungary inclined her head in the direction of a well-dressed woman with short hair and said, “And that is Bohemia. You should speak to her as well.”

Elisabeth nodded, and made a note that she should travel to Prague when she was allowed to. Hungary added, “In fact, I will introduce you.”

But, before she could move, a harsh voice said, “Erzsebet, what are you doing?”

They both turned to see Austria standing behind them, his face nearly as white as his uniform. He looked furious. Elisabeth wanted to shrink from that terrible, icy gaze.

But, Hungary seemed unaffected as she answered, “Being of service to my Empress.”

It was not a lie, but it also seemed brazenly impudent. Austria’s eyes raked Hungary, and he said, “I sent you a dress for this occasion, so you would look like a lady for once.”

Elisabeth felt like she would wilt if someone spoke to her like that. But, Hungary replied in a cheery tone, “I must have missed that parcel.”

The brazenness of the lie was impressive. But, Austria did not seem to believe the answer at all. There were angry lines deepening on his forehead.

Elisabeth caught sight of her husband through the crowd, and couldn’t help but feel relief that there was a possibility of escaping this argument. She was certain that she could see anger building up behind Austria’s carefully calm demeanor. It felt like she was watching a brewing storm.

To her great relief, Franz cut through the people and said, “Sissi, there you are.”

Glad for the escape, she released Hungary's arm and took her place at Franz’s side. He led her quickly away from Austria, who was looking even more furious by the second.

Once they were out of earshot, he said, “What did she say to you?”

Elisabeth responded, confused by the question, and by the edge of accusation in his voice, “She just introduced herself. That’s all.”

He tightened his hold on her arm and said, “I know you are overwhelmed, my dear. But you must not trust the Magyar woman."

It was uncharacteristically harsh of him to say so, and she was shocked by his tone. She replied, “But she was being kind.”

He shook his head and said, “She wants to destroy this empire, and she nearly did. Her rebellion is the reason I am on the throne.”

Elisabeth felt deeply troubled by the comment, but she was not certain what to say. Hungary seemed kind and sincere to her.

Franz added, “You have a kind heart, Sissi. You must guard it carefully."

Her head started to spin again, and she said, “Franz, may I go to bed? I feel ill.”

He looked at her with concern and said, “It would be best to stay for a little while longer. Can you do that, my dear.”

She nodded, certain that she would struggle through the rest of the night.

[exauhstedsunflower]

Screams Of The Quiet

Tw:death (childbed fever guys), reference to the Thomas and Elizabeth thing, reference to beheading

Catherine Parr went out of the world screaming.

She screamed in pain, agony. She screamed as she fought through pushing her child into the world. She screamed in defiance to the universe as she felt herself slipping away. She made the world hear her, ‘I am not leaving my child! Not with him, not in this world.’. Her screams haunted the people in the room for the rest of their lives, one of the loudest, most haunting noises ever heard.

‘I am not done yet. There is so much left for me here.’ The screams of a queen, of one of the strongest women you could know. In endless pain, all she could think about was her Mary and how much left she has to do. Screw Thomas, screw her title as dowager queen of England and Ireland. Screw life, for being so unfair. She needs to make amends with the Tudor children. She needs to help shape the new era of their country; someone has to, someone that actually cares about those kids.

She needs to raise her daughter.

Catherine has so many ideas for her daughter, so many things she wants to teach her. She needs to protect her, now knowing what an awful man her father really is. She can’t leave her here with him. She thinks of her mother, Maud Green, who raised her as a single woman and taught many children. The woman who taught the great Catherine Parr to survive. She learned so much from her mother. So much she wants to pass on to Mae, and yet she feels herself barely holding on, getting louder with each scream in a desperate attempt at staying alive though pure force of will.

She’s gotten so much quieter the older she gets, it's a shock to hear her like this as she goes. Growing up she was loud, if the world wanted to drown her out she’d scream over the masses to be heard. She kept that up well into her adult years. Then she got kidnapped for being too outspoken in her beliefs, along with her stepchildren. She was more careful after that. And then, with Henry, she worked so hard to keep him happy with her. But her outspoken and argumentative nature got the best of her again. She was almost killed, and kept her opinions close to her heart after that.

Marrying Thomas had been like being set free, until it wasn’t. She was fooled into it, fooled into thinking he was a good and loving man. He got angry with her too. Never threatening to kill her, but angry enough to scare her. Angry enough to scare Elizabeth too, he hurt that girl. Catherine will never forgive herself for being too afraid to do something, to say something. When did she become too afraid to speak? Perhaps that's why she loves writing so much, the ability to not speak and upset someone close enough to hurt her. A cowards hobby, but protection from her husband nonetheless.

She’s been quieter, still outspoken, but more careful. And now, with the ferocity she’s been suppressing, she screams and yells every thought that comes to her mind. ‘I am not done. There is so much left. I hate you.’ That last one is directed at Thomas, who looks all too shocked to hear it as he holds her hand. She’s squeezing it too hard for him to let go though, from pain or fear or out of anger neither will ever know. ‘I need to see my baby. I need to see her.’ This is his fault. He’d gotten her pregnant, after trying for one in four different marriages this is the man that gave her a baby. She has no ill will against the child, no, never that. But she’s dying and it’s not Mae’s fault, it’s Thomas’s.

With one last scream, the loudest yet, she gives birth to a baby girl. They attempt to give her to Thomas and she growls that they’d better not. They hand her the baby instead. Her baby. She died for this, or is dying, she knows, she wants to hold her.

Mae is a beautiful mess. She’s fairly heavy for a newborn, and looks a lot like Catherine herself. Like Catherine, she’s also covered in her mother's blood, and she’s screaming too. The similarity is jarring, because one has just been given life, and the other is about to pass away.

She feels herself slipping away, as her eyes close she hears Mae and Thomas crying for her. The last thing she feels is someone taking her baby from her hold. The last thing she thinks and says is ‘I love you.’ She cannot tell if it was meant for just her daughter or for them both. No time to dwell on it as she drifts away, though. Finally, finally silent.

2

When Catherine wakes up, she’s alone. Taking a moment to get her bearings, she realizes a few things. One, there is no more agonizing pain. Two, this room looks to be a bedroom, but she doesn’t recognize quite the items scattered around it. And three, there’s no sounds of a child anywhere near her.

She must be in heaven. She certainly died, and this place is strange enough to make her look around in wonder. She stands to walk to the door, maybe she can find an angel to explain. Maybe she can watch over Mae and the other children from here. As she walks towards the door though, a blinding pain shoots through her head.

Ah, so the pain is not over then.

When she emerges from the sensation she notices she’s fallen onto the floor. And that she has some new knowledge of where she is. She is in the future, not in heaven. She’s been reincarnated, and the world has vastly changed. There are still some missing bits, she hopes she has the opportunity to learn them herself if knowledge is given through painful means in this century. She sits up from her spot on the floor with a quiet grunt. The pain has completely subsided now, hopefully it stays gone.

Her door opens and she fights the urge to scream in fright. She looks at the person who walked in. Truthfully they look a bit frantic themselves, so Catherine doubts that they’ll be of any real help.

“You must be Cathy Parr then! We’ve been waiting for days!”

Catherine just looks at this woman. She can’t bring herself to speak. She’s always known just what to say in dangerous situations, but then she’d known who she was dealing with. Speaking up now when she has no idea who’s listening is risky. She doesn't trust herself to say the right thing. She doesn’t trust the woman who seems to know who she is.

The silence seems to be off putting to her visitor, who attempts to fill it.

“Right, so I know this is probably kind of scary. You’ve been reincarnated, new body and everything-“

New body? She immediately looks down to her hands, noticing that they are completely different now. How is it that she has the same consciousness and not the same body? Who’s body is this? Where did it come from?

“-My name is Katherine Howard, the others call me Kitty because there’s too many Catherine’s. You make the third, we’ve been calling you Cathy. I hope you’re okay with that.”

Catherine eyes her warily, still sitting on the floor. Katherine Howard. She knew her. She glances down at ‘Kitty’s’ neck, noting the scarf. She wonders what’s under there.

Noticing that the girl is looking at her clearly wanting an answer, Catherine nods. She has more pressing matters to worry over than a nickname. Why she’s alive being one of them. Why Katherine Howard, who she saw beheaded with her own eye, is alive being another.

“Good! I was the last one to wake up. It seems to have gone in order of marriage. You’re the last one, and your room is right next to mine. The others don’t know you’re here yet, I heard you fall and wanted to check first.”

It seems to have gone in order of marriage. She mulls over the word in her mind. This means that the ‘others’ mentioned must be all of Henry’s wives, given Katherine Howard was right before her.

“Would you like to meet the others?”

She wonders what would happen if she said no. Would Kitty be prepared for that answer? Would she just leave her here or would she try to convince her otherwise? She’s tempted to say no just to see what would happen, she might have if she didn’t think her guilt over messing with the girl would be overwhelming. She nods in response.

“Okay, do you need help getting up?”

Oh, right. She’s still on the floor. With a shake of her head she stands, gesturing to her now upright body with a small smile. Kitty laughs a bit at the gesture and tilts her head in the direction of the hall behind her.

“Let's go then!” She seems cheerful. Not at all like someone who had her head chopped off.

As they make their way down the hall Catherine trails a bit behind, observing every little thing. She gets a glimpse into the room next to hers, which she knows is Kitty’s. A lot of pink. She’d hazard a guess and say Kitty’s favorite color is pink. The hall walls are kind of plain, a nice light grey throughout. There are seven doors, all the same brown color except for one, which is a lighter brown than the others. She taps Kitty on the shoulder and gestures to the door, looking at it questioningly.

“Oh, that’s the bathroom.” Kitty goes and opens the door, showing her the strange room. As soon as Catherine lays eyes on the strange objects inside, she feels a white-hot pain. Kitty catches her on the way down, and when she finally comes back to her mind, she knows what that room is for. She groans in frustration from the fact that this pain seems to come with knowledge.

“Yeah, that happens whenever we find something new. It’s honestly kind of annoying. I’ve only been here for a few weeks, so it happens from time to time.”

That sounds like a promise that this pain will pop up again, and though it comes with information, it is not welcome. They go down a flight of stairs, and into a room her mind calls the living room. Odd, though fitting. There are several sofas and chairs in the room. It seems to be an area for comfort. There is a fireplace and several tables, and a few lamps, which are fascinating.

“Holy shit!”

Oh, and people. This room is filled with people, too.

“Anne, mind your tongue, will you?” Another woman scolds from her chair.

‘Anne’ opens her mouth to retort, but Kitty intervenes.

“Now is not the time! Everyone, this is Cathy. Cathy, everyone.”

They all stare at her expectantly, although she’s not sure what they could possibly be expecting from her. Looking around the room, all she can manage is a wave.

“She doesn’t talk much. But that’s okay, I think I explained things pretty well.”

Yes, and also no. The only reason Catherine has any idea what’s happening is from her newfound pain-knowledge and picking up on things Kitty has said and inferring what they mean. But she looks quite excited to have been the one to greet her, so Catherine nods at her with a warm smile, getting the girl to beam.

“Alright, I’m Anne von Cleve, you knew me before. I go by Anna now since there is another Anne. Makes things easier.”

Anna, right. Catherine did know her. They were certainly not friends, but it’s nice to see a familiar face. They’ll deal with any past tensions later.

“I’m the other Anne. Anne Boleyn.” The woman who said ‘holy shit’ when Catherine arrived jumps into the conversation not even a moment later. She knows Anne Boleyn, knew her child. She’s unable to fully look Anne in the eye.

“I’m Jane Seymour, are you feeling alright?”

Jane died the same way Catherine did. She knows the pain that her death brought. And she brought about Edward, the sweetest little boy she’d ever met. Though she’s unsure why Jane might be enquiring into her wellbeing while hardly even knowing her, so she just nods again.

“Good, coming back from the dead is a bit jarring.”

She nods rapidly at that. It is jarring. One moment she was dying a slow and agonizing death, then she died. And then the next she wakes up, just, not dead anymore. The shock of dying hasn’t worn off yet. When it does Catherine hopes to God she’s alone to deal with it.

“Catherine of Aragon.” The woman in the armchair introduces herself.

Catherine of Aragon. She’s Catherine’s godmother, her namesake.

“You may call me Catalina. I’m glad you made it to us okay.” The kindness and surety in the words makes everything she’s heard of the woman ring true. Catherine of Aragon, the true queen. Catherine had tried to emulate her in her reign.

“Are you hungry?” Kitty asks. And Catherine realizes that yes, she is quite hungry. Her stomach makes a noise in place of her mouth, causing everyone to laugh.

“It’s nearly dinner anyway. Reincarnation makes a person hungry.” Anna says that last bit as a joke. But it seems to be true, she wasn’t very hungry when she died. Though maybe she was in too much pain to notice. Or maybe this body hasn’t eaten? Who’s body even is this?

Before she can allow herself into an existential spiral, Jane beckons her into another room. The kitchen, her brain supplies. It looks nothing like a kitchen she would see in her last life. She very carefully examines the various items in the room, wary of any influx of painful knowledge. It comes when she looks at the stove. Falling in front of everyone is a bit embarrassing, but they all seem to get it. Anna catches her this time, and leads her to a chair to rest. Once the pain subsides, she knows what all the appliances in the room do.

Interesting.

“Those are annoying, I’m surprised you didn’t scream. Anna always screams.” Anne says once Catherine’s eyes have cleared of pain and confusion. 

Anna defends herself, “Not everyone had a super painful death, Anne. I was just really tired when I died.”

Anne rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, and then directs a question towards Catherine, one that is not yes or no answerable. Also, quite insensitive in topic.

“Okay, okay! Well, how did you die, Cathy?”

Anne talks a lot, it makes sense this was her main offense against Henry. Though Catherine shouldn’t judge, she talked a lot too.

Anna speaks up for her, telling them childbirth. Then she tells Anne to be more sensitive, not everyone talks about their deaths freely. Jane looks very sympathetic. She would be, she’d died in a similar fashion.

The conversation continues around her and eventually she is handed a plate of food. She should thank Catalina for it, it’d be incredibly rude not to. It’s already bad enough she hasn’t said a word yet. As they sit, Catherine Parr opens her mouth for the first time in this life to speak.

And nothing comes out.

The others don’t seem to judge her, though. There’s a ball of anxiety in her chest and the feeling reverberates through her whole body. That’s never happened before, and she silently makes a decision that she’s going to have to work on speaking.

Catalina smiles at her warmly, like she knows what Catherine was trying to say. Then they all continue their conversation, making sure to include her as much as possible while she tries and fails to convince herself to speak up.

This is strange. Just a moment ago (Years ago? When are they, exactly?) she’d been screaming. Now she can’t seem to make a noise. This life will be spent in silence, so it seems.

[pepperonyspizza]

Day 3: Soulmates AU 

No Warnings, Platonic Ironhusbands, Pepperony, Angst and Fluff

The first time Tony feels the skin of his arm tingle is when he’s 15 years old. 

He’s just moved into his dorm room at MIT, still unsure of his father’s decision to send him here at this age. He doesn’t feel like he belongs and the confused, judging and even angry looks he’s received from other people on campus do little to ease his worries. They must know who he is and aren’t all that happy about it. 

Tony is sitting on his bed, studying the unfamiliar items that give him a vague idea about his roommate when he hears the door open. Jumping up from the bed, he prepares himself for the worst. He only hopes that the other guy won’t request to change rooms upon realizing who he has to share his space with. 

The man that enters is a few years older than Tony and bafflingly handsome. He seems surprised upon seeing a stranger in the room but recovers quickly enough and, to Tony’s surprise, smiles pleasantly while stretching out his hand. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m James.”

It takes Tony a moment to catch up with everything that’s happening. 

“Tony,” he says lamely, reaching to take James’ offered hand. 

That’s when he notices the weird sensation on his lower arm. He gasps and pulls away, ignoring the other man’s confused look in favour of pulling up the sleeve of his hoodie. Tony watches with wide eyes as the smooth blue lines write out a name. 

James Rhodes

Only when James makes a similar surprised noise is Tony able to tear his gaze away from the writing to look up. Indeed, the other man is clutching his arm as well and even though his hand covers part of the mark, Tony can see his name engraved in his roommate’s skin in the same beautiful blue colour. 

“Holy shit,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth. 

James simply nods, his eyes still fixed on his mark. Tony isn’t sure what to make of the man’s expression, he’s always been awful at reading people. Is he disappointed? Sad? Angry? He can’t imagine the discovery of having Tony Stark of all people as your platonic soulmate to be a thrilling one. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes when James fails to speak up. He doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for since he’s had nothing to do with this. People don’t get to choose their soulmates, the universe does - or at least that’s what his mother tells him. Still, he already feels bad for the guy. “I didn’t know-” “Of course you didn’t,” James interrupts him, the words causing Tony’s blood to run cold. “You didn’t do this. It’s fate, I guess. And why are you apologizing in the first place?” The older man finally looks up at Tony and immediately frowns at what he’s seeing. “Dude, are you okay? You’re pale as hell.” “I’m fine.” “Are you sure? Did I give off that bad of an impression for you to be scared?” “No!” Tony shakes his head. “That’s not it. I’m not disappointed or anything.”

“Then what’s with the long face?”

“I thought that… you might be,” he admits, weakly gesturing at his arm. “I know my dad isn’t a very popular man and I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that I-”

“I’m not thinking anything here. I don’t know you, man.” James takes a step forward, which brings him close enough to rest a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Which we’ll have to change. Have you already eaten dinner?” 

Tony opens his mouth but besides an incoherent unintelligible gurgle, nothing comes out. The grin James shoots him is enough to make him blush and he quickly shakes his head before he gets the chance to make an even bigger fool of himself. 

“Good. How does pizza sound?” 

“I love pizza,” he says in a quiet voice. 

Frankly, he has still trouble believing that he’s being accepted like this. James is right, he doesn’t know Tony but when has that ever stopped anyone from judging him? It’s almost impossible that he’s gotten this lucky with at least one of his two soulmates. 

That’s the exact reason why he is your soulmate, a small voice in the back of his head reminds him. 

“Let’s go then.” James squeezes his shoulder once before letting go and turning back towards the door. “I know this great place right around the corner. You’ll love it.” 

Tony says nothing as he follows his new friend but the smile on his face says it all. 

~*~

The second time Tony feels the skin of his arm tingle is when a stranger barges through his office door to tell him that a mistake has been made in accounting. 

Truth be told, he’s pretty hungover and not entirely sure if this is what’s happening or if his imagination is to blame for all of it since the woman does look like something that could very well come out of his dreams. But she’s too angry for that, doesn’t even acknowledge Tony when he shoots her one of his very special grins and threatens Happy with a can pepper spray. 

That certainly isn’t part of his usual dreams. 

“It’s already, Happy. I got this,” he tells his distressed security guard. The man nods and quickly exits the office, leaving the two of them alone. Tony gets up from his desk, hissing at the pain that erupts inside his head. He rubs his temples while addressing the stranger. “And you are?” 

“Virginia Potts,” the woman with the remarkable red hair says. 

She’s clutching a file in her hands, apparently the one with a critical mistake. Tony doesn’t really care about this kind of stuff and normally lets Obadiah take care of it. His godfather has always been much more interested in the company than Tony ever was - but the older man is away on a business trip and asked Tony to have an eye on everything until his return. 

“Listen, Potts. While I have no doubt that whatever you’re here for is important-” “It is.  ” “Yeah, I’m sure of it. But the thing is that my head hurts and all that yelling earlier didn’t really help with that, so how about you come back some other time and-”

He never gets to finish his sentence, too distracted by the sudden sensation on his right arm. Only once has he felt this soft pressure on his skin and even through the fog of his hangover, Tony realizes what’s happening. 

With absolutely no grace or elegance, Tony shoves the sleeve of his expensive suit out of the way to watch as a second name appears on his skin. This one is red, much like her hair, something he would take the time to admire if he wasn’t positively freaked out. 

Virginia Potts 

There it is. His soulmate is standing right in front of him, frozen in place. He frowns at her rigid figure, unsure if she understands what is happening. She certainly hasn’t made any move to look at her own wrist and from the way she’s still holding onto that file, Tony can’t see if she has his name, or any name for that matter, on her arm. 

“Did you…?” 

He trails off mid-question but that’s alright because Virginia (yeah, they’ll have to do something about that name - it doesn’t fit her at all) is nodding her head slowly. Upon her confirmation, Tony lets out a long breath. He’s heard about people not receiving their mark when meeting their alleged soulmate and although Tony never cared too much about it in the past, it’s a relief that he’s not so unlucky. 

“Mr Stark-”

“Tony, please.” “I don’t think that’s appropriate for me to call you,” she says carefully and it’s enough for Tony to laugh. 

“We’re soulmates. My name is literally tattooed on your arm. I think we can let this pass.” 

“But-”

“No buts, Pepper. My name is Tony. Mr Stark was my father.”

“Pepper?”

“No offence but Virginia is a rather boring name. Not that I don’t enjoy having it on my arm! But I think after that little stunt you pulled on poor Happy, this is a very fitting nickname.” 

Pepper (yes, this is so much better) rolls her eyes at his childishness but her posture relaxes and she finally drops the file on the table separating them, revealing her mark. Tony can’t describe the feeling rising up in his chest upon looking at it but he’s certain that he’s never felt it before. 

“Am I allowed to call you something completely absurd as well?” she asks, a slight twinkle in her eyes as she looks down at his mark. She’s trying to be subtle judging by the way she blushes when Tony turns his arm to show give her a better view. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck with such a boring name.”

He clicks his tongue.

“I told you that I don’t mind. I don’t mind it one damn bit.” His comment earns him another eye roll. Tony doesn’t know if that’s a good sign, although she’s still here. She hasn’t run away cursing and screaming much like he has expected her to do, and he’s counting this as a win. “How about you? I know my name is fascinating but people tend to dislike the person it’s attached to.” 

It’s supposed to come out as a joke but something in his voice must give him away because Pepper looks at him in surprise. That isn’t good. He doesn’t like it when people can look through his facade. It makes him feel exposed and he already toys with the idea of reaching for his glasses that are laying on the desk in front of him. 

Then again, there is a reason that this woman is his soulmate - or at least Tony thinks so. Maybe it’s not the best idea to hide from her. 

“I think…” Pepper pauses, either because she actually has to think about her following words or because she simply likes to watch him squirm, which he visibly does. “I’ll have to find out for myself.” 

Her answer catches Tony off guard, taking him back to all those years ago when he first met Rhodey. He told Tomy something similar, had given him a chance instead of judging someone he’d never met before - and Tony can’t believe that the same thing is happening again. “Right, that makes sense,” he says quickly, afraid that Pepper will change her mind if he gives her too much time to think about it. “What do you say about dinner? Tonight? I can cook, or nearly burn down the house and then order us something.”

She doesn’t laugh but Tony is almost certain that she wants to. 

“How about tomorrow? It’ll give you time to get rid of your hangover and take a look at that accounting errors.” She points at the file on his desk. 

He’s nodding before she has even finished speaking. He’ll look over anything she puts in front of him, not only because anyone determined enough to get past security must actually be passionate about their job but also because she’s giving him a chance. A real chance. 

Tony doesn’t get much of those. 

“It’s a date.” He immediately corrects himself when noticing Pepper’s glare. “Not a date?” “We’ll see,” she says before turning around and walking towards the door. “Look at the file!” is the last thing out of her mouth and then Tony is left alone in his office, the headache coming back full force once his brain registers that the moment has passed. 

He falls back in his chair, clutching head and groaning loudly but there is a smile on his face and he has a feeling that this will be the last hangover he’ll have to

[sserpente]

A/N: Requests from two anons and @eislyn-vis. I changed the scenario a bit but now there’s a different kind of Red Riding Hood concept.

Words: 1954 Warnings: angst, fluff, attempted rape, mentions of smut

“Come on, brother, it’ll be fun. How will you ever redeem yourself if you don’t spend time with us and prove to them you’re more than just the God of Mischief?” Thor bellowed, patting Loki’s shoulder so hard he stumbled forward. The Trickster rolled his eyes.

“I have no need to be redeemed, Thor. You are fully well aware it were not solely my actions that brought chaos to New York.”

Thor’s smile faltered a little. “I know. Maybe tonight, you can convince the others of that too.”

“I will not costume myself and drink myself into stupor, brother.” Thor had painted his face entirely white and added dark blue circles under his eyes. Fake blood was dripping down the corners of his mouth and whenever he spoke, Loki caught a glimpse of those way too big plastic fangs. He looked absurd.

“You don’t have to. Just come along, have a drink with me and celebrate Halloween with us.”

He stared at him, considering his invitation briefly. He could always cause some mischief among the crowd. Surely, a real living snake in the punch would elicit some kind of reaction.

“Fine,” he finally replied. “One drink.”

Thor’s grin was triumphant when he grabbed his brother by the neck and dragged him with him into the living room. Loki was already regretting he had said yes when he shoved a green drink in his hand and then joined Tony, Natasha and Steve. Dirty looks were shot in his direction as soon as they lay their judgemental eyes upon him.

He rolled his eyes once more, carefully sipping on his drink. It was not too bad, for a Midgardian brew. Annoyed, he let his eyes roam over the costumed crowd—he was not interested in a conversation with the Avengers anyway—right until he caught sight of a petite woman next to one of the doctors. Alas, you were petite to him, your red dress barely covering your delicious backside. You were wearing a red jacket that came with a hood, too, presumably made of leather. What were you supposed to illustrate? Red traffic lights Loki had discreetly ignored the first time Thor had sat him behind the wheel of a Midgardian vehicle?

“Who is that?” He found himself asking. Fascination was boiling in his veins, an interest he could not quite name as of yet.

Thor frowned. “Who?”

“That woman over there… the one wearing the red dress.” You had combined your outfit with black heels and equally black tights. Quite frankly… you looked ravishing. When was the last time he had felt immediate sexual interest in a woman?

“Oh, that… that is (Y/N), she’s a young scientist. Works with Banner. Why?”

Loki pursed his lips. “Never mind. What is she dressed up as?”

“Red Riding Hood.” Natasha said, folding her arms suspiciously. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes once more. He had no idea who or what Red Riding Hood was. All he knew was that he needed to hear your voice. He doubted you would be willing to speak to him though—after all, you worked with the Avengers. You knew what he had done.

Loki downed his drink quickly, choosing to spend the rest of the night watching you. For a moment, he even considered casting an illusion, transforming himself into someone else but then decided against it. If he were to get to know you… then he should have a chance for you to like him just the way he was, no tricks involved.

He almost snorted at the thought. Whoever would? According to Midgardian myths, he was the incarnation of evil. According to his life, he was an outsider, a villain, a monster.

Pressings his lips together to a thin line, he stood to pour himself another drink. Perhaps he should drink himself into stupor after all.

-

How come he had never seen you around before? Granted, Loki usually spent most of his time in his cell, pardon, room in the compound and he had not been here long enough to be acquainted with the entire team as of yet. Still… a young beauty such as you… he should have noticed you.

He was met with a hungover Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff in the kitchen. Cleaning maids—apparently, so Loki had been told by Thor, they were getting paid for their services—were taking care of the disgusting mess the party guests had left. Loki really did not understand all the fuss about Halloween.

Repulsed, he stepped over an empty glass bottle on the floor and poured himself a cup of coffee. Unlike the two mortals in the kitchen, he had remained entirely unaffected from last night’s alcoholic adventure.

At three am, when there was still no end of the party in sight, he retreated, stopping by Stark’s library before returning to his cell—bedroom. He quickly found what he was looking for and ended up falling asleep to the fairy tale of little Red Riding Hood wandering through a dark forest to bring her sick grandmother cake and wine.

“You left early last night, brother. You didn’t disappear with the lovely (Y/N), did you?” Thor entered the kitchen with a sneaky grin on his lips. Tony’s face fell, his eyes locking with Loki’s.

“Did you touch her?” Hmm… interesting. Of course they would not want him anywhere near an innocent young woman—but he sure loved getting on the billionaire’s nerves. If only he could say yes. He would have loved to have felt you underneath him last night.

“And if I did, then what?” He replied instead, scorn swinging in his voice.

“He’s bluffing.” Natasha stated unfazed. Tony ignored her. “(Y/N) left the compound to go for a run in the forest nearby ten minutes ago.”

“Stay away from her. If I even see you near her, I’ll see to it SHIELD locks you up again.”

“Because that worked out so well the first time you attempted to do so, yes?” Proudly, Loki lifted his chin, staring him down until he had to blink.

“(Y/N) is an honourable, decent woman. She’d never waste her breath on you.” The God of Mischief swallowed. There was a chance Stark was not lying. Still, he had all the information he needed.

“Worry not, Stark. In case you are concerned for her honour, however, I would strongly advise you stay away from the girl yourself.” He teleported himself out of the room before Tony could respond, finding himself on an idyllic forest path. Romanoff’s information had been vague but it was enough for Loki to locate you.

Casting an illusion on himself, his heart almost leaped out of his chest when you ran past him, dressed in a tight sports outfit complimenting each and every one of your curves. Ironically, it was red.

By the Norns, was this not pathetic? Making himself invisible and watching you sweat like a mad predator? What other choice did he have? Stark’s harsh words rang in his ears, making him wonder if they were true after all.

Oh, nonsense. If you were truly honourable, perhaps you would give him a chance despite his past. He would simply… where had you gone? You had been there only a second ago!

Loki flinched when you screamed. Alarmed, he rushed to your side, abandoning his invisibility charm. A strange man had sneaked up on you, holding a small knife to your throat from behind and dragging you off the safe path into the undergrowth.

He could only imagine what it was he wanted from you. He gnashed his teeth. How dare he even think about touching you against your will. Possessiveness crawled through his body, along with a strong urge to protect you. Loki had never even heard your voice and still… He was not cruel. Surely, he would have helped any woman from getting raped before his eyes, yet with you he felt that if he failed saving you, something inside him would break. His heart? No, his heart had long been broken. But there was a connection. A connection he could not quite describe. He wondered… would Frigga know? His mother… the woman who had raised him had always known advice for any predicament he had found himself in, up until he had found out what he really was.

Without any hesitation, he grabbed the stranger by the throat and hurled him against a tree, the knife falling to the ground and landing mutely in the green moss.

“What the…”

He looked up, realising who had attacked him and swallowing thickly.

“You have three seconds before I rip your head off.” He growled, making him stumble to his feet and run faster than you had ever seen a man run before. Relief washed over you.

“L-Loki?” Your eyes widened when you recognised him, hovering above you, his dark glare downright murderous. You frowned.

“And there I was thinking that I would be the big bad wolf in this scenario.” He replied with an amused grin, remembering the fairy tale he had read last night.

“What are you talking about?” Still frowning, you let him help you up, electricity rippling through you when your hands touched.

By the Norns, standing this close to you only made him realise now how tiny you were compared to him. He could just lift you up with both his hands, bring your delicious quim to his face and bury his tongue between your folds all the while you hung in his arms completely helpless, forced to accept the pleasure he was offering you…

“I am afraid you caught my attention at the party last night.” Now that was an understatement but at least, it was not a lie.

You raised an eyebrow. Oh… your costume, of course… “That does not explain why you followed me into the woods.” Ah. Yes.

“I shall be glad I did. Stark was very vehement about me staying away from you.”

“Tony tends to get a little overprotective from time to time.”

“I do not like being told what not to do.”

You blinked. You had never actually spoken to Loki before. You were aware of his presence in the compound, of course—yet the stories the Avengers had told you had made you hesitate. You had not exactly avoided him, still you had to admit you had not been overly keen on joining Bruce in the lab when he was present.

Loki had shattered your opinion of him like a piece of glass. If he truly was as evil as the heroes made him out to be, then why had he just saved you from a rapist? Your heart was still beating like a steam hammer, adrenaline cursing through your body. You didn’t even realise you were bleeding until Loki reached for your neck and gently pulled you towards him.

“He injured you. I should have killed him after all.” He muttered tenderly.

“I-I’m okay.” Loki looked up, your eyes locking. He had not imagined it then. There was a connection. But you were suspicious of him, he could tell. The hesitation radiated off of you like liquid heat. At least, he felt no hatred and disgust.

Making you flinch, he brushed his thumb against the bleeding wound the man’s knife had caused. One second passed before it disappeared, leaving behind unblemished skin Loki was itching to taste with his mouth.

“Thank you…” You murmured, unsure of how to react to his gentleness. What was it he had said? That you had caught his attention last night? “I, um… I’m heading back now, will you… will you join me?”

Loki nodded slowly, suppressing a triumphant grin. “With pleasure.” It was a start, at least.

-

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[justsomeoneunordinary]

Le cirque des mirages

T, 3.7k, IronHawk, Fluff & Angst, Underage Drinking, Druge Use, Implied Child Abuse & Self-Harm, H/C - it’s all not that intense, there’s fluff too | AO3

―

The first time Tony fell in love he was eight years old.

His father was abroad for a week on a business trip and his mother and Jarvis took the opportunity to watch with him a circus performance. From the very second the director entered the arena Tony was completely entranced.

With awe in his eyes he watched the trainer tame a real lion, which almost took his breath away throughout the whole show. The horse spectacle put a smile on his face bright enough to reach from one ear to the other. Even the clowns made him laugh, although it took him only seconds to see through their tricks.

But his personal highlight were the acrobats; Those men and women bending the laws of physics according to their own visions through sheer muscle strength and concentration with grace and beauty. How they performed stunts in breathtaking elegance and finesse Tony never even could have dreamed of.

Throughout the whole show his mother failed to make him sit still ― because Tony, Tony felt like he was flying.

Even months later, his eyes still reflected the sparkle of the cheery-colorful costumes. He told everyone who wanted to hear ― and those who didn’t ― about his mathematical calculations, which he puzzled over for days. At what angle someone had to hold their pose in order to balance on a rope in the middle of the air, despite the high air resistance. How much strength it needed in the arms to swing from ring to ring without falling on the floor with a loud thump. Or how strong one had to push their legs so that another person could position themselves onto the feet.

Years passed and Tony never wished for anything other than watching a circus performance for his birthday. In every second that he didn’t convulsively try making his father proud, he dreamed of big tents, the interior filled with multicolored lights, and the feeling of warmth in his chest.

His illusions stopped all of a sudden when he was fourteen years old and his much older classmates all thought of him as boring. Instead, he began to devote himself to the art of seduction and became friendly with the taste of whiskey on his tongue.

But buried deep inside, the circus always remained his personal sanctuary.

―

The second time Tony fell in love he was seventeen years old.

Dead drunk and with no memory of the last three hours, he found himself right in front of a circus tent, the loud shouts from the inside announcing the beginning of a show. He didn’t know how his feet carried him to somewhere in the middle of nowhere, but instead of ordering a cab back to the MIT campus, he bought a ticket and before he knew it, he was in the middle of that turmoil that only tormented his drunken head even more.

Though the majority of the performance flew past him in a shimmer of colors and roars, he grasped enough to see that this was not a conventional circus. The acrobats sometimes lacked some limbs, knife throwers threw at each other and not at targets, fire-eaters jumped simultaneously on trampolines, clowns juggled with swords… if Tony hadn’t been so sure that he hadn’t touched a single joint that day, he would have been convinced he was high.

Just when he thought the performance was over and he was ready to go back―

“And now a big round of applause for the star of our show, The World’s Greatest Marksman! Or as you know him: Hawkeye!”

―the wind was taken out of his sails.

A boy, not possibly older than fifteen, entered the arena in a purple suit, bow in one hand and arrow case in the other over his shoulder swinging. His blond hair looked like he had just gotten out of bed, a scar ran across his right cheek and a devil-may-care grin graced his lips.

Tony was immediately captivated in its spell. As if hypnotized, he watched this boy shoot his arrows at the moving targets in a matter of seconds without looking at them once, and each time hitting bull’s eye. Watched the muscles of the upper arms illuminated by the spotlight move as the bow was pulled. Watched him roll in midair as he was light as a feather.

Tony couldn’t help but return the next day. And the day after that. And as often as possible until more than a month had passed and his fascination with Hawkeye still didn’t find an end at all. He no longer even looked the other attractions anymore, but only had eyes for the mysterious and mesmerizing archer.

Then, the circus did what all circuses do ― they moved.

And Tony followed.

But Tony was first and foremost an MIT student, and there was only so much he could do. If he hadn’t been a billionaire’s son with unlimited access to his fortune since hacking into Howard’s bank account years ago, he would never have been able to follow them across the states whenever he had a day off.

Before he knew it, two years had passed and Tony had graduated from the university with two doctorates. The circus had once again temporarily taken root in New York, where he also planned to complete his third doctorate.

Since his third visit, he could’ve sworn that Hawkeye winked at him at the end of each of his shows ― this assumption was confirmed when, once again, he was the last one left in the tent, sweetly dazed from the marijuana mixed with the bitter taste of the whiskey, before carefully stumbling outside.

“Y’know,” greeted him a chirpy-cheerful voice to his left, “they call me Hawkeye because I observe a lot and see things better from a distance. Not just see, but see, know what I mean?”

“Ah, and here I thought it’s because you’ve got a bat’s sense of hearing,” Tony couldn’t help but say. At least this earned him an amused snort.

“Nah, ‘m hard of hearing and if I weren’t so good at lip reading, I wouldn’t have understood a word of what you just babbled,” came the witty answer Tony admittedly hadn’t expected. “I must’ve left quite an impression that you watch my shows regularly over two years, huh?”

Oh, haughty. Tony liked that a lot. “Who says I’m here for you? Maybe I’m just here because of the incredible Swordsman, ever thought about that, huh?”

Another snort. “Two words: Hawk. Eye.”

Technically, this was still just one word, but okay, he won that round, Tony didn’t know how to counter that.

Then, with a jerk, he pushed himself off the pole he had been leaning against and came so close to Tony that they breathed the same air. “Name’s Clint,” he introduced himself with a mischievous grin on his face.

Which Tony already knew. Clinton Barton, seventeen, joined together with his older brother Barney the circus when he was only nine years old. Tony did not stalk him; those are the only information he had dug up ― he just really had wanted to know who that amazing archer was.

“Tony Carbonell”, he said, like the professional liar that he was, and grinned right back.

Clint nodded once, licked his lips and asked uninhibited, “Wanna fuck?”

Hell yes, he almost shouted, if… if he hadn’t seen something in Clint’s sky-blue eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. A mixture of insecurity, fear and caution ― once bitten, twice shy, he thought. Tony understood that there depended more from his answer than just its semblance.

“Thanks, but not today. Perhaps some other time, if the offer still stands then.”

As if on command, Clint’s whole posture visibly relaxed, as if an invisible weight had fallen from his shoulders. Jackpot.

“Do you want to share a joint with me instead?” Tony seamlessly changed the subject, like he had learned from child on as the center of the media to let a conversation dance according to his pipe.

Clint shrugged. “Sure, why not?” Which is how minutes later Tony learned that Clint had never smoked a joint before. He also learned that Clint was a terrific storyteller. In particular, however, he learned that Clint’s laugh could even lighten a cathedral.

In less than two hours, the two of them became best friends. And less than three weeks of those regular meetings, they became lovers.

When one night under the starry sky Clint kissed him on the mouth without even a warning ― in the middle of the sentence ― it was as if the world had stood still. Chaotic and moisty and interrupted by their drunken laughter, it was the worst and best kiss of his life.

Two days later, Tony rented a shabby little flat in Manhattan that was about to collapse. Strictly speaking, he bought the whole building, but he twisted the truth there a little bit. That was the only way how he could bring Clint home without Howard knowing about it and without Clint getting wind of his wealth.

“I like your place. Nice view,” mocked Clint. After that there was not much left to say, because Tony wanted to inaugurate this apartment. Years ago, Tony had already lost all interest in virgins, but Clint’s inexperience was a delight that surprised even him. Every single touch left his skin tingling and made his heart flutter in an irregular rhythm. Clint tasted like honey and smoke, like nutmeg and vodka, like strawberries and chili ― he tasted like love.

Even in the dim light of the apartment, Tony took every opportunity to trace the contours of Clint’s muscles crafted by his archery training, and to memorize Clint’s facial expression forever at his climax. Not even Michelangelo could have captured the subtleties of such beauty.

Being in a relationship with Clint was nothing Tony had ever experienced before. But not everything thereof was positive. There were hardly any days when Clint wasn’t covered in bandages and plasters or grazes. Most of them Tony knew that they were the result of Clint’s clumsiness, who stumbled over his own feet even on flat ground and then broke his nose masterfully. But some of them were too deep, too clean, too precise. Tony knew what it looked like trying to make a wound look like an accident.

Once, Tony didn’t have enough whiskey left, so he brushed his teeth with gin and tonic. When he tried to kiss Clint afterwards, he was pushed so strongly that his butt landed on the floor. Clint threw up in the toilet and collapsed there, trembling and bathing in sweat.

Howard may have been an absent father who never showed a shred of interest in Tony, but at least he’d never raised his hand against his own family. Tony swore to never even look from the canthus at a gin again.

Ultimately, however, the shady sides were covered by the sunny ones. Because that was how it felt like to be with Clint ― like a warm sunny day, the rays of which finding their way into his deepest parts.

After the circus moved again, Tony continued to visit as often as he could. They then spent the nights in Clint’s bed, where Barney could catch them at any moment. It was absolutely worth the risk. And Tony didn’t have the slightest clue how, but Clint managed to convince the circus director to stay in New York more often and longer. For completely selfless reasons, he claimed.

Often it was impossible for Tony to hide his true intellect, simply because he didn’t want to. Only two months into their relationship, he learned to use ASL fluently. If Clint had had more TV access or at least a little interest in magazines, he would have quickly known who Tony really was.

“You are really good with those computers, aren’t you?”

An understatement for Tony, especially considering that Clint had already met DUM-E. But he just hummed simply while he continued to work on his next AI and enjoyed Clint’s feather-light kisses on his neck.

“Can you also hack and stuff?”

Here he had to laugh softly. “Three years ago, Rhodey bet with me that I could never ever hack the Pentagon. Guess who won.”

“Cool.” There was a grin on the back of his neck Tony could literally feel.

Which was the only explanation for how it happened that Tony hacked into NASA’s server an hour later and, while he was already there, corrected a few of their mathematical equations. It wasn’t even in the top ten of the most dangerous things he had done with Clint. Their relationship might’ve been a lot of things, but sure as hell never boring.

Two years later Howard was driving drunk, killing not only himself but also Tony’s mother. From then on, everything went down the drain.

Tony almost drank himself into nirvana and when he suddenly woke up in the bed of his apartment with a pounding headache, he found Clint snuggled up next to him. Tears adorned his eyes, which were darker than usual and reminded him of blueberries ― Tony’s new favorite fruit, as he decided at exact that moment.

Clint said nothing, he didn’t need to. In the end, Howard Stark and Harold Barton were more alike than Tony had first thought. He tried not to think about having no excuse anymore to take over his legacy and that Uncle Obie would soon find him. Instead, he hugged Clint closely and placed a tender kiss on his temple while he could still do so. The steady heartbeat of Clint’s and his hand stroking trough his hair was the only reason he stayed sane.

Love, Tony thought, must be the power of the gods.

Twelve days later, he received a call from the hospital where Clint was taken to the ER. He had had to be resuscitated during the operation and was now lying unconscious in bed tied up on various machines.

It was only after 37 hours that he finally woke up.

Jacques, the Swordsman, had stolen money from the circus and when Clint tried to tell the director, he was downright beaten to death. Barney had just turned his head and left him on the floor. Tony didn’t show his anger even for a second while those incidents were being recited. He waited for Clint to fall asleep again and then contacted his lawyers ― after hitting the wall with his fist until it was red with blood as the rage boiling through his veins like hot lava.

Tony accepted that it was probably time to tell Clint about the things he had been hiding. It wasn’t that he had deliberately wanted to lie for two years, he was only afraid that Clint would turn away from him as soon as he knew who Tony really was. His pejorative attitude towards the rich clearly spoke for it.

But Tony had the means to help Clint, so he would take the risk. He decided to address this as soon as they were home. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in the hospital.

“Yesterday,” Clint began to say out of the blue on the fourth day of his hospital stay, “one of those suit wearers came to visit me. Coulson or something’s his name. Miracle he could sit down with the giant stick in the ass.”

He interrupted himself because of a fit of giggling. The painkillers had a strong effect on Clint. “Anyway,” he continued after a few minutes, “he offered me a job. Said they could use someone with my particular skillset.”

After a long break Tony asked, “And?”

“And… I think I want to take a look at that offer.”

Tony scratched his chin where he had started to grow a goatee. He wasn’t sure what to do with this information. It sounded to him as if he’d never see Clint again, as irrational as the thought was.

“Will you… will you come back?” he just had to ask, while carefully taking Clint’s hand in his and slowly following the early rough lines crafted from archery. He would never tire of the feeling of Clint’s hand in his.

This earned him a smile, so bright that his eyes shone even more beautiful than the stars in the sky. “Of course. I will always come back to you, Tony.”

But in the end, their relationship had been nothing more than a circus of illusions. A world where Tony could just be himself. Not Tony Stark, child prodigy, son of the so-called ‘Icon of America’s Strength’, heir to a multibillion-dollar company ― just Tony. A world in which he was loved not for his money or fame, but for his heart.

A world in which Clint wasn’t the victim of child abuse. In which he wasn’t betrayed by his only brother and left behind to die. In which he didn’t hurt himself just to see if he could still feel. In which he hadn’t run away from anything all his life and wouldn’t do it again. Simply a world in which he was happy.

Because that was where they both gave in to the illusion. They had been so busy with being happy that they both forgot one important thing: Life always caught up with you.

Twenty years and almost the end of the world had to pass for their paths to finally cross again.

 ―

The third time Tony fell in love he was forty-two years old.

Rubble and ashes had made themselves comfortable in his new home. A huge crater graced the floor of his living room and the Avengers stood awkwardly in the middle, as if ordered and not picked up.

This was the first time the circus had found him, instead of the other way around.

Clint leaned against the back of the sofa and was inspecting his bow. His face was decorated with shiners and blood, though this time Tony at least knew where they came from. His posture screamed nonchalance, but his frown whispered unease.

Without thinking about it, he stood next to him, their shoulders almost touching, and continued to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t have stayed away ― Clint has always had a magnetic attraction on him.

“So, you’d come back, huh?”

Clint didn’t seem fazed at all. But the days Tony was able to read him like an open book were over a long time ago. He wondered if Clint even realized that he built the Stark Tower on exact the same spot their apartment used to be, before he had the building torn down.

“So, Tony Carbonell, huh?” came the snarky reply.  

Okay, fair enough. “My mother’s maiden name was Carbonell, so I didn’t lie technically.”

“Well, I came back now, so technically I didn’t lie either.” And then Clint had the utter gall to grin at him. Tony almost punched him.

He thought of all those days he had been waiting in the apartment for Clint to return. Thought of all those hours he stared at the telephone in case of a call. Thought of all those times he anxiously went to hospitals and police stations, hoping to find Clint somewhere there.

After six months of unsuccessful searching, he had resigned himself to the fact that Clint no longer wanted him. That he had found out who Tony really was and that he’d just left him to twist in the wind.

Whiskey had found its way through his blood system more than ever. Cocaine had blurred his reality until he ended up in the ER which is why he stopped with it immediately. Men and women had warmed his bed, imitating what he and Clint had had. His nights have never been the same again.

Even after Tony moved to California ― trying to chase the sun’s rays, which Clint had always made shine for him ― he never quit their apartment lease. Just in case. Instead, he installed a camera there that J.A.R.V.I.S. could access. Just in case. Throughout all those years, he had looked at the death notices every day with trembling nostrils. Just in case.

It suddenly dawned on Tony why the alarm bells always rang when he saw Coulson. The new job. Special Agent Clint Barton ― codename: Hawkeye. From the circus’ star attraction to a high ranked spy. Now an Avenger. Tony had always known that Clint’s life had been nowhere near normal ever.

He took a deep breath before turning his gaze back to Clint. Tony chose his next words very carefully. “In the past twenty years I’ve done some stupid things that I can’t even begin to list. Many of them were created under the influence of alcohol,” here he looked him straight in the eye without a hint of hesitation, “but not once have I even touched a gin again.”

When Clint finally dropped his mask ― his own illusion of indifference ― Tony was able to pinpoint it the exact moment it happened. His light blue eyes, previously disinterested and dull, shone in a new light, encased by insecurity and adoration, shame and mischief, pleading for forgiveness and radiating warmth all at the same time. A mess of feelings, each of which Tony was allowed to identify and classify.

“I like your new place. Nice view,” Clint just replied. The meaning of his words made his heart skip a beat. Warmth filled him from within that Tony couldn’t help but give him a shy smile, full of trust and hope.

When suddenly Clint put his arm around Tony’s shoulders, it was as if they were both just two stupid teenagers again, bathing in each other’s attention and the weight on their shoulders not yet so heavy that it dragged them down. The bare spot on his neck, which wasn’t covered by the Iron Man armor, tingled with the touch. Blood roared in his ears and a wave of emotions hit him so hard it almost took his breath away.

Tony threatened to lose the ground under his feet. In order not to panic and kiss Clint directly on the mouth here and now, he blurted out the only thing he could do to deliberately hide the upcoming tears in his eyes: “So, shawarma?”

Clint’s loud laugh echoed through the room like a bird’s song in a cave.

And Tony fell in love again.

[tisthenightofthewitch]

AN INTERVIEW WITH TOBIAS FORGE.

The Swedish rock band Ghost will be performing at the TaxSlayer Center on October 8. Coming off a European stadium tour with Metallica, the group has headlined summer festivals and has embarked on a massive North America tour that includes New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Toronto, Boston … and Moline.

Tobias Forge is Ghost's creative force, front man, singer, songwriter, musician, and architect of the storylines woven through the band's albums, videos, webisodes, and live shows. Although Ghost has been awarded a Grammy and had three consecutive number-one songs on the Billboard mainstream charts, it is the musicians' tongue-in-cheek anti-pope appearance that truly defines them. In a July 30 interview, Tobias spoke about developing the band's visual identity and his aspirations as a filmmaker.

Visuals define Ghost’s image. Are they as important as the music?

Oh, absolutely. Even though I don’t sit down and specifically draw and paint our album covers, I’ve always been very specific in what I wanted. And how I wanted the record sleeve to embody the record I made.

As a record collector, I am more than often compelled by the artwork of a record. I’m a firm believer in a really nice-looking record sleeve. And that makes me want to like the record more. Today, even though people might not consume a recording in the physical way we used to, it’s definitely a case of your visual presentation that accompanies whatever file they are going to listen to. If the graphic content is aesthetically pleasing to the eye, it opens up an avenue into people’s souls. I know this because I’m so easily charmed by record sleeves.

Are the album titles also important?

Absolutely. There needs to be a sort of a narrative between the artwork and the title of the record. And, of course, its content. In some way or form, it helps if the title summarizes a little what the record is about. Usually, most good records have some sort of theme – even though the songs might be about different things.

A lot of singer/songwriters go through phases: it’s the “divorce” album, it’s the “I’ve just gotten married” record. “I’ve just became a father or mother” record. And “now I’m older” record. And “the midnight crisis” record. And “the beard” record. In some way or form, it’s good to communication a little of what kind of state of mind you were in while making it or which state of mind you want the listener to think you were in. As opposed to just leaving it blank.

There’s a fascinating word play in your titles. Do you enjoy playing with words? Creating a sense of mystery through words?

Very much so. I’m also very much influenced by cinema. Even though I know there’s no film called Infestissuman (the title of Ghost’s second album), I also try to come up with a title for a record that could be a film as well. Like a big epic, three-hour mastodon matinée film. (Laughs). I’d like to make a film called Meliora (the title of Ghost's third album).

I understand that you have aspirations to be a filmmaker. That you’re working on a film. Could you speak about the film?

About a future Ghost film?

Yes.

I cannot speak about it in detail. But, yes, I’ve always been very fascinated with the art of filmmaking.

I definitely am in the process of exploring the possibilities of combining my musician career with a film project. Let’s put it that way. And as with anything cinematic, it takes a lot of time – and way more politics – than making a record.

In the process of this, I’m trying to vet my brain and my ideas into being super-sober about making a film that is actually needed and called for and will turn out really great – so that it doesn’t just became a really confusing project.

Over the course of rock history, there are a few films that have been made that are really cool. Even though many of them end up in more of a cult section because they are … weird. I don’t mind weird at all. I grew up watching a lot of films like that.

I would love to make a film. I would love to make it good-weird, but it needs to be good as well. It needs to be something that people can watch. I’m currently in the process of learning if I can.

The humor in your webisodes complements your albums, which sound epic. That’s a fascinating combination.

Yes. Just to give you a hint of what I spoke of in my previous answer about a possible film: a full-length film would be in that vein. Based on that sort of mythology. I believe that there is something more to tell within the storyline – within the concept of what we’ve outlined briefly – in those episodes.

Most of my favorite films have some sort of absurd humor in them.

I think it’s important for films, too. Just as with any dish at any restaurant, there are certain ingredients that you need to have. Even if its just a pinch of salt. Usually you need that. There are certain aspects in there that make it a consumable plate.

Even if you’re making a horror film or drama or thriller, there needs to be some sort of comic relief at some point. I guess what would change in a long format, is that it wouldn’t be as comedic every minute as it is in the short form.

As there is comedy in a horror film, your music has a unique dichotomy. You have metal riffs and an understated singing style. That’s very appealing to me. Was this natural to you? Is it something you developed?

Everything develops on the basis that it is being received. So I believe that to a certain degree if you’re an artist – be it a musical artist or a filmmaker or a writer or a painter – you need to be somewhat auditive when it comes to the needs and the wishes of your receiving part. As much as any aficionado of subculture, I like a lot of artists that just go against everything and make whatever that comes into his or her head regardless of what a public thinks. But most successful artists have in some way or form nurtured the relationship they have between themselves and their audience. The way that you would nurture any relationship with another part – be it a partner in life or a partner in work. There’s some sort of collaboration.

If you look at big bands that went from debutantes playing clubs to big arena acts, their first records are usually slightly more raunchy and maybe faster in tempo and might include a little bit more complicated arrangements. What you usually find over the course of time and further into their careers, they start making records that are more moderately paced. Or they are paced in a different way. Certain songs don’t really translate very well in a very, very big room in front of thousands and thousands of people. Common lingo among rock fans is that, “Oh, they sold out. They just want to sell records.”

No, they write music that will feel comfortable in the setting – in the forum in which they are performing these songs.

You do what you feel is good for both parties, and that’s how you develop your relationship with your crowd. You don’t do this 100 percent all the time. But you should be aware that if you start doing shit that your significant other – in this case the crowd – doesn't like, you’d be stupid if you continue doing it.

Coming out of a Swedish metal tradition, your music is surprisingly melodic. Sometimes hauntingly beautiful tunes with beautiful choirs. How did this sound emerge?

I have always listened to lots of different music styles. Everything more or less oriented in punk and rock. Except for my love for underground extreme metal from the '80s, most of the other types of music that I listen to are actually quite melodic. I’ve always been melody driven. Ninety-nine percent of the time, my way of listening to a song is to listen to the melodies. It doesn’t hurt if there’s a really good rhythm.

For me, melody is like the dialogue of a film. If you just make a film with just background, it might be an interesting idea. But if you want the film to be of value, you definitely need to have someone within frame saying something. And it’s important what he or she is saying. That, for me, is the melody of a song.

But then you can pimp the song out in so many ways and that’s part of the craft of songwriting. But without a melody, the likelihood of a song being good is not big.

On your first album, I understand that you played all of the instruments except the drumming. Is it hard to only be the front man in live performances?

No, I’ve learned how to deal with that. I just had to sort of disregard how I viewed myself. I always thought that I was going to be the lead guitar player of a band. A Keith Richards in the band. My intention with Ghost was the same. During the first four years – between 2006 and 2010 – up until the very last moment of recording the album, I still thought that, just before mixing the record, that we better find a singer. We never found a singer. So we kept my demo vocals basically. I re-sung them to get better takes. They were on the demos just to explain how the song goes.

That’s the way I’ve always worked. When I write a song I always play everything. So regardless of who might have executed it on a record or executed it on stage, it’s always my way of playing. If I were to play a bass in another band, that’s how the bass would sound. If I were to play drums in a band, the basics of how I arrange songs, that what you hear in Ghost. That’s how I play the drums. Then I get a really good drummer in to play really well, but that’s how I approach thought in all these different instruments. And that has become a signature thing for Ghost.

That makes writing records easier. That makes having a band together very hard. But that is just the nature of the beast. It’s just coming to terms with accepting and owning that. It has definitely taken some time.

Fame doesn’t seem to be your prime mover. What do you think of fame now that your identity has been revealed?

I have, as much as anyone who has any inclination to rock in a band, always wanted to be in a well-known rock band. What comes with that is fame. Up until I was probably 30 years old, I wanted to be very famous. And I wanted to be known. After I started working with Ghost, I was definitely enjoying … . I wouldn’t say anonymity. I was never anonymous. But Ghost and the visual side of Ghost was definitely overshadowing anything that I was. Over the years of being in a well-known band without being a very well-known person myself, I actually started to prefer that over being a recognized person myself. Despite having wished for that before, there are definitely two sides of being recognized. When you dream about it, you only see the upsides. It’s only about the perks of fame.

I don’t feel in any way or form that my so called “coming out” was negative. It was just a weird thing having to deal with a higher level of recognition so far into your career. That was a little bit weird because it usually comes gradually.

For example, for seven years I never took photos of people. If you ever saw a photo of me, it was always a friend of mine that took a photo and I thought it would never be posted online. Or it was someone taking a photo of me without me knowing it. So all of a sudden, when I was out of the closet, you couldn’t really tell people any more that you wouldn’t take a photo with them. All of a sudden, you can’t say no to anyone.

That is something I suddenly had to adopt to because it was very easy earlier to say no, no, no, no. You know how it is. Now if I say no, someone could be very offended. Which is a little sad because I might be on my way into a car that is leaving in 10 seconds and we’re in a hurry. And there are 10 people by the car and you’re like, “I really don’t want to do this to you but … .” And I can’t even finish that sentence before the door is closed. And people get offended. I don’t want people to be offended and sad.

Fame is something that sort of came overnight. But it’s a good problem to have.

All content owned by River Cities Reader

[let-it-raines]

Hey! I saw your answer to anon about musician Killian and of course had to go reread it. And if I may be so bold, may I request the Mystery Musical Man from Killians point of view?

Of course you can request it from Killian’s POV! It made for an easy prompt request to fill. lol. 💙

Original Prompt: CS fic where someone walks by a street musician every day in her way to work and she always bring him coffe and something to eat because she thinks he’s poor and could use some help, but actually he’s like a super star and just plays in the street for fun?

Part one: Mystery Musical Man 

-/-

The first time she places a cup of coffee at his feet and a five dollar bill in his guitar case, he nearly stops singing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and asks her for her name, but he doesn’t, the music continuing to roll off of his tongue and his fingers as she walks away, her golden hair falling down her back and nearly reaching the top of her black pencil skirt. He’s noticed her before. She walks this route nearly every day, and she usually comes by when the streets are pretty empty. It’s the same reason that he plays early in the morning on Murray Hill. It’s New York City so it’s crowded, but it’s not a madhouse.

Or maybe it is, and he’s got no clue since he’s distracted by the blonde woman who walks by him five days a week. She’s usually dressed professionally, modest skirts and pants with blouses, and if he had to guess, the sneakers on her feet are only for her walk to work and not what she wears all day. He’s got no bloody clue what it is that she does for a living, but he’s curious about her.

He stays curious about her as the weeks pass by and she continuously brings him cups of coffee from The Bean. It’s always black, and even though he usually likes a little milk in his coffee, he learns to accept it with a kind smile and nothing else. Many times he almost talks to her, asks her for her name, but despite the fact that words are constantly flowing out of his mouth as he sings, the words are never the ones that he wants to say.

“What’s your name?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Why do you buy me coffee every day?”

He wants to ask that last question even though he knows the answer. She thinks he’s a struggling musician playing on street corners for tips, and while he is a musician playing on a street corner, he’s not struggling nor truly asking for tips. It’s been years since he had to do that, but he remembers the struggle of needing to supplement his income and get a little extra cash on the side. He honestly didn’t think he looked too poor off, but he does usually walk here from his apartment and wear torn jeans and a battered Yankees cap. Maybe he should dress a little more nicely, but then again, then the beautiful lass might not buy him coffee anymore.

He swears that one day he’ll talk to her.

She is his muse after all.

-/-

“We want you to do a concert,” Arthur tells him as he sits in his recording label’s office in Los Angeles with Will, Robin, and Anton sitting in the chairs next to him.

“We don’t have any new music,” Robin points out, leaning forward in his chair. “Why would we do a concert without any music?”

“You have new music,” Arthur sighs as he takes a sip of his tea from behind his desk, a view of the ocean behind him. “You’ve got enough for half of a set, which will be a perfect preview of the album for when Killian finishes writing it, and then you can mix in old favorites. This will keep you all relevant.”

He chuckles a little bit at that, but he always does whenever he has to talk business. He plays guitar and sings songs and writes lyrics because he enjoys it. Yes, the success and adrenaline of playing in front of thousands of people is wonderful and he wouldn’t trade it in, but at the end of the day, none of that matters if he’s not enjoying making music. That’s what it’s always been about. His mum taught him to play the piano and his brother taught him to play the guitar, and he never feels closer to them than when he’s playing. Really, he never feels closer to them than when he’s standing on the street singing songs form decades past because they’re the songs his mum always had on in the house whenever she would cook or do laundry to make it all a little more exciting.

His mother used to always be dancing with this beatific smile on her face and laughter on her lips, and he likes to remember her that way instead of weak and pale in a hospital bed. It’s the same with Liam. Killian likes to remember him refusing to dance with their mum, too old and too proud, before eventually giving in and dancing. It’s easier than remembering the knock that came to his apartment door with two Naval officers standing outside.

It’s happier too.

Music has always been his safe haven. It’s how he’s processed things, how he’s fallen in love and how he’s healed from broken hearts. It allows him to put his thoughts and feelings into a set of lyrics that go along with a melody, and maybe, just maybe, it makes all of that heartache feel a little further from home while still keeping it close where only he knows every meaning behind each word and note in a song.

Having the White Sails take off and be successful has been amazing, more than he could have ever dreamed of, but as Arthur asks them to play some of his new songs to a crowd full of people, all he really wants to do is play them on the sidewalk and have the pretty lass with green eyes and a beautiful smile hear him sing.

He’s rather fascinated with her and the coffee she always brings him, and most of the songs he’s written in the past few months have been partially written about her. A part of him wonders if she listens to much music as she has never recognized his face or his voice, but he’s not conceited enough to think that everyone on the street should know who he is. He likes the anonymity.

Just maybe not with her.

“We don’t need to be kept bloody relevant,” Will groans, his accent coming out a little stronger than before. “We are relevant. I haven’t worked my arse off for – ”

“Where and when?” he interrupts, an idea sparking in his mind.

“What now?”

“Where and when do you want us to do the concert? If we’re going to play some of the new songs, I need to fine tune them, and I’ll need a couple of weeks for that.”

Arthur smiles, and it’s the one Killian recognizes as it meaning something big.

“Two months from today in Madison Square Garden. Our marketing team is ready to drop both promotion and ticket sales tonight.”

“Do it.”

He spends the next twelve days in the recording studio trying to fix his songs and make them perfect. They won’t be. They’ll still need some work before they officially go on the album, but he thinks he likes them for now. He also thinks that he likes the tune that he can’t get out of his head about the woman with emerald eyes and hair that shines in the morning light, and he makes a promise to himself to actually speak to her when he returns home.

-/-

The morning after he gets back to New York, he takes his guitar and walks then ten blocks to his usual spot, deciding that today is a Queen day, and sings acoustic versions of most of their hits. He’s in the middle of We Are the Champions when he sees her. She’s got headphones in and only one cup of coffee in her hand. He didn’t tell her that he’d be gone for weeks, but honestly, he didn’t really know that he would be. It was only supposed to be a weekend. Besides, they don’t know each other. Just because they have this routine doesn’t actually mean anything.

Right?

She stops to watch him play, and there’s barely another soul around as he finishes out the song, letting the music die as his fingers stop moving.

“Where have you been?” she asks, her voice a pitch lower than he thought it would be. He likes it.

He quirks an eyebrow, shocked at her speaking, before he flashes her a smile and looks down at her coffee mug before looking back up to those emerald eyes with a smirk painted on his lips. “Did you miss me?”

She shrugs, and he has to stifle his laugh. He can’t believe they’re finally speaking after dancing around each other for months. Or really, singing around each other. There has been no dancing involved. He bets she’d be a good dancer.

“I guess so. I didn’t – I stopped buying your coffee. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, love. I wasn’t around. Wouldn’t want you to waste your money, but I did miss you and your coffee.”

He obviously doesn’t have a filter, but he’s somehow comfortable talking to her.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he sighs, encouraged by the little spark of excitement in her eyes. “They don’t make black coffee in LA, and they don’t have pretty lasses bring it to you.”

It’s been a solid year since he flirted with a woman, but he thinks he’s doing alright. Because that is what he’s doing. Flirting. He’s missed it.

“What a pity,” she mumbles, her cheeks flushed red even as he can tell that she’s downplaying her reaction. “I wonder how you survived.”

She’s got spunk. He likes her.

(Spunk? Does he suddenly live in the 1950’s?)

“The hardest few weeks of my life honestly. I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

She laughs, a real, genuine laugh, and if he could turn that into a melody to have forever, he would. Hopefully he’ll get the chance to make her laugh again.

Hopefully this conversation isn’t a one-time thing.

It’s not.

The next day she brings him his coffee, and they chat for a little while, stumbling into the fact that they both enjoy comedies more than any other genre of television, though he does love a good historical drama every now and then. But she’s a fan of shows like The Office and The Good Place, so they talk about last week’s episode before she has to go to work. It goes like that for a few more days, and in those days he learns that her favorite food is a grilled cheese hold all of the fancy toppings and that she runs every other day after work. If she doesn’t, she’ll apparently go crazy. He gets that. She obviously sits at a desk most of the day, and he would go crazy staying still for that long.

It’s a Tuesday when he finally learns her name. He’s between songs, his throat a little scratchy, when she shows up, so instead of placing his coffee on the ground like she usually does, she hands it to him.

“Thank you, love.”

“Yeah, no problem,” she mumbles before bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes darting anywhere but to him. He takes a sip of his coffee, the liquid warm and soothing on the way down, and just before he finishes swallowing, she blurts out, “what’s your name?”

It takes him back a bit, but mostly all he can think is finally.

“Killian,” he answers, flashing her a smile. “And you?”

“Do you not have a last name?”

He thinks on it a minute, debating whether or not he wants to tell her his last name. He doesn’t think she knows who he is, or maybe she does and doesn’t care. Either way, he doesn’t want this little routine between them to change. He comes out here in the mornings for himself, but he would be remiss to think that he didn’t also make his way here to the same spot every morning to see her.

“I do,” he slowly begins, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. “I just didn’t think you’d care.”

“I care. I’m Emma Swan if that helps.”

Emma Swan.

He likes it. God help him he thinks he might like her.

Is thirty four too old to have a crush?

“Jones then. Killian Jones.”

Her lips twitch, threatening to pull up into a smile, and he already knows that he’s got a smile painted on his lips. “Did you phrase it that way so you could say your name like James Bond?”

He winks. “I guess you’ll never know.”

They continue on as usual, getting to know each other over their ten minute chats every weekday. She brings him his coffee, he calls her Swan, and on the days when he’s in the middle of a song when she walks up, he changes the lyrics to her name to make her smile. It works every single time, and no part of him cares that it’s a little cheesy.

He’s a little cheesy when he’s tired. They’ve been having rehearsals during the day and during some nights, and it’s exhausting. It’s been awhile since they’ve played outside of a recording studio or one of their living rooms, so it’s a bit frustrating for them not to be perfectly in sync. It’s just one night, though, one show, and as time nears for it, he finally starts to feel like they’re getting ready.

But in the mornings he desperately needs his coffee from Emma, the family lawyer (how badass is that?) who still doesn’t seem to believe him when he tells her that he’s a musician.

So one morning, a week before the concert, when there’s a practical monsoon taking over Manhattan, instead of staying in his apartment, he makes his way to the closest The Bean shop in hopes that he can see Emma. It might be taking it a step too far, but honestly, it’s not the craziest thing he’s ever done for a woman.

He sees her when she walks in, her red rain coat dripping with water, and he tugs at his beanie while she talks to the barista who points over at him. Emma’s head twists to look in his direction, and she stalks her way over to him, plopping down in the chair across from him.

“So you stalking me now?” she laughs as her eyes come into contact with his. “Because I’ve got to say, I’m not sure the coffee I bring you every morning is worth all of the hassle.”

He gives her a lopsided grin, knowing that it’s charming, and reaches up to scratch at his ear, adjusting his beaning again. “I’m not stalking you. I, well, I can’t perform in all of this rain, and I still needed my coffee fix.”

“How’d you even figure out it was this store? You know this is a chain, right?”

He shrugs. “Google, some powers of deduction, and a whole lot of luck.”

“Well color me impressed mystery musical man.”

What in the world did she just call him? Mystery musical man?

He can’t help but laugh, and it ends up being louder than he expected, making several people stare at him. His ears are suddenly far too hot under this beanie.

He’s not alone, though. He can see the blush on Emma’s cheeks. “Um, nothing.”

“No, no,” he teases, leaning forward on the table and waggling his brows while flashing her another smile, completely amused and besotted by this entire situation. Man is he glad that she’s not mad that he showed up here. “You called me mystery musical man. Swan, I didn’t know you had a nickname for me.”

“Yeah, well, I went a few months not knowing who you were. What was I supposed to do?”

“Ask me my name.”

“I did…eventually.” He shakes his head from side to side as he smiles, remembering to slide her coffee cup over to her. “So, um, can I ask you a question? And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Sure, love, but I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t tell you unless you’re about to ask me some deep, personal secret like if I’ve ever dyed my hair.”

She snorts into her drink. That’s not quite as melodic as her laugh, but he likes it just the same. “No, no. I’d never ask such a deeply personal question, but I do, um, what the hell is it that you do for a living?”

His brows furrow as he clicks his tongue. Wow, she really doesn’t believe him. “Didn’t we talk about this already? I’m a musician.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but do you do anything else besides performing before eight in the morning? I know this is rude, but I’m just…curious.”

“Tis not rude,” he admits, hoping to calm her. She doesn’t need to feel awkward around him. He hopes that she doesn’t, that they’re friends, that they have…potential. “What someone does for a living is basic conversation. But seriously, no. I’m a musician, and I do play more than the mornings. That’s honestly just for fun.”

“So where do you play? I’d love to come see you.” He raises his brows, curling the right side of his lips into a smirk and closing his eyes halfway as he stares at her, trying to get her to blush like she was earlier. “To see you play,” she clarifies, hiding behind her mug. “I’d love to see you play.”

She’s adorable, and he’s utterly, officially charmed.

“I know what you mean, love. I, um,” he hesitates, knowing that what he’s about to tell her could change their relationship but wanting to tell her anyhow, “I haven’t had many gigs lately, but I am playing on Friday night if you’d like to come.”

“Really?” she asks excitedly. “Where?”

He clenches his teeth down and looks up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say to keep some of the mystery alive so she’ll be more likely to show up to the show. He is mystery musical man after all.

“Tell you what, love, I’m going to get you some tickets for you and a friend, and the address will be on them. Does that work for you?”

“It makes you seem like the definition of mystery musical man.”

“Yeah, well, that’s apparently who I am.”

They chat for a little while longer before he walks with her to work, holding his umbrella over both of their heads, and when he realizes that she’s not sure how to say goodbye, he boldly leans down and brushes a kiss against her cheek that he swears lights his entire body aflame.

-/-

Adrenaline runs through him for all of Friday. He’s nervous. He’s a professional, and he’s so damn nervous that he might vomit as he paces back and forth in their dressing room after sound check. He’s not sure if it’s the combination of pre-show jitters and showcasing new songs or if it has to do with him wondering whether or not Emma is going to show up tonight. It’ll be fine if she doesn’t. Really, it will.

But he wants her here.

He’s got feelings for the woman, and he’d like for her to know what it really is that he does, no more vague secrets.

“How much coffee did you drink, Jones?” Will chuckles, calmly propping his feet on a coffee table and taking a sip of his water. “You’re vibrating.”

“No coffee. I’m tired.”

“He invited a lass,” Robin not so helpfully supplies.

“I should have never told you, you arse.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have known how to get her tickets.”

He rolls his eyes and keeps pacing. This is all going to be just fine. It has to be. The show will be fine, great probably. Two songs in, and he’ll be back to his normal self on stage.

And it’ll be a damn good time.

And Emma will be here.

“Hello, everybody,” he says into the microphone when they’re finally on stage minutes later, lights blaring down on him and the audience talking under a loud murmur as he takes several deep breaths and plasters a smile on his face. “I’m so glad you all can be here tonight. I know it’s been awhile since we performed, but it took a bit to get some inspiration for our new songs, though I finally found some lately. So I thank you for being patient with us. I’m Killian Jones, and we are The White Sails.”

-/-

After the concert he’s on a high that he hasn’t felt for a long time, his body practically buzzing with excitement and a little bit of the rum he drank before the show. It went well, the new songs getting a good reaction, but now that he’s changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and has had time to digest all of that, all he can think about is the fact that Emma bloody Swan is waiting outside in the hallway for him.

His mates are going to tease him about this for a solid month.

It’ll be worth it.

He steps out of the dressing room, his hand already at his ear with nerves, and walks right toward Emma and who he assumes is her friend.

“I’m sorry I didn’t buy you coffee,” she blurts out before her eyes widen, the mortification practically broadcasted on her face.

He shrugs and laughs, unable to help himself. “That’s okay, love. I think maybe you can have a pass this time.” He leans forward and wraps his arms around her, embracing her and hoping that he doesn’t smell too much like sweat when he hasn’t taken a shower. Emma smells like vanilla. He’s never noticed that before. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she answers as she pulls back, “that was incredible. You’re incredible. I’m just entirely confused.” He expected that and is about to address it when the woman next to Emma coughs, and they both turn to look at her. “And this is Ruby Lucas,” Emma tells him.

“Nice to meet you, mystery musical man. I came with to make sure my girl wasn’t going to get murdered tonight.”

“Totally understandable,” he laughs, reaching for Ruby’s hand. He forgot to take off his rings from the show, and he feels them against her skin. “That’s why there were two tickets. To prevent the murder, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Emma interrupts, and his attention turns back to her, “I just have a lot of questions.”

“Well Swan, maybe I have some answers. Do you – ” Arthur calls his name behind him, and he twists to look at him to see him motioning his hand. “ – can you and Ruby wait here while I do a bit of quick business?”

“Sure. That’s fine.”

He jogs off to talk to Arthur, hopefully telling him that this won’t take long because he’d rather be talking to Emma than to Arthur about what he’s sure is some deadline for the new album.

“Great show, Jones,” he greets, clapping his hand and pulling him in for a hug and patting his back.

“Thank you. It went better than I thought it would.”

“It always does. The new songs were great. The label loves them. We ended up sold out on tickets and merch tonight. That was what was unexpected. Not the show going well but us having an audience.”

“Quite a lot of faith you’re putting in me there.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, always the realist. “You know what I mean. I just wanted to let you know that and that we have a meeting with the label tomorrow.”

“God, please tell me that it’s in the New York office. I’m not flying cross country tomorrow.”

“It’s in the New York office,” he sighs, smiling a little bit. “At one. Make sure Will shows up.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Good, go back to talk to your girl.”

He almost protests, but instead he winks at Arthur and starts making his way back to Emma who is probably going crazy with thoughts right now. She gets up to greet him, and before he can even open his mouth to apologize for leaving, she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him, her lips soft against his. It takes him far too long to kiss back, the moment shocking him, but when he does, he tries to keep it soft and slow, treating her with all of the care she deserves instead of pushing her back up against the wall and devouring her. Though, now that he knows how Emma kisses, he wants to do that too. His lips caress hers and his hands reach up to cup her cheeks before threading into her hair while hers does the same, another pleasant buzz spreading across his skin.

He absolutely cannot believe that he’s kissing Emma Swan.

Drinking all of that black coffee without creamer was totally worth it.

When she pulls back, he growls, not able to stop himself as he chases her lips and rests his forehead against hers, breathing in even though he knows that she’s taken his breath away.

Maybe he gets a little cheesy all of the time.

“So the whole being in a band thing really did it for you, huh?”

“No,” she promises, quickly brushing her lips against his again while her fingers keep playing with his hair. He’d like to keep doing that for a long time. “I don’t care about that. It’s awesome, but I don’t care.”

“Yeah?” he asks, all of his nerves over the whole thing beginning to fade away. Maybe this will all work out.

“Yeah. All I really want is to buy you a coffee.”

He laughs against her lips, unable to help himself. Tonight is a good night.

Tonight is a damn great night.

“You know what, Swan? I think I can buy this time.”

He and Emma get coffee two days later. He buys despite her protests, and it goes on like that for days and weeks and months as coffee dates turn into actual dates and dates turn into overnight stays and overnight stays turn into moving in together. Eventually moving in together turns into getting married, and all along the way he writes far more songs than he thinks he has in his entire life, filling albums with his love.

Emma Jones is a fantastic muse.