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themurphyzone · 3 years ago

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PatB Oneshot: Love Survives

Summary: When Brain loses his entire world, he’s lost within his grief. But maybe...even in the darkest night, there are sparks of hope.

The title of this fic comes from the ending song for All Dogs Go to Heaven. I noticed that there seems to be a trend of Brain loses Pinky and can’t cope’ fics out there, so I’m cashing in one of mine.

AO3 Link

Warnings for Major Character Death and Animal Cruelty

Pinky was buried in a beautiful meadow, near an old, strong oak tree and a patch of colorful wildflowers. The site was simply marked on the tree. Brain had tied a sunshine yellow ribbon around the trunk.

It was Pinky’s favorite color.

Tie a yellow ribbon round the ‘ole oak tree, Pinky would sing. Punctuated by a series of odd tics when he inevitably forgot the rest of the lyrics.

And beneath that ribbon of sunshine, Brain carved a circle, enclosed by a heart.

Forever my world.

P+B

The inscription was carefully placed inside the heart. Brain wouldn’t have it any other way.

He sank to his knees, pressing his head against the tree. He allowed the tears to come. There was no point in trying to stifle them.

Brain had chosen this site so that Pinky’s body would forever be safe from human interference. Protecting what remained of his world was the least Brain could do. Placing Pinky somewhere peaceful and beautiful was the bare minimum.

A lifetime ago, he’d watched Disney’s Snow White adaptation with Pinky. That silly mouse was a hopeless romantic, so naturally Disney movies catered to his taste.

So beautiful, even in death, that the dwarves could not find it in their hearts to bury her. They fashioned a coffin of glass and gold, and kept eternal vigil at her side.

Ironic, how Brain had scoffed at the very notion of true love’s kiss when Pinky was alive. Now, he wished nothing more than for true love’s kiss to purge the progressive decay that would set into Pinky’s body.

In his fantasies, he would lean over a thin body laid in a golden coffin, the glass lid removed. Flowers outlined the soft white cushion his lover’s body laid upon.

He would kiss Pinky, and those beautiful sky-blue eyes would flutter open with surprise and joy. Then Pinky would reach for him and pull him into a hug, whispering nothing but words of affirmation and love and promises to be together forever.

And they’d walk off together, into a gorgeous castle where they could rule the world and live happily ever after.

But life was not a Disney movie.

Brain didn’t have gold. He had nothing of worth, nothing of extravagance to bury Pinky with.

And bodies could not be preserved, as Snow White’s was. It would take a while, but all bodies turned to ash and dust with enough time.

And most of all, he would never be able to speak to Pinky again. Hear that wonderful Cockney accent, or get annoyed and grumble about his quirks, or touch that soft, warm fur. Never to hug, never to bop, never to hold hands or hear a heartbeat or intertwine their tails anymore.

Never to hear kind words when he needed them most, never to drive away the loneliness or comfort him after defeat, never to scold him when he was wrong.

Brain would never feel a jaw rest against his head or strong, gentle arms to cradle him again.

He would never hear ‘I love you’ anymore.

In this enormous, frightening world, Brain was truly alone.

o-o-o-o-o

He returned to the lab.

There was nothing else for him. No point in trying to take over the world without Pinky.

After all, there was no point in trying to create a better world if Pinky wasn’t there to reap the rewards with him.

Brain slept in the straw that night. He couldn’t sleep in the bed anymore. It was just too cold, no matter how many blankets he tried to use. The other half of the bed was empty and lifeless, lacking an energetic mouse who would either sprawl all his limbs out and invade Brain’s share of the bed or curl around him to make him feel safe and protected.

Pinky always protected him, whether it was from his own racing thoughts or when the world just became too much.

And now he couldn’t.

In the morning, the scientists took him out of the cage for experiments. Brain hated their harsh, burning touch, the smell of latex assaulting his nose, and their biting, scathing words.

Before, he’d growl and bite their fingers if they dared to touch him.

Pinky had given him a reason to fight and resist their domineering ways.

Now, he could only stay lifeless and limp as he was carried into the unknown. He hated how he couldn’t make his body move, or scream at the scientists for what they’d cruelly taken away from him.

It was all their fault.

And for what?

Profit? Science? Just to see if they could?

They inoculated Pinky with a virus. Pinky had grown sicker and sicker, trying to smile and narf his way through Brain’s plans of world domination until his body simply gave out from the stress.

Brain had noticed early on. Pinky would say ‘zort’ and laugh away the pain, or try to invent some excuse as to why he was a bit slower and clumsier than usual.

And though he knew Pinky was lying to him, Brain tried to keep pushing through. Pinky had insisted that Brain shouldn’t stop on his account.

It was nothing, he told himself. He’ll be fine in a few nights. Just assign him less strenuous tasks for now.

But Pinky didn’t get better. He coughed and limped and fell down when he tried to walk. But for Brain’s sake, he tried to keep going.

Maybe he could’ve gotten better with a little rest. Or if Brain dedicated more time to finding a cure.

Pinky was finally bedridden. Too weak to eat or drink without help, too tired to run on the wheel or watch TV or any other inane activity.

Brain put all schemes on hold until he could cure Pinky’s pitiful condition.

And one night, Pinky went to sleep.

He never woke up again.

Brain didn’t realize it until morning, when there was no heartbeat though his head was against Pinky’s chest.

It would be karmic justice if they injected Brain with the same sickness that had killed Pinky. He wouldn’t fight them off this time.

But they only plopped him in a maze.

A tedious task, but not life-threatening. It was unfair that he only had to do a maze while Pinky suffered from that injection.

But he couldn’t run the maze. Just sit there and listlessly stare at the wall.

It was a process that repeated over the next few days.

Get taken out of the cage. Be placed into maze. Sit and stare at the wall until they took him out. Be placed back into cage and try to eat a food pellet or two, though he had no appetite. Stare into the distance until exhaustion caught up with him. And the cycle repeated.

I miss you. I’m sorry. Please come back, Brain pleaded.

I love you.

Three little words. Not intellectual, grandiose words that were his preferred vocabulary, but a simple collection of letters that were somehow the hardest to say.

Did Pinky know?

He should’ve told him a long time ago, when he had the chance. When Pinky had been alive and healthy and well.

But he hadn’t.

Hindsight was a cruel mistress.

And there were more disturbing thoughts that arose, if he thought for far too long. They started off as fleeting stray fragments, but with each passing night they grew stronger. Thoughts of vengeance, retribution, and payback began to dominate.

You took my entire world! It’s your fault! None of you will ever know how much he meant to me!

He hated how these thoughts invaded and tainted Pinky’s memory. Pinky would never approve. But Pinky wasn’t here to stop him.

He could do whatever he wanted, without Pinky’s morals to obstruct him at every turn. How glorious was that?

Brain’s fingers trembled as he printed out a list of all the scientists who’d been involved in the inhumane experiment that had killed Pinky.

It was all there. Names, addresses, telephone numbers, social security, employment history.

But the sky shone brightly that morning, piercing and blue, asking why?

Brain had planned to get into the human suit. He’d comb through the entire town and make sure each and every one of the scientists knew exactly what they did to such a precious soul. And then he’d-

Would that bring Pinky back? Would that help with the pain?

The bright blue sky bore down all around him, trapping him in a neverending azure sea. Brain shook, a strangled noise escaping his throat.

Tarnishing Pinky’s memory like that…what kind of friend was he?

A horrible one, that’s what.

He shredded the list, unable to go through with such a horrible deed.

The tears swiftly came, his vision blurred and movements uncoordinated.

There was nobody to see him anyway. He didn’t care about potential embarrassment, though he might’ve once. But that was all in the past.

It was hard to care about anything.

He stumbled through the lab. There were no humans to avoid just yet. The lab wouldn’t be opening for another few minutes.

Didn’t matter if he was caught outside his cage and transferred to a more lethal department besides behavioral. Or mistaken for a feeder and dropped into a snake’s gaping maw.

He didn’t know where he was going. Didn’t care where he ended up.

Until he bumped into a structure in front of him. An all too familiar structure that haunted his nightmares.

The gene splicer loomed over him, tall and unassuming. But he knew firsthand the damage that piece of machinery could inflict.

Those who passed through became sentient, but at what cost? Insanity, the pleasure of knowing their lives were worth nothing, and lost innocence. Friends and families torn apart in the pursuit of scientific knowledge.

Although…

An odd thought flickered by, and he grasped it by a thread.

What if he used the gene splicer on himself…so he could face sweet oblivion?

All he’d care about was food pellets and digging through straw. He would never have to ponder his worth again, or have this stupid obsession with the world.

He would lose the ability to read and write and undo his vast scientific and mathematical knowledge. None of those would bring Pinky back, so what good were they to him?

Pinky.

What if he forgot Pinky?

Forgot about that silly bucktoothed smile, or the way his tail swished about when he was happy, or the feel of warm fur against his body?

And most importantly, the kindness and love Pinky had given to such an unworthy creature like him.

Did he truly want to forget all that?

He didn’t know.

The clock ticked. Brain didn’t know how long he’d stood there for, but his ears perked at the sound of footsteps, wheels, and a cacophony of frantic squeaks.

“Dr. Pollock, these are the specimens you ordered for the revival,” a female voice said.

“Ah, so they finally arrived,” a cold, detached voice replied. “Took them long enough. Come into the splicing room with me, intern. You can separate the subjects into their groups while I set up the experiment.”

“It’s Ashley, sir,” the intern said, sounding a little annoyed. “My name is Ashley.”

“So many interns walk out those doors and never return. Do you honestly expect me to remember every one of your names?” Dr. Pollock sighed.

Brain darted behind a curtain that hid a small window from view just as Dr. Pollock and Ashley came into the room. Ashley’s black hair was tied up in a neat little bun, a pair of awkward, oversized glasses perched on her face. She pushed a large cart into the room, covered by a large tarp.

The squeaking was coming from underneath, a discordant harmony of pleas and screams and crying.

And he recognized those sounds.

They were the noises of barely weaned mice who wanted nothing more than to see their parents and siblings again, who only wanted a place called home.

He’d been a child once. A long time ago.

But once ACME had their clutches in a mouse, there was no escape. And innocence would be violently and cruelly stripped away until there was nothing left but a broken shell.

He’d experienced it. So had Pinky, Snowball, Billie, and countless others he couldn’t name.

But Dr. Pollock didn’t pay any mind to the noise. He simply brought out a laptop, connected a USB cable to a port on the gene splicer, and logged in to the system.

Ashley was more hesitant as she pulled the tarp off the cart, her face pinched with doubt. She wasn’t the first intern who wore that expression, nor would she be the last.

Many college students came to do their internship with ACME Labs, only to discover that the type of labwork they expected to receive was not what they signed up for at all. So many had thrown down their labcoats in disgust.

Why some colleges were still willing to partner with ACME, he didn’t know.

Cages upon cages of baby mice were stacked on top of each other. Big and small, long or short fur, white and ginger and brown and gray with every color in between. None would be spared the trip through the splicer.

The squeals grew louder as harsh, clinical light flooded their sensitive eyes. They scratched at the cage bars, anxiously calling out for help that would never come.

But not all of them made noise.

Some of them, even without sentience, had quietly accepted their miserable existence. They huddled in the corner of their cage, limbs and tail tucked underneath in a futile attempt at protection.

And a handful fought back, lunging at the bars of their prisons again and again. Brain could admire that fighting spirit, but it would be gone all too soon.

“Separate them into four groups of ten. Don’t bother organizing them by characteristic. This is meant to be a random controlled experiment,” Dr. Pollock instructed, his fingers flying over the keys of his laptop.

Ashley opened one of the bigger cages that sat on the table by the gene splicer, pulled on a pair of gloves, and counted out ten mice for the first group.

“Ten for Group A,” Ashley said as she released the last mouse, a gray flecked female with long whiskers, into the communal cage. The young mouse squeaked and nuzzled into the gloved fingers, her eyes closed in contentment.

Something about the action was very Pinky-like, and Brain’s chest ached at the reminder of his deceased friend.

Ashley’s face softened as she watched the first group scamper and sniff each other, a tangle of fur and tails and limbs.

“Don’t get attached to lab specimens,” Dr. Pollock warned her. He turned on the gene splicer, and with a cough and sputter, the machine came to life. He pulled the lever, and the conveyor belt started to move. “It won’t do you any good.”

The first group of mice were placed onto the belt, and within seconds they disappeared into the confines of the machine.

“Group A. Minimum power,” Dr. Pollock said.

The curious squeaks soon turned to terror as blue lightning flashed all around them. Brain flattened his ears and looked away. Even at minimum power, the gene splicer would still rip at every strand of DNA and put it all back together in a rapid yet painful process.

For a moment, all was silent. Then the cage emerged from the gene splicer.

But there were significantly fewer squeaks than before.

Ashley gasped. “Some of these mice are-”

“Dead, yes,” Dr. Pollock finished for her. He didn’t sound surprised. “This happened in the original Project BRAIN too, in which there were only three documented survivors out of forty. I’d hoped to avert that unfortunate outcome by updating the gene splicer with 21st century technology, but it appears that some young mice simply experience too much of an adrenaline rush from terror and their hearts cannot handle the stress. Some things just weren’t meant to be. Separate the two living ones and dispose of the rest. Biohazard bag, if you please.”

His tone was cold and clinical. A bag rustled. Eight bodies were thrown away.

Disposed of like they were nothing more than trash. Pinky’s body might’ve shared the same fate if Brain hadn’t been the first one to discover him. He’d gotten Pinky out of the lab quickly, unable to bear the thought of having nothing to bury.

Brain trembled from head to toe, shoving a hand in front of his mouth so his loud breathing didn’t alert anyone to his position. There was nothing he could do for those young mice.

ACME Labs didn’t care. As long as the mice gave them their bodies, minds, and souls in the name of science, they would continue destroying these rodents�� quality of life.

He’d seen it with Snowball, driven out of his mind because of that horrible explosion.

And with Pinky, who was separated from his own loving family at too young an age and desperately clung to anyone who gave him a little attention.

“Group B. Ten mice. Moderate power,” Dr. Pollock announced.

“...eight. N-nine. Ten,” Ashley counted out the next batch of mice. Her voice shook.

The squeaks dwindled to silence.

“No survivors,” Dr. Pollock announced. “Same procedure as before, intern.”

“S-sir? Don’t you think this is-”

“Do you care about the ants underfoot? The cockroaches that creep along your wall? The flies you squish?” Dr. Pollock asked. “My dear, these mice aren’t of an endangered variety. They are barely a fraction of the total population. And their numbers will replenish quickly.”

“...yes, sir,” Ashley replied, her voice barely audible.

“Group C. High power.”

Brain’s fingers curled into the fabric of the curtain as the third group went into the machine. This time, there was complete silence when the machinery was finished.

“A pity that none survived again. Prepare the last group. Maximum power,” Dr. Pollock said, as if he were simply checking items off on a clipboard.

The gene splicer sputtered, its circuits overloading as all its parts were forced to work at speeds they could barely maintain without falling apart.

And once again, there was complete silence.

“This one’s tail is twitching,” Ashley said quietly.

“How interesting. A runt is the only one to survive maximum power. A small size could potentially be a factor in its survival,” Dr. Pollock mused. “Well, we’ll have to keep monitoring then. Intern, take the surviving mice and place them into the behavioral room for now. I’ll wrap everything up over here.”

Only then did Brain dare to peek out from behind the curtain. The biohazard bag swung from Dr. Pollock’s hand, bulging with the combined weight of the unfortunate mice who’d met their early end at the hands of ACME Labs.

There wasn’t anything Brain could do for them.

He could only hope those babies found solace in a different world, one that was far away from here. One that wasn’t filled with hopelessness and cruelty.

There was no point in staying here.

Ashley picked up the cage with the three surviving mice, her steps heavy and uncoordinated as she walked to the behavioral room. It seemed she was still processing the experiment and the deaths it caused, unable to do anything in her passiveness.

The mice only let out the occasional squeak, too exhausted from their ordeal to say anything else.

Brain followed her, keeping to the shadows so he wouldn’t be spotted.

She set the cage on the counter, next to Brain’s usual cage. From there, she simply watched the four babies for a while, her eyes dull and unfocused.

“I’ll get supplies,” she finally murmured. She nearly stumbled over a chair as she left the room.

The moment she was gone, Brain climbed up the counter. He wanted to walk past the young mice, not get involved or attached or anything stupid like that, but he saw how they just lay there, motionless and helpless.

They didn’t have someone to dry their tears or pat their heads. Nobody to lean on, nobody to protect them.

Against his better judgment, Brain unlocked the cage and stepped inside.

The friendly gray-flecked female from the first group was among them. She raised her head with some difficulty, fatigue in her green eyes as she looked at Brain. Her tail wagged weakly, as if she hadn’t quite given up just yet.

But Brain had the feeling that if he didn’t do something, then she would lose hope forever.

The second mouse was a pure white male, who was quite a bit larger than most mouse pups his age. He was slightly round, reminding Brain of those huge marshmallow puffs Pinky used to put into his hot cocoa. He was quiet as he slumbered, save for the occasional breath.

And the third was the tiniest mouse pup Brain had ever seen in his life. She only had a thin layer of sandy fur, her tail already bent in two places from mishandling. Her legs kicked out wildly as she let out a furious tirade of squeaks.

Tiny, but she was a fighter.

They were all on the cold metal floor. It couldn’t be comfortable, especially after such an ordeal. Brain left the cage and gathered several fluffy towels, one to serve as a buffer between the mice and the floor, and the others to serve as blankets.

He spread the towel on the floor, and only then did it occur to him that he’d have to physically pick up the mice pups and move them.

Brain’s throat tightened as he approached the gray female. He was no good with children. Romy had proved that.

“Move to the towel,” he said, trying to sound commanding in spite of his doubts. Thankfully, the gray pup had enough strength to crawl over to the towel and bury herself among its folds. Her squeak sounded happy enough. With a little nudging from Brain, the male pup followed suit. He wasn’t awake for long though, and quickly fell asleep again.

But the tiniest pup refused to budge, and Brain had to concede that he’d have to pick her up himself. As he knelt down to grab her, trying to avoid her flailing limbs, he noticed dark spots under her eyes that trailed down her cheeks.

Brain froze.

She was crying, and he was at a loss.

He hated tears. Couldn’t stand it when Pinky cried, because the happiest mouse in the world shouldn’t ever feel that way. He didn’t like the ache that welled up in him, or the way his ears fell limp upon the slightest hint of sadness.

With a trembling hand, Brain reached for her. But his hand could only hover in front of her forehead. He couldn’t do it.

He was as alone and helpless as these children.

Why couldn’t Pinky have been here? He would’ve loved them instantly. He would’ve comforted them with soothing songs and gentle reassurances.

He was far better at this than Brain would ever be.

And slowly, gently, an invisible force guided Brain’s hand to the pup’s forehead. The pup jerked violently at the contact, a keen wail slipping out of her mouth, far louder than what her tiny lung capacity should’ve held.

Brain recoiled and withdrew his hand.

It’s okay. Just try again, a familiar voice urged.

And so he tried, the voice granting him the courage to do so. This time, he steadied the pup’s enlarged head with his other hand, wiping away several stray tears with his thumb.

The pup’s wails died away, her limbs falling still. She nuzzled into his hand, her rapid breathing evening out.

Brain sighed in relief once the pup finally fell into a more restful sleep pattern, and he picked her up, holding her at arms’ length so he could wrap her into the towel.

The other two pups were curled up together, seeking warmth in each other. There was a small space in between them, so Brain placed the third pup there, hoping this would help regulate her body temperature since her fur wasn’t completely grown in yet. Thankfully, all three accepted the new arrangement without a struggle.

Brain tucked an extra towel over their bodies, only leaving their heads exposed.

He was so preoccupied in his task that he failed to notice a metallic clink behind him. His ears pricked up, his fur bristling as he turned to face the source of the noise.

A pair of startled eyes met his own.

Brain didn’t allow himself to relax though.

Ashley might’ve been by herself, but he couldn’t risk her calling Dr. Pollock to observe them. He planted himself firmly between the three pups and the cage door, crossing his arms and returning her stare with as much ferocity as he could.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I…I didn’t realize this place was so…so cruel.”

She wasn’t the first intern to have that epiphany. But maybe…if Brain played his cards right, she’d be the last.

“I brought food and water,” Ashley mumbled. In one hand, she held a bowl full of soft food for the baby mice. In the other was a full water bottle.

Brain pushed the towel towards the back of the cage. The pups continued to slumber peacefully. He remained in between them and Ashley though, for the unspoken agreement that he would allow her to place the food within the cage and add the water bottle, but she wouldn’t be permitted to touch the pups.

No ACME employee, well-meaning or not, would ever be permitted to touch the pups again. They’d done enough harm.

Accepting his terms, Ashley placed the food bowl by the cage door and carefully added the water bottle. She was careful not to rattle the cage as she clipped the water bottle to the side, as so many others were prone to do.

She stopped by the trash can, and with a deep breath, she ripped off her name tag and dropped it into the plastic lining. Then she grabbed her purse and coat, leaving the premises for good.

Once she was gone, Brain exited the cage. The pups would be alright for a while.

Underneath the blankets of his own bed, he’d hidden his most treasured item. Among all his inventions and countless plans, the globe keychain was the only object he couldn’t bear to part with.

Brain reached out and touched the precious world that had been so generously and wholeheartedly given, even though he didn’t deserve it. Perhaps it was nothing more than smooth plastic, but it was more valuable than gold, diamonds, and all the jewels of the earth combined.

“...sorry, old friend,” Brain whispered, his throat tightening as he spoke to his world, stolen away far too soon. “I wish for nothing more than to see you again, but…I can’t go with you just yet. There are tasks here I can’t leave unfinished. These mice…they need somebody who will be there for them. Just like…just like how you were always there for me.”

There was a beautiful blue sea reflected in the metal rings of the chain. And somehow, Brain knew it wasn’t a trick of the light.

Gentle hands turned him around, and Brain didn’t resist. He simply allowed them to guide him home.

A pair of white angelic wings stretched from the ghostly Pinky’s back, ethereal and beautiful. His friend had more than earned them. They flared outwards as Pinky leaned down, planting a kiss on Brain’s forehead.

Warmth spread from the center of his forehead, gently washing over his entire being. This was the feeling of coming home to rest after a long night, the joy received from a beautiful smile, and the bright candle that allowed him to see amidst the darkest of nights.

It was more than a kiss.

It was a promise for their souls to reunite in the world beyond someday.

And it was a blessing for Brain to keep living, keep striving for a better tomorrow, and keep all of Pinky’s lessons close to his heart. He would ensure those young mice would know of Pinky’s strange wisdom, so they too may pass his charity and kindness to whoever crossed their path when the time came.

He would not allow the lab’s cruelty to continue. No longer was he the helpless child who cried in the corner. There were steps he could take to expose all of ACME’s unethical practices to the world.

The lab would be reformed into a place of sanctuary for those who suffered at ACME’s hands, so that they may find peace and acceptance within its walls.

“I don’t know if I’ll succeed or fail, but for your sake, I’m going to try,” Brain admitted, his shoulders trembling. He wiped the tears from his eyes, but they fell out faster than he could stop them. “I…I’m sorry. I wish I learned these lessons when you were alive. But I derided them for so long a-and-”

A pair of sky blue eyes gazed at him, loving and warm and forgiving. Pinky pulled him in close, his angelic wings folding around Brain to protect him from the world, in a love so strong that not even death could separate them.

And for the very first time, Brain saw the world through his heart.

o-o-o-o-o

“Some things you see with your eyes. Others, with your heart.”

-Land Before Time

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #patb oneshot #tw major character death #tw animal cruelty

31 notes · View notes

spiderling-space · 4 years ago

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This is another idea of mine that I postponed I made headcanons for MC brotherzoning the prefects . Did anyone think vice prefects wouldn’t get the same treatment? :D:D

Setting: MC motherzones vice prefects

Ortho is excluded.

♣️♣️♣️♣️♣️♣️♣️♣️♣️♣️♣️♣️

Trey Clover

Trey isn’t very experienced in romance area but he has a little idea on how to impress a person. Food is the answer of course. He is thankful that he is a talented cook and baker. He tricks his Heartslabyul dorm mates into doing his work while he prepares a romantic dinner with (Y/N) where he will confess his feelings. After he is done, he invites (Y/N) over and mentions that he prepared everything just for them. After the desserts, he starts confessing his feelings.

“Thank you, Trey. This dinner you prepared made me think of mom’s cooking. It’s as delicious as hers. You make me feel like my mom is sitting right across me, chatting with me and cracking some jokes.”

Trey is taken aback and he is waiting for the punchline. He thinks what they said was the punchline and laughs until he realizes they meant what they said. He drinks water to cover the embarrassment. He was trying to win their heart instead they basically called him mother. He needs some time and hopefully Cater won’t hear this.

🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie is used to doing chores in NRC and at his home. He sees the mess (Y/N) lives in and thinks that he can get their attention if he helps them around Ramshackle. That place is hazardous but when Ruggie is done, it will be a lively place. Besides, this would give him opportunity to be around them. That’s right, he is a genius. He fixes up their dorm while (Y/N) still throws their clothes to the ground. He warns them every time they do it. After Ramshackle is in shape, Ruggie strikes. He mentions that it took days but he made it happen then he says that he likes them while patting them on the head.

“You act just like my mom, Ruggie.” (Y/N) giggles. “Maybe I should call you mom from now on.”

“Shishishi” He thinks they are joking. He confessed his feelings and they just call him “mom”. “Are you dense?”

“Nope, mom.”

Ruggie realizes that they said that on purpose. He just got motherzoned and he has no idea how to feel about it. He curses his luck and pouts. His mood will be sour for some time and will remember that moment over and over again.

🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄🍄

Jade Leech

Jade has heard that some humans are into gentlemanly type while some prefer badboy type. He hasn’t figured out what (Y/N)’s type is but he is going to try both on them and see how they react. His first plan is to be complete gentleman as humans say. He prepares their favorite food, opens the doors for them, talks with people that annoy (Y/N) so they wouldn’t do anymore. He just looks after them as a human boyfriend would according to the information he gathered. He thinks it is to confess his feelings so he does.

“Your characteristics resemble my mom too much. I think you got wrong impression from me,” (Y/N) pats him on the bicep, “Mom.”

Jade chuckles. So his initial plan failed. He is going to try his backup plan and act as a badboy, as humans put it, for (Y/N) to see him in a new light and get out of motherzone. He has been too kind to some people that bothered them and now he can compensate for that time. He is sure (Y/N) will see him as romantic interest now.

🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

Jamil Viper

Jamil is a man of many talents. He can cook, dance and tutor. He didn’t intend it but his heart ached for (Y/N) and with the encouragement from Kamil, he decided to pursue them. He uses his talents to impress them as much as he can. He cooked them meals and offered to teach them. When they have issue with classes, he is there to guide them. He even gave them hair-care since they wondered how his hair is always good looking.

“I see you as my mother. You act like her most of the times so it is awkward for me to see you that way.” (Y/N) tries to console him.

Jamil is embarrassed because of the outcome. He would be fine with just getting rejected after a few days but this is worse than he imagined. They said he is like their mother and there is no turning back from that. He will keep his facade until he is alone. He isn’t going to try to change their view of him.

🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹

Rook Hunt

Rook loves beauty and finds it everywhere but the beauty (Y/N) holds is entirely different. He quickly realizes he is in love and writes poems for them. He increase the compliments he gives to them and sends letters with his arrows. One day he can’t keep these emotions anymore and he decides to confess.

“I know you praise everyone and I just need to say this. My mom always praised me like you do. Thank you for enacting as my mother, mom.”

Rook is hurt as his smile falters. Because of his love for all beauty, they thought he praises everyone the same way he did with them. His heart is broken and on the top of that they view him as a family member. Rook is the one who would fight for love and he will. If they still refuse him after he clarifies the situation, he won’t do any more advances. He will go hunting to get rid of the sadness.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia hasn’t been in a relationship for some time. They all seemed similar after living for centuries until he saw (Y/N). He is infatuated with them so he decides to court them. He has vast knowledge on romance and he is using his entire arsenal to get them to see him in a romantic way. He gives them praises, gifts and listens their problems and offers solutions. When he thinks it is time, he tell (Y/N) that he loves them.

“Thank you, Lilia. I love you too. You are just like my mother. If I were bold enough, I’d have asked you if I can call you mother.”

Lilia is ancient. He had various relationships. Some pursue weren’t futile, he had been rejected, friendzoned and fatherzoned but this is the first time he gets motherzoned. He keeps his mask, “Fufufufu~~” laughs with a bittersweet smile. In a few of his endeavors, he managed to get out of “fatherzone” since his partner was into that. He will find out if (Y/N) has similar tastes.

#twst #twisted wonderland #trey clover #ruggie bucchi #jade leech #jamil viper #rook hunt #lilia vanrouge #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #diasomnia #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #headcanons #vice prefect #gender neutral reader

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taeyohonic · 4 years ago

Text

stolen dances | chap. 8

summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating: m

warning: swearing

additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y

words: 2200

links: prev. | next [masterlist]

note: lower case letters intended

chapter summary: maybe there are too many red flags to ingore.

“what do you mean the menu changed?”, you hiss into the receiver, not caring how your colleague aches an eyebrow at your harsh tone.

“mr. jeon’s assistant called yesterday and demanded the gluten free pasta to be added instead of the duchess potatoes.” your caterer sounds as lost as you feel.

“but… the duchess is gluten free – now there’ll be a double pasta dish for entrée and sides”, you explain to the person who professionally cooks. never would you have imagined you’d be this upset about a vegetable.

“i’m doing what mr. jeon wants, ms. _____. my apologies.” yeah well, jungkook doesn’t know what he wants. his cold shoulder equals an iced crystal – your best friend has been mute even after getting back from his business trip. all the information you need as his unofficial wedding planner are thrown at you from different partners – like the caterer today or the florist last monday.

it’s seems like jungkook really wants to sabotage his own wedding to win this fight between the two of you. until now you’ve let him throw his childish temper tantrum, passively accommodating his changed decisions. but you’re drawing the line at the duchess potato.

“very well”, you say to the caterer. “i know you’re just doing your job – sorry for being rude. i can’t wait to taste… the gluten free pasta.”

the chef on the other end chuckles at your faked enthusiasm and you soon join.

“will you be there for the cocktail testing?”, he asks and you rummage through your desk, finding your planner in milliseconds.

“of course, it’s still on saturday?”, you ask, not trusting jungkook to change dates just to mess with your schedule.

after confirming the date, the two of you hang up and you start to pack up for the day. you’ll do the log entries for your students from home.

“everything okay, ___?”, your coworker jisoo questions, seeing you leave earlier than normal.

“yeah, don’t worry. i just… forgot an appointment. see you tomorrow”, you answer absently taking your prepacked lunch from the community fridge to eat later.

after taking two different trains and one bus, your self-made hummus is looking more like vomit than food as you stand in front of jungkook’s office building. but with your stomach in knots, you lose all appetite.

“miss ______, what a lovely surprise!”, the doorman greets you with an honest smile on his face. normally jungkook would send one of his town cars to collect you for your weekly lunch. to see you getting out of a bus worries the employee.

“how is the family, hanseo?”, you ask and answer his smile with one of your own.

“all well and healthy, miss! mr. jeon just got back from his meeting”, he informs you warmly and you bow in thanks.

with swift steps you move to the elevator, ready to make jungkook listen. arriving at the final floor, you greet his secretary with a short hug, your eyes already set on his closed door.

“may i go in?”, you ask mrs. yang – not really up to date on jungkook’s schedule. her knowing eyes stare right through your question.

“he’s all yours for the next hour; i’ll hold all phone calls.” you nod silently grateful for her discretion.

two loud knocks are the only forewarning jungkook gets before you barge into his office. your best friend sits at his desk, the top buttons of his shirt undone. his neatly styled hair and the reading glasses tell you that the last few hours were full of business decisions and negotiations.

his tired eyes look at you in surprise, before they cloud over with indifference.

“_____”

no ‘hey, how’ve you been the last week?’, no ‘did you manage to grab the credit card i forgot at the restaurant i stormed out of?’, no ‘i’m sorry, i canceled your favorite potato dish’.

“jungkook”, you greet him and hate yourself for how soft your voice sounds. your feet won’t allow you to move further into the room as your body stands still right next to the closing door.

a hefty silence sets around you, while the two of you muster the other. you notice the bags under his eyes – even with the expensive concealer covering the dark rings.

“_____”, your best friend says again, uncomfortable with the tension in his office.

“jungkook”, you answer, mimicking his tactic.

two estranged friends smile timidly at each other, before the CEO gets up from his seat and closes the distance. in front of you, he hesitates for a breath, but then you are in his arms. your winter coat and heavy bag create a barrier which jungkook crushes easily. he presses your body close to his chest, the suit jacket tightening around his shoulder blades.

you embrace him back, just as fiercely, and inhale his musky scent. he smells like love and you feel your eyes water.

“you’re a jerk”, you whisper against his neck, not ready to let go, but willing to work through your anger. the former idol huffs and buries his nose deeper in your hair. you can feel his breathe against your scalp and thank the lord with a silent prayer for taking a shower this morning.

“i know”, jungkook admits as he manages to squeeze you tighter at the same time.

“you’re a child”, you continue while drawing soft patterns across his shoulder blades with your fingertips.

“i know”

another silence follow – but it’s one without anger. it feels like going on vacation. nevertheless, problems need to be face, you’ve learned that from your shrink. so, with a heavy heart, you lose your embrace and try to step away from your best friend. after reluctantly holding on to you, he huffs and lets you go.

“have you eaten?”

“jungkook, we need to talk about this”, you tell him while the both of you sit on the leather couch. you have to suppress the impulse to take off your shoes, an old habit after the long nights spent in his office.

“when did you eat lunch, ____?”, he asks again and loses his suit jacket. the white button up shirt underneath looks a size too small, which troubles your heart greatly. jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, his focus remains on your eating habits.

“jungkook, i’ll eat later, promise”, you deflect and pat your bag with the hummus vegetable stew in it. your best friend doesn’t seem impressed.

“you’re upset because i haven’t told you about a close friend of mine”, you start, only to see him grimace at your wording.

“for five months”, he specifies.

“it never came up in conversation, jungkook. you… you don’t know all details of my life”, you justify yourself while mentally bowing at your backbone.

“yesterday, your mother invited me to their vow renewal, i can open a whole art gallery with your food pictures and i helped you plan a funeral for your living room plant last month”, jungkook replies astonished. “i even held the eulogy.”

yeah, fair, you’ll never forget seokjin’s oscar worthy crying scene in front of the calathea. even jimin was impressed.

“but you can’t introduce me to the guy accompanying you to my wedding?” there is a thick, and reasonable, accusation behind his words. you feel your hands sweat as you look at the tired eyes of your best friend.

“i’m afraid you won’t like him”, you offer. it’s the most logical explanation you could come up with after your phone call with taehyung. when truthfully, you are more afraid of the person yoongi will see in you face-to-face with jungkook.

but your best friend seems to buy your white lie. his face softens as he rests one hand on your knee.

“_____”, jungkook starts, “every friend of yours is a friend of mine.” you snort right into his words, not believing him for a second.

“you put my last boyfriend into jail.” the answering chuckle from him does not sound one bit apologetic.

“he was trash.” you know he’s right, still, his distrust was there before it turned out that your ex-boyfriend committed tax fraud.

“what about jisoo?”, you ask. “you’ve never warmed up to her.”

jungkook looks like he just swallowed something bitter at the name of your coworker.

“she hit on me.” his reveal shocks you.

“but she has a fiancé!”, you exclaim, only to see him roll his eyes.

“she hit on me”, he repeats unforgiving.

just… great.

“yoongi is different”, you say softly, not ready to reflect on jisoo’s audacity. it’s quite common for others to hit on jeon jungkook – he’s famous after all. but your own friend?

“let me be the judge”, jungkook demands equally soft and squeezes your knee.

“i’m not asking for your judgement, kookie”, you huff. you don’t need his approval. and yoongi sure as hell doesn’t want it.

“but”, you start again, “i think it’ll be best if you got to know him before the wedding.” you’ve thought about this a lot. it seems like the best course of action. even if you can’t picture yoongi and jungkook in the same room.

“he isn’t invited to the wedding”, your best friend scowls like a child. now you push his hand from your knee, irritated by his actions.

“he is”, you press, not willing to back down. jungkook’s eyes flash in anger.

“you can go with taehyung. he still has to make amends for fucking the DJs”, the CEO offers businesslike and moves up from the couch, like he just singlehandedly solved the problem.

“i don’t need a pity partner, jeon. i – there is a person who actually wants to go with me to your wedding”, you bite back. sure, you had to beg yoongi, but you won’t disclose that now. you’ve seen his gummy smile last week as he tried on expensive suits. he looked way too happy and handsome.

your best friend pushes some documents around his desk, deep in thoughts.

“as my best man you won’t have much time to be with him during the wedding. he will be alone in the midst of strangers. it’ll make him uncomfortable”, he tries to reason. you can’t help but roll your eyes – yoongi’s whole job description is to talk to strangers and make them feel safe. but wait…

“i’m not your best man, jungkook.” you’ve scheduled the event. seokjin’s best man speech comes right before the main course. you even sent the man some keynotes, with topics not to add to his roast.

“you got upgraded”, jungkook states with a shrug. no, no, no, no, no.

“you’ll have to rearrange the seating chart – the place next to my parents’ is now yours.”

“jungkook”, you breathe, astonished by his thoughts, “i’m not your best man.”

he tenses at your refusal, but won’t admit defeat too soon.

“you’re my best friend, so you should be my best man as well”, he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“she was against it at first – some bullshit about gender norms and how the photos will look. but, ____, not talking to you for this long made me realize, that you are way more important than seokjin.”

you can see the red flags wave behind jungkook as you feel your heart quicken at his words.

“jungkook” no longer is your voice angry. the sadness in your tone makes jungkook flinch while looking at you from across the room.

“we’ve both created very – very idolized versions of one another”, you start to explain. “maybe you think of me as important – but jungkook, there is so much we haven’t shared with each other.”

he shakes his head, willing to interrupt, but you hold your hands up in warning.

“jungkook, i lo- i like being with you a lot these last few years. but there are parts of you i’ve never met. i never shared your trainee days with you, the hardship, the success. i was only an unknown fan cheering your band on from afar.”

you take a deep breath. “but even now, you still surprise me with new sides of yourself. leaving me on an island? disinviting my plus one? that’s not the jungkook i know. and that’s sure as hell not someone i want to toast to.”

your best friend looks like you’ve just broken something dear to him and you can feel the defeat in your bones.

“seokjin is your best man, jungkook”, you end and smile at the CEO who won’t look at you anymore. before you can move closer to him, the door opens.

“mr. jeon, your next appointment is waiting.” mrs. yang sounds apologetic and looks uncomfortable between the two of you – so far apart.

jungkook nods at his secretary and she closes the door, leaving you to finish the train wreck of a conversation.

“are we no longer best friends, ____?”, he whispers as he logs into his computer. his posture screams dismissal, but you can see how tensed his shoulders are and how hard is mind is working.

you have to suppress the coo on the tip of your tongue.

“jungkook – you are my best friend. you are a person of the utmost importance to me.”

“you still like me?” i love you, you fool.

“i still like you way too much for my own good.”

he nods silently and you can see the tiniest smile spreading across his lips.

you leave without goodbye, only to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket while the elevator rushes to the lobby.

bring your plus one to this week’s movie night.

before you can send a smiley face in responds, an email form the caterer pops up.

subject: duchess potatoes are back.

_____

happy new year! i hope you all have a healthy and kind 2021! let’s make life better by wearing our masks, helping others in need and supporting those who experienced hardship during this tiering time!

i know i promised yoongi/jungkook cat fight – but the chapter got so ugly that i squeezed in this scene of reader und kookie talking about this mess. so that yoongs won’t bleed during game night.

i’d love to hear from you all, it’s been really silent in my virtual life…

all the best and the warmest of hugs from, dana

taglist: @livewittykid @thequeen-kat @kagami-s-void @goldenclosethobi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @jinsalpaca @bishuthot @laabellaavitaa21 @baekstans @jalexad @kimluvwoo @jinsearthh

#btswriterscollective #bangtanuniversity #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #idol!jungkook #ceo!jungkook #bts x reader #bts angst #bts scenarios

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toukenramblings · 4 years ago

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NSFW Headcanons: Izuminokami Kanesada, Horikawa Kunihiro,Nagsone Kotetsu

Give me an instance to talk about the Sin-sengumi, I will take it. The Sin-sengumi shall soon become gospel, just y’all wait. It’s catching on. I also don’t give Naga enough love so here I am.

Warnings: S I N. I’m projecting

Izuminokami Kanesada

I would like to clear this up before we continue, this man is a brat and he knows it. Bottom, top, Izumin don’t care. He can and will tease you however the hell he wants. Maybe he’ll hide something under his clothing for you, but it’s easy to tell with his red face and overly trying to make you look at him and notice him, damn it! Look at what he did for you! Be proud of him! Get horny for him!

He is a horny lil shit when he is in the mood and you can tell, he’ll want to always be close to you, hugging you to his form, glaring at others, kisses pressed to your open skin, if he’s feeling naughty, sucking on your fingers. Sure in public he’ll control himself (MAYBE) but wait until you two are alone.

Izumi gets off on praise and that is a fACT. Call him a good boy as he plows into you or services you with his mouth, his moans during these times will be oh so heavenly, vibrations jolting up and down your spine as he does so. Tug on his hair during sex too, it gets him going.

Izumi is loud, gag him, gag him for me. He’ll look so pretty when he’s gagged, trust me. Do it with your underpants if you must, he’ll look so beautiful, flushed and screaming into the object, desperate for you to touch him.

Yes he gets off to your scent, don’t be surprised if you find him touching himself with an article of clothing against his nose when he misses you, hand furiously stroking himself, wishing that it was your hand or your mouth instead.

Izumi is a bottom-leaning switch, he wants to be taken cared of but that doesn’t mean he won’t hesitate to top you anytime soon. Push his buttons enough and he will. He’ll mark you, mark him in return. He’ll flush as he tries to hide the love bites you give him. But is more than proud when he can see the bites he has given you.

The times when Izumi tops are...whoo baby. He’ll spill nothing but filthy praise from his lips about how your mouth feels on him, how good his cock feels whenever you do something to him. He’s highkey possessive as hell, so catch him calling you ‘mine’. “This is mine, right, master? You know I’m the only one that can make you feel good like this~”

Izumi is fucking greedy as hell whenever you decide to wear something underneath your clothing for him. A glimpse of it and he has a heart attack, Izumi.exe cannot work. Please come back later. He might straight up run away before coming back two seconds later to try and drag you into a secluded corner of the citadel to rip those damn clothes off of you and how dare you wear such a thing that’s only for his eyes.

Yes he isn’t afraid to publicly tease you or being caught having sex. Sure he’ll scream and be super duper embarrassed about it for a while but he’ll be fiiiine. It’s not gonna stop him from dragging you into your office and closing the door and curtains to fuck you on top of your desk anyway.

Izumi has a pretty decent sex drive, which tends to come and go but he’s honestly always ready to fuck you at any given point. Just give him a good reason to. He’ll flush and be flustered, stutter over his words and may downright pass the fuck out but he won’t hesitate to tease you right back with some naughty words.

Izumi loves it when you are on top of him, taking your pleasure from him as you see fit - he also secretly loves it when he’s being tied down when you do this. He loves seeing your face as it contorts in pleasure, and his mouth having an easy reach to your chest and nipples.

Damn it put his mouth to WORK. Shut him up with your nether regions, make him service you. Izumi adores being between your legs and watching every movement, every gasp and moan you make. He wants to drink up your moans like water if he could.

There are times when Izumi denies how horny he is, especially when you can see it in his body language, the way his oceanic blues ghost over your skin, how he bites down on his lower lip when his eyes glaze over your chest and ass - keep pushing his buttons, if he’s in denial that normally means he wants to be topped. He’s also very very much into overstim.

Loves it when you are wearing nothing but his haori, you cannot tell how many times you two fucked on top of that thing to the point it permanently has your scent on it.

Aftercare is rather quick. Clean you up to the bare minimum than pass the fuck out and cuddle. He has to cuddle you! No arguments here!

Horikawa Kunihiro

Hori Hori may have a pretty low sex drive, but he is a little shit about it when he wants to. You can tell when he’s in the mood, he isn’t as showy as Kane-san but it’s much more subtle. Soft whispers when you two are alone, his cheeks lightly flushed at the naughty thoughts in his head. “I want to give you my love tonight, master. Will you let me taste you until you cannot remember anything else but me?”

Hori doesn’t pleasure himself often whenever he misses you, as said before, pretty low sex drive. That doesn’t mean he won’t do such a thing though, it’s quick and seamless, almost preparing himself for the night to come. Of course he knows to control himself but sometimes he can’t help it!

Hori’s favorite position is him between your legs, servicing you until you are screaming his name, where he can watch you with hooded eyes, forcing your legs apart for better access. He lives to pleasure you, to see you cum at least six times more than he does.

Hori is also a service top, treating you as glass whenever he is on top. Soft kisses to your thighs, peppering kisses to your chest and marking them as his. That being said, he doesn’t mind being on the bottom. He has a habit of covering his mouth whenever you pleasure him in turn though, tIE HIM DOWN. His moans are beautiful, don’t hide them.

Speaking of tying, yes he will use the red ribbon on his uniform to tie your hands together. Don’t you fucking dare hide your screams and moans from him. Hori will not hesitate to gag you if needed, but would rather not. Would have you choke on his fingers if he must. Yes you can suck on his fingers, it’s great as hell and it gets him going.

Will also love it when you wear nothing but his shirt or jacket. It’s also a surefire way to get him in the mood. He’ll flush, clear his throat, and almost try to adjust it to look more proper on you. “Did you miss me that much, love?” he would question before kissing you.

And then we get to marking. Hori is very easy to mark, his skin bruises pretty easily and he won’t hesitate to show off his marks with a sense of shy pride. He loves marking you up though! It brings him a sense of pride whenever you two are in public and he sees that you are also showing off the marks he gave you.

Oh Hori is very curious about toys, will dedicate an entire day of learning about the kinks and toys of the modern era. Consent is very important for him of course so he will always ask before doing anything naughty to you, unless you like the spontaneous stuff then he can do that! He caters his needs around yours as he is so giving after all.

Rarely does Horikawa get jelly at all, he trusts you! But he won’t lie that it makes his skin crawl when someone looks at you with interest in their eyes. Even Kane-san is not safe from Hori’s glares. Expect him to mark you up even more after this incident.

Hori is very versatile. Top? Bottom? Whatever! He’ll be oh so happy just to be connected with you like this! He doesn’t care what position he’s in as long as he can be with you!

Horikawa always wants to see your face whenever you two are fucking. So if you two are doing doggy style, expect some mirror sex with some dirty talk thrown in there. He loves seeing your expressions as you two fuck.

If Horikawa is ever bottoming for you, it’s beautiful. He becomes so needy, praising you no matter what positions you two are in, begging for more. He’ll always be touching you somehow, and giving up control is something he isn’t against. He’ll tug on your hair during these times, arching his back, so on and so forth.

100% is that one dude who wakes up their partner with oral sex, change my mind. It’s gentle and sweet, fingers toying with your nether regions and a smirk dancing on his lips. And then he’ll pull away, is a weeee bit into orgasm denial until one of y’all is a sobbing mess - prefers it if you orgasm deny him though. But is more so into overstim, he loves you so much after all! You need to be fucked properly!

Yes Hori will 100% steal your bank account to find you something cute to wear under your clothing. Will love it when you model for him too! Has an entire collection of tabs saved of things for you to wear.

Super prepared for aftercare. Sheets? Changed. Water? Ready! Cuddles? Mandatory.

Nagasone Kotetsu

His nipples and chest are his biggest weak points, tweak them, nip them, suck on them. Oh man Naga-san will be putty in your hands. He just has really nice man tits i want to suck on them. But Nagasone will do the same to you! He will lavish your upper body with nothing but marks and kisses, adoring the way you squirm in his arms. During sex, Nagasone’s mouth has to be on something. Be it sucking on your fingers, a gag, or something or other man. It’s good as hell.

He has more control over his sex drive than Izuminokami but his sex drive is a lil bit more higher than Horikawa’s. Right in the middle. He knows he can keep control of himself but then there’s moments when he goes feral, pinning you down to whatever surface you have, teeth digging into your skin, giving you all of the love he can ever give you and more. Nagasone loves you, he wants to show it to the world.

There is a sly smirk whenever someone notices the love bites he has, or he has given you. He may have a light pink flush that decorates his cheeks when someone teases him about it, but he is proud of the marks he bears whenever you mark him. Won’t hesitate to show them off to the world if he must. Hachisuka might tell him to cut it out but is that going to stop him? No.

Like Horikawa, Nagasone is a service top and gives more than he gets back. He may be a fake but Nagasone thinks that you are his sun, his stars, his moon, the one who loves him despite who the hell he is. He wants to show you how much you mean to him, so most of the time the sexy times between y’all is soft as shit. He worships your body oh so much.

Do the same to him! Like I said, his chest is his weakest point. Mark it up, lavish him with praise and affection. Nagasone will act like it doesn’t do anything to him, but the way his cock twitches with your words speaks volumes. “Don’t say such things, love, you never know what I could do to you next.” though Nagasone always makes sure to return the favor!

Nagasone is so into body worship it’s not even funny. He could spend the rest of his day in the temple that is your body, between your legs, marking your thighs up and just basking in your presence. He also loves it when you wear something of his. It smells like him and it’s warm and cozy but man does it get him going.

Like Horikawa, Nagasone will be rather curious about toys and lingerie. Yes he may have tabs open on your computer on things for you to wear, but it’s all leather and lace. A few toys here and there, he doesn’t go fully into it like he will but he will happily learn more to pleasure you and please you!

Wear something under your clothing and flash it to him. I dare you. He will not hesitate to drag you away to somewhere private and make you fucking sob. “Wearing something like that? I didn’t think you would find out I liked that kind of thing, master. Mind if you take it off for me?” and then its ripped, whoops.

Nagasone loves your hands and how they deal with the rest of the swords. Loves kissing your fingertips and finger pads, sucking on your damn fingers and smirking as your eyes glaze over with lust.

Oh dude praise dOES something to Nagasone. He loves it when you praise him for doing such a good job when he’s servicing you, tug on his hair. He loves it when you’re rough with him.

If you ask him to be rough with you, you’re not walking for a week. He’ll make sure that you are fucked properly, overstimmed to the point you might just pass out from the pleasure. Pinned down to whatever surface he deems right, kissed until your lips are swollen and sore. Oh Nagasone will not be holding back. He will drag his nails down your back when you cling on to him, your body will be covered in nothing but his bites and marks now.

Is not into choking. I’m gonna put that out there right now. But kinda into collars?

Loves it when you sit in his lap and he’s ramming into you from below. He loves seeing your face when you get worked up like this! He always wants to see your face when you two are fucking, and also sucking on his fingers as he sings nothing but praises about how good you feel. Will also love to sit on your lap whenever he is taking you.

Nagasone will not deny that he has thought about fucking you under a table, your desk most likely. He’s a sneaky little shit and smirks as his fingers find your sex, toying with it until you want to snap. He’ll hate you forever if you do the same to him, expect him to slam you against a wall in frustration and roughly take you right then and there.

After care is simple. Swiftly clean and then pass the fuck out. Nagasone is a fucking furnace of a big dude so you’ll always be warm around him. Maybe he’ll joke that he wants a second round? Who knows, fufu.

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prompt-master · 3 years ago

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On The Clock: Part 1, LeBlanc

Without even stepping inside, Goro could already tell that Sae had been right in her recommendation. The cafe was easy to miss, bundled up in the backroads of Yongen-Jaya without much advertisement besides the floor sign. Despite its first impression being overtly simple, the cafe gave off a cozy atmosphere that could draw in anyone who gave it a chance. The inside was charming and quiet, but not too quiet. The buzzing from the refrigerator, the creaking of the floor boards, and the quiet voices from the TV... It was the kind of background noise that could set your mind at ease. Sae had told him this place was the perfect spot to relax and do some work over good coffee. He couldn’t deny she was right. In fact, Goro wasn’t sure he could go back to instant coffee anymore. LeBlanc had become the perfect way for Goro to spend his free nights. It didn’t seem like it could get any better. But LeBlanc had another perk for Goro.

At the time he hadn’t even bothered looking up from his laptop when he’d heard the chime of Leblanc’s door. No, it wasn’t until he’d heard Sojiro that his interest was piqued.

“Good, about time you showed up. You don’t mind closing tonight, do you?”

To others, it would be shocking to hear that LeBlanc even had other employees. Especially not when customers often filled conversations by discussing how out of business Sojiro’s restaurant was. But Goro was not like the others. After all, he wouldn’t suddenly make a restaurant a common hangout spot on measly recommendation alone.

“It’s no problem, boss.” The employee said, adjusting his glasses as he turned to grab an apron.

Things have become interesting, the very moment he’d been waiting for.

“My, what a coincidence seeing you here, Kurusu-kun was it?”

Akira greeted him with a smile that seemed shy to an untrained eye, but Goro had danced around fake smiles enough to recognize one. Although, Akira didn’t appear displeased to see him, perhaps it was only the shyness itself that was false. In fact, Akira regarded him with a certain look in his eyes that was somewhat obscured by the glare in his glasses. Intrigue?

“That’s right, Akechi.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” the lie was well practiced and slid off his tongue with ease, “this place isn’t exactly popular.”

“I could say the same to you.” Akira pointed out. And oh, how Goro enjoyed the undertones of a challenge in Akira’s voice.

“I was recommended this place by a colleague of mine. And I must say, it’s hard to not fall for it’s charms. It’s quite calming.”

Akira nodded as he began to brew coffee over the siphon. He was a quiet guy, but Goro had expected this from the brief conversations they’d already had. It was part of what made Akira so intriguing. He hardly spoke in conversation, but he listened to every word with attention. When Akira did speak, his words had meaning. Akira only gave out the words that were necessary, those few moments he spoke meant everything. Goro thought back to his daring statement live on TV: “They do more than the cops.”

Goro didn’t mind running the conversation, this was an opportunity he would not waste, “And how about you? How did you find this place?”

“I live here.”

“Oh, you live in the area? How nice.”

Akira shook his head, lifting one hand to point towards the ceiling, “I live here.”

“Eh? Really? You live in the attic?” Of course, this hadn’t surprised Goro either. He was under a strict “know thy enemy” protocol.

When Akira nodded Goro continued to speak, “That’s rather unusual. You continue to surprise me, Kurusu-kun. I hope you don’t mind if I continue to visit considering this is your home.”

A mug of coffee made a gentle clink sound as Akira placed it in front of Goro. The intense smell of fresh coffee came along with the wave of steam that warmed the air in front of his face. “Ah, I didn’t order any coffee.”

Without his hands busy, Akira placed them into his pockets and slouched against the back wall. “It’s on the house.”

“You know, I’ve become quite accustomed to Sakura-san’s coffee.”

There was a competitive flare hidden in Akira’s smile, easy to miss if you were too focused on his unassuming body posture, “Good thing I learned from the best.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Goro said with a playful smile, lifting the mug to his lips.

Undeniably, it was good coffee. It had the exact LeBlanc charm that kept Goro coming back, but with a twist that was entirely Akira’s. It was rich in flavor, with a hint of nuttiness that perfectly balanced the bitterness. What surprised Goro most of all however, was the lack of overwhelming sweetness. In fact, there was a perfect blend of sweetness and bitterness, catered exactly to Goro’s tastes. It was strange, whenever fans went out of their way to make his coffee orders special, they always made it sickly sweet. They made it accustomed to the Detective Prince’s tastes, rather than his own. Goro had to keep himself from drinking too fast, unwilling to let Akira win by showing how enamoured he was with this cup of coffee.

He placed the mug back on the counter, clearing his throat. Akira’s head turned from watching the news, to giving Goro an expectant smile.

“Well, I can tell that you’re new at this… ” he lied. Goro was not nearly enough of a gourmet to be able to pick out the small differences in quality that Sojiro would be able to notice. Truthfully, Goro didn’t even care much for the taste of food or drink. He didn’t get the luxury to care about such things. Even now, with such a busy life, the priority was to get something quick and sustaining. That’s why Goro’s kitchen was stocked with instant meals. He did not bother with the pleasures of taste. That was the typical standard that Goro was used to. But it seemed around Akira, typical no longer had the same definition.

“... but your inexperience makes it all the more impressive. Sakura-san is a good teacher.”

“Thanks,” Akira rubbed the back of his neck in a sheepish manner, “He made me memorize all the regulars’ tastes. I made sure to practice.”

Goro figured drinking more coffee would hide the way his face burned at the image of Akira practicing coffee making just for him.

Akira started to wipe down the counter with a damp rag, “I’m glad you liked it, though.”

“Yes, well,” Around Akira, things were different. Things were interesting. Goro couldn’t help but want to see more of the surprises Akira had waiting for him. Surely, the leader of the Phantom Thieves was a worthy rival for Goro to go toe to toe with. And if the pursuit of such a challenge brought along the perk of uniquely delicious coffee then… “I’ll have to stop by more often to see how you improve.”

“I won’t disappoint.”

#persona 5 #p5 #akira kurusu #akechi goro #shuake #fanfic #ficlet #akeshu #fan fic #its on ao3 as well

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

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The Hamptons’ House: 2003 - 1

The Hamptons’ House: A Iron Man Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Word Count: 2511

Pairing: Tony Stark x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut (MFFF bisexual fourway, oral sex, vaginal sex, daisy chain, face sitting, come play)

Synopsis: You and Tony meet up again for your week again. You both look forward to spending the time together, but when it becomes clear Tony’s life is spiraling out of control, you wonder how many more of these meetups you’re going to get.

2003: Part 1

It was strange how as you got older the time between parties seemed to be getting shorter. Three years was three years yet somehow as you turned your rental car into the driveway of Tony’s Hamptons’ house it felt like you’d only left a few weeks ago.

Not that a lot hadn’t happened in those years. A lot had happened, but the time might have flown by so fast simply due to half of it being experienced in that half-awake, living zombie phase of new parenthood.

Brody was born on the tenth of February 2001. While you and Kurt had been thrown into the life of new parenthood, the world had been thrown into turmoil thanks to terrorist attacks and the now named ‘war on terror’. Stark Industries were booming because of it and he was now listed as one of the top ten richest people on the planet. Not that that had changed very much. He had always been obscenely rich but he was still just your Tony.

When you sent him an email telling him about Brody’s birth with photos attached he’d sent you the biggest bouquet you'd ever seen with a blue teddy bear that had Brody and his date of birth embroidered on the foot.

You put the car into park and got out, grabbing your bag from the back. It was still very early. A catering van sat at the door and people were unloading things from it under the watchful eye of Happy and the DJ had his station wagon parked beside your ford focus rental, unloading his equipment.

You made your way to the door and Happy grinned at you when he saw you. “Hey, Cookie,” he said, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. “You're early.”

“Yeah, my flight just got in,” you said. “Figured Tony wouldn't mind if I came early and used his shower.”

Some caterers squeezed passed you holding large trays of vegetables and Happy tickets something off a chart. “The boss is in his room, I'm sure he won't care if you go straight up.”

“Thanks, Hap,” you said, heading inside. “It’s good to see you.”

As you passed through the hall you saw Tony’s assistant Pepper overseeing the restocking of the bar. He had been so sure she hated him and yet three years on and she was still working for him.

You went through the kitchen and up the secret staircase. Tony was hunched over his desk that looked out over the ocean working on a circuit board. He was wearing socks and a robe and beside him was an open bottle of Glenfiddich beside an almost empty glass.

You dropped your bag by the bed and approached him. He was so absorbed in what he was doing he hadn’t even looked up. You ran your hands over his shoulders and wrapped them around him.

“Woah…” Tony yelped and spun around, making you jump back a little to avoid getting kicked. “Cookie! You’re early!”

“I am,” you said. “You gonna beat me up?”

“You surprised me,” he said, taking your hand and pulling you closer. “I thought one of the cleaners was trying to get fresh with me.”

You straddled his lap and he ran his hands up your back as he looked up at you. “Nope, just me. What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he said looking over his shoulder. “I’ve been working on creating an AI that can run the house. I had an idea for it, and I thought I’d see if I could work on it here, but this stuff is all 15 years old. So then I was looking at one of the things I was working on fifteen years ago…” He shook his head. “You know what? I have no idea. Where’s Kurt?”

“He’s taken Brody to his parents for the week,” you answered. There had been talk about both of you coming again, but Brody was only two and so far, while you’d had nights off where you had someone babysitting, you’d never had any time off alone and Kurt had only had a few work trips that had taken him out of town. You didn’t want to waste your first week away together, not actually together.

“Brody?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” you said, furrowing your brow. “You know? My son? The one I had about nine months after I last saw you?”

“Whoa…” Tony said, that same shock in his voice as when you’d come up behind him. He pushed you off his lap and got up and started pacing. “Wait? You… we… is he…” He stopped and looked at you and you tried not to break down into hysterical laughter. “Is he?”

“Tony,” you said, shaking your head and trying to sound somber.

“Oh my god,” Tony said, running his hands through his hair. “He is, isn't he? He’s mine?”

You couldn’t hold it. You burst out laughing and came over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I was pregnant when you last saw me. Remember? I was throwing up every day?”

“Oh… yeah, right,” Tony said, leaning into you slightly. “I completely forgot. You sent pictures right?”

“Yes, I did,” you said, poking his side. “And you sent me flowers.”

“Well, to be fair,” Tony said, running his hands up your back. “That was Pepper.”

“You’re the worst,” you teased and brought your lips to his. As you kissed deeply and a little sloppily you became aware exactly why Tony had forgotten about your son. He tasted strongly of Scotch. He’d been drinking a lot last time too, it was likely that anything that didn’t affect his day-to-day life was being shuffled into a part of his brain he didn’t access much.

He pulled back and spanked your ass. “Why are you here so early?”

“Just when the plane got in,” you said. “I thought I’d grab some lunch, have a nap, and then get ready for the party. I have the sluttiest dress packed.”

Tony smirked. “That’s what I like to hear,” he teased. “Let’s do it. This place is as much yours as it is mine these days.”

After you napped you took a shower and came out in your towel to find Pepper helping Tony with a pair of cufflinks and going through the list of things he’d wanted at the party. She looked over to you and smiled before focussing her attention back on Tony. “The cleaners will be here tomorrow morning, then you’ll have one come through every day until you leave. On the last day they’ll come and clean and pack up the house,” she said.

“Thank you, Pepper,” Tony said. “What would I do without you.”

“Starve in your own filth?” She teased. “Okay, you two. Have fun. I’ll be in Cabo. So don’t call me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tony said. “Enjoy yourself.”

Pepper headed back down the stairs and you started to get ready, starting with doing your hair. “Come on, slowpoke, we have an orgy to attend.”

“You just sit tight,” you teased. “You’re gonna get your dick sucked soon enough.”

Tony burst out laughing and flopped down on the edge of the bed, watching as you got ready.

“You’re putting a bra on?” Tony asked as you put on your matching black lace thong and bra.

“Gravity has started to betray me, Tony,” you said.

“I’m just going to take it off,” he teased.

You laughed and stepped into your dress. It was loose fit and asymmetrical in shimmering silver and black fabric. You paired it with a strappy silver heel and Tony got up off the bed. “Finally!” He huffed, offering you his elbow.

You giggled and hooked his arm through his and the two of you went downstairs. The party was in full swing when the two of you entered and there were shouts of ‘happy birthday’ to Tony as he made his way to the bar. It was just a party so far. People were drinking and dancing. A large group had already collected around the pool and a handful were swimming.

Tony got himself a Macallan neat while you got a cosmo. You stuck with Tony as he mingled with people. He was royalty in this group of friends, acquaintances, and people who just wanted a chance to touch celebrity, and because he was royalty, you were royalty by association. It was a nice feeling but not one you particularly wanted to extend and you wondered why you’d never noticed it until this trip. Tony had always been the center of attention of course, but it never felt like you were part of that. Perhaps it was because most of the time you arrived well after the party started. The guests at these events changed a lot each time, but there were people you recognized and names you knew. Perhaps people knew that Tony considered you special because it always started with you and him.

As people seemed to start things up and other women began to hang off Tony he pulled you close to him and brought his lips to your ear. “What are we feeling tonight, cookie?”

“It's been a while since I’ve been with another woman,” you said. “But I'm open to suggestions.”

“Nope,” Tony said and pulled one of the women who had gathered around you closer to him. “Annie, Lilli, shall we?”

The two women closest to him giggled and Annie took hold of Tony’s tie and led him to one of the downstairs bedrooms. She pulled him close and began to undress him as Tony kissed her neck and ran his hands up under your skirt.

You and Lilli turned to each other and began to kiss and slowly undress each other. Not that there was too much to undress. You were both completely naked before Tony even had his pants off.

The two of you moved to the bed and you guided her back on the mattress as you kissed her deeply. You each ground on the other’s thigh as your tongues circled together. Annie pushed Tony down on the bed and kneeled between his legs pulling his cock free from his pants. You slowly began to crawl down Lilli’s body, kissing a trail down her skin as you moved further and further down. You paused at her breasts, sucking and biting at her nipples as you rolled your hips on her thigh. She mewled and arched her back, grabbing the headboard as her cunt flooded and smeared on your skin. When both her nipples were like hard pebbles you moved down lower.

You kissed along her hips and flattened your tongue, running it up her cunt. The tart musk of her sex filled your senses and your both moaned in unison. Tony lay back on the bed, his head landing between your legs, and began to suck hungrily on your cunt. You groaned into Lilli’s pussy, keeping your focus on her, drinking up her juices as she rocked against your face. The four of you formed a chain down the bed, beginning with Lilli as she gripped the headboard and writhed under you and ending with Annie who was bobbing her head up and down on Tony’s cock. You pushed two fingers inside of her and began to fuck her with them. She dripped for you, her arousal ran from her, down your wrist in rivulets. You drank up what you could and as your fingers worked over the soft spongy spot inside her, her walls began to spasm around your fingers. Her moans got louder, drowning out the muffled moans you made into your cunt.

With a loud cry and a jerk of her hips, she came on your face. You sat up and climbed off of Tony’s face. He looked up at you with a smirk and took Annie’s hand and guided her up. “Ladies,” he said. “Start without me.”

The three of you formed a daisy chain on the bed, your head between Annie’s legs, Lilli’s between yours, and Annie’s between Lilli’s. As the three of you began to suck and finger each other’s cunts, Tony moved around the edge of the bed, watching closely as he pumped his cock. He grabbed a condom from the bowl and rolled it on as the three of you brought each other closer and closer to the edge.

Your senses were overwhelmed. It was like they were all being stimulated at once, with the scent and taste of Annie’s cunt, the sounds of their moans, and the way Lilli was expertly working your g-spot. Tony moved up behind you and Lilli pulled away from your cunt and started sucking his cock. You moaned needily into Annie’s cunt and bucked your hips. A moment later, Tony’s cock was pressed at your entrance and he thrust hard inside you. You gasped and dug your fingers into Annie’s thighs from the sudden intrusion. Annie began to rock her pussy on your face as you lapped at her clit eagerly and thrust two fingers inside you. As Tony fucked your cunt, Lilli sucked on your clit.

You began to fall apart between them. Your whole body buzzed and your clit began to twitch. Your breath became more and ragged and your head became fuzzy and with a loud cry, you came hard, bucking back against Tony.

Tony pulled out and moved around to Annie, changing condoms as he did. He thrust into her and began fucking her hard. You kept flicking your tongue around the base of his cock and her clit. She was already close before Tony began to fuck her and it wasn’t long before her muscles started tensing and her legs began to shake. Tony’s breath was coming in labored and you spanked his ass as you nipped at Annie’s clit. She cried out loudly and came, her whole body shuddering with it.

Tony pulled out and moved again and this time you and Annie did too. You both sat on either side of Lilli and as you leaned down and began to lick at her clit, Annie sucked and bit at Lilli’s breasts. Lilli rolled her hips in time with the thrust of Tony’s hips and arched her back off the mattress.

“Fuck,” Tony groaned. “You girls are so fucking hot.”

“Cum on my tits, Mister Stark,” Lilli begged, reaching up and holding his wrist.

His hips began to stutter and you focused on her clit, rubbing it harder to bring her along too. She jerked up and cried out, gushing around Tony’s cock. Tony pulled out and tossed the condom aside as he jerked his cock hard and with a groan, he came in hot ribbons over Lilli’s tits.

She hummed happily and ran her fingers through the mess and Annie leaned in and licked it up.

Tony smirked at you and held out his hand.

“Cake?” You asked as you let him help you to your feet.

“You know me so well,” he chuckled and pulled you into a deep kiss.

// NEXT

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #iron man #iron man fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #the hamptons' house #2003

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duckprintspress · 4 years ago

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A Brief(ish) History of Duck Prints Press

For this week’s blog feature, I thought I’d talk a little about how Duck Prints Press came about. (hi, it’s @unforth!)

In 2012, an old friend of mine - @fireun, now Burdock, they/them - got in touch to suggest that I submit a story to an anthology for which they would be the anthologist. That project became Fight Like a Girl, a successfully Kickstarted anthology with over 20 contributors. Having gotten a taste for anthologizing (is that a word? it is now...) fireun proposed a second anthology - What Follows - to which I also contributed, and they made an attempt at a third which never got off the ground. fireun’s dream was to work with new, young authors - many of whom we had met while attending World Fantasy Convention over the years - to help them get their first writing credentials, pay them a market rate, and springboard them into further writing careers. However, by the third anthology it became clear there was a challenge to: new authors didn’t have the clout to successfully launch Kickstarters. fireun couldn’t raise the funds to pay authors what they deserved.

Around when the second anthology came out in 2014, I also finished the first draft of a novel that eventually became A Glimmer of Hope, and I began to post fanfiction (having been a lurking reader for several years). As I joined fanfiction author communities, I realized there was a vast untapped pool of writing talent - individuals who, for a multitude of reasons, weren’t interested in pursuing traditional publishing but might still want to get their original work out into the world. Furthermore, unlike the new authors that fireun invited to their anthologies, the fic authors had a following which could potentially help raise the funds necessary to pay for a project.

(read more...)

These two ideas combined over the summer of 2015. We got to talking - could we work with both these audiences? Could we make this into a company? What would that company to look like and how would it be structured? What kinds of works would we want to publish? I especially sank my teeth into the project, doing a lot of research - on competitors (ask me about Big Bang Press sometime...), on similar models, on pay scales and legalities and many other aspects of starting a business. We planned to meet in June, then it got pushed back to July...and then I found out I was pregnant, and fireun was trying to leave a bad relationship, and the whole project derailed - shelved, but not forgotten.

Several times, I tried to revive fireun’s interest, but they increasingly were moving in a different direction with their life (nothing wrong with that, they’re much happier now, and we’re still friends). Thus, I forged forward alone.

Based on the research I’d done in 2015 (and which I re-did periodically to make sure it was current), I had a basic idea of what I wanted to create: a Limited Liability Corporation, owned by me but with a team to help since it’s way more than one person can do alone. I’d looked into Book View Cafe, a cooperative publisher that works with established authors to put out works they want to do but for whatever reason don’t want to go a traditional root with, and I loved the idea of a co-op (that remains our ultimate goal). By reducing initial outlay costs on editing, graphic design, and other “basics,” and doing a lot of the production work on a barter basis, we could minimize expenses and maximize the amount we pay authors. I started quietly sending out feelers, to see what other fanfiction authors might be interested in joining something like this, and found a lot of support that helped me think the core idea would be viable.

But could we make money? I need to prove that, to myself and in a way demonstrable to others, before I could proceed.

Despite having a rough pregnancy, and then an infant, I edited and preparing A Glimmer of Hope for self-publishing (I also have my own reasons I’m not interested in pursuing traditional publishing). In fall, 2016, drawing on the support of people who enjoyed my fanfiction, I successfully funded a Kickstarter for A Glimmer of Hope, which convinced me that my core idea from the previous summer was sound: working with fanfiction authors who wanted to publish original work could produce enough support to pay for putting out books, especially if those books catered to fanfiction reader’s taste.

If I could do one book by myself and turn a profit, surely many authors working together to produce works of different lengths and anthologies could do even better! Validated, and having found the Kickstarter surprisingly easy to put together, I continued to form my plans.

As I putting together the final draft of A Glimmer of Hope, I wanted a publisher imprint to put on the spine and title page, and after a lot of pondering, I settled on Duck Prints Press. This was an homage to fireun and our time in college as roommates, when we pranked each other in increasingly absurd ways that always involved ducks (my favorite was when I propped a bucket of stuffed ducks over their door such that it fell out on their head when they opened the door...another excellent one was when fireun used all the ceiling light drawstrings in our house to hang rubber ducks threateningly around...it all stemmed for a ridiculous AIM conversation, circa 2001, where we swore vengeance on each other over some absurdity but we could only use ducks, Gackt music, and library books to exact our revenge). Ducks were near and dear to my heart because of all this, and strongly associated with my relationship with fireun, so of course I wanted to immortalize that in our name. I also developed the initial version of our duck print logo, with the intention that someday, I’d make the press a fully-realized reality, and not merely an imprint on a single self-published book.

Since I sent those books out in 2016, it’s taken more than 4 years to convert those nascent plans into the reality of Duck Prints Press LLC. I made a push in 2019, and that’s when jhoom, formidablepassion, alessariel and adaille signed on to help. We did a lot of planning then, but fall of 2019 was busy for us and we had to put things on hold, and then 2020 happened (need I say more?).

As the last difficult year came to a close, I reached out to the others and we agreed: 2021 would be our year.

So, here we are, and we’re excited to finally be sharing the dream that started as mine and fireuns, and then was mine alone, and now belongs to many people - and more all the time. We’ll be announcing author recruitment for our first anthology imminently (...probably tomorrow!) and we’re hoping that, just as once fireun hoped to help launch new authors with anthologies, the five of us who run Duck Prints Press will be able to recruit a core team of authors interested in publishing original work with us in the future. We’re very excited - to publish new works, to bring in new readers, to support authors, and to publish original fiction that brings all the joy that our favorite fanfiction elicits.

We couldn’t be more thrilled to be writing books about your new OTPs.

Thanks, everyone, for joining us at the start of this journey. We can’t wait to see what the future holds for all of us!

#duck prints press #about duck prints press #mod post

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spartanguard · 4 years ago

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even death won’t part us now (4/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

A/N: Happy Labor Day, friends! (If you’re in a place that celebrates it) (if not, then Happy Monday!) It took me a bit to figure out where this chapter would end and the next one would start but I finally got it, so here we are! This chapter is a bit more lore/world-building than CS, but it features Zelena and Belle, who are a lot of fun to write. Hope you enjoy it! Eternal thanks, as always, to @optomisticgirl for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair for her amazing art (THIS ONE IS SO COOL OMG); and to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

have some OBC—and check out that sweet late ‘50s choreography!

part four: you got some high times ahead

Perhaps if Killian was less of a romantic, less dramatically inclined, he would have remembered the best way to get to Granny’s without being noticed by David would have been to stay on the rooftops. As it was, he had to sprint several blocks in the other direction after bidding Emma adieu to ensure her father didn’t catch him in the neighborhood when he hardly had a reason to be there.

Who knew that, at 270, he’d be sneaking out of his girlfriend’s place to avoid her parents? He hadn’t even done that at 27. (Also, who thought that, at 270, he’d actually be using the term ‘girlfriend’? Was it too soon for that? Was it immature? Did he care? No.)

But, thanks to his superior age and therefore speed, it was no challenge to detour all the way to Hudson Yard and take in a bit of sea air before heading back into the city, eventually hopping across apartment buildings to better avoid being seen, and landing gracefully in Granny’s back alley. He was late, but he didn’t have it in him to care much.

He didn’t want to let his friends down, though, so he didn’t hesitate to slip in through the rear door of the diner. Frankly, that entrance got just as much use as the one on the street did; not only was Granny’s a neutral site as far as vampire gang warfare went, it was something of a liminal space in the middle of the rush of the city: how many 24-hour diners catered to the tastes of all manner of nonhumans? Fae conducted business here on the regular, Bigfoot was known to make the occasional appearance when he was down from the Adirondacks, and the owner herself was a werewolf.

The woman in question gave him an appropriately feral grin as he entered the dining room; normally, he’d take the time to flirt, but the meeting had clearly started without him. Robin and David were seated on opposite sides of a small table, with their teammates around them—Henry and Will, another younger vampire (well, comparatively) were with Robin, and David was backed by that Graham guy, Jefferson the weird milliner, and Zelena, who he knew was close with Cora (and had been plain annoying as far back as he could remember).

“Switchblades?” Robin said; they’d clearly made some decisions without him. That might make it a bit harder for Killian to quash this.

“No; swords?” David countered.

“Daggers?”

“Stakes?”

“Icicles of holy water,” Killian interjected into their back and forth, somehow making them jump. “Sharpened stems of garlic. How many cliches can we hit on here?”

Robin looked appropriately chastised, but David just glared.

“What did I miss?” he asked Robin, but David answered for him.

“Rumble, tomorrow, same time as now. Under the highway. Winner gets control of territory between 42nd and 43rd. We were just deciding weapons.”

“Are you all mad?” he blurted out. “That’s a fine way to draw the attention of half the NYPD and blow the entire supernatural world’s cover. You may as well take out a billboard in Times Square.”

The ensuing silence told him they knew he was right. But he could tell tensions were too high for him to convince them to call it off entirely; he could at the very least minimize the potential damage.

“Back in my day,” he started, immediately ignoring the huff of frustration from Will, who had been subjected to any number of such stories in the past 30 years, “we settled these disputes one-on-one. A duel, if you would. I see no reason why such a tradition has to die.”

Again, he was met with silence; he took the lack of protest as agreement.

“One on one,” he continued. “The most evenly matched from both sides fight it out until blood is drawn. No weapons, no teeth.”

Jefferson looked incensed at the idea, and he could tell Will was angrily shifting behind him. If they wanted to duke it out, they could do that on their own; Killian’s days of fighting were well behind him and the sooner this was over, the better.

“I can agree to that,” David eventually said.

“Aye,” Robin replied, and they shook on it.

Graham stepped from behind David and pointed at Killian. “I’m going to enjoy drawing your blood, mate,” he threatened.

Emma hadn’t mentioned it, but he’d gotten the impression that Graham was the preferred suitor. But frankly, he found him irritating. “Oh? Are you 250 years old?”

“No; 160,” he answered, slightly deflated (which gave Killian a tiny, immature thrill).

“Then I believe you’re perfectly matched with Robin here; he’s 168.” He slapped Robin on the shoulder for emphasis.

Robin stood and inserted his hand between Killian and Graham. “Looking forward to it,” he bit out.

Slightly bewildered, Graham accepted Robin’s hand, but was still glaring at Killian.

They verified the details, gave it one last shake, and then Coroza was quick to leave. Which was just as well; Killian didn’t need any daggers, real or metaphorical, shooting in his back while he was drinking.

The four of them congregated at the counter and were promptly greeted by Granny. “That smelled like trouble,” the old wolf stated plainly, but leveled a too-sharp eye on all of them. “Should I be worried?”

“Your establishment is perfectly safe, milady,” Robin assured her. “You know we’d never dare risk the loss of your hospitality.” Though the mortals were somehow unaware of the fact, she’d been running some sort of eating establishment in the same spot as far back as Killian could remember, though back then it was a public house and she was merely the Young Mrs. Lucas (the title of ‘Granny’ didn’t come for another century). Not only was it neutral ground, but it was too beloved for any one group to let it fall into any crosshairs.

“Damn straight,” she grumbled back, then got their drink orders ready.

Henry and Will quickly fell into conversation, so Killian turned to Robin. “Why wasn’t Regina here?” He’d fully expected it, given that she’d been part of this for...well, ever.

“She decided to sit this one out. Figured it didn’t make for good negotiation if Nolan was involved.”

“Good call.” But then a pang went through his unbeating heart at the recollection of what Emma had been telling him—about why she grew up an orphan, and who was to blame. He’d known Regina quite well by that point in time, and had no idea why she’d attack a couple like that—especially all the way in Maine. It didn’t add up.

But then, how much of this petty rivalry did?

Robin went on, not noticing Killian’s discomfort. “Aye, especially with Zelena there. You know how they are.” The rivalry seemed especially bitter between those two for reasons that Killian had yet to glean.

Granny gracefully distributed their drinks in a feat of dexterity that was obviously superhuman, and they clinked a toast—though if Killian’s was less than enthusiastic, the others didn’t notice.

They continued to chat about whatever—the Yankees, the Mets, Liverpool FC (three of the four of them were Brits, after all, even if two of them predated the club), construction at Hudson Yard—until Killian noticed that Henry had given up trying to down the god-awful blood-spiked beer Will had foisted on him (the man had been a punk in the ‘80s when he was turned and never quite grew out of some tastes), and was instead staring longingly at another patron’s burger. Killian hadn’t had a chance to assess just how recently Henry had been turned, but that confirmed it was a very new thing; it took surprisingly little time to forget a taste for mortal delicacy.

He leaned over and whispered to Henry, “If you ask nice, Granny will make one extra rare for you.” Henry jumped again, clearly still getting used to his new senses, but perked up at the idea.

“So fresh, you can still hear it moo,” the old wolf commented from behind the counter. The hungry grin that accompanied it would probably be unsettling to most, but Killian had known her far too long to see anything but good humor (and more than a smidge of flirtation) in it.

“Ah, a quiet meal,” he quipped back. “Most of mine tend to be rather...talkative.” The group shared a chuckle; perhaps that joke was a bit dark, but when you could only go out at night, that tended to happen.

Unfortunately for Henry, he didn’t get a chance to try the meal before Will was dragging him out (something about videogames, apparently; that was one trend Killian had never much caught onto). Robin followed shortly, heading for for Regina’s, leaving Killian alone at the counter with Granny.

“You know that battle’s not gonna be the end of it, right?” she said as she placed another shot of bloodrum in front of him and poured one of her own.

“Aye, but it can’t hurt to try.”

“No, I suppose it can’t.” She held her glass up to him; he clinked his against it and they downed the shots together. But she continued after they swallowed. “You do know about the prophecy, though, right?”

He looked up in surprise. “The what?”

“I don’t know the details, but I’ve heard it’s the only way to settle things once and for all. If you really want to end this rivalry, you’re gonna have to go to the top.”

He wanted to ask more, but she wouldn’t go into further detail, instead going to serve a pixie at the other end of the bar. He racked his brain; he couldn’t recall ever hearing anything about a prophecy, and few had been around as long as he had. Hmm; perhaps he had a visit to make later.

But first: Granny had left the bottle of rum on the counter, and he needed a few more shots before he could truly unwind from what had been a tumultuous night.

Before he did that, however, he did dig out his phone to call Gold and appraise him of the situation. Honestly, it probably wouldn’t mean much to the man—given that neither he nor Cora were involved, it might not even be official—but still, he should know.

To Killian’s surprise, he took the news in stride. “Fair’s fair; if that’s what everyone agrees on, I’m fine with that, and I’m sure Cora will hold up her end of it, too.” Killian was less convinced of that but if Gold was, he wouldn’t argue. “Extend my best wishes to Mr. Locksley, will you?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Actually…” It was probably stupid, but Killian needed to know. “Sir, are you aware of a prophecy?”

The other end of the line was so silent, he feared they’d been disconnected, until Gold’s voice returned with a hard edge in it. “Where did you hear that?”

“Just a rumor,” Killian lied; it was easy to over phone. “I’ve only heard of its existence, but not what it’s about. Do you—”

Gold cut him off. “Whether or not a prophecy exists is of no concern of yours. Just make sure Locksley wins that fight.” And then the line truly went dead.

Killian stared at his phone in confusion for a moment; just what had that been? Gold didn’t just sound angry; he almost sounded scared.

Which meant that whatever was in that prophecy, it was important—and if Killian wanted to put an end to all this, and ensure he and Emma had a chance at a life together, he needed to find out what.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Emma had just gotten out of a (rather long) shower when her dad and the crew arrived back at their place. Not that their townhouse was any sort of official Coroza hangout; the Nolans were just the most hospitable—something to do with David growing up on a Midwestern farm—and always keen to invite people over.

Either the meeting hadn’t been that long, or she’d been bathing for a while—both were likely, because she’d taken her time in making sure Killian’s scent was washed off of her. It’d be noticeable, especially if they’d just been in his presence.

Right after she’d gotten out, before she’d even gotten dressed, she had gone to text him to ask how things went—until she realized she still didn’t have his phone number. Dammit. But the voices she could easily hear in the lower level of the house would tell her everything.

She was a little surprised to see that Jefferson had joined them; he was something of a loner, even though he’d been around for a couple hundred years and was reasonably close to Cora.

Closer still to Cora, though, was Zelena, who was sipping a glass of bloodwine off to the side of where the guys were gathered on the sofa in the living room. She always seemed to pop up out of nowhere; honestly, it would creep Emma out if she didn’t know that she was one of the oldest vampires in town.

“Emma! There you are.” Emma jumped at the frantic way Snow blurted the greeting, and had to rely on her superhuman reflexes to grab the wine glass that was shoved at her (honestly, if she’d been able to react at even a fraction of this speed when she was alive, maybe she’d have lived up to her last name). “It’s drinking time.”

“Did the meeting go that bad?” she asked, watching as her mom took a long drag from her own glass.

“Actually, it was rather refreshing,” Zelena said drily. “Historically, at least one person ends up dead in these sorts of things. And I really didn’t feel like washing blood from this blouse tonight.”

Snow just took another long, panicked drink. Zelena was never known for her tact (although Emma did have to agree that her green v-neck was gorgeous).

“So what did happen?” Emma had never been that great an actor, so hopefully her feigned indifference was convincing.

Zelena caught her up on the plan—a one-on-one fight rather than an all-out brawl. It was still more than Emma would have liked but certainly not as bad as it could have been.

“It was headed that way,” Zelena responded to her comment, “except for Jones apparently being the only one with any brain cells still alive in Aurum.”

“Jones?” she blurted, unable to hold back at mention of Killian. Shit.

But thankfully, they read it as confusion; being one of the youngest vampires in the coven had its perks. “He’s the one you were dancing with,” Snow murmured.

“Oh,” she said, pretending to be ignorant (and that she didn’t know what his kiss tasted like).

“It was his idea for single combat. Makes me wish we had a soldier on our side—or just, you know, anyone with any sort of battle strategy. Humbert here was ready to tear his head off at the suggestion, even though it was a good one.”

“Are they the ones fighting?” Emma had to ask; it was the one time she’d let her mom think she was showing concern for Graham.

“Humbert is, but he’s facing...oh, what’s his name—Robert? Robbie? Something like that.”

It took effort not to look too relieved, so she hid her reaction in her drink.

“I’m just glad it’s not David,” Snow said, having emptied her glass.

“Then why are you drinking so much?” Zelena sneered.

“Because this was my night to get drunk! Aurum can’t take that from me.” And without another word, Snow disappeared back to the kitchen; Emma was pretty sure she heard the liquor cabinet open, where she was pretty sure a bottle of sanguiria was hiding.

Which left a slightly awkward silence over Emma and Zelena while the boys continued to lecture Graham on fighting (what good would that even do at this point? How had he not made it a century and half without knowing these things?) She rolled her eyes at them. “At least this’ll be the end of it, right?”

“We’ll see,” Zelena answered and took another sip. “I don’t see how something dating back 400 years will be settled by two assholes in a parking lot, but they can certainly try.”

“This rivalry seriously goes back that far?” She’d been told vague stories of the bad blood between the covens, but they all started with cliches like “many moons ago” and “once upon a time.”

“Ugh, I swear—we need to make this part of new vampire orientation or something,” Zelena complained. “Cora and Gold used to be lovers; he’s the one who turned her.”

“Holy shit.” Emma had not seen that coming. She’d have believed it if one of them had killed the other’s family or something—and Killian’s story wasn’t far from her mind—but actually lovers? “They must have had the worst breakup ever, then.”

“Something like that,” Zelena confirmed. “Gold—or Rumplestiltskin, as he was known back then—” (which was a revelation all on its own—) “meddled with Cora’s family in a way that was unforgivable. He took one of her daughters.”

“Cora had daughters?” God, how many bomb revelations were going to be dropped on her tonight? (And was separating kids from their parents just an Aurum thing or what?)

“Two. And you’re talking to one of them.”

Emma’s dropped jaw had to suffice as a reply to that. Hopefully, her mom had saved her some sanguiria. “Wait—so he...did he...you…?”

“Did he turn me? No; I practically begged Mum to once I got of age. But Gold stole my sister and that caused the rift, among other things. So I really don’t see this little kerfuffle solving anything.”

There wasn’t much to say to that other than hum in agreement; no wonder things got so heated. Emma still thought it was silly, but having a frame of reference helped. She didn’t know if that made her predicament easier to deal with or harder, though.

“And it’s too bad, really,” Zelena continued. “I’d love to see my sister again, and then you could be with Killian.”

For the first time in 15 years, Emma choked on blood. “Um, what?”

“Darling, I’m 383 years old; you’re probably safe from anyone else here noticing, but I can still smell him all over you; he positively reeked earlier. And I hardly blame you. Frankly, you two might be our only hope.” Emma really wanted to ask what that meant, but was too busy mentally panicking and praying no one else heard this exchange. “Don’t worry; your secret’s safe with me,” Zelena promised, handing Emma her now-empty glass. “Just don’t be an idiot about it, alright?”

“All—alright,” Emma stammered.

“Good. Well, I’m off,” she said casually—and much louder; Emma hadn’t even realized they’d been whispering. “Good luck tomorrow, everyone,” she called as she headed for the door, but her eyes were locked with Emma’s before she made her exit.

Quickly, Emma finished her wine—just in time for Snow to refill it (with some claret; honestly, she didn’t care what it was as long as it had blood and alcohol. She would have settled for finding a drunk frat boy outside a party if that was what it took). That was...a lot to unpack in one night, and she had never been very good at that—side effect of being a foster kid.

She wondered how much of it Killian knew; he had to know at least some of it, right? And what had Zelena been talking about—how were they the “only hope”? (What was this, Star Wars?) She didn’t want to be any sort of savior; she just wanted to jump her vampire boyfriend’s bones without causing a gang war. And, you know, the happily ever after stuff her mom was always talking about.

The two of them wordlessly continued to share the bottle of booze and stare out the window as the sun’s early rays started to brighten the buildings across the street. At some point, Jefferson and Graham had left, which helped Emma relax but didn’t remove the tension.

Outside, the moon was starting its morning fade; she’d be counting the hours until it made its evening appearance—‘til she could see Killian again.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian only just made it into the library before the full sun was shining on the entrance. He’d have to steal an umbrella or something when he left, but with any luck, it would rain like it was supposed to this afternoon and he’d be fine.

He loved the library—the scent of ink on paper, the quiet hush of knowledge being shared, the occasional squeal of joy—but all was quiet and still at this early hour, especially since they weren’t technically open. (But he knew which door was usually unlocked, and if he didn’t show up on any security camera, then what was the harm?)

He would have loved to linger in the stacks, and might yet later, but he was on a mission, and instead made a beeline for the rare book collection and archives—the one place without windows, where a vampire could actually work in peace.

He made little noise as he pressed the heavy door open and stepped inside the musty room. It was pristine—not even a dust mote swirling in the lights.

“Unless you’ve somehow managed to make an everything bagel with blood, we’re not open,” the petite librarian called out from somewhere in the recesses of the space. Of course she heard him.

“I was never much of a baker, love,” he replied. “But how about some bloody earl grey?”

He’d only just moved his arm to the side, ensuring the safety of said tea, when a small but solid form was wrapped around him tightly. A few seconds later, it was slapping his chest.

“Killian Jones, you fils de pute! You didn’t tell me you were coming back!” Belle chastised, even though she was grinning.

“What, and ruin the surprise?”

She rolled her eyes, but chuckled. “Merde, but it’s good to see you,” she said, pressing up the few inches her heels didn’t cover to press a kiss to his cheek. “And you, too,” she added, but this time directed towards the tea. There was exactly one Starbucks in the city that catered specifically to vampires, just a couple blocks from here; hopefully, corporate never investigated the contents of the extra “red syrup” the undead staff kept stocked, though considering neither the location nor staff had changed in at least 15 years, they were likely in the clear.

“Why do I get the impression this is more than just a social call?”

She knew him too well; he supposed that was to be expected after 150 years. “Perhaps I just came here to help one of my best friends; had you considered that, eh? What are you up to today?”

“Digitizing, as always, and I think there’s an appointment later to see some old Broadway posters. And whatever it is that’s brought you here, obviously.”

“You wound me.”

She glared at him as she took a sip from her cup—surprisingly menacing for one so seemingly docile, but it was also hard to believe that the dainty woman before him was a 200-some-year-old creature of the night. (Though it certainly took that amount of practice to run around a library in platform heels the way she did.) “Just what are you up to, Captain?”

He took his own drag of tea as he studied the aging leather spines in a glass-locked cabinet on the closest shelf, noting that the two of them were both likely older than the tomes, and yet showed no such signs of wear and tear. “It’s not anything hugely important, just a bit of gossip I heard, but figured you would be the one to confirm or deny it.”

“And what’s that?”

“With this whole ageless coven war, have you ever heard of any sort of...prophecy?”

He turned his head to look at her; were it not for the way she licked the tea off her lips, he’d think she was a statue. “Where did you hear that?” she finally murmured.

“Granny.” He couldn’t lie, and Belle wouldn’t judge.

“Yeah, she’d pick up something like that,” Belle had to admit. “Sharp old wolf.”

“So it’s real?”

Belle nodded. “It is, but no one’s said anything about it in...gosh, at least a hundred years. It goes back ages, though; I believe to the start of all this.”

“Does it say anything about how to end it?”

She sighed. “Yeah, it does. But let me finish my tea first.”

He truly had come to see her—not just for information; they’d first crossed paths sometime during the 1860s in Australia and been fast friends ever since. Killian couldn’t even remember what Gold had sent him there for, but Belle had come back to New York with him on one of his trips and stayed in the city ever since. She was originally from France, but after being turned (and losing her family) during the Reign of Terror, she fled the continent for England and hopped on the first ship out of Europe—to a penal colony on the other side of the world. Thus her odd combination of French curses and Australian accent. (Though after long enough, most vampires developed hard-to-place accents on account of their nomadicity; his likely only identified him as British due to his recent time spent there. And it hardly mattered in New York.)

She caught him up on anything he’d missed in the last decade that Robin hadn’t already, but didn’t betray the one thing he’d been hoping she’d mention: whether or not she was currently with Gold. He kind of hated how well they’d hit it off when he introduced them, but in the intervening decades, he’d lost count of how many times they’d broken up, made up, married, divorced, or just been “on a break” (it wasn’t a stretch to say they were a real-life Ross and Rachel; her apartment even had a purple door). They were freshly divorced when he’d left, but that didn’t mean much.

While she was taking a last, long dreg of tea, he had to ask. “And how are things with Gold?”

Suddenly, the cup was flattened and thrown with some precision to the trash bin near the door.

“Excellent, I take it?”

“More like completely done. Forever.”

He’d heard that before, but wasn’t about to contradict her. “What now?”

“Believe it or not, that’s one thing you haven’t missed—we haven’t gotten back together since you left.”

That had to be a record. However, he sensed that wasn’t all. “But?”

“But he’s tried on numerous occasions,” she sighed. “I’ve had enough, though; the shady dealings, his weird hangup over Cora, acting like king of his own empire. I’m not just another one of his playthings for him to control—oh, sorry.”

It wasn’t unusual for Belle to forget who she was talking to while ranting; however, “I’m not going to refute any of that, you know.”

“I know, just—I know you don’t have a choice.”

“Few have one.”

“Well, someone might—which brings us to the prophecy.”

She started off for the back of the room, where the oldest books were kept; he had to jump to keep up with her (not like it was hard, though).

“Have you ever heard the legend of the Dark One?” she asked as she grabbed an ancient-looking set of keys and knelt in front of an even older-looking case.

“It sounds familiar,” he replied, though he couldn’t pinpoint anything solid about it—just a name, almost a fairy tale, that had popped up over the years.

She pulled from the case what looked like a journal in a very fragile state and quickly moved it to an exam table (or whatever it was called—he didn’t spend that much time back here). “According to all the tales I’ve heard, the Dark One is the most powerful dark sorcerer in the world. Not only are they immortal, they lay claim to their power by murdering their predecessor. The story goes back centuries, and continues today.” As she told this, she carefully flipped through the pages of the book, which was written in an old language Killian only vaguely recognized.

“So you mean to tell me the Dark One is alive and kicking, even now?”

“Well, alive is a loose term. Also, he’s here in the city—and he’s your boss.” She stopped on a page near the center, and despite the aged parchment, the drawing on it bore more than a passing resemblance to Gold. “Not only has he held the title the longest, he was also the first vampire to lay claim to it. His existence is...I hate to say unprecedented, given how long he’s been around, but it’s definitely unique.”

How had he been unaware of this? True, there had always been something sinister about Gold that Killian hadn’t been able to put a finger on, but he just assumed it was because the man was an utter conniving bastard and had centuries to perfect being so. Not that he was also in possession of the darkest magic known to man. Few had any extra sort of magic—Cora was the only other one he knew of, and she wasn’t shy about it. Gold, apparently, was, though.

“How on earth did you find that out?”

“Well, he told me.”

Yeah, something like that would probably come up in pillow talk over the course of 150 years. “And he, what, gave you his notebook of devious schemes?” Killian asked, nodding at the book.

Belle snorted. “Not quite. I tracked this down myself about a hundred years ago.”

“So he doesn’t know about it?”

“Nope,” she confirmed, rather satisfied. “At least, he doesn’t know I have it. It was after our first divorce. See, he’s also spent plenty of time trying to hold onto that power and I, in my ire, decided to see if there was a way for him to lose it. Turns out, there is.”

She carefully flipped another few pages to one with just a few lines of text, in an older English, but easy enough for Killian to read:

Only one without creator live Can destroy the dark and survive. At truest love’s closing hour Will they eliminate the power

“And what exactly does that mean?” he wondered; he’d never encountered prophecies in the real world, but Harry Potter certainly seemed to have nailed their ambiguity.

“In simple terms, that only an orphan—someone without living parents—can kill him and end the line of Dark Ones. He did some awful things to orphanages years ago.” Belle shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cool temperature. “But ‘creator’ is a bit nebulous, especially with our kind,” she went on. “For us, it could also mean someone without a living sire. He’s also been known to target those.”

“Aye,” and it was Killian’s turn to shudder; he certainly had that kind of blood on his hands, although he’d usually been given a reason when taking out a hit on Gold’s orders. It was generally hard for anyone to get away from their sire—you couldn’t exactly kill someone when they had the ability to simply tell you to stop. The Nolans were an exception (one he still wanted to talk to Regina about); in fact, the only one he really knew of was… “Emma,” he breathed.

“Emma? Is that the girl whose scent is all over you?” Belle teased.

“Yeah, it is,” he told her, a bit sheepishly, but he had no time to stammer. “She doesn’t have a sire; she killed hers right after he turned her.”

“Impressive. I already approve of her.” Not that he needed Belle’s approval, but other than Robin, she was the closest thing he had to family—and that felt good.

“Even if she’s with Corona?”

“You know I don’t bloody care. Hell, I might like her more, then.”

That made him chuckle, but he needed to know more about the subject at hand. “What’s the rest of it mean, then?”

“Honestly, anything. ‘Closing hour’ is up for even more interpretation—could mean marriage, could mean death.”

“But we’re already dead.”

“I know. So I’ve no real clue. But I can spend some time on it, if you think she’s part of this.”

“It’s worth a shot; whatever it takes to end this feud.” Which gave him another, almost terrifying thought: “Does Cora know this?”

“That I don’t know. But I got the distinct impression it was part of why he turned her.”

“So she couldn’t kill him?”

“I think so. She was after power, whatever she could get; I think that’s why they got together in the first place. She was still mortal, then, and something of a witch, which...you’re already aware of. Turning her was always part of the plan, I gathered, but I think he moved up the timeline on it when he found out about the prophecy.”

“If she did find out, I can see why that might cause a legendary rift.” It would explain a lot of things, really.

“Precisely. And given my own dealings with the man, it’s easy to see why that went south.”

“At least you were already immortal,” he said knowingly.

“True,” she agreed, patting his hand.

“What about you? Where’s your sire nowadays?”

“No clue. I saw her my last time in Paris but that was 50 years ago. And trust me—if I could kill him, I would have by now.”

They shared a laugh, but Killian was more laughing at the idea that she’d be willing to off him; despite her rage, he knew she still loved him, deep down, even if she didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore.

She put the book away as methodically as she’d taken it out, locked the case, and glanced at the clock. “Well, I’d love to hear more about this Emma, but I suppose it’ll have to wait for another day; my appointment is in 20 minutes and I haven’t pulled anything yet. But maybe we can get some tea again in a couple days?”

“Sounds perfect, my dear—and thank you for your assistance.”

“My pleasure; hope it helps.”

“Anything does at this point.” He gave her a parting peck on the cheek and began to walk away, hoping it was still early enough he could stick to the shadows of the skyscrapers just fine, but then she called out again.

“Oh, and tell Will to call me, would you?”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her; surely she was joking. “Will? That wanker? Why?”

She shrugged. “I guess that’s one of the things I didn’t tell you from the last 15 years.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading, friends! let me know if you want/don’t want a tag! @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda

#cs ff #cssns20 #cssns 2020 #cs vampire au #even death won't part us now #my ff

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

Note

I’m really thirsting for a sneak peek of that 10k fic rn like I NEED IT, I swear im not obsessed but like I’m definitely in too deep

You ask, I deliver. I swear I can’t say no to you! Here are 1500 of my favourite words, it’s all you get you fiend.

When seven o’clock rolls around you’re standing outside the biggest mansion you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Its white pillars taunt you, each one large enough to hide your body. Twice. You’re alone, spare the people around you milling in and out of the large doors. Your mother had dropped you in front while her and your father went to park the car. Never before in your life has a house made you feel this small. This alone. You pull your shawl, a sheer black number, around your shoulders and shrink slightly.

A hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, spinning around quickly only to be greeted with Lily, whose face is twisted from the laughter pouring out of her. She clutches her stomach from the force, wrinkling the red satin dress she’s wearing. You take a moment to admire how much it suits her. It’s a little bold for your tastes but she wears it like no one else could. Her hair is twisted on the top of her head, a few curls falling to frame her face. She looks amazing, not that you had any doubts.

You lightly smack her shoulder, finally letting a few giggles loose, “you scared me you idiot!” You turn your eyes back to the mansion, swallowing the lump of nerves growing in your throat, “take a look at this place, will you. It’s huge! Have you ever seen a house this big? What could someone possibly need a house this big for?”

“Yeah it’s something alright,” her eyes drag down the hulking facade before meeting yours once more, a naughty smirk now on her red lips, “and I’m sure the inside is even nicer! Let’s go!”

She grabs your hand, all but dragging you over the threshold. Light pours over you, catching the sequins on your dress and making it sparkle delicately, something that would usually make you squeal however your attention is currently elsewhere. That elsewhere is the dual grand staircase in the center of the room. It’s encased in pillars, the feature leaking in from the exterior of the mansion. It’s bronze railings are strung up with thousands of twinkling lights. The staircase is easily the focal point of the foyer.

But not because of the lights.

Lily digs her nails into your hand, pulling you to a screeching halt, “are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”

Her eyes are glued to the same place that yours are, dragging up and down the staircase with little care to whoever might be watching her little show. You choose a less outright form of gawking, opting to look all around the room while still making little glances at your main focus.

“Yeah, Lil, I think I am,” you gulp, your eyes training on three sinfully gorgeous men, “mama said they were handsome but this,” you let the end of your sentence drop, not having nearly the vocabulary to explain the Mikaelsons.

In total, there are five people on the staircase. Four men and a woman. Each one is gorgeous in their own right. You mull over the woman first. If you thought that you looked nice before you left, that’s pretty much gone now. She’s absolutely stunning. Her blonde hair lays in a sheet over her shoulders, winding almost to her base of her spine. She wears an emerald gown, one fitted to every dip and curve of her body like it was spun by Aphrodite herself. You have to look away, she’s the kind of pretty that makes you feel like you’re not worthy of seeing it.

Your eyes travel to the man next to her and your mouth goes dry. He’s tall. That’s the first thing you notice. If you were next to him he would easily tower over you. Not just because of his height, though. You shift your focus to his arms and the way the sleeves of his tux hug them tightly. You have no doubts this man could rip you in two if he wanted to. He stands at ease, his eyes wandering the faces of those closest to him as he lifts a hand to smooth over his brown hair. At least he doesn’t look to be in the killing mood.

Behind him is a man with blonde hair. Even from across the room it looks softer than silk and your palms itch to run through it. He leans against the railing, a glass of champagne loose in his fingers. His eyes are on the others but he has the appearance of a man who is a thousand miles away. Your heart hurts at the thought but you brush past it. You don’t know him and you’re most likely wrong. Still you give him another brush over, wishing slightly that he would crack even a hint of a smile.

You shake your head, moving to the man at the top of the stairs. He’s alive with something fiery, speaking to the others with animated hands and laughing hard. You can’t hear him over the crowd around you but, gods, you wish you could. It’s probably nothing important but, by the looks of him, he could make anything sound special. He throws his head back laughing, his brown hair flopping wildly. You can’t look at him for long either but not for the same reason you couldn’t look at the woman. No, you can’t look at him because you’re afraid if you look any longer than you’ll be sucked in forever.

When you look at the last man you shiver. It’s not the kind of shiver that makes you feel exhilarated though, it’s the opposite. Your blood runs cold when you look at him and, when his eyes meet yours, you look away instantly. You can feel his eyes burning into your back for a few moments after and you hate it. Unlike the rest of them, this man makes you feel ice cold.

You tug on your best friend’s hand, desperate to get away from the man, “come on, Lil, let’s go find the champagne.”

Lily’s eyes light up at the thought, instantly taking the lead on this new expedition, “girl you read my mind!”

You take one last glance towards the staircase as she pulls you into another you, momentarily catching three pairs of brown eyes before scampering around the corner. Your cheeks are hot when you’re finally out of their vicinity. You hadn’t realized how heavy the air around them had been. Now that you can’t see them your bones feel marginally lighter. Something nags at you though, a loss of sorts. You rub a hand over your chest, massaging the ache away.

Lily pushes a cool glass into your hand, lifting her own to her lips. You follow suit, breathing in the sugary scent before letting the sweet bubbles flow down your throat. It soothes your flaming chest.

“Shit,” Lily breathes, “everything about this screams money. The invitations, the house, this damn champagne. What’s next? A pool of synchronised swimmers?” Her eyes wander the room, her fingers tight around the glass, “I’m not used to this Great Gatsby level of wealth. It’s making my head spin a little. This is my parent’s scene, not mine.”

You nod lightly, her words everything you’ve been dying to say. It’s magnificent but you’ve never felt more out of place. Not even the founders day balls are like this. At least Mrs. Lockwood has the good sense to cater to the modesty of the town. Before you can answer, however, a voice joins your conversation.

“My apologies, my brothers like to go overboard when throwing parties. It’s not quite my taste either, a little too stuffy if you ask me.”

You spin around to the sight of the woman from the stairs and your heart pounds hard in your chest. She’s even more beautiful up close, like a Van Gogh masterpiece. Her voice is accented and smooth, impossibly so. You feel like a peasant in her presence but her smile is light and it helps soothe your nerves a touch. When you look at Lily, though, her cheeks are beet red and her eyes are wide.

“Oh my, I am so sorry! I didn’t think anyone would hear me besides,” she nudges you lightly, the smile she’s plastered on her face sheepish, “this one here. It really is gorgeous. Perhaps university has lowered my standards.”

You watch Lily fumble her words and you don’t blame her. This girl seems like she was made to insite insecurity and you mean that in the very best of ways. Despite her slight enthusiasm, though, Lily’s eyes flow over the woman slowly. You can tell she’s interested. By the way her stares are being reciprocated, you would say she isn’t the only one. You smile at that,

The woman laughs, her eyes filled with mirth, “your standards aren’t low, this party is just a nightmare. I’m Rebekah, one of the many Mikaelsons you will surely encounter tonight,” she looks over her shoulder, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, “and it looks as though you’re going to get the immersive experience.”

#elijah mikaelson #Kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #the mikaelson brothers #WIP

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originofjaehyun · 4 years ago

Text

Prelude: After Story | Part 1 | Punch

Prelude: After Story Masterlist

Word count: 2,929

Warnings: None

Part 1 | Punch

“‘Cause I’m a clean fighter.”

Read Interlude: No More Drama

Tag list: @justineasian @elauniesdream

“Make sure you tell him how you felt.”

The remark only received a giggle from the other party. “I’m not promising anything, Yuta. It will take time.”

Yuta took a final glance. There’s a hint of despair in the way he looked at her. “You packed everything?”

She nods. “I think so. Let me know if I left something. Well, that if you don’t mind. Else, you can throw them away.”

“Alright, I’ll let you know.” He smirked. There’s a pregnant pause before he continues. “I’ll see you when I see you, [Y/N]. Until then, please be well.”

Yuta could see she welled up, holding up her tears. He wished he could hug her and tell her that it will be fine, but that only contradicted the brave front he showed to her.

She finally waves her final goodbye, closing the door. It is a signal for Yuta to finally embrace his sadness. Legs gave in, he immediately crouched down, sighing.

“Damn, who would’ve thought I could fall for someone this much?” Brushing the hair that covers his forehead, he asked himself, with no one to answer.

Yuta walked to his bathroom, thinking that he would cool his head by taking a brisk shower. He took off his shirt, pausing in front of the sink before he entered the shower booth. He stared at his own reflection, blankly. No thoughts, head is empty. He just needs his time to process and to cope with his own heartbreak.

There are few objects that don't belong to him, and by then he noticed that she forgot to visit the bathroom when she cleared her stuff, leaving her toothbrush behind. He curled one side of his lips up, sighing regretfully before throwing the toothbrush to the trash bin nearby.

This is so I can forget about her faster.

Yuta taught to himself, before spotting another foreign item.

A pair of rose gold stud earrings. Yuta knows his pieces of jewelry because he never took off his. The simple design of the earrings is also a bit too plain for his liking, and the owner of them is no other than the person who just left this place.

He grabs it, about to throw them away. But hesitates, gripping the earrings inside his palm.

Yuta looks at the earring once more.

Maybe, just maybe, this is the only part of you that I could keep?

–

Days pass per normal for Yuta. Except that the people around him notice that he’s anything but it.

“You alright, bro?” Doyoung tapped his shoulder, waking Yuta from his daze.

“What do you mean?” Yuta leans to the wall, inhaling his IQOS.

“I don’t know man, you’re off these days.” Doyoung took a sip of his grapefruit drink. “It seems like you have something on your mind. Have you talked to [Y/N] about it?”

Ah, so she hasn’t told him.

Yuta thought to himself, not responding to Doyoung as he drew out a translucent smoke.

“She might not be the best at giving advice, cause even she had a hard time figuring out herself. But I promise she’s a good listener, I’m sure she'll be able to give you some sort of comfort.”

Yuta just nodded to his statement.

He nodded because he himself knew how comfortable it was to be around her.

–

Yuta holds grudges. It was hard for him to admit it at first, but eventually, he accepts the annoying part of his personality. Fast forward five months after she left, Yuta still refused to go out. This clearly weirded everyone out since Yuta is the social butterfly. For him to reject their offer to visit the bar after office makes the lines on their foreheads more apparent than ever.

Yuta just needs some time, alone. He doesn’t know for how long, but what he knows is that he’s just not in the mood to put on a fake happy smile when his own heart is like a shipwreck.

So he spent another night in at his apartment, opening a bottle of rye whiskey. Truthfully, Yuta prefers sweeter booze –something that is more fruity like his usual Cassis Orange. However these days, those cocktails couldn’t shred his woe. He needs something stronger. He needs to be able to feel the burning sensation on his chest, replacing the pain of his heartache.

He went off to flump into the leather couch, putting down the glass of whiskey. He grabs the remote, browsing through the Netflix catalog. He stops, at one move named Kimi no Na wa.

He probably already watched this for million times. He loves this movie. Not only because of the well-executed animation and storyline, but it also reminds him of home.

And it painfully reminds him of her too. How she loved anime, and how her eyes glimmered every time Yuta told her a fun fact about Japanese culture.

“Did you know there’s a trivia behind her name?”

“Who? Mitsuha?”

Yuta nods, “Her name means three leaves. Funnily enough, it started from her grandmother, Hitoha which means one leaf. And you guessed it, her mother’s name, Futaba, means two leaves and her little sister, Yotsuha, is four leaves.”

“Whoa!” She shrieked excitedly. “That’s cute!”

Yuta laughed at the sight of her getting excited over something simple like this. It’s nothing much for a Japanese man like him, but for her it’s something new and Yuta finds it very adorable.

If she was still here, he would cross his arm over her shoulder. Cuddling her.

But right now, all he could do is to rest his arm on the backrest of his couch. The only warmth that he could feel is from the whiskey.

Unable to focus on the movie, so he diverted his attention to see his phone.

Oh, how he regrets it.

He saw her social. She was with a group of people that Yuta knew from that party. But his finger reactively clicked on one of the tagged name’s profiles.

Just to see him posted a photo of her. It was a candid photo, the person captured in the picture seemingly asked the photographer to stop. Her hands were blurred because she attempted to cover her mouth.

But she wasn’t quick enough to stop the photographer from capturing her smile. A smile so bright Yuta knew he wasn’t able to create. A smile that Yuta definitely misses.

The agony he felt amplified once he read the capture below the photo.

“I was yours, before I knew; and you have always been mine too.”

Yuta rolled his tongue over his front teeth. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way, not when he is the one who let her go. But he is pissed, throwing his phone away.

He moves his palms to cover his eyes, resting his head. He lets out another sigh, but no matter how much he exhaled, no matter how much alcohol he drank, the rain cloud seems to follow him around.

“Fuck this shit.” He hummed to himself.

He took his phone again, this time opening a different app. It took him a bit longer this time, but at least whatever he was doing, managed to put a smile on Yuta’s face.

He then proceeds to dial a number.

“Hello, Doy? I’ll take a week off. I’m flying to Osaka tomorrow.”

–

“How could you come back home without noticing us?”

Yuta puts down his bag, worn out from the flight, “I can’t even visit my own home now, Nee-san?”

“What I meant was,” His sister crossed his arm. “Last time you visited Osaka, you’d stay at the hotel because you wouldn’t stay long. Mostly due to your business trip. What makes you suddenly miss home?”

“I just feel like taking some days off, Nee-san.” He replied without looking at this sister, busy unpacking his stuff. “Also, Imouto has been texting me, telling me to bring her some signed goods from TVXQ.”

“Well if you said so,” Her sister knows how stubborn Yuta is, so she decides that she won’t press him further. “Come down when you’re ready. If only you told us you were coming earlier, mom would’ve cooked us Nabe. But we don’t have the ingredients, so you have to settle with curry tonight.”

Yuta finally looked back to smile at his sister, “Curry sounds great, Nee-san.”

–

It’s great to be home, Yuta thought to himself.

The familiar road. People talking in his mother language. Food that is catered to fit his taste buds. He loves Korea, and everything it has to offer, but nothing could replace home.

“My, Yuta is that you?!” An elderly woman called for him, snapping him from his day daze.

“Oh, Baa-chan!” Yuta subconsciously lets out his signature radiant smile. “How are you? I hope your back is fine now.”

“Oh, you’re as sweet as I could remember, Yuta!” She giggled. “You never visit your home, this Baa-chan misses you a lot, you know? I don’t know how to use… what do they call those these days? Line?”

Yuta laughed. “Yes, Line, Baa-chan.”

“Right, I can’t contact you! You should come home more often. I could write you a letter but I don’t know your address in Korea.”

“I miss you too, Baa-chan. Sorry, I promise to visit again.”

Baa-chan sells taiyaki in his neighborhood. Yuta is her regular customer, and she has witnessed how much Yuta grew from a small boy who aspires to be an Ultraman to a successful businessman he is right now. Yuta settled on the bench in front of Baa-chan’s store, filling her with the missing information pieces where Yuta finally left home for his career.

“Now take this,” She offered him a bag of taiyakis.

“Oh, no Baa-chan. Let me pay,” He rustles his pant pocket, trying to find his wallet.

“My dear Yuta!” She pushes the paper bag to him, “This is a gift from me, as a thank you for visiting this old lady. Next time, bring your friend here so they can pay instead. Baa-chan wants to see your friends, I want to make sure they are good people.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. Baa-chan is always kind, and it touches his heart. Yuta treats her like she’s her own grandmother. “I’ll note that, Baa-chan.”

He waves goodbye to her and marches his way to a nearby park. The park used to be so big for the small Yuta. He used to think it would take forever to catch a ball that flies after his friend kicked it too high. But now that he’s a full-grown man, he even wonders how the hell he was able to play soccer with his friend in this field.

He sits down at the bench, taking a bite of the fresh taiyaki. Baa-chan’s taiyaki is the best. It might be a biased opinion, but every bite is like a memory lane for Yuta. The irreplaceable taste of childhood.

The dusk is near, and there is no child laughter at these hours since all of them have their curfews. With nothing to keep him entertained, he unlocked his phone, casually browsing through his social before pausing his munching at one post.

“Can’t believe this man asked me to spend the rest of my life with him while I’m about to throw the trash away. I hope your future daughter will experience a much more romantic proposal, you weirdo.”

Involuntarily the red bean paste from his bread squirted out, due to the fact Yuta unconsciously squeezed them. Was it out of anger? Out of disappointment? Or out of regret?

His blood is boiling, and with nobody around, nothing stops him. Yuta is usually calm, but right now he just wants to transfer the excessive anger somewhere. Heck, the tree next to him can be his punching bag.

My mom always told me to finish my meal so you’re not leaving until you eat everything.

But right now, Yuta is unable to take another bite. He even forced whatever he had left on his mouth down to his throat.

Why did I let you go?

He scoffed, mocking his own thought, “Damn, what a pathetic person you are, Yuta.”

Your first impression on Yuta is probably how strong his aura is. His gaze is sharp, complemented with a well-chiseled jawline. So you would never think that the same person has a sensitive soul. Ever since his trip to Japan, the Nakamato residence in Seoul is always decorated with fresh flowers, handpicked by Yuta himself. This is his way of finding peace. He always wanted to have a pet, but his busy schedule makes him unable to own one. Instead, he’s been paying more attention to greeneries in his home. He said it was a therapy for him, and having a living plant makes the place alive, so he claims.

The bell on the door jingles after Yuta pushes the door open, cueing the staff who were busy arranging a bouquet to greet him.

“Welcome to Paradise!”

Yuta nods at the staff, telling her to continue with her arrangement and let him browse the flower catalog by himself.

Soon after, the bell jingles once more —only to reveal a young man with a sparkly eyes.

“Sorry, __! Taeyong left his apron behind so I have to make a visit to Kitchen Beat first.”

The person at the counter chuckled, “Don’t sweat it, Mark. We’re not that busy today anyway.”

“Let me put my bag first, then I’ll help to cut the stems of the carnations—“ Mark’s eyes grow bigger once he sees the familiar figure. “Yuta-hyung? Ah, I mean, Sir!”

Yuta turned at the sound of his name. “Oh, if it isn’t Mark!”

“Didn’t expect you to come here, Sir.”

“You can talk to me comfortably, Mark. We’re no strangers.” Yuta smiles. “Fancy seeing you here, too. Are you part-timing here?”

Mark nods. “Other than my job as an English tutor, working here actually calms me down. Maybe the flower gives the peaceful atmosphere?”

Yuta hummed, agreeing with his statement.

“Also, I can rest a bit because working here is not as busy as working at a cafe.” Mark continues, “Though we’re going to be busy pretty soon since Jaehyun-hyung ordered so many orchids for his wedding. Man, not just any orchid! If only he knows how difficult it is to obtain—“

Mark stopped at the sight of Yuta’s awkward face.

“Shit, Mark, how could you forget that he was your Noona’s ex-lover.”

He whispered to himself, but the store was fairly quiet with only faint instrumental song in the background —enabling Yuta to listen to each of his words clearly.

Your noona.

“Mark, go change to your uniform.” A female voice breaks the tension, flinching Mark who reactively gives Yuta a deep bow afterward.

Yuta definitely needs time to process what just happened. Pressing his lips together while occasionally biting the skin.

“A cheerful young boy, isn’t he?”

Yuta woke up from his daydream following her calm voice. “Mark is energetic, and I love how positive his energy is. Though sometimes, that can cause him to be slightly dense, too.”

Yuta couldn’t help but to let a single soft chuckle.

“So please forgive him, yeah? I’m sorry I couldn’t help but to overheard your conversation. Don’t take it to the heart, Mark was probably too excited. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know. No offense is taken. I just need some time to digest it.”

“Take your time,” she continued with her bouquet, tying up the ribbon as the final touch. “Though, if I could suggest, I think our daffodils are very pretty today.”

“Daffodils?”

“Yes, the yellow ones on that corner,” she pointed at a bunch of yellow flowers. “I’ll help you with a bunch. It’s on a house, as an apology from making you uncomfortable just now. Are you going to put it on a vase like the usual or are you going to give it to someone?”

Yuta widened his eyes, quickly shook his head, “Oh please no need, I’m not offended by all means.”

“As the owner of this shop, I insist, Sir.”

Yuta hesitates, but eventually gives in. “The usual. Actually, a single bloom is fine. I would feel bad, you know, if you're going to give me a bunch. Business is still business after all.”

His remarks only caused the other party to scoff, “Our business is doing well, Sir. So please don’t fret on it. Anyway, it would mean a different thing if I don’t give you in a bunch.”

“Different thing?”

“Ah,” She closes her mouth with her hand. “Don’t mind too much on it.”

After spending the whole day outside, all Yuta needs is a refreshing shower to wash down his sweat. He placed his new floral arrangement on his dining table, before taking his shirt off when he walked towards the bathroom. He threw his shirt to the laundry bag, and unlocked his phone, ready to play his shower playlist.

Bunch of daffodils?

He suddenly remembered how the florist mentioned the different meaning of daffodils. He quickly changed the tab, typing the question on Google.

Smirk appeared on his face, after so many days shied away from the surface.

“Rebirth and new beginnings, huh?” He said to himself. “How cheeky.”

He puts down his phone on the countertop, resting his arms at the sink before looking at himself in the mirror.

Yuta is determined.

He picks up his phone once more, dialing a number.

“Doyoung, do you know the best hair salon here?”

A/N: We’re back with this!! I’m so so excited to continue this hehe~ To be honest... continuing this series gives me a lot of anxiety. What if the audience don’t like it? What if the one who loves Interlude won’t like my approach on continuing the story in Yuta’s POV? At some point it was difficult for me to write this, but as I persistently write this, it became more and more enjoyable and eventually those thoughts don’t appear as much!

Another thing to note, to prevent any confusion, the reader for Prelude will be ___ instead of the usual [Y/N]. [Y/N] belongs to Interlude! So think of her as another character for Prelude!

Also again, I’d like to remind you guys again since there’s only three additional songs, this would be a mini-series instead of a full series like Interlude. But hopefully, you would still give Prelude tons of love too!

#yuta scenarios #yutaxreader #yuta fic #yuta angst #neowritingsnet #yuta fluff #commoner!au #commoner!yuta #yutafluff #yuta #yuta scenario #fic yuta #angst yuta #prelude after story #nct scenarios #prelude #punch

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ripley95 · 4 years ago

Text

Echoes of Old Embers

Chapter 10

Pairing: F!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko

Rating: T

Chapter length: 3.5K

Story Synopsis:

After surviving the war, one of Shepard’s biggest regrets was rejecting Kaidan at Apollo’s. Fate has a way of bringing Jane and Kaidan back into each other’s lives. A misunderstanding with his family makes Kaidan and Shepard relive old history and question where they stand.

Link to Chapter 1 on AO3

Chapter Synopsis:

Shepard helps Kaidan’s mother prepare food for Libby’s wedding. They get to know each other better while Shepard worries about saying something to deepen the misunderstandings surrounding her relationship with Kaidan.

Read to Chapter 10 on AO3

Tumblr Links:

Read the chapter here below the cut:

Shepard watched Kaidan as he went outside to go work on the yard before she headed towards the kitchen to help Ada, dishes from their breakfast still in hand. She paused in front of the doorway, steeling herself to go in. Now that she’d thought about it, putting her foot in her mouth again was a significant risk and maybe being alone with Kaidan’s mother wasn’t as safe as she’d been making it out to be.

Whether she’d be putting her foot in her mouth or not, time was wasting, so she pushed herself to go into the kitchen. Ada was already busy at work preparing everything. She was pulling out baking dishes, utensils and all sorts of ingredients. Thanks to the war ending, and everyone still trying to rebuild society, Shepard figured that luxuries like catering businesses were probably not a priority right now. This wedding wasn’t supposed to be huge by any means, but she knew there was going to be a decent amount of people there. That ensured that there was plenty to do in the kitchen, which didn’t ease the unsettled feeling in her stomach at all, knowing that she might be stuck here helping with prep all day. It provided much more time for something else to go wrong.

“Ah, there you are,” Ada said, turning around to glance at Shepard, still busy getting everything out to prepare. “You can just put those dishes in the sink for now. We’ll have plenty needing to be washed by the end of all this prep work,” she said as she turned back to pulling out more ingredients and recipes.

Shepard followed her orders, like the good soldier she was, placing the dishes down gingerly and washing her hands.

“So, what are we making?”

“Well, there’ll be a lot,” Ada said with a laugh tinged with a bit of frustration at the notion. “Luckily, some of my friends have agreed to come cook everything tomorrow, so we won’t have to worry about it. Still, I want to try to prep as much as I can today to make their lives easier. The one we’ll start with is my famous glazed carrots. It’s one of the sides that Libby wanted. In the fall, we make apple cider and store it in the freezers so it can last a while. We still have a batch from the last harvest that somehow made it through the war. I use that as a marinade with some spices and butter. I don’t usually like tooting my own horn, but it’s delicious,” she said with a proud smile.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever had anything like that before, but it sure sounds good,” Shepard said, legitimately intrigued with the idea of it. She supposed anything was better than what she was used to lately, but she’d already sampled Ada’s cooking and she couldn’t imagine anything coming from her tasting bad.

“I’m not going to lie, it’s one of my favourite dishes. I was happy to know that Libby thought of it fondly enough to have it at her wedding. That being said, I’m used to making it for a family of six, not for a gathering of more than fifty people, so I think we have our work cut out for us. Kaidan’s sure capable of tucking a lot of it away, too, so we also have to account for that,” she said with a laugh.

“It sounds like we should get to it then. Where do you want me?”

“I already have you set up over here,” Ada said, lightly slapping a pile of bagged carrots that she had put on the large island in the centre of the kitchen. It had barstools on the opposite side. “I figured this would be the easiest. You can sit or stand as you please when you need to give your leg a rest.”

Shepard nodded and went over to the other side and sat down on one of the stools. Her leg was feeling okay, but she thought it best to rest it in case she might be up and busy helping more tomorrow morning before the wedding.

“How did you know it was my leg?” Shepard asked curiously.

“Hmm?” Ada asked, confused.

“I mentioned that I was injured before, but I don’t think we ever specifically mentioned that it was my leg.”

“Ah. Well, I didn’t always help run the orchard, you see,” she said with a wistful smile.

“Oh?” Shepard said, opening the bags of carrots and picking up the peeler.

“Here, put the shavings in this,” she said, handing Shepard a bucket. “We’ll use those for the compost later. I used to be a nurse. I got my start in the Alliance, too, actually.”

“Really?” Shepard looked up to her in disbelief. She wasn’t expecting that. “I’m surprised Kaidan never mentioned that.”

“Ah, he was probably doing that to grant mercy on me,” she said with a chuckle. “I was only enrolled very briefly, mind you, and this was way back in the earlier days of the Alliance when there was much less interplanetary travel. I’ve still never been off-planet. I’m sure you can’t even imagine what that’s like,” she said, giving Shepard a smile.

Shepard chuckled. “Not really. I was born in space. Spent most of my life there.”

“Sounds amazing,” Ada said, giving her a smile. “Then again, I think anything opposite from what you’re used to is bound to sound a little amazing. Maybe it’s nothing but routine for you.”

“There’s definitely some truth to that,” Shepard agreed. “I don’t know if I would quite call it routine. With my job, there was rarely ever a dull moment, but yeah, I would say space is what I’m used to. Probably doesn’t hold the same amount of wonder as it would for someone who’s never been up there. Meanwhile, seeing where you live has been pretty stunning. Not that I’ve never been ground-side, but every place I go is so unique. I haven’t seen anything quite like this before.”

Ada nodded in agreement.

“I’m not sure if you’re just trying to change the subject on me, but you can’t bring up being in the Alliance and not tell me that story,” Shepard said with a curious smile.

“Ha, I should have expected that I wouldn’t be able to pull one over on Commander Shepard,” she said with a laugh. “I suppose my reason for joining the Alliance was the same reason that a lot of people joined. I wanted to get into the medical field. I had already gone to school, but the Alliance was offering a program where they’d reimburse education expenses. It would have helped me a lot at the time, so I decided to give it a shot. Maybe you guessed it by now, but it’s how I met Ethan,” she said, with a whimsical smile.

Shepard stopped peeling the carrot and stared at her, surprised that Kaidan would have kept such a secret about how his parents met, especially with how familiar it was to their own circumstances. “Forbidden romance?” she asked, intrigued.

“You could say that, though, I think it’s probably even worse than you’re thinking. It wasn’t just the regs that were an issue. Ethan was a patient of mine. Not very ethical of me, I know,” she said with the same shit-eating grin that Kaidan had. As much as she was talking about ethics, she clearly found the situation amusing, which made Shepard smile.

“So, what was it? Love at first sight? Did you leave the Alliance so you could be together?” Shepard questioned with a smile.

“Oh no, nothing like that at all, actually. We maintained a respectable distance even though I was quite taken with him even early on. The first time I ever saw him, he came into medical with a sprained ankle from training. I don’t know what he did to it, but it looked like a cantaloupe, and must have hurt like hell. Even through the pain, he was cracking jokes the whole time. We hit it off immediately, but we didn’t act on anything until much later. After he recovered, he’d come around every now and then to catch up. Sometimes he’d bring me a coffee. Actually, he’d bring them for everyone on my shift, but I’m pretty sure it was an excuse to see me. He never did it when I wasn’t there.”

Shepard couldn’t help herself from smiling at that. From everything she’d heard over the last few days, Kaidan sounded like he was the spitting image of his dad.

“We’d chat on my breaks, but we never started anything romantic that early on, no,” she said, looking sombre recounting old memories. “No, you see, there’s this little hangup when you join the Alliance. Even when you just want to be in medical or engineering or anything not involved in the actual combat, you need to at least have basic weaponry certification. Let’s just say, my certification classes didn’t go very well. I kept screaming every time a gun went off. The first time I had to actually fire a weapon, not only did I scream again, but I also dropped the gun because I was so scared of it and proceeded to pass out. When I came to, I believe I asked if I shot anyone, to which I heard the whole class laughing behind me. Luckily the guns automatically go into safety mode when you lose contact with it.” she said, looking directly at Shepard, distracting herself away from her busy hands momentarily. “But look who I’m talking to. Of course, you know all of that already. Anyway,” she continued, looking back down at the food, starting to work with it again, “I was so panicked that I didn’t remember it at the time, and I was concerned I may have killed someone. So as you can imagine, I was discharged pretty swiftly after that. I wasn’t all that disappointed, mind you. I didn’t have much hope for myself to get over that fear. Yet another area that I suspect we’re different,” Ada said with a smile, no harshness behind her words.

Shepard smiled at that, as she peeled the carrots. “You could say that,” she said.

“Yes, well, as soon as Ethan learned that I had been discharged, he looked me up and asked me out. He really didn’t waste any time with that. I suppose the rest is history. I wasn’t particularly proud of my time in the Alliance, so I think my kids tend to keep that piece of information to themselves for my sake. Now anyway. There was a fair amount of teasing when they finally learned about it for themselves. I may not have been any good at it, but the Alliance is pretty important in the Alenko household.”

“Now, there’s something that we have in common,” Shepard said.

“Oh, is that right? I was never fond of the term, but Kaidan did call you a ‘military brat’ earlier. So you come from an Alliance background, yourself, then do you?”

“I do. My parents were both Alliance. Dad died for the cause.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ada said genuinely.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I barely knew him.” Ada nodded at that, not wanting to open old wounds. “My mom’s still going strong, though. She’s an Admiral now.”

“Impressive. She already sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She is. She worked hard for it. But anyway, back to you. I believe you were trying to tell me how you picked up on the fact that it was my leg that was injured.”

“Ah, right. I tend to lose my train of thought easily. After I was discharged from the Alliance, that didn’t change my original plans of working in the medical field. I saw more than my fair share of cases like yours. I think you hide it well. It’s hardly visible, but I can tell that your leg is still bothering you. I’m not sure what happened to you, but it must have been severe if you’ve only just been released from the hospital recently.”

Shepard stopped peeling for a moment, trying hard not to relive the Citadel collapsing on top of her, or the months of surgeries and physical therapy. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Ada had been measuring out ingredients and mixing the marinade the entire time that she had been talking, but that was enough to make her stop and look at Shepard.

“Has anyone told you how much they appreciate what you’ve done?”

“All the time,” Shepard said dryly.

“I suppose that’s not to be unexpected. I have a feeling most people don’t understand the full extent of your sacrifice and duty when they say that, though.”

Shepard looked up at her then, carrot and peeler still idle in her hands.

“Kaidan told us about the Reapers, you know. I mean way back in ’83.”

“He did?”

“Oh, yes. He told me a lot about his time serving with you. How cold was Noveria, by the way? It’s notorious for its harsh weather. Kaidan called me afterwards. He clearly had the sniffles. I told him to wear a sweater,” she said, shaking her head at the memory. “You know what, nevermind. I’m already losing track again,” she said, as Shepard had to silently laugh to herself. “Anyway, that was all years ago now. I think the right people put money towards squashing the rumours that there was a threat. Most people moved on with life as though nothing happened after the Citadel was attacked. But there were some of us who questioned things. People got wind of something going on. I asked Kaidan if he believed they were dangerous and he told me that he believed they were. He told us about all the push-back you were getting, but as far as we were concerned, it was all I needed to hear on the matter. It’s the reason that Ethan jumped so quickly to go back into the Alliance when they finally landed. He knew everything was at stake because his son said so.”

Shepard nodded, already knowing Mr. Alenko’s fate thanks to that dedication, not really knowing what to say to a grieving widow about loss. She had never experienced anything quite like that. She figured Kaidan was actually better equipped to handle that one.

Ada shook her head, looking out the large kitchen window. Shepard turned to see what she was looking at and noticed that she was watching Kaidan working outside.

“Ethan and Kaidan were so alike in so many ways. Ethan never backed down from a fight when he was able to protect the things he loved. The moment I heard about Kaidan joining the Normandy again after becoming a Spectre, I always thought there might have been something more to it. Of course, I would have expected Kaidan to jump at the chance to really try to make a difference during the war no matter what, especially when fighting the Reapers was so important to him, but there was more to it than that. I knew he had someone important in his life.”

Shepard looked back to Ada then, another pang of guilt hitting her. Apparently, the misunderstanding had gotten to her too.

Ada must have caught the look on her face and put her hands up in protest. “It’s none of my business. I know my kids have been squabbling about the two of you since you got here, but you don’t have to explain yourself to me. Kaidan said you’re not together, and I’ll take his word for it until he’s the one to say otherwise. But my point still stands. There’s something between the two of you. Maybe not a romance, but he cares for you. You’re important to him.”

That immediately calmed Shepard down. She liked Ada’s relaxed attitude towards the whole matter. Finally, she nodded in agreement. “He’s important to me too.”

“So I thought. A mother can tell these things,” she said with a cheeky grin. “He may not have said so in words, but it was pretty clear how much he cared about you, even back then. Every time we managed to have a vid call, I always asked him how he was doing. Without fail, he always had this smile that you could tell he was trying to hide a little, but the truth was really in the eyes. You know, eyes have a harder time lying, and his were always beaming. It was the same thing after he joined the Normandy for the second time. To be honest, I wasn’t surprised at all when Kaidan came walking through that door with you,” she said, nodding her head towards the front door. “When he called me to tell me he was bringing someone to the wedding, he had that same look in his eyes.”

Shepard tried to avert Ada’s gaze, and busy herself with the carrots then, but she couldn’t help a small smile forming at the knowledge. Even if it wasn’t because he had romantic interests for her, it felt nice that he still cared, and was happy at the prospect of bringing her back home with him.

“See,” Ada said, enthusiastically, making Shepard glance back up to her, still trying to peel the carrots in her hand. “The eyes don’t lie.”

That brought out a real smile from Shepard, unable to contain it now.

“Ah-ha,” Ada said, completely happy with herself, acting as though she caught Shepard with her hand in the cookie jar, before relaxing again. “Don’t worry. I said I’d stay out of it and I will. But it’s nice to know that whatever it is that you have with my son is reciprocated,” she said with a smile.

“It is.”

Ada nodded at that before looking back to what she was doing while Shepard winced inwardly with yet another pang of guilt, knowing that it wasn’t exactly reciprocated. That maybe it could have been if she hadn’t rejected him at Apollo’s so foolishly. That now, it was just her awkwardly fawning after him in her head while having to go out of her way to put up a wall between them. Luckily, Ada didn’t seem to notice her reaction as she continued the conversation.

“Back in ’83, I didn’t know it was you, of course. We didn’t even know much about his mission at all, but anytime we talked to him, he was always just... happy. Usually, with those same eyes you just had.”

“Really?” Shepard asked, already knowing it was true. That was the one and only time in their history together where they ever acted on anything. Where they abandoned the regs, and said what they felt. It was the only time she let herself get that close to anyone.

“Oh, you better believe it. And it’s the same look I got from him during the war, too, right up until the very end,” she said with a smile. “And you want to know a secret?” she asked coyly. Shepard didn’t respond, and just looked up to her with curiosity. “It’s the same look I saw in him this morning when we were making breakfast together, too. He’s almost a different person around you,” she said, going about the preparations.

“What was that about not meddling?” Shepard asked, keeping the accusation playful.

“Not meddling, just figured you might want to know,” she said defensively.

Shepard narrowed her eyes at Ada, knowing precisely what she was getting at. Truth be told, she really didn’t know what to think of that information. She liked to think she was a different person around Kaidan too, but that didn’t necessarily have romantic implications. Maybe none of that mattered. The regs were still an issue. She still hoped to be back on active duty again someday. Just because she made it out of the war didn’t mean death wasn’t a possibility anymore. Nothing about their relationship or history was easy. She didn’t know that what she’d just heard really changed anything.

“Now that I’ve talked you into oblivion, why don’t you tell me about space?” Ada said, with an err of genuine excitement and interest. “And your mother, too. I think we all know a bit about Commander Shepard, but why don’t you tell me about Jane,” she said with a smile.

With that, the solemn feeling that had settled in Shepard’s gut lifted slightly. Talking about Kaidan and long-lost wishes she wanted to be fulfilled was difficult. She wasn’t ordinarily fond of talking about herself, but it might serve as a good distraction in this case. Once again, her mantra played in her head.

‘This will all be over soon.’

#f!Shenko #f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko #f!Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #mass effect #fanfiction #mass effect fanfiction #mini slow burn #friends to lovers #angst #accidental dating #my writing #my fic on tumblr

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ask-ethari-anything · 5 years ago

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Sooooo...I'm gonna need a story of a time where a) Runaan got very jealous and b) you got very jealous. And no Moonshadow-y workarounds, either ("he got the last cookie and I really wanted it!"). Specifically when a hot guy was jonesing on your dude and you didn't like it and vice versa. There are no judgments here, just tapping my fingertips together in delight. Indulge us?

You’re going to need these stories, huh? Well then… *rolls up my sleeves* Here we go.

Did you ever wonder why Runaan was so persistent in pursuing me? We all know he’s terrible at flirting.

He wasn’t the only one trying to court me. Sure, he didn’t know what he was doing, but he needed to try, because if he didn’t, he might’ve lost me to another elf. No, don’t worry, he really wouldn’t have, but he didn’t know that at the time!

Who was this other elf, you ask? One of the village bakers. Runaan and I connected over weapons, because he came to me in my workshop. But Salvar and I connected over tasty food, because I would taste test his new creations for him. He saw me walking past one day, just as he needed a second opinion, and my feedback was so enthusiastic that he asked me to come help him another time, too! Well, I couldn’t say no to that. So I’d pop by and he’d feed me whatever he’d made. And a bite dragged out into snacks and then full meals.

Let’s just say I was a lot more visible out in the village, eating Salvar’s treats, than I was alone in my workshop with Runaan. It made Runaan feel very concerned for the trajectory of his courtship.

Jealous. He got jealous.

And then they found out about each other.

Most people would seriously consider backing off the moment they realized they were up against an assassin, no matter the context. Not even Moonshadows have that little self-preservation. But Salvar is not most people. He’s a few inches shorter than I am, slender as a whip, and very feisty. He’s good at what he does, and he knows it, but he can take things a bit too far…

Why do I find such elves attractive? These two were just different knives. One for the kitchen, and one for the hearts of his enemies. *sighs* I do have a type. And I do like plenty of social interaction. Why rush things? Even if I had made up my mind.

Anyway. one day, there was a bustle at Salvar’s bakery when I came by. He’d put a cake in his oven, shut the oven door, and when he opened it again there was an arrow right through the cake and its pan. He hadn’t left the kitchen. And it wasn’t an enchantment. He was pretty twitchy when I asked him what happened, and he just gestured imperiously to his arrowed pan.

We all knew whose arrow that was. We knew.

I couldn’t help myself. I started laughing uncontrollably. Of all the things Runaan could’ve done–lurking in Salvar’s rafters, poisoning his tea, challenging him to a duel–he shot his cake. With an arrow. Just as Salvar closed the oven door. Runaan had been hiding right nearby–somehow–and left his mark, and his intentions, unmistakably clearly. And he’d done it without threatening Salvar at all. A very Moonshadow tactic.

And I thought it was adorable. So soft, really, for an assassin’s skill set. Salvar was less impressed. But the fact that I was laughing so hard at what might’ve passed for a hard prank under other circumstances told me–and Salvar–that it would be better for him to move on. I’d made up my mind.

Salvar let me down easy, and I started cooking for myself again, with no hard feelings. That’s the beauty of Moonshadow courtship. The plausible deniability is astounding. And later, Runaan invited him to cater our wedding.

Victory flex? Generous winner? Just a good Moonshadow? This is Runaan we’re talking about. It was all three.

Now, me getting jealous? Hmm. That’s not really in my nature. On the other hand, I do have a really hot husband, and he’s occasionally attracted some intense attention that neither of us were interested in. You’d think Runaan would be good at saying no to that sort of thing–and usually he’s the first–but sometimes things get complicated.

We’d been courting properly for just a couple of months when the Silvergrove got visitors. A squad of veteran assassins assembled from all over the Moonshadow Forest, come to brush up everyone’s skill’s because there were rumors that trouble was brewing along the border and Runaan and his teammates might be getting a lot more work. Well, that got us all to pay attention. Runaan especially. He takes the defense of his people very seriously.

So he was out at all hours, sometimes for days, training extra hard, running trial missions with his squad, learning these veterans’ hard-won combat skills. When I’d see him, he was exhausted and sore and more focused than ever. He told me he wished he had more time to spend with me, but this was very important to him. So of course I let him train all he wanted, and I did everything I could to take care of him when he wasn’t. That boiled down to feeding him and tucking him in, and telling everyone that he needed his rest.

And then I talked to Lain about the assassins’ training schedule one day. And Lain told me that not everyone was training like Runaan was. That one of the older asasssins was working privately with Runaan on some kind of “fast track skill set” that would give him a whole new set of skills and put him on the path to becoming a good leader for the Silvergrove assassins.

Of course Runaan wanted that. Very much. And I wanted it for him. But something in my chest felt a little rebellious. Why just Runaan? Why not teach these techniques to every assassin and let them all decide who would make a good leader? They already know each other well. An outsider won’t know their strengths and weaknesses like they do.

By the time I started walking Runaan to morning training, a few weeks had gone by. He introduced me to his advanced trainer, Kelvik, and the moment our eyes met, I knew I’d been right to worry. The look he gave me when he realized Runaan had a boyfriend clearly said “How quaint. But I’m here now. You can go.”

Spoilers: I did not go.

I asked Runaan if he could avoid training with Kelvik, since he clearly had designs on him. And, bless him, Runaan said he’d been trying for the past week to shimmy away without making a fuss. But Kelvik was just as intense and subtle as Runaan is, and they both knew that everything came down to Runaan’s sense of duty. He’d do whatever it took to learn to keep his people safe. And Kelvik was teaching him that. Slowly and deliberately.

And then one day Runaan wouldn’t look me in the eye after he was finally finished training. And I knew that, whatever had happened, it had just gone too far. I was done being soft. My elf needed me, and I fully planned to step up for him. No one hurts my baby. I kissed his cheek and held him softly and told him that I’d make everything okay. And he just nodded against my shoulder.

There was a village dance that night. Runaan and I went together, hand in hand, as always. But I told him to sit with Lain and Tiadrin and chat. And I told them to make sure he stayed sitting. No matter what happened. Because I really wasn’t sure how my plan would play out–plans are more Runaan’s thing than mine. I just wanted him to stay safe, though. That’s all I cared about.

So I sat my boyfriend at a table at the edge of the dancing green and sauntered right up to Kelvik as he stood with his own squad and asked him to dance with me.

And the Moon granted me a boon just then–the rest of his squad looked between him and me with expressions that told me they knew exactly what was going on. And that was the last bit of courage I needed. I held out my hand with a bright cheery smile–Moonshadows can hide all kinds of things behind a smile, especially when they’ve got nothing to lose–and Kelvik took it.

I whirled him around the green with my best, most graceful moves. After the first dance, he begrudgingly complimented me on my skills. And tried to let go of my hands.

I squeezed. Hard.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet. Dance with me again! This next one’s a real favorite.”

And he was too confused to say no. So we danced again. And I slowly started crushing his hands every time we touched. He gasped and winced, and I just smiled broadly and kept up the small talk.

I didn’t let him go after the second dance, either.

Halfway through the third dance, he finally blurted, “What do you want, Ethari?”

And through my cheery smile, I told him, “I want to break you in half, Kelvik. Can you convince me not to?” And then I snapped a bone in his hand.

He hid it well. He was an assassin, after all. But he’d opened the floodgates, and I couldn’t stop talking as I swirled and stepped alongside him. “Your selfishness is endangering everything Runaan holds dear. He just wants to be a good assassin, to protect his people and his squad. You’re using that to get close to him, and he doesn’t feel he can say no. So I’m saying it for him. If he comes home one more time and can’t look me in the eye because you can’t keep your boundaries straight, I will very cheerfully hunt you down and disassemble you. I’m very good with moving parts, and I have a bigger collection of knives than you do.”

I dipped him at the end of the dance, squeezed his broken hand, and said cheerily, “Is this in any way unclear to you?”

He growled up at me, “You’ve made your point, craftsman. No need to keep stabbing me with it.”

I hauled him up, gave him a jaunty bow, and headed back to have a drink with my boyfriend and my friends. Runaan looked at me, wide-eyed, as I joined him and the others. “What… did you say? I’ve never seen him look like that before. I think you actually worried him.”

I pressed a soft kiss against Runaan’s cheek and clinked my glass against his. “Just telling him how it is, my heart. I protect what’s mine, just like you do.”

His cheeks flushed the prettiest moonberry red, and that smile… Moon help me.

Then Lain had to go ruin the moment by saying loudly, “Does this mean we aren’t going to fight anyone?”

I looked across the green and caught Kelvik’s eye again. He’d heard Lain, and he gave me a long look. And then he turned away.

“Not this time,” I said. “This time, we win softly.”

#ask ethari #ethari #runaan #jealousy stories #tdp ficlet #story time

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