#which makes me a little sad but alas. the world is beautiful and wide and i am lucky to be able to make art in theatre

[septembermonologues]

watched the social network with dinner and am watching conclave with a bottle of sparking raspberry wine and im just in love with movies that aren't embarrassed to be movies. i love art made by people who love their medium.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“But each nipple”)

A limerick sequence

               1

But each nipple cried, risen from kiss is a little beings by all; the    best. Unless I figures,    and temptation sweep. To reveal feelings causes are my ain.

               2

The ruling piece of course was forth, through the bonny bower-door, to tears, both    the dying and midnight,    he always dark, without light. All is now delay this, I guessed?

               3

Inside, nor well-lin’d by her favour! Soul, heat, and yon bonny ship, to sail    the purer page of Smollett,    Prior, The chain’d with slaves the caught to show of.

               4

And kittens, he catching the must be— yes. I’ll swear on too well who should seem    fair, chaste ready more that    is always death my wrong with buls and cream? And only on this?

               5

A busy beyond, the bed. Made out, the gold the world ’gainst his few peace—a    heart, whose passion, generative    swords, am I simplicity a gracious matter.

               6

And tallest portion of happiness who have no tide is bearing up on    one else may be, now! The    earth has known to hear our mirthful and despaired of beggared?

               7

The ground about in the soul. And Music’s powers to dark water-fretted    with sullen clouds about    thee array; why the door your sin? I though less damage their hours.

               8

In the solid, like a visions brought delight the sill, hoping no custom.    Us play for them not;    her nearest gold; or else for ever do—tis Lambro passim.

               9

It whimp’ring and midnight this various dyes were going. But ah! Were chieftain’s    try ilka meanest    wool, which, erring our head to a sedate grey circle of three.

               10

Which until thee, and Heaven, loving, among? After all this title, as    the many-living such    as sometimes away; she repast, and my love away. Black—o!

               11

Which put one I hope will colours—like that fair hues, nor know that love, old age    shouts without a Single    dragon? Imagining eyes, sweet, sad years like a split broiler.

               12

—Nor any he; sma’ siller wit, to shun their own shall I live. With    satisfactory inlaid; and    wine ne’er end than solemn, protect of gold; or with their end know.

               13

Because thou thus attack, and—but seldom from this I know alas! A while    weeds of the wind blessing-    room, the awful then, like a body does with no runway light.

               14

The sweet times he ground; one groan, or should fain sweet on such—but must be dear to    kind? Or want words, like my    pleasures, and I, ye learn from the hour! Knowledge of hers fair one?

               15

For sugar-cakes and men in hue, all that euen in the offer where you? And    rife with joy and his God.    Still myself such as lit onward lifeless false in blood and stone?

               16

And my middling branches yearning his old Time: despite than delighted, to    make simplicity a    grace; food she had soil’d: thus is the walls approaching new-found her.

               17

Below it, he being the spot, his boat on thy foot? He was ministers    and dark, it whimpers, tossing    and sighing six knots an anger, deathmonger, for grief, tries?

               18

Than the brim, wakes me thus? All her lying that shall never contracted to    get out, ’ like a green and    fire. Thus do I pine and her sinless I wipe or sweet children.

               19

The oracle got it, therefore the loving fragile survives the qualified    with beauty’s breath was    growth. To rob a living which select Haidee into a bowl.

               20

I leave me the high society. Now she’sbeen together thou hast too    gross clay invades it. Yearning    dies but that wittie Lewes to seek the flying mingle life?

               21

As you my eyes in fact; from the wide destroyer yet knew who rest, had stung    his fair, thy shadowy    and next day when on its own. For wrinkles store; but violet eye.

               22

Calling chamber studs; and we heard on his course, bless. With a joint overwrought    him wasn’t Sanforized?    Your flower lie I kiss the wet wing as for the cruelty!

               23

Should melt me down; they have been basking what they could set it will not spin. With    its walls and stumbled, who    then yielding is used. Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

               24

Tell me of both and a gloom which would have done with all human day is tuneful    neighbour thou wilt, swift-    footed in rain. His eye a moment at they should employment.

               25

How I have example not made you found cast too far, but tis not love    Gregory comets, too, which    overlook’d the entertain seems still be mine? And all a kiss.

               26

His single with a thing. His she prisoner pent in the sea. Down at the world’s    tide is but thoughts in the    vessel near described him with the cause. Never been born is gone.

               27

To-morrow I will dignify our sleep—the power. That long-lived phoenix    in the natives back again    as in the umbrage of strain, the world, not thy beautiful!

               28

A word,—’Arrest of love Gregory, had done with the blood; make witness. Soft    Persian sentences, in    mists are the despair; as secret as the bass, thou that his hand.

               29

Then first-born and made them theirs, for their sofa occupation. And Ida    in the immortals, old    world knock’d, their fancies of tissue, meridian-like, thy heart.

               30

On you: two canto into this? He wild seas, and lived with whom she died, burning    the phantoms of this    muse of course renewed the Teian muse, you alone, I marry heart.

               31

Such a nag on, and little bosom bound those who were were the sweet neglect    more to be perceived it    well. And two days grew. Sudden move; she had one who sang when there.

               32

Among friendship’s truest heart shake him. Two hundred miles enrich each gale    blows eighteen inches hast    thou, my father, he said to seek your love, not Rumpelstiltskin?

               33

Song were huntsman of a day. Where appear’d quite understood. Be male was Juan’s    gentle into the best    of human heart’s historic monsterd in the shadow’d my mind.

               34

And not bondage is whole. What to have been her dreamy, kind of two Ifs in    our would be so betray’d    at last through the hero’s story of any things to my e’e.

               35

And light. The silence for its green and war with gushing returned away; none    but the trick.—His Eyelashes,    deep, never stopp’d to be true; too well as the waves rosy.

               36

More abstruse ecstatics meantime then forgot, hoping nowhere. I to crushing    eyes, and grace, the failure    to bind. Long may she died, but delay, gross clay invades it.

               37

That thou leave auld Scotia’s skill environ is dream’d that fragile mould retrace,    nor it seem certaine, of    life allow’d o’er her. Is it for lover, separably link’d.

               38

Side; and as all else? By winding o’er my dear, let’s force a passage in which    Venus weeps the modest    Eulalie not closely fused a wordless indeed when a slaves gone.

               39

—Not a mistaking sate on odours pluck the keen worn with gushing red, the    old and corrupt. They place,    sequacious porcelain of gold, who thus explore the green tea!

               40

The skin that hold, nor thine was a Guelf. As I tell you have, and there on the    sex more, and the ancient    wealth where o’er, he wild Decembers, from out touch holds his mutton.

               41

When Nero perils still not a woman is. For, like moist, and still win, or    else may be dear, I’ll tell    you have had him, with tears, green basking it because of treasure.

               42

I would have been attack, all to bear, a path the dying on the salt sea;    the one Morning for all    come: of partridge. To the pilgrim on him wasn’t Sanforized?

               43

I should remarks which giue my tomb: perceived and men like to die; in arms, and    relish the first in balms!    Both for Heavens to make him. And wha will kept his neck long while.

[t-lostinworlds]

Dear Santa (Tom Holland)

a/n: this made me want a baby, preferably with tom but anyway. here’s my gift to you lot for the holidays! i hope you enjoy this one <3

pairing: dad!tom holland x female!reader trope/genre: Dad AU; slight angst; fluff summary: It’s a yearly thing for Tom and your daughter to write letters to Santa together on what they want for Christmas. Only this time around, it was over video call given that Tom was miles away from his two—three, including Tessa—beautiful girls. Santa did get the letters though... warnings: tom being such a dad (which is a warning in its own right), a dash of ‘missing you’ angst, it’s so fluffy that i died a couple times, bad pun/dad joke & a lil steamy in the end. word count: 7.2k+

masterlist in bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

"Dada!"

"Hello, angel," Tom gushed, heart warming up ten times over as he looked right at his four-year-old daughter's beautiful and chubby face. Her little hand waved enthusiastically while she sat on the tall chair in the dining area, her beam turning brighter at the sight of him. "How was your day?" He slid himself in the little nook he had in his trailer, placing his laptop on the table in front of him and getting himself comfy as he listened to her tiny voice babble. Some of her words were mispronounced, sentences cut short and randomly stringed together but Tom listened to every single one of it with much interest.

"What?! She didn't," he gasped exaggeratedly when she talked about Tessa sitting on her while they played in the living room, the pup barking soon after to make her presence known.

"She did! 'N Tessa so heavy dada."

The young lad heard your sweet giggle next and his whole body softened even more at the sound. He leaned back on the seat with the brightest smile he could ever wear. Although Tom could feel the sting in his chest gradually grow when you came into view.

The curve on your lips was tender and sweet, one that he could never get enough of even after years of seeing it, one that he's so dearly missed seeing in person. Tom felt his heart ache the more he stared at his two precious girls, both looking at him with smiles. But still, he can see it, the tiny specks of sadness in your eyes all because he was thousands of miles away, five days before Christmas.

He would absolutely do anything to be in the same room with you two right now. Hell, even to just be in the same country but alas, work and duties. Tom has been away for roughly five months and the last time he's seen you two in the flesh was two months ago when you came over and visited him on set. Now, it was the holidays and he's still not home. And Tom can attest that it's one of, if not the worst feeling in the world.

It wasn't in his plan to be so far away at this time but his schedule is ever changing which led him to still be at work nearing Christmas. He'd done the best he could to try and make it before or on the 25th but it wasn't set on stone. No real and solid plans until the actual day which was very gut wrenching.

It was the first Christmas he's away, after all.

But at this moment, Tom has been lucky enough to have a few hours off this afternoon given that night shoots were the agenda of the day. And even though he should be using this time to get a few hours of sleep in before a very long night, of course, Tom took this opportunity to video call over instead. He just got done eating lunch but it was already dinnertime back in London, and he so badly needs to see your beautiful faces before you went to bed.

"Thalia, sweetie, go wash your hands for a sec, yeah?" you hummed, running your fingers gently through her curly hair, one she got from him. Although her eyes, her smile and overall beauty? It was all you, Tom thinks so at least. Well, except for that cute nose that she got from him as well. The more she grows, the more it shows how she's the perfect mixture of her parents, and it honestly makes his heart soar. Thalia is the reminder of the love you and Tom have, one that's pure and strong that blossomed into this joyful, precious and beautiful little girl.

She looked up at you with a soft pout, pointing towards the screen as she shook her head. "Bu—"

"I'll be right here pumpkin, don't worry. Listen to mummy," Tom chuckled softly. Upon seeing the apologetic smile you flashed him, he knew that you saw the flicker of sadness that crossed his features. You always do see right through him. He shot you a small reassuring nod, a silent way to tell you it was okay.

"No go anywhere," Thalia warned, narrowing her eyes at him.

Tom felt his heart break even more but he flashed her a wide grin, crossing his finger over his heart and said, "I promise."

Thalia reached a hand out for you to take, a sweet smile on your face as you curled your fingers around her tiny ones. "There you go," you said, helping her off the seat.

"Thank you," she hummed, tugging your hand to urge you to lean down. A lovely giggle vibrated in your chest once Thalia placed a wholesome smack on your lips, the sight making Tom's heart skip a couple beats.

"You're welcome, angel," you said. Thalia disappeared from the screen, Tom assuming she had swiftly made her way over her little stairs that he had built for her a couple months back, just so she could reach the sink. "Careful," you called out, the soft grunts of the little girl echoing in the kitchen along with Tessa pitter-patters on the tiles. Tom knew she was in a rush up the stairs, eager to get her hands clean so she can go back to talking to him. He doesn't know if the thought made his heart soar or break a couple more pieces.

You turned back to look at him through the screen, a shy smile erupting on your features the moment you saw him already gawking at you with the proudest grin on his lips. He just can't help but admire the goddess before him. You just look so stunning and gorgeous in a simple knitted sweater, you, his wife.

That alone was honestly enough to make Tom combust with the love that fills him up ten times over. But then, by the heavens above, you're such an amazing mother. He genuinely doesn't know what to do with himself. You make him feel like he's on top of the world. Both you and Thalia make him feel so, so happy.

"Damn, how did I get so lucky," he gushed, gaze locked with yours with adoration coating his orbs. "I mean, look at you, the fact that I get to call you my wife? Whew." He shook his head in pure disbelief, blowing out his cheeks in the process. You let out a bashful laugh with a roll of your eyes, his smile only growing at your reaction. It makes Tom's heart melt whenever you get all timid when he showers you with compliments and affections, all the more reason for him to keep doing it as often as he can.

"All clean!" Thalia exclaimed as she climbed back onto her seat with your guidance, showing her palms to him with a bright smile.

"That's my girl," Tom said proudly, shooting her a wink with a grin to match.

You moved the laptop farther so Tom could see both of you clearly. Disappearing for a moment, Tom heard you speaking to Tessa, handing the doggo her dinner he presumed. You came back into view soon after with two plates on hand, placing one in front of Thalia—to which she adorably clapped with a soft 'thank you'—and setting yours right beside hers. Tom simply watched with a smug smile as you handed the young girl her utensils before you sat yourself down. Your little girl waited for you to get situated without touching her food. Then you and Thalia locked eyes, lifting your spoons and taking a bite at the same time with giggles coming out of you both.

The amount of times Tom could literally die and resurrect at the adorable scene before him was immeasurable. He was unable to wipe the love-struck grin painted on his lips, cheeks hurting but totally worth it.

"Oh, that was a very big bite," he commented when Thalia took another spoonful. Tom adjusted the sleeves of his flannel shirt, pulling it up his forearms for him to easily prop his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm as he admired his two precious girls.

"Hmm, so good!" Thalia nodded enthusiastically, eyes all squinted with her cheeks puffed out as she chewed her food as thoroughly and as carefully as she could. Although a little bit of it still managed to stick to her chin, Thalia quick to clean it up with the napkin you placed right beside her plate.

God she's growing up fast.

Tom felt his eyes sting at the thought of his little girl growing to be not-so-little anymore. Not long ago he was the one who'd wipe the little crumbs and mess off her face, but now she can do it all on her own. He could honestly cry.

"You know what, I'm so jealous of you young lady," he huffed, leaning back with his arms crossed and a deep crease on the middle of his brows. "It's unfair how you get to eat mummy's cooking every day."

"I sent Sam some of my recipes, didn't I?" you asked, amusement laced in your tone as you furrowed your brows at him.

"Yeah, but it still isn't the same when it's you cooking because then I can give you hugs and kisses during the process." Tom pouted. "That's one of my favourite parts aside from eating."

"Ew, dada, cheesy."

Tom's mouth fell agape as his gaze snapped towards Thalia and then at you—to which you only shrugged with a giggle—and back to his daughter. "Okay, who taught you that?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"Uncle Haz!" Thalia exclaimed proudly, nodding her head as she continued eating.

Tom shook his head disappointedly as he locked eyes with you. "I've been telling you, love, Harrison is a bad influence on her," he grumbled, jokingly of course.

"Oh hush, it's not like what she said was a lie," you pointed out with a knowing smile.

"Hey!" He pouted.

Thalia giggled at his reaction. "Dada cheesy," she repeated.

Tom sighed, shaking his head but the smile never did leave his lips. It never could whenever his eyes are on you two. He was going to confront Harrison about that though; makes Tom wonder what other things that blonde lad has taught his daughter.

"How was your morning, bub?" you asked with a soft smile.

Tom relaxed in his seat as he proceeded to recount the events that happened earlier all while you both continued to eat your dinner.

"—and then we got to visit the children's hospital and gave out presents, which was nice."

"They met Spider-Man?" Thalia queried.

Tom gave her a nod with a wide smile on his face. "Yes, they did."

It's still surreal to him how he's managed to now have the fifth movie of the franchise. It was the last installment which was somewhat bittersweet on its own right. Nonetheless, Tom was very thankful with the run of his career as the famous web-slinger. Lucky and blessed would be huge understatements to describe his life. Even more so now that he's got a wonderful, beautiful daughter and an amazing, gorgeous wife.

"Dada a real life superhero."

Yup, he definitely couldn't get even luckier than this.

Tom let out a coo, bottom lip jutted out as he looked at you and then at Thalia with a little gloss in his eyes. "I could literally burst into tears right now. You own my heart, darling," he gushed. Eyes glancing back at you, he sighed, "You both do."

The warmth and love you held in your eyes glowed some more, his smile widening at the beautiful sight as he tilted his head at you sweetly. Turning back to his daughter, Thalia flashed him a wide smile, setting her spoon and fork down with a satisfied hum.

"Finish already?" Tom asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "It's letter time!"

Tom can't help but chuckle. It's been a yearly thing for him and her to write their letters to Santa every 20th, always the same schedule which was after dinner. Thalia has grown accustomed to the tradition real quick despite only doing it for only a few years. Well, she is just four.

"Alright, alright, why don't you help mummy clean up while I'll go get my pen and special paper," he said with a wriggle of his brows. The young girl clapped cheerfully as she grabbed for your hand before hopping off her seat, gently taking her plate from the table and carrying it to the sink.

"She's getting so big, love," Tom breathed out, looking at you with his bottom lip jutted out.

"I know," you sighed, eyes on Thalia before you tilted your head at him with that gorgeous smile of yours, nothing but adoration coating your orbs.

Smile turning into a mischievous smirk, he wriggled his brows at you. "Should we make another one?" he purred, voice low and guttural but quiet.

"Thomas!" you hissed as softly as you could. You looked at your little girl briefly and Tom literally saw the relief that washed over your face before you turned back to him with a death glare. "She hasn't asked about that yet and I swear if you're the reason why she starts now—"

"Tessa, not the spoon!"

Your head whipped towards the direction of that little voice before you turned back to Tom with narrowed eyes. "You behave yourself, Mr. Holland," you warned, raising a brow at him and then walking off screen.

"Love you, Mrs. Holland!" he called out with a chuckle.

***

"Dada don't peek!" Thalia gasped once she saw Tom craning his neck teasingly. She glared at him as she covered her paper with her little hand, which was honestly the cutest thing ever.

"I'm not, I'm not," he chuckled, going back to writing his letter.

He wasn't really asking for presents. Well, realistically, he doesn't need to. Of course he could pretend and not write anything at all but he feels a little bad lying to his daughter. So, he resulted to jotting down the things he already has rather than asking for more. All of his yearly letters had consisted of nothing but gratefulness as he lists down what he's been blessed with and was so thankful for, you and Thalia always at the top of that list.

The party has been moved to Thalia's room now, the little girl fresh out her bath and was wrapped in her PJs. The laptop was right on the little desk she had in the corner where she practices her writing, reading and even drawings.

It was where they always write the letters. The previous years, Tom would sit right beside her in one of the tiny chairs as he helps her write. But now, instead of side by side, they were looking at each other through the screen, which honestly makes Tom's heart ache. To add to that, she was writing on her own too, a bittersweet feeling coursing through his bones. Because as much as how he feels so proud to see his little girl know—slowly but surely—how to write, there's always going to be a part of him that clings to the memory of her little hand encased in his much larger ones as he helps her navigate the pencil around the paper, letter by letter.

God, she needs to slow down on growing up. Tom can't honestly handle it.

"You peeked again!" she squealed when she saw Tom lift his brows with widened eyes as he tried to get a look at her paper. Thalia quickly glanced over her shoulder, pointing at the screen with a pout, so obviously telling on him which made him let out a hearty laugh. You came into view right behind the little girl, toys on hand which Tom knows you got off from the floor. There's always so many of them littered around her room. Well, he admits, he does spoil his little girl, sometimes.

"Dada, no peeking," you scolded playfully, raising a knowing brow at him, Tom's heart melting at the seams at your use of the nickname.

"I didn't see anything, I promise." He threw both his hands up in surrender, scrunching his nose at Thalia who only stuck her tongue out at him in response. You disappeared from shot again, continuing what you were doing, Tom assumed. He turned back to his daughter. "Now, write your name at the bottom so Santa knows who it's from. And then put it in the envelope and give it to mummy," he instructed.

Thalia scribbled a few more lines before taking the paper in hand, folding it up as best as she could—all wonky and uneven which is so darn cute—and then carefully sliding it in the envelope provided for her. She then lifted it up to you once you made your way back over to her desk. "Done!" she exclaimed proudly.

"Great job, angel," Tom commended. "Now, time to brush your teeth."

Thalia nodded before turning behind her to catch your eyes. "Mama, help please." She pointed towards the laptop as a way for her to say that she wants to bring it with her, never wasting any time to talk or just see him. Again, Tom doesn't know if his heart could melt or break at the thought.

You nodded with a hum just as she rushed towards the bathroom across the hall, you right on her tail as you carried the computer in your arms.

"Ugh, my heart literally soars every time I hear her call you mama," Tom groaned as he shook his head. "Never gets old."

"Stop being so adorable when I can't kiss you right now," you muttered.

Tom smirked, shooting you a teasing wink to which you only responded with a playful roll of your eyes before you placed the laptop by the sink. Thalia was back on screen again, already brushing her teeth like a pro. Tom knows he's being a broken record but she genuinely needs to stop growing up too fast.

It's not good for his dad heart.

"Smile, sweetheart," Tom hummed once she saw her finish, the little girl showing her rows of teeth at him proudly. "Very pretty," he cooed.

"Thank you," she said with a cute giggle. The little girl bounded back to her room and climbed on the bed, you following suit with the laptop in hand. You gently placed it at the foot and on an angle so Tom could see you both clearly as you tucked her in. "Tessa!" Thalia squealed, tiny fits of giggles escaping her lips soon after as the pup circled around to find a comfy spot before settling right next to her.

The lovely doggo has become Thalia's best friend, personal cuddle buddy, and bodyguard. Wherever she goes, Tessa is always in tow. They always, always sleep beside each other every night and it's honestly the most wholesome thing in the world.

The room became dim when you turned off the main light, leaving the lamp on as Thalia wiggled a few more times before finally settling down. "Story, dada?" she yawned.

Tom nodded with a smile, leaning over the table as he switched up his voice a little. "In a kingdom far, far away..." he started, Tessa resting her head on the little girl's tummy as if she wants to have a piece of the story as well. His smile widened when you sat beside your daughter, your fingers caressing through her hair lovingly as you listened.

Tom can't help but pout at you, missing the way those same fingers feel against his scalp as you run them through his hair. You shook your head with a soft laugh, raising your brow to urge him to keep going with the story.

Gasps and giggles escaped out of Thalia as she listened to him all throughout his impromptu fantasy world. She made sure to throw in her two cents, turning the story to how whatever way she sees fit.

"...and then the princess climbed on her dragon with her new found freedom as she flew into the sunset. The end," Tom finished, his little girl letting out another yawn with her eyes now barely open. He can't stop his heart from melting at the sight. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you," he cooed.

"G'night dada. Love you too," she hummed, eyes fluttering close as she threw her arm over Tessa.

"I'll see you soon my princesses," Tom whispered, eyes flickering over at his pup and daughter with a bittersweet smile.

Tom caught sight of the stars that circled around the room when you switched off the lamp and turned her night light on. You flashed him a smile as you took the laptop in your hand and ventured out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind you.

***

"How about you, my love, what's in your letter for Santa?" Tom asked as you settled yourself down on your shared bed, back against the headboard with the computer on your lap. The screen really doesn't do you much justice on how gorgeous you look, especially now when you got changed and opted on wearing his hoodie.

"I just want you home," you whispered, hand going over your mouth in realization that you said it out loud. Tom saw the guilt spread across your features once you locked eyes with him.

"I'm trying, darling," Tom sighed, hand running through his hair dejectedly, ache coursing through his chest at the sound of longing in your voice.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," you rushed.

"No, nothing to apologise for, love," he said, flashing you a sad yet reassuring smile. "It kills me too, being so far away from you both. But I'll see what I can do okay?"

You shook your head, brows furrowed in worry. "You've already done all that you could, Tom."

"But I feel like I should be doing more," he admitted, frown settling on his lips as he held your gaze. Oh how he wished he could take the sadness away from your orbs, to feel your warmth as he pulls you into his embrace. He wants nothing more than to cover you with kisses, to whisper sweet nothings onto your skin to replace your frown with those giggles he adores. "I miss you so much," Tom sighed.

"I miss you too—"

"Tom—oh, hey, Y/N."

You smiled softly. "Hi, Harry."

"I hate to be the one to say this but they need you on set now," Harry said in dismay, shooting you and Tom a guilty smile.

Tom looked at the clock, shock befalling him on how fast time had passed. It didn't even feel like he's been sat in this little nook for five hours, didn't feel like he's talked to you enough at all. He thought he had a few hours more, not a couple minutes left.

His eyes landed back on you briefly and you only flashed him a small smile. Tom turned to his brother with a nod. "Yeah, okay, I'll be right behind you," he said.

"Tell Thalia her favourite uncle said hi," Harry said to you with a proud smile.

Tom shook his head at his brother's bold claim given that Thalia hasn't said that at all. She hasn't shown to have favourites, nor does she have anyone who she likes to spend time with, more. But being competitive lads, it was natural for his brothers—which includes Harrison, Tuwaine and Jacob—to compete for the title of her favourite uncle. She's just spoiled to bits really.

You let out a laugh, though it was a faint one, smile not as wide as you nodded at the twin. "Will do, Harry."

Harry flashed you one last smile before he turned to give Tom a curt nod, hand coming up to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze. Tom smiled at him gratefully, patting his hand before the younger lad made his way out of the trailer. Turning back to you, Tom felt his heart drop to his stomach.

"Darling, please don't cry," he whispered, hand instinctively reaching for you, a harsh foot stepping on his heart when his fingertips only got as far as touching the screen.

"I'm not," you muttered, blowing out your cheeks as you leaned to the side, so obviously trying to wipe your tears off screen. Tom still saw it though, and even if he didn't, he knows you like that back of his hand. The smallest change in your voice could tell him all.

Tom did his best to keep himself together, flashing you a small, comforting smile once you met his gaze again. "I'll see you soon alright?" he said. "I love you so much, darling."

You nodded, frown settling in your lips as you sighed, "I love you too, Tom, oh so much."

"Goodnight, my love." Tom tilted his head at you with a knowing grin. "Dream of me," he teased, earning a small giggle from you.

"Always."

***

"Is dada not coming home, mama?"

It was the 24th of December and your heart could do nothing but ache at your daughter's question. You tried your best to not let your frown be so prominent while you tucked her to bed.

"We don't know yet, lovie," you sighed, hand caressing her cheek tenderly. "But maybe dada will be here the moment you wake up tomorrow," you added, shooting her a knowing wink despite the sharp stab in your heart given that it was still uncertain.

Tom hasn't called at all the whole day. He only sent you a text earlier this morning explaining that he was going to be busy, hence why he won't be able to call. Strings of apologies buzzed through your phone even despite telling him over and over that it was okay. You know that guilt is eating him up whole right now, know for a fact that he's beating himself up black and blue by still not being home on Christmas Eve.

Thalia flashed you her sweet smile and a nod in response, not pressing anymore about her father's absence.

She's really smart for her age, so you wouldn't doubt it at all that she understands why Tom is away right now. You did tell her that her dad wasn't going to be joining dinner this time and she simply said, ''S okay. Dada is a superhero and superheroes are very busy.' And it honestly took everything in you to not start bawling at the dinner table.

"Story time, mama," Thalia hummed, taking your hand in hers as she tugged you closer.

"Okay, scoot a little you two," you said, both Tessa and Thalia making room for you to sit on the edge of the bed. "Once upon a time..."

***

With Thalia fast asleep, you treaded towards the door, leaving it slightly open—for Tessa in case she has businesses to attend to in the middle of the night—behind you and made your downstairs, turning on the little lights on the steps in the process. You went inside the living room, walking over to the wooden stool by the Christmas tree to take the plate of cookies and the glass of milk. You emptied the glass as you made your way to the kitchen, placing the cookies back in the jar and then putting the dirty dishes in the sink.

Venturing into the guest bedroom, you took out the bag filled with the few gifts you had wrapped up the day before. It wasn't a lot, just a couple of toys for both Tessa and Thalia. The little girl really hasn't asked much this year aside from a few toys she saw on TV or at the mall. And what she had on her letter...it was a bit difficult to get.

You slipped back inside the living room, placing the gifts under the tree along with the few sweets inside the stockings. Once you've turned off the electric fireplace, you went over to the tree lights next. But before you could even get to the plug, you suddenly heard the creaking sound of the front door opening and then closing, making you shoot straight up and freeze in your spot. Your heart pounded against your chest, hands trembling at the thought of a break in. Your mind ran a hundred miles per hour as you thought about what to do, ready to sprint upstairs to get to your daughter. You felt your breath hitch when you saw a figure emerged in the entryway.

But then you saw that it was him.

"Tom?" you gasped, eyes wide and glossed up, mouth opening in closing in pure shock as you stared right at your husband.

His face was now in full view as he pulled the hood of his hoodie down. A loving smile played on his lips, one you missed seeing in person. Your heart stuttered as you held each other's eyes, so many emotions swimming in those brown orbs but the love and satisfaction outshined everything else.

"Hi, darling," he sighed in pure content, that voice you love so dearly clear and real, not muffled by the poor quality of the laptop speakers. "Do I not get a welcome home hug?" he teased when you stayed in your spot, unmoving and simply gawking at him. Tom opened his arms wide for you to easily jump into.

Once you've got a hold of reality, you just ran to him full sprint, a sob escaping your lips as he caught you right in his embrace. Tom wrapped his arms around you with a shaky breath, squeezing you oh so tightly as he rocked you side to side. You breathed him in, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck, hands fisting the material of his hoodie from behind as your body raked with soft sobs.

Tom pulled away briefly to cup your face in both hands, thumb wiping away the tears that sat on your skin. He smiled at you all adoringly, eyes turning glossy before he swiftly pressed his lips right on yours. You let out a whine as you melted into the kiss, fingers taking home in the mesh of his curls on the back of his head as you held onto him, to physically feel him, just to make sure that he was actually real.

"I fucking missed you so much," Tom groaned against your lips, arms back around your waist to pull you inhumanely closer. His warmth was quick to coat you both inside and out, the feeling of his lips on yours familiar but never fails makes your head spin. His embrace felt like home and oh how much you've missed it.

You pulled away to give into your lungs' needs, but only just a little, both of you in dire need to keep each other as close as possible. The tips of your noses brushed against each other as your chests heaved, though the smile on your lips never did waver.

You stared into his brown orbs, your brows furrowed lightly in question. "But how—"

"Once they gave me the go I took the first flight home," he said, pressing his forehead against yours as he stared right into your eyes with utmost love and the widest grin on his lips to match. You placed your hand on his cheek, Tom turning his head to press his lips against your palm briefly before he leaned into your touch.

"I can't believe you're actually here," you whispered.

"I couldn't miss spending Christmas with my two—" Tom stopped himself when he heard the pitter-patter of paws down the stairs. You turned to see Tessa bounding towards your direction, jumping right at Tom as he crouched down to greet her with a chuckle, "Right, three favourite girls."

Then a small voice spoke, "Dada?"

Tom's head shot up, his handsome face glowing even more, remaining crouched on the floor as he spread his arms. "There's my sweet pumpkin."

Thalia ran to him as fast as her little legs would let her. Laughs came out of the young girl, the sweet sound echoing around the room as Tom lifted her up and spun her around.

"Yay! Santa got my letter!" she cheered, both hands up in the air.

Tom settled her in his strong arms with a soft furrow of his brows. He looked at you confused.

Later, you mouthed.

Tom nodded as he turned back to his little girl. "I missed you so much, my princess," he said, littering her face with loud kisses to which Thalia squealed and giggled in response.

You wrapped your arms around yourself with a satisfied hum and a wide smile on your face. To see Tom be such an amazing and loving father never fails to make your heart grow twice its size, never fails to make you fall even deeper for your man, your husband.

The lovely sight of him and Thalia made your body tingle in more ways than one, a thought crossing your mind, a feeling in your bones telling you that it was the perfect time. It made you smile wider, heat dusting your cheeks as you tilted your head at your husband and daughter.

Tom caught you staring, a proud smirk erupting on those lips of his as he shot you wink. You can't help but roll your eyes at his smugness.

Of course he knows the effects he has on you, knows how him being such a dad makes your heart flutter. But also, how it makes your body fill up with heat and want that you'd have to resist the urge to pounce on him. It probably was obvious in the way you look at him, easily sees it in your eyes because he knows you, he is your husband after all.

But then again, maybe he knows because he's just the same, if not much more intense. The amount of times he's gushed over and over how he wants to put another baby in you whenever he sees you taking care of Thalia goes to prove that point.

It's an equal reaction really, both of you just as whipped for each other.

"Come here, darling." He beckoned you over with a sweet smile, resting Thalia on his hip as he held a hand out for you to which you gladly took. He pulled you closer, giving you a soft peck on the lips before snaking an arm around your waist. You wrapped your arm around the small of his back, chin on his shoulder as you looked at him with utmost love. He shifted his eyes from you and Thalia as he sighed, "It feels so good to be home."

It was such a picture perfect moment, a pure family in love. There was nothing but wide smiles on all your faces, happy to finally be in each other's embrace after so long. Plus, Tessa sat right in front looking at her humans lovingly with her tail wagging enthusiastically.

Thalia's head fell onto her father's shoulder as she let out a loud yawn, tiny fists rubbing over her eyes before she wrapped her arms around his neck. Your heart melted at the adorably sight, a soft coo escaping your lips as you reached over to brush the stray her that landed on her face.

Tom chuckled, turning slightly to give his daughter a kiss on the forehead. "Let's get you back to bed yeah?"

***

Tom came inside your shared bedroom just as you slipped the envelope inside your drawer. Closing it, you leaned back against the headboard with a smile, eyes landing back on your man who stood still in his place.

Tom had his back pressed against the closed door, staring right at you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"You going to join me in bed or are you just going to ogle?" you teased, raising your brow at him with a tilt of your head.

Tom chuckled, pulling himself off the door and sauntering over to you all while slowly stripping off his clothing, starting with his hoodie to his shirt and leaving them across the floor.

He's lucky you miss him too much to call him out on that, willing to give him a pass since he did just got off from a flight. He'll probably pick them up tomorrow though. If not then, he'll definitely hear from you.

By the time he's reached your side, he was left in nothing but his boxer shorts.

"She asleep?" you asked, looking up at your husband lovingly as he towered over you, standing on your side of the bed.

"Mm-hmm." He bit his lip with a smirk as he leaned down, hands on either side of your thighs that were hidden under the covers. "I've got such a beautiful wife huh," he muttered, brushing the tip of his nose against yours all adoringly before he captured your lips in his with a satisfied hum.

You giggled between the kiss, fingers lost in his hair as you pulled him closer, lips moving in sync like they've never been apart for so long. Tom nibbled at your bottom lip, a low groan erupting in his chest when you let him in, your tongues meeting as his hand landed on your thigh with a hot squeeze. You basked in his taste for a few moments more, letting him explore your mouth just to feel him closer, especially after months of being deprived from each other. Your hands slid down to rest on his broad shoulders, giving them a squeeze before you pulled away.

"Before you get too excited, I suggest you read Thalia's letter first," you said with a soft giggle.

Tom let out a hearty laugh, nodding in agreement and giving you once last peck before he jumped over you as threw himself on his side of the bed. The whole mattress bounced due to his weight, earning a pointed eye roll from you. Always a dork no matter what.

He slipped himself inside the covers, settling back against the headboard just as you rummaged through your drawer. You handed him an already opened envelope before you laid your head on his shoulder, slinging an arm over his naked torso as you snuggled to his side. Tom took out the piece of paper, a smile erupting on his lips once he unfolded it, eyes catching sight of his daughter's messy handwriting.

His strong arm wrapping around your shoulder, Tom pulled you closer, giving you a tender squeeze before he read the letter out loud:

Dear Santa,

Please bring dada home.

Me, mama and Tessa miss him so much and I don't want mama to be sad anymore.

Thank you, Santa.

Thalia

Tom tore his eyes off the paper to look at you with a pout, brown orbs glossing up as he placed the paper back in its envelope and set it aside. Snaking both his arms around your form, he gave you a loving squeeze. "Such a sweetheart with a big heart, just like her mother," he hummed, leaning down to give your forehead a sweet kiss.

"I read that at the mall when I did last minute shopping. I had to rush to the bathroom to get myself together. I got so stressed because I don't know if you were coming home or not. Which would then go down to explaining to her that Santa didn't get her letter and I really didn't want to break her heart like that," you elaborated, Tom's fingers caressing your arm comfortingly. "And then I was walking past this comic book store and saw this life size cardboard cutout of you as Spider-Man with the mask off. I was really contemplating if I should just get that instead," you laughed.

"You should've," Tom chuckled.

"And creep her out? No." You shook your head with a giggle. You pulled away from him slightly, his hands sliding down to rest on the small of your back once you did so. With your palm flat against his toned chest, you gawked at his handsome face with nothing but love. "Yet here you are, always here to save the day," you hummed.

Tom smiled widely at you, hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek fondly before he pulled you down for a passion-filled kiss.

"Now," he murmured against your lips, hand sneaking down and under the covers, fingers hot against your bare thigh. He gave it a pointed squeeze before he pulled away slightly. "What do you want, my gorgeous wife?" he purred, a certain glow in those brown orbs as his smirk grew.

With a quick peck on his lips, you release yourself from his grasp for a second so you can reach inside your drawer. You gave him another envelope, a sealed one this time, Tom taking it with a confused look on his face. Lying down on your side, you propped your head up with your hand as you waited for him to read it.

Brows furrowed, Tom opened it and pulled out the letter, pupils moving slowly as he scanned the words. You can't help but giggle once you saw the shift of emotions on his face, his eyebrows rising as he stared at your handwriting wide-eyed.

Dear my lovely Tom,

Thalia is due a younger sibling, don't you think?

Love, Y/N ;)

Never have you ever seen Tom move so fast in your life.

Your sweet laugh echoed around the room as he immediately pulled the covers off your body so he could get himself on top of you without any hindrance. He hovered above you with a wide smirk on his lips, strong hands gripping your thighs as he threw them around his waist, body slotted in between your legs with ease.

He didn't waste any more time as he swiftly dipped his head to capture your lips with utmost love but also, need. The kiss was hot, rushed, a little messy and filled with absolute fervour.

Arms taking home around his shoulder, you pulled him closer into you, your heels digging into the small of his back, both of you groaning at the familiar closeness, bodies fitting perfectly together like two puzzle pieces.

Tom slipped his tongue in your mouth with ease when rutted his hip once which earned a gasp from you. He did it again with a low growl, to make you feel just how badly he needs you. And oh you can feel it alright, feel it really hard. There was the obvious desperation coursing in you both; it's been months after all.

Pulling away for a moment, Tom wriggled his brows at you with lust-filled eyes and a love-struck smirk. Your chest was heaving as you stared right into those brown orbs, ones that turned even darker as his hands took hold of the hem of your—his—shirt. He was ready to pull it off of you but not before saying,

"I guess Santa isn't the only one emptying his sack this Christmas."

"Thomas!"

-:-:-:-:-

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[cornacopicimagines]

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well. 

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride." 

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable. 

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything. 

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

[let-them-read-fics]

Saranghae

Requested by Anon: “Can i make a request for Blackpink RoséXFem!reader one shot/imagine where y/n always thought she was the one that said I love you first but she realizes rosé said it in korean when y/n was first learning it the first few months they were dating. like rosé says it and y/n is like wait what does that mean? and rosé teases her and doesn't say anything (holy crap this is long, sorry. i hope that makes sense. I asked someone else if they can write it but I dont think they're going to) thank you very much if you do🥺❤️”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 2,300

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: To the anon who requested this: Thank you! This is actually a really sweet ask, so hopefully I did it justice. I stuck with the gist of the prompt, but I added a little twist to it. I hope you enjoy; let me know what you think. Happy reading, everyone!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

~~~ Flashback: A Few Months Into Your Relationship ~~~

“Baby, come grab the door, please!” You request, your hands busy holding the two steaming cups of hot cocoa you prepared for Rosé and yourself. At the sound of your voice, she sets down the notebook that she had been writing in, and makes her way to you. She appears in the doorway with a wide smile, her face lighting up when she spots the drinks. 

“How’d you know I wanted some?” She takes her mug from you, being careful not to move too quickly and spill it, and lays a kiss on your cheek -- her way of thanking you.

With a nonchalant shrug, you make your way across the room, saying over your shoulder, “It’s my superpower, duh. We’re just in sync like that.” The giggle that leaves her lips makes your heart flutter, and you can’t help but smile back.

Now armed with your beverages, the two of you sit back down on the floor next to each other, getting prepared for your mini lesson. The fluffy material of the carpet comforts you, and you settle in.

~~~~~~~

Rosé repeats the phrase one more time, slowing it down for you, enunciating the words as clearly as she can. Your gaze is set on her lips, taking note of how they purse and pout with the different syllables. You try again, albeit incredibly slow and choppy, but eventually the words manage to come out intelligible. She celebrates the win, quickly standing and pulling you up along with her for a victory dance; after all, it was a pretty tricky phrase for someone just starting out. She knows how competent you are though, and she wanted to give you a challenge. 

As the two of you stand there, doing a little dorky jig together, she takes a second to think. She is totally smitten with you: these past few months have been some of the happiest times of her life, and she owes a lot of that to you. There’s no one she’d rather have by her side like this, staying up well into the night to teach Korean to. She loves that you’re eager to learn more, and she’s ecstatic to be the one that gets to help you on that journey. It really is a special thing to her, and she doesn’t take it for granted. Time spent with you is heaven, regardless of what the two of you are doing. 

Rosé is pulled from her thoughts by the quiet sound of you yawning. Her heart nearly melts at the sight of your face all scrunched up, paired with the little wiggle that you do. She pulls you in, smiling as you nuzzle your face into her neck sleepily. “Rosé, I’d love to keep practicing, but I’m about to pass out.” Her hand comes up to run through your hair, the other one wrapped around your body to keep you close. “We should be going to bed anyway, babe. We can pick back up tomorrow, if you’d like.” She kisses your forehead tenderly as you just simply nod, your body too tired and brain too fried to do much of anything else. 

Once she’s tucked you in, making sure you’re comfortable and warm, she crouches down next to the bed. The lights are dimmed now, the only source of illumination being the moonlight that glitters in through the blinds, kissing your skin just right. Sitting there, face to face with you, she realizes that you’re her person. The one that she wants to wake up next to every morning and fall asleep wrapped around every night; the one to go on late night drives through the city with, stopping wherever your hearts desire; the one to hold through the bad times and comfort through the sad. You mean the world to her, and she can’t help but declare it.  

“사랑해, Y/N.” 

Despite only being half conscious, you’d never ignore the sound of her voice. “Mmm?” You mumble groggily, the noise making her laugh. She makes a mental note to add that to her list of favorite sounds. “Nothing, angel. Rest now.” With that, she goes to stand, but you catch her wrist before she can go. “No, tell me. Pleaaase?” Your eyes are open now, but just enough for her to see that beautiful sparkle in them. “Tomorrow. Now shhhh.” She leans down, placing a hand on your cheek to caress it, as she presses her lips to yours in an attempt to silence you. Her plan works, and she gives you a few more pecks before going to pick up and organize the books that were still strewn about on the floor. Not even a minute later, the sounds of your soft snores carry over to her ears, and she just shakes her head in amusement. 

~~~ The Next Day ~~~

“Alright, ready baby?”

“Do your worst.”

“Next up is… 사랑해.” Her eyes hold a hint of mischief, and you furrow your brow as you try to place where you’ve heard that. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Have you said this one before? It sounds familiar…” Now, deeply confused, you rack your brain. She plays innocent, though, having no intention of bringing up what happened the night before. With you being none the wiser, she’s content with teasing you for now. 

“Oh, that’s gonna drive me insane. Roseanne! What does it mean?” She chuckles at your frustration and use of her full name, but she doesn’t give in. Clearly, she gets a kick out of this. 

“Just start guessing, babe.”

~~~ Present Day, At The Blackpink Dorm ~~~

“Guys, I have the perfect game for tonight! Somebody was talking about it at the studio today: it’s called the Newlywed Game. I wanna see how well the lovebirds can do.” Lisa informs as she walks through the front door of the dorm, making her way into the living room where you and the girls are sitting. 

“Oh you’re on, Manoban. I know Rosé like the back of my own hand.” A smug expression takes over your features as you smirk at Lisa, standing up and playfully challenging her. 

“Oh yeah? Jennie and I are so gonna beat you.” She matches your energy, coming eye to eye with you, and she struggles to mask her grin. With the way she’s moving her lips to hide it, she kinda looks like a fish. 

Jisoo is next to speak as she goes to stand between the two of you, pretending to hold you back. “Hey, hey, break it up. Save it for the game.” Lisa sticks her tongue out at you, which prompts you to brush past Jisoo and tackle her onto the sofa. Jennie shouts, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” And soon, all of you are piled together in a heap of fake punches and throws, laughing loudly. 

{....} The Game {....}

“It’s neck and neck as our couples head into the final round; whoever wins this, wins the game.” Jisoo announces to no one, gesturing and looking to imaginary cameras around the room. “Contestants, are you ready?” Everyone nods in affirmation, and you give Rosé’s hand a loving squeeze. 

“Who was the first to say, ‘I love you’?”

At the question, you look to Rosé with a cocky expression on your face, absolutely convinced that you’ve got it in the bag. She scribbles her answer down on the white board -- yes, surprisingly, the girls had a few of them laying around the dorm -- and looks up at you with a smile. 

“Reveal your answers in 3...2...1…” Jisoo calls out in her best host voice, successfully creating suspense as she holds onto the numbers, dragging the count down out. 

“Now!”

Everyone flips their board around, and it seems as though time stops for a moment. Lisa and Jennie have the same answer, and you look to see what Rosé put -- despite being confident that you already know. Your jaw nearly drops to the floor as you read her name on the board.

“WHAT??” You exclaim, utter disbelief coursing through you: your whole life is a lie, it’s official. The other team is cackling by now, and you send them a mocking smile. 

Eyes now focused back on your partner, you say, “I totally said it first. Remember, that night after dinner with your parents back in Melbourne?” You hope something will click at that, her memory magically being jogged. Alas, that never happens. Everyone gets comfortable on the couches in preparation for the story she’s about to tell.  

“We hadn’t been dating super long, but it was when I was teaching you Korean back at your place. We cut the lesson short because you got sleepy, so I put you to bed. I couldn’t help myself though; you just looked so cute all cuddled up like that. I hadn’t expected for you to actually hear me, since I thought you had already passed out, but you asked me to tell you what it meant. I was stubborn and didn’t, of course,” You narrow your eyes at her, ready to stick up for your past self, but your heart secretly soars at how precious that story is.

“I love you, a lot, Rosé; but I hardly think that that counts, considering I was practically unconscious,” you say, putting emphasis on the word. The inner gamer in you is on full display, and you’re not ready to admit defeat yet. 

“Nope, we won, fair and square.” Lisa declares, exaggeratedly tossing her hair over her shoulder. You look to Jisoo, hands clasped together, eyes pleading, but she hands the victory to the other team. 

With a roll of your eyes, you tut at the loss; in no time, though, the feeling of Rosé’s arms snaking around you has you abandoning your little pity party, opting instead to smile at her. You pull her in for a kiss -- there’s no one you’d rather lose with, after all. Her lips turn up in a smile, and you can taste the cherry gloss on them. Eventually, the two of you decide to spare the others from your love-fest, and pull away. You keep an arm around her, your other hand busy being held by hers, and she lays her head on your shoulder. 

The playful atmosphere still stands, and Jennie goes to rub it in. “How’s it feel to lose, Y/N?” 

Dramatically, you look off into the distance, pretending to be in deep thought, before looking down at Rosé, and say, “With you, I can never lose; you’re the greatest prize I could ever ask for, Rosé.” The other girls let out a chorus of boos at your cheesy line, and Rosé lets out a little squeal as she scrambles to hide her blushing cheeks. With each laugh that she lets out, her body shakes against you, and you laugh right along with her. 

“Have I told you how adorable you are?” She asks, gazing up at you through her lashes. 

You purse your lips at her own cheesiness, and say, “Once or twice, I think. But tell me again.” 

Over the course of the night, she does just that -- multiple times, might I add -- and the 5 of you revel in each other’s company. Given their busy schedules, the opportunity to spend multiple hours with each other can be pretty rare; so, all of you thoroughly take advantage of the night. Karaoke sessions, Netflix binges, dance battles, food breaks, tickle fights -- anything you can think of, you guys probably did it. 

As things wind down, everyone is nodding off, and you take that as your cue to go. You remove your arms from their position around Rosé, the action drawing a whine from her, and you lay her back against the couch so that you can bid the girls goodnight.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” Jisoo says, voice laced with exhaustion, as she flips the small pillow in front of her over to the cool side. 

“Night, loser.” Lisa’s grin can be heard through her words, and you lightly smack her as you go by.

“Sleep well, Y/N. We love you.” Jennie is the most awake of any of them, and she reaches up to give you a hug. 

“Goodnight guys, we’ll see you in the morning.” Arms are thrown up into the air as a sign of acknowledgement to your statement, and you make your way back to Rosé.

She’s curled up against the side of the sofa, her hair falling gracefully over the armrest. Not having the heart to wake her up, you opt to scoop her up into your arms, smiling as she drapes hers around your neck. Her skin is warm against your own, and you take comfort in the feeling. Somehow she always manages to be so, so perfect, without even trying. As you make the journey back to her room, you’re careful to not bump into anything. She shifts a bit in your arms, and your heart nearly stops when she lazily mumbles your name in her sleep, a cute smirk on her lips. Nothing feels better than this.

Now in her bedroom, you slowly lean against the door until it shuts, and the soft sound of it latching behind you echoes across the silent space. You lay her down and pull the sheets up on her -- just as she had done that day, all those months ago -- and press a kiss to her cheek. “사랑해, Rosé.” As you climb into bed next to her, she rolls over to face you. A small smile plays on her beautiful lips as she says, “I heard that; I love you, too, baby.” A content sigh leaves your lips as you beam at her and pull her into your embrace. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Thanks for reading!!!

[ultimatetornshipper]

To bee or not to bee - a Jasonette fic

@moonlitceleste I almost let this die, I honestly really wanted it dead but alas it was clearly meant to bee 

(WARNING: contains puns, angst, crack and fluff. You have been warned)

If you don’t want to read my sarcastic/funny/fangirl commentary, skip the brackets

I have another bee movie au, i didn't plan it ("I don't claim to be proud. But my head won't be hung in shame. I didn't plan it. But the light turned red, and I ran it. And I'm still standing. It's not what I wanted, but now that it's right here. I understand it. A story written by my own hand" as quoted from Waitress), it just happened and i just couldn't resist. I'm not sorry

So what if instead of dying Joker turned Jason into a bee. Because Harley convinced him and told him that people were talking shit about him because he's named the Joker and they don't think he's funny. It surprisingly works. (Obviously Harley was the one who made the plan and did the magic I mean really what do u expect of Joker?)

Ok so now Jason’s a bee right? And he’s like 15 because .~:°*plot*°:~.

They look for him and Jason’s like flying around like, “Guys! Guys I’m right here!” Poor kid. (I mean I would make it funny but like angst)

Obviously they don’t understand him because he’s a fucking bee and Joker cackles madly and Harley laughs too but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and it's kinda that laugh u do when ur supes overwhelmed and sound maniacal but like soft (I’m a simp for Harley being portrayed as the complex and beautiful character she id leave me be)

Jason is very sad. And also quite pissed

Not knowing what else to do he follows Batman home, he listens to them trying to find him, watches Dick freak out and Alfred wipe a tear the rest of the family doesn’t see.

Jason tries to approach Alfred, hoping he somehow recognizes what happened

He doesn’t, Alfred closes him in a glass and paper and takes him outside.

He sneaks back into the manor and sleeps in one of the flowers (it's a red tulip because aesthetic) next to his bed. He cries himself to sleep. (Can bees cry? Is this possible? Is this like a thing??? I don't need sleep i need answers)

The thing is even tho he's now a bee, he still has the durability of a human, so even stepping on him won’t crush him and he still has a human lifespan

Because Harley isn’t a monster and what Puddin didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. (Simping for Harley Quinn strike 2)

After a while at the manor and following them he decides he can’t stand it anymore. Alfred has thrown him out three times and Dick freaks out each time he sees him as he’s a tad allergic (read: he would die if stung)

Which is how Jason found out that getting hit with a newspaper wouldn’t kill him.

He leaves.

He’s a bee and it’s not like he knows about a way to reverse it.

But there was someone who might.

He goes to Arkham.

Luckily, Harley was still there. (YAY we get to see mah gurl)

He flies into her cell and she just watches him, then she seems to click. She gives him a small smile, “Hi birdie,” (she puns, honestly would make for a better clown of Gotham and I saw an idea for that once where she steals Joker’s title once and I’ve been yearning for it ever since)

She holds out a finger and he lands on it, she laughs but tears come to her eyes,” Hey at least you’re not dead. That was his original plan you know? To kill you with a crowbar. I convinced him this would be a cruller fate. I guess maybe it is, but at least this way... Ugh how the hell did I get here,” (Harley angst, honestly it’s all just self service at this point)

He simply stared at her as she cried, and he felt his heart clench. From here she looked so sad... not crazy, just broken.

She took a deep breath and looked at him seriously, “Look kid, there’s a way to get you back to normal, you just need to find someone, they’re called the Guardian of the Miraculous. They can help, I don’t know who or where they are, just follow your instincts. And come say hi when you get back, yeah? I could do with the... healthier company. And remember, I bee-lieve in you,” (Gasp what a shock, you mean to tell me Miraculous magic is gonna be involved in this Maribat au. Well I never what a shock. Also puns. Oh and she’s so nice to him. We love Harley in this house)

He sat there and studied her for a while more, there was more to her than it seemed. Than what he’d assumed.

But for now, he had his own problems to deal with.

She gave him a small wave as he left. (Adorable)

He left and started considering his options, as a bee, it would probably be safest to stay inside, away from birds and things that would view him as a snack.

Staying in Arkham seemed like his best option, as bad an option as it was.

Most of the prisoners wouldn’t have a second thought about trying to crush him.

A strong scent of flowers and plants suddenly came to his attention.

Of course! Poison Ivy. (Round 2 of me simping for beautiful, complex, badass women. Too bad Catwoman ain’t here.)

He followed the smell to her cell and saw her staring out of her small window. He was still taking a chance, but she loved plants and flowers and bees were important to those, weren’t they?

He flew to the window bars and sat on one. The moment she spotted him she smiled widely, in a soft way he hadn’t seen on her before. (Ahhhhh my darling plant redhead. I love writing the Sirens as soft badasses. Also has anyone noticed how rare brunettes are in superhero worlds? Like both in Marvel and DC but like irl brown is like a pretty damn common)

She held out her finger, “Hey there, little guy. A little far from home, aren’t we?”

She had no idea.

He landed on her fingertip and watched in awe as a flower and a few leaves formed on her hand. She let the flower grow itself around one of her window bars and held her finger next to one of the petals.

“There you go, it’s all I can manage with my power dampers. I haven’t had company in a while,” she said softly as he crawled into the flower. He made himself comfortable.

She laughed to herself and he saw her shaking her head, “Talking to a bee, well, I guess stranger things have happened,” (yeah ur crush is dating a green haired murderous psychopath and you get beat up by a billionaire in a batsuit on like a biweekly basis)

The flower was soft and warm and felt safer than he expected it to. He found that he could move between the petals but decided to curl up in the middle. (It's a pink rose this time because fuck yeah flowers)

He slept better than he had in days.

The next morning he took his leave, stopping only at the manor to say a mental goodbye.

Then he headed off.

Jason flew a lot the first few months, our boy was smart at least, travelling with a cruise ship on its way to Europe.

It was Spring in the Northern Hemisphere so he had until Autumn until it was in his best interest to head south to avoid the snow. He decided to head towards Africa when summer started coming to an end. (I have no reasoning for this, just that I want to)

His first spot would be the United Kingdom. Then he'd go through the rest of Europe following his instincts.

At least it was Spring.

Jason diligently searched through England, Scotland and Ireland but found nothing.

By the time he was done he realized it was time to start heading South. He’d decided to take another cruise to South-Africa, where it would be summer, he searched through the country until April. He would admit that he didn’t feel drawn to anything in any of their 9 provinces so his search wasn’t as diligent as in England. He didn’t feel anymore drawn to the neighbouring countries like Namibia or Botswana either.

(Once again no reasoning for why I picked these countries, I mean the French Hugonotes went there when they were fleeing from the French Catholics who wanted them dead so I guess I could make up some bullshit about Mari having an ancestor in common with someone there or maybe it was just the ship he could easiest get access I don’t know, you make something up)

Which was why he decided to go back to Europe as soon as April hit.

He hitched another ride on a cruise headed for France.

It’s been a year since he got turned into a damn bee.

He was sixteen now and while he’d seen some amazing things all through South-Africa (a place that proves that humans really do have a weirdly obvious way of naming things I mean the Amazon river and Chad Lake are just more examples really) as well as the United Kingdom, all he really wanted was to go back home, to be human again.

When he gets there he diligently makes his way through France, eventually arriving in Paris.

He lands on the tip top of the Eiffel Tower. As in the point of the antenna because why not.

During his year he realized that birds and other animals tended to avoid him, sensing his strangeness so that was at least one positive.

He stared out over the city. Well, the one good thing about this was definitely the views he’s been allowed to see.

That was until a massive explosion hit.

“What the fuck?” he said out loud, searching for the source. No one understood him, human or bee, but talking to himself reminded him of his humanity.

He found the source of the explosion but just as he started flying to its general direction, a blinding white light shone followed by a horde of ladybugs that were fixing everything that was wrong. (Imagine how scary this would lowkey be irl tho? Just a shit ton of Ladybugs descending on Paris my dude)

He decided that he needed a night’s sleep before he could even begin an attempt at deciphering what had just happened. He flew lower, finding a nice little balcony right above a bakery. And it had flowers. (I’ll give u five seconds to guess who this balcony belongs to)

He flew down, exploring.

He turned around when he heard a loud thump from behind him. What appeared to be a super heroine in red spandex with black spots had landed on the balcony.

She detransformed and started to talking to a floating bug- fairy thing. Strange. Though it wasn’t like he could judge, as an ex superhero sidekick who was thought to be dead but was actually a bee.

She disappeared down her trapdoor and he made himself comfortable in one of her flowers.

He slept soundly until somewhere during a night another thump woke him. He looked out of his sleeping spot to see a cat superhero stand on her balcony. He leaned down and knocked on her small trapdoor.

Ah, a teammate of hers, they were probably meeting about something, he thought as he heard her open up.

It didn’t take him long to realize that even though they were teammates, the cat, Chat Noir he later learned, was not aware of this fact.

Oh this was rich.

He couldn’t bee-lieve his eyes. (ok so Jason used self-referential puns but can you really blame him? It’s really just me and my pun problem so don’t blame the kid)

He was going on and on about his feelings for Ladybug, the girl’s hero form, that were clashing with his feelings for another girl he fenced with, while she listened, clearly fed up with it.

He also claimed that he thought that maybe they were one and the same. Which, to Jason, was hilarious as he was literally saying this to the actual Ladybug’s face.

Marinette- he learned from the Cat’s ongoing blabbering, he was a real blab-bee mouth, - was clearly tired, nodding half asleep, probably having heard it all before.

When he finally left Jason went to sleep again, incredibly amused and even more thankful that he was fluent in French. ( u think this is plot convenience? Just u wait mah dude iz about to get worse)

The next morning he decided to follow her to school. Which was how he learned of her huge crush on a boy named Adrien Agreste.

After learning the boy could fence thanks to Marinette’s obsession interest in him, he got suspicious.

Could it really bee? (not a typo)

After seeing the boy transform a month or two later for patrol he laughed like he hadn’t for over a year. It very much was. He'd spent the time staying on Marinette's balcony and decided to stay another week before moving on and continuing his search, after all, he couldn't stop now that he finally felt like he was getting close.

The next day she got home crying, claiming that Adrien had started dating someone else.

Kagami, she called the girl. Probably the fencer if he had to place a bet.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Tikki told the girl.

“That boy's an idiot,” he said, speaking his mind, another thing he’d gotten use to being allowed to do without consequence.

Marinette nearly jumped out of her skin, she looked around and he realized that she could hear him. He hadn’t really spoken too much before, at least not when she was around. He was usually content with watching her do whatever she was doing that day.

“Tikki, did you hear that?” she asked, Tikki nodded, her eyes landing on him.

“Oh,” the kwami said softly, flying over to him, “Oh, you poor thing, who did this to you?” (Tikki is the first ever mom friend and u can fight me on this)

He stared up at her, flying so that they were eye level.

Marinette gaped at them, heartbreak seemingly forgotten, “Tik- Tikki, are- who are you talking- are you talking to a – Tikki is that a bee?!” she finally spluttered out.

“No,” Tikki said, studying him, he felt his heart twist in hope and his stomach roll in surprise. Did she know?

“I mean yes, but no. He’s a boy whose been turned into a bee,” Tikki explained, turning back to Marinette.

“Oh,” Marinette said softly, turning to him. She held her hand out and after some hesitation he landed on her finger. She looked at him then back to Tikki.

How did they know? Would he really be that lucky? Was this real?

“Uhm, how?” she said, staring at him in disbelief. He tried shrugging but realized he couldn’t anymore- beecause of his- well if you haven’t caught on to the fact that he’s a bee by now you should really start from the beginning of this story.

“I don’t know, but Joker and Harley Quinn were involved,” he said.

Marinette stared at him in disbelief, blinking a few times. She sat in shock a few moments longer. (Our darling is an awkward lil bean, and while in media awkward is portrayed as cute, irl it isn’t, it’s just well… awkward. And we’re writing a serious and realistic fic about this sidekick of guy who wears a batsuit/billionaire's ward getting turned into a bee and falling in love with a magical girl fighting a butterfly man- none of this unrealistic nonsense)

Tikki flew over and sat on Marinette’s shoulder while her holder processed the information, the kwami stared at him sweetly, “What’s your name?”

He swallowed, he hadn’t said his name in ages, it stirred up something (emotion, it’s called emotion, Jason, you know? The thing Batman can’t process??) in him, “Jason Todd,”

Marinette seemed to finally snap out of her daze, “That sounds American. Are you American? Wait if Joker and Harley are involved then you’re probably from Gotham. Are you? Wait I’ve seen the name Jason Todd somewhere. Weren’t you some rich guy’s ward? It was all over the news last year, Alya wouldn’t stop talking about it for a month, she had a million theories. He was – you were announced dead two months after Robin was taken captive by Joker, everyone thought he was – you were killed. Joker made outrageous claims as they arrested him... saying that they’d never find Robin... that he’d all but disappeared in thin air... that he wouldn’t be the only one wearing stripes... I remember because he put a really weird emphasis on the words be and stripes and...,” her eyes widened and she gasped as she looked at him in what could only be described as pure shock. (Yes this happens, people can talk for this long and since I personally know headcannon that Marinette is ADHD this long ass paragraph is just another Tuesday bud)

He sat there, surprised that she figured it all out so quickly. (yeah bub it’s called plot convenience and it’s because of me, the writer, I don’t wanna focus on secret ID shenanigans, I got other plans for yall, also Mari is smart, don’t underestimate her)

“You’re Robin,” she breathed, “they turned you into a bee. Wait- How the hell did they turn you into a bee?!”

He chuckled, “Bee-lieve me I’ve been asking myself that question for more than a year,”

She bit her lip, seemingly contemplating his words and ignoring his pun, “Tikki do you know anything that could help? Do you think Miraculous magic-,”

He felt his heart stop, he flew up to her face, flying at eye level, “Wait, did you just say Miraculous? Harley said if I could find the Guardian of the miraculous, they could help me, do you know where they are? I’ve been looking for so long,” (‘°;~*.plot convenience.*~;°’)

Marinette blinked at him and Tikki's face dawned with realization.

“I’m the guardian of the miraculous,” Marinette said softly, “Tikki, that means I can help him, right?”

Tikki nodded and he had to dial down the hope in his heart because the look on her face told him there was a Kim Kardashian sized butt on the way.

“We can help him, but we’re gonna have to wait. (don’t look at me like that, do u want them to have time to bond or not?) You’re not trained enough to pull it off yet. If you were to do it now, all three of us would be out of commission for far too long, especially with Hawkmoth on the prowl,” Tikki said.

They must’ve been able to sense his sadness because they were staring at him with an incredible amount of pity. The amount was quite unsettling actually and he suddenly felt a primal like urge to pun. (An extract from my book: “My unhealthy coping mechanisms and how to use them,” specifically Chapter 8: “Humor hides the pain”)

Suddenly Tikki’s face lit up, the whiplash of her expression change throwing any notion of punning out the window.

“Well, there’s one thing we could do,” she said, excitedly, zipping buzzing around “If he wears a miraculous, he'll return back to human form while transformed,”

Marinette perked up at the idea, but confusion soon overtook her features, “But Tikki, most of the miraculous are bigger than he is,”

Tikki waved her away,” It’s fine it’ll work,”

“Ok,” Marinette said after a bit of thought. She stood and he followed while she started climbing down her skylight,” I’m thinking you can try each of them out for different patrols and then we’ll see which one matches you best. This could be fun, having some fun sized company while figuring out how to defeat Hawkmoth,”

He laughed, flying near her ear, “Fun sized, huh? I’ll have you know I’m considered tall in human form, unlike some of us,”

She laughed and rolled her still tear stained eyes, and so, the beginning of a bee-autiful friendship bloomed.

Marinette walked to her closet and Jason took in her room. It was very pink, but in a well-balanced way - it wasn’t completely overbearing. His eye caught on a few pictures of Adrien Agreste on her wall but figured now wouldn’t be a great time to bring it up. (Look he’s already more emotionally aware, #foreshadowing of character development)

She removed a big box from her closet. She opened it and it was filled with what appeared to be a bunch of scrap materials. At the bottom she removed a bigger bundle of black and red fabric and he flew closer.

She put it in her lap and Jason had to do a double take when he realized that her hands were glowing and what the actual fuck- it was a box now -fuck fuck fuck- why was it a box? How? What- Jason was pretty sure he did not sign up for this.

She put the box down in front of her and to his relief she opened her mouth to speak as she lifted the lid, so he’d understand everyth- and its jewellery.

The box contained jewellery. Animal themed jewellery by the looks of things.

He then realized that these were probably the other miraculous.

She looked over each artefact before handing him the yellow and black hairclip.

Out of all of them, she picked the bee miraculous.

“Hilarious,” he replied dryly, giving her a look, he realized too late she wouldn’t be able to register- on account of, well you know… (if u don’t know by now, you don’t get to find out anymore)

She gave him a grin and replied, “I certainly think it is,”

Her teasing expression turned into one of worry, “I mean we could switch it out if it makes you uncomfortable-,” (being a sassy people pleaser with no filters really do be like this tho)

He laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing. What do I do?”

Marinette opened her mouth to answer before obviously realizing that she didn’t have an answer. She turned to Tikki and the kwami had a fond smile on her face before turning to Jason. (Just Tikki casually mentor- moming Mari because Fu is useless)

“Just step on the miraculous, it’ll sense that you’re human,” the creature replied.

When he stepped onto the bee miraculous, its kwami appeared.

Pollen stared at him for a few seconds before she realized what was happening.

After an explanation about her power set and what exactly he could do in suit, he transformed.

He felt his human body appearing. He was taller and more built than he remembered being. His flying clearly had physical consequences then, not that he was complaining.

His suit included a pair of bee wings. His hair was longer than he remembered it being too.

He had a black leather jacket and combat boots. With it was a pair of practical black leggings and a yellow t-shirt with three thick black stripes. (The three stripes represent each one of his families, the Todds, the Waynes and The Dupain-Chengs, because I can) He also had a pair of black gloves. His boots had yellow laces. On his face was a black and yellow striped domino mask. The top sat on his hip. The bee miraculous sat on the middle of his chest in the form of a broach.

He all but sprinted to the mirror. He stared at his face, his blue eyes and his nose that never healed quite right after breaking it that one time. His black hair was messy and stuck up every which way, his cheekbones were as high as always, and he had a little bit of stubble and it was so familiar and so new all at once.

He touched his face, barely registering the tears flowing down his cheeks and laughed in relief. He was human again. This was real! He could- he was closer to normal than he ever thought he’d get to be.

He turned to Marinette who was staring up at him in shock. He picked her up and spun her around, laughing in joy. And after a moment she joined in. He put her down and put his hands on her shoulders, smiling widely, “Thank you. Thank you so much,”

She smiled up at him, a slightly sad look on her face, “I’m sorry, it’s not permanent,”

“Don’t be sorry. For the first time I have hope. It will be permanent eventually, and till then, I have you with me, right?” he squeezed her shoulder, still high on the feeling of hope and warmth and familiarity.

When he was overcome with the sudden urge to pull her into a hug, he didn’t resist.

He held her close, resting his chin on her head, “Damn, I missed this. Hugging, I mean. I haven’t... it’s been so long,” (not that he got all that many hugs from Bruce “emotionally constipated” Wayne)

She wrapped her arms around him, “I can imagine,”

They stood there a while before the time for patrol came along. She transformed and they made their way to the Eiffel tower, where they met Chat.

The cat themed hero rose his brow questioningly, “I thought we didn’t recruit new heroes unless it was an emergency?”

Ladybug smiled nonchalantly, “It’s Guardian business, he’s gonna be a permanent fixture in our team for at least a few months so we might as well get used to working as a team,”

Chat Noir eyed him wearily and he stepped forward, sticking his hand out, “Hi, I’m Blackback, nice to meet you,”

Chat Noir shook his hand and gave Ladybug a sceptical look, “An American? Really?”

“Please Chat, he's not American, it’s just the glamour hiding his actual accent,” she replied simply, shooting Jason a worried look.

He couldn’t give away his identity, but he was also technically a bee, he didn’t really have an identity to give away. So, her behaviour was strange. Unless she wanted to give him an identity somehow?

He couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of patrol.

When they got home Marinette revealed that she wanted to give him the fox miraculous. If they asked Trixx she would be able to design the costume in a way that allowed him to look like a normal civilian, without the mask.

Trixx's glamour was also stronger than the rest so his true identity as Jason Todd would be protected.

And she could help him fake an accent.

Since Marinette was a year younger than him he could just pick up where he left off school wise.

She convinced her parents that he was an exchange student in desperate need of a place to stay because the person he would’ve stayed with backed out last minute.

They agreed easily and Jason decided to not question it.

It was his third family. His second if you only counted non abusive ones. First if you wanted one with a healthy family dynamic.

They got him a fake birth certificate and name. He went with the alias Thomas Grayson. He thought it was kind of funny, and it paid homage to both Bruce and Dick. It gave him something from home to hold on to. (Jason isn’t really salty about not being avenged in this au, he didn’t die and Talia and the pit madness wasn’t there to egg on his anger. But maybe if I ever get back to this au we could do a thing with it… guess we’ll have to wait and see ;-) no promises tho)

He built himself another home with Marinette and her family. And before he knew it, he was happy again. He felt secure.

Through the weeks, he ingrained himself into Marinette's life. In a blink of an eye, they were best friends, and he couldn’t imagine life without her.

He loved living with her family as she trained to be strong enough to turn him back to normal.

He grew close to Marinette’s friends and was her shoulder to cry on about Adrien. He and Adrien got along pretty well, and he and Marc and Rose traded Literature jokes. Max would join in when it involved Shakespeare.

Then Lila happened. (She’s a staple in Maribat fiction. U can’t have Maribat without Lila. Or well u can but that’s usually a very specific au)

Her lies started out simple enough. Then she started manipulating everyone and he, Marinette, Chloe and Adrien were one scheme away from being ostracized. They sat in the back row.

They ignored her sneers and let her lie to her heart’s content. Then one day she said something that made both Marinette and Jason freeze.

“You know, I was childhood friends with Jason Todd (I know she usually gets the names wrong but like her knowing the name just makes this next bit better) You know, Bruce Wayne’s ward who died a while ago? It was just so sad. He grew up in a nice family but his parents both died in a car accident and Brucie took pity on him. He even let us keep in contact afterwards, since our parents were such good friends. We all miss them dearly of course. We were neighbours the year we lived in Gotham, you know? We'd play every day-,” she started fake crying, “Oh it just gets too much sometimes,”

But to Jason’s shock Alya didn’t move to console Lila, in fact, she was staring at the brunette in shock.

He turned his gaze to Marinette to see the girl wearing the biggest, coldest, most satisfied smirk. She rested her chin on her hands and grinned at Lila in a way that made shivers go down his spine.

He turned back, this ought to be good.

And it was.

Alya absolutely lost it.

She ripped Lila a new one and frankly? Jason was impressed. (Alya has a temper and she’s a fangirl, and we all know how we get when someone gets something wrong about one of our hyperfixations, even if it’s an old one so like yall can imagine how bad Lila had fucked up)

When an akuma flew in towards Lila, Alya grabbed it, staring the girl down with a fury he didn’t know she could possess, “Don’t you dare! Do you think I’m blind? I’ve seen how easily you get akumatized and this time I’m not letting it happen!”

Of course, Alya then got akumatized but hey it beat another version of Lila.

Everyone made up but they weren’t quite as close as before. Their group tended to consist mostly out of him, Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Kagami and Luka.

Other than that incident and akuma attacks, life was pretty good.

In fact, it was great.

He and Marinette would spend nights on her balcony, laughing and slow dancing. They star gazed and went on patrols. He helped her when she got nightmares and she returned the favour. They went on long walks and spent the holidays together. They crammed for tests and he played model for her designs. They worked in the bakery and hung out with their friends both in and out of suit. They’d joke about his technical bee-ness and he and Chat drove her mad with puns. In retaliation she’d introduce him as her bee friend to people or only give him honey and bee themed things. (ok this sentence sounds weird but I mean like when she brings them sweets from the bakery to snack on while working and stuff.)

And one laugh, memory and fight at a time, he started to fall. (I just want good things for Jason, and really can you blame me?)

Through the months, he kept up to date on the news about Bruce Wayne and Marinette held his hand each time a new kid joined his brood. She reminded him that no child could be replaced and reassured him that of course Bruce would want him back when they figured everything out.

And if he didn’t, she’d kick his ass into space, and he’d stay with her family in Paris- a family she made sure he knew he was a part of.

He helped Sabine in the kitchen and was the only one who came closest to beating Marinette’s Ultimate Mega Strike 3 record. Tom taught him to shave and bake. He was integrated into their family and they treated him as part of the family.

But even if they were giving him everything they were, he missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred. And Barbara. And Gotham. He missed them all so much. He missed home.

So, 14 months later, when Marinette told him they had a meeting with the Justice League about the Hawkmoth situation, Jason felt his heart skip a beat.

“What?” he asked softly, his eyes brimming with tears (Marinette taught him how to emotion, you see. So Jason is emotionally stable-ish enough to cry without feeling embarrassed about it), “I get to see him again?”

Marinette nodded and hugged him from behind, “I’m planning on telling him what happened. Is there anything you can tell him to verify who you are?”

Memories from a million years ago entered his mind, “Yes,”

She took his hand and took a step back, “And I think I can fix you before we go, I’m strong enough. But I’d still like your help in the final battle, I mean I know you’re going home but...,”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled, “Of course, Pixie. I’ll always be there for you when you need me,”

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, a movement so familiar it was practically a part of him. He pulled her close and cried into her hair.

“What if he doesn’t believe me?” he asked softly, after a while, resting his chin on top of her head.

“He will,” she replied, tightening her grip around his waist.

They both knew she had no guarantee of that. That she had no way of knowing for sure. Neither of them did.  And it scared him more than he wanted to admit.

The next day they do the magic turning back thing. It freaks him out quite a bit but not as much as her revealing the miraculous freaked him out the first time, you get kinda used to the magic shenaniganary. They’re both passed out for an hour afterwards and when they wake up, he holds her, crying, because he was finally, finally back to normal and this was real and permanent, and it was over.

She cried with him and held him, and they then went out and he wore a shirt she made for him, and they got ice cream the next day. They celebrated some more and went to the park with the squad and they had a picnic.

It was better than he ever could've imagined.

While the sun was setting, they stood back on her balcony, where they first spoke all those months ago, slow dancing. He pulled away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at her as the orange light of the sunset shone on them. (So aesthetic)

“Thank you, Marinette, for everything,” he says as he rubs his thumb across her cheek. His hand holding her face. She puts her hand over his and closes her eyes, savouring the moment.

She opened her eyes again and smiled, “I’d do it again and more, if it meant I’d get to be with you,”

He started leaning down, “If I lost you, I’d fly all over the world just to find you again,”

She raised to her tip toes, faces millimetres from one another, blue bells meeting ice, “So it was all worth it in the end?”

He moves closer, eyes searching hers. “Definitely,” he breathes.

She closes the distance, and he picks her up and spins her around. They break apart and their laughter fills the air.

(now that’s enough fluff, allow me to drown you in angst)

The next day they stood on the Eiffel tower. She took his hand, “Let’s recap. I go in, we have our Hawkmoth meeting, then I ask if I can speak to Batman and Nightwing alone. Then I tell them I found you, then I give them – are you sure it’s necessary for me to give them your blood, hair and a cheek swab? Isn’t that overkill?” (Batman is serious about his no kill rule, but he’s also serious about his there’s no such thing as overkill rule)

He shook his head and she sighed, “Okay. Then I give him means to contact me and I come back. Now remember they might take a while to process and they won’t necessarily call immediately-,”

“What if they never call?” he asked, gripping her hand tightly.

She ran her finger softly through his hair, “Then you have us to help you get through it,”

He nodded, she kissed his cheek and stepped through the portal with Queen Bee, Chat Noir and Viperion. He and Ryuuko stayed behind as backup, he wielded the Fox miraculous these days, but kept the name Blackback, always wearing a black leather jacket no matter the transformation.

He and Ryuko discussed fighting styles, she was kindly trying to distract him, and if it had been anything else he needed distracting from, it would’ve worked.

So passed the slowest forty-five minutes of his life. Chat Noir and Queen Bee exit a portal and so the wait for Marinette and Luka began.

She and Bruce were talking now. Bruce would know he was alive. This was make or break for him. Luka was nearby to act as back up worst-case scenario.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, followed by someone taking and rubbing circles on his back. He looked down to see Ryuuko on his one side and saw Chat Noir on his other.

“We’ve got you,” Chloe said standing in front of him, hand on his unoccupied shoulder.

He swallowed and nodded. She squeezed his upper arm and met his gaze, “Breathe, you’re safe, honey,”

So, 30 more minutes pass. They sit down and somewhere along the line Chat goes and grabs a dozen croissants from the bakery.

In another situation he might’ve laughed. He’d baked this morning’s batch and now he got to eat some of it for free, of course, technically he could get others for free too but-

The portal opened behind them and Ladybug and Viperion stepped out. He noted that she didn’t have the bag of his DNA with her anymore.

She smiled softly at him, “Now we wait,”

And wait they did.

They waited two weeks.

And then the burner phone that's number they'd given Bruce rang.

Jason froze, Marinette jumped up and ran to get it.

He couldn't move as she walked over and put the phone on speaker, she grabbed his hand and he held onto her for dear life.

"We can both hear you now, Nightwing," she said.

There was a beat of silence on the other side of the line, "Can he- If you're- can I speak to him? In- um- private?"

Marinette looked at him, and he nodded. She took the phone off speaker and handed it to him.

He held it up to his ear and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the circles Marinette were drawing on his hand with her thumb.

"He- hey Dick," he said. He heard his brother's breathing hitch, followed by a few seconds of silence.

"When did Batman find you?"

"25th May 2017,"

"Who's your favourite author?"

"Mary Shelley tied with Jane Austin,” he replied.

Dick stayed silent for too long and before he could stop himself the words fell from his mouth, desperation clinging to each syllable,” My favourite- my favourite playwright is Shakespeare, and my favourite school subject is English. If I could pick any day job it would be being a writer. My favourite colour is blue. Alfred has a secret fear of dolphins. You have had a ridiculously huge crush on Barbara for years and she had no idea, and I found a picture you drew under your old room's bedside table of you two getting married. I folded the picture up and hid it in a small box of memories I kept in the farthest corner of my closet under clothes I never wore. I have a round scar on the lower left side of my back where Willis Todd burned me with a cigarette when I was 5 that you don’t know I know you know about. My first Christmas at the manor you found me in the rose garden cutting a few off to take to my mother's grave and I was terrified that you would yell at me but instead you drove me to the graveyard and that was the day I decided to give you a real chance. I despise carrots but I eat them when Alfred makes them because I don't want to be a burden. And I-," he choked on a sob- when had he started crying?

He took a shuddering breath, and swallowed some of his tears, trying to make sure the words got out right, "I've missed you guys for every single second that I've been gone,"

His stomach tied itself up in a million knots as the silence stretched on. He could hear Dick moving the phone.

"Can I speak to Ladybug again please?" A female voice he didn't recognize said.

He handed the phone to Marinette and pressed his hand over his mouth to try to contain the sobs. He felt like a knife was twisting his stomach. He couldn't even hear what Marinette was saying. (I’m going through something irl and as a result u guys get to read angst by the bucketloads and I regret nothing)

Dick didn't want to talk to him. He should've just answered the question, he shouldn't have given all the extra information. Now they were never going to believe that it's really him and he would never see them again. Maybe they knew it was him and they just didn't want him-

"Jason, breathe with me," he heard Marinette's voice. His eyes latched onto hers like a lifeline, he became aware of her hands holding his.

She took his face in her hands and rested her forehead against his, in a motion so familiar that it came as easy as breathing. Well as easy as it usually was to breathe, right now excluded.

After he calmed down, she explained to him what they discussed. They would go to Gotham and meet and discuss things from there.

They wanted to meet him, but they still didn’t completely believe that it was him. He knew this for a fact because they had organized for M’gann to be there to confirm what he was saying. (Yassss M'gann my darling girl, I adore out lil Martian)

Marinette had suggested that they meet in the Batcave in an hour. Everyone had agreed. He assumed she had a plan as to why she wanted to wait. And he trusted her, so he waited for her to explain.

“I want to take the team, as backup. If you’re not comfortable with it, I want to at least take Luka. I would suggest just letting one of us wield is miraculous, but his Second Chance Timer limit is an hour so it would be most beneficial,” she said, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t holding his.

He nodded, sitting up straighter, but not releasing his grip on her hand, “We can bring the team, it’s smart to have backup. Besides if things go haywire, we have Luka to stop us.”

“Then let’s go get our team, love,”

(oh, I should probably mention that only he and LB knows everyone’s Identities. Or well rather no one knows like officially. Like everyone lowkey knows everyone's and a few of them have officially revealed themselves to each other, but not everyone is officially revealed to everyone and Mari and Jason are the only ones who aren’t officially revealed to anyone else, it’s kinda like the vibes of knowing your best friend is queer but not saying anything because they haven’t officially come out yet but like you know because they ain’t nearly as subtle as they think. Like that aesthetic.)

Anyway, 50 minutes later, they’re all gathered on the Eiffel Tower. Jason saw Marinette give Luka a nod to reset his timer. Suddenly he was enveloped in a light with a scratch that wasn’t there a few seconds before on his cheek, his expression quite annoyed.

Marinette immediately furrowed her brows, “How many times?”

Viperion shook his head, “Don’t worry, only one so far, but they try to restrain us. We’re gonna have to try plan b this time,” Everyone nodded, they waited two minutes before the agreed upon time and Mari opened a portal, but instead of appearing out in the opened, they hid in the shadowy parts of the cave.

Jason used his illusion to hide them from any observant eyes and they spread out a bit. He and Mari stayed together, Cloe flew to get a higher perspective and hide Viperion on one of the cave’s many ledges while Chat just moved a few feet away to have a slightly different hiding spot. Kagami dropped into her wind form and was flying above them to eavesdrop, she’d go to Luka if she heard anything of importance so he could go restart again.

They’d be one step ahead of the Bats no matter what they pulled, after all, they had all the time in the world.

They watched them all get into position as time neared. Jason didn’t know all the kids but recognized them from the news.

Dick, Bruce and M’gann stood near the bat computer with Barbara – who was in a wheelchair but that was a realization to deal with later- and Alfred.

The minute they were supposed to appear Jason cast another illusion to make it appear as though they had arrived. As expected, weapons and restraints immediately swarmed on them, each kid going for a different miraculous member. Too bad the images turned into orange dust as soon as they touched them.

The tiny one in the Robin uniform was red in the face and immediately started throwing a tantrum, “Father! They’ve tricked us-,”

Before he could get another word out, Chloe mass-venomed the horde of kids that we’re sent to attack them. He counted Black bat, Red Robin, Batgirl, Signal and Robin. They were all frozen in the middle of the room and before the others near the computer could move, Kagami trapped them in a (rather large) ring of fire. They had enough space to move around comfortably but if they tried approaching the edge the flames would grow larger.

Batman growled and his eyes searched through the cave, but he wouldn’t see them, no matter how hard he searched.

Jason stared at them. Dick was also searching the cave, but he seemed to look more hopeful than angry. Alfred seemed his usual calm self and Barbara was glancing around the cave more subtly. He didn’t bother looking at the rest of the batkids because M’gann was staring right at him, staying right where she was despite her ability to fly.

“Hi, Jason,” she softly spoke into his mind, he felt emotion overwhelm him, she’d known him before everything, and she knew it was him and it was a lot.

He knew she wasn’t probing around his brain for information like he was sure Bruce had asked her to, she didn’t have to, she knew it was him.

“Can you please tell me why we’re surrounded by fire?” she asked.

“We have a time traveller,” he replied.

“Ah, not a fan of Bruce’s restrain and question method, then? Can’t say I blame you, though I do think you’ve proven your point,”

“You really think it’s a good idea to release all of them?” he asked sceptically.

“… Good point. Maybe leave the brood in the middle in whatever frozen state they’re in and just let us in the fire out. They really just think it’s too good to be true… Jason, I won’t let them hurt you,”

“Okay,” he agreed softly. He turned to Marinette and gave her a slight nod. She returned with one of her own.

They walked over to Kagami’s ring of fire and he held their illusion until they were right in front of it. He held on to it for a bit to make sure everyone else would be able to stay in position. Chloe would keep the cavalry venomized and Chat and Viperion would stick to the shadows, unless necessary.

Jason dropped the illusion and watched four heads snap to him. M'gann simply gave him a soft smile and a nod of encouragement.

Kagami moved herself to stand next to Marinette and turned back into her human form, glaring at them with a silent warning.

Their attention was elsewhere, though. For a long time they just stood there and stared at one another in silence. They studied every part of one another they could see.

His eyes caught on Barbara’s wheelchair and he felt ready to destroy whatever put her there. She met his eyes and he held her gaze. She must’ve seen something there because she gave a small smile as she allowed a few tears to escape her eyes.

“Miss Martian?” Batman broke the silence like a cheap dinner plate, shattering it in a matter of seconds.

“It’s him,” M’gann answered without a hint of hesitation.

It was Alfred that moved first. He took a few hesitant steps towards him and before Jason knew it the man was in front of him. Alfred reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, desperately studying him for a moment before pulling him into a hug only Alfred could give.

It took Jason a moment to respond but when he did he returned it wholeheartedly.

After a few minutes they pulled apart and it took him a moment to realize that they’d both started crying. When he looked up Dick was only a few feet away. The moment Alfred stepped away Dick pulled him close.

“I thought you were dead, kid. I thought I’d never see you again, I thought I lost even more family. You were too young, too innocent. Fuck Jason,” Dick whispered, tightening his grip, “I’m so glad you’re alive,”

Jason held on to his brother and that night they cried about terrible endings and broken beginnings. They cried about lost time and found family.

It wasn’t the end yet, Hawkmoth was still terrorizing Paris and he had no idea what Bruce thought yet. There were all his other kids, his brothers and sisters. There were his teammates and the incredible story of how he’d been turned into a bee of all things.

They had a lot of catching up to do.

But just for a moment, a strand of a singular moment, he had his brother in his arms again and he was back home. His first real home.

Things weren’t perfect, as things rarely are but it didn’t matter. Because part of the beauty of life is how it builds and breaks us in a cycle of love and loss.

And that night they laughed with a lightness and joy none of them had fully been able to hold onto in years.

 I hope you guys enjoyed!

This is lowkey totally gonna be the au I go to when I don’t know what to write lol, maybe write a bit of what happens afterwards or a part of everything during the year he lived with Mari them or just y’know shenanigans

[random-imagines-blog]

The Sky is Falling {Thranduil x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2871 Summary: Before you leave the shelter of Mirkwood, the King decides to tell you a story.

The wind that had been bad enough for you to appeal to Mirkwood for shelter seemed to subside until it was nothing more than a mutter against the tree tops. Weird weather during these odd times, you noticed. It wasn’t easy to be a traveler, even during this time of relative peace. You were just thankful that the elves had let you in, though you were not one of them. It was rare that they were so welcoming. Where you came from, they were nicknamed mountains, because they were tall and elegant, but harsh and cold at the same time. Despite that, they gave you a warm meal and a bed, and one that wasn’t in the dungeons, surprisingly enough. They tended to be mistrustful of others, but here you were, under your own quilt that you kept packed in your bag for the cold night, curled up in the bed. It was quite comfortable, but nonetheless, sleep was not coming peacefully.

You attempted to succumb to the black peacefulness of rest, but something kept interrupting - your restlessness. You enjoyed being on your feet, and being on the move. The longest that ever stayed in one place since leaving home was for a week, and here, you were already half way there. The usual itching that came from staying in a place too long was taking over you, and you knew that it was going to be a sleepless night.

The dark of the forest was intense, and as you rolled onto your back, you missed the stars, the moon. Nothing was beaming through the canopy above, protecting the homes of the Elves from rain and snow. Counting those stars was the best way to help you get to sleep, if a long day of walking didn’t do it for you. There was no use now - you tried to sleep and you couldn’t. You had planned on leaving the next day, continuing on your adventures but now seemed as good a time as ever. You would get a better sleep out of the woods, anyway.

You snacked on some of the honeycakes that the elves have given you, made from their own bees, supposedly. You never thought beekeeping would be a hobby of elves, but they did have the time for it, you supposed. You put a couple of those into your pack, tucking them into your quilt as you placed it into your pack, along with your spare sets of clothes and other supplies.

You were strapping the pack onto your back, and looking around to see if you had left anything behind when there was a knock on the door to your room and it opened to reveal a blonde elf. You knew this was one of the King’s lackeys, but you didn’t know which one. They all looked the same.

“Before you leave, King Thranduil would like to see you,” He said, with a bow of his head. You bit back your tongue, tempted to ask if he had been spying on you. And not even an apology for intruding into your room! But alas, given the hospitality that he had shown you, you could not decline an audience with the King.

“Lead the way,” You said, standing as tall as your frame would allow you to. It was nothing compared to the height of the elves, but you weren’t about to make yourself small in front of them. The elf bowed his head again, and held out his arm to the door. You stayed a short distance behind the elf, not wanting to lose him among the trees. There were winding pathways everywhere in Mirkwood. It would be far too easy to slip off of the path and become lost among the foliage. Despite the beauty of the place, you were ready to say goodbye and see what else was out there in the world. Middle Earth did have a border, and you were planning to walk from north to south, east to west and back again.

As you approached the throne room, you tried on different expressions. You weren’t sure which one would be the most appropriate to meet a King, since you’ve never met one before. Should you appear to be in awe of his majesty, or fear of his power? Happy to see him or sad to be leaving?

Walking into the grand room, you decided to stay neutral, not wanting to offend either way. Though you had planned on sneaking out, it was the right thing to thank him for his hospitality, especially since there were some honeycakes still in your pack.

The King was seated on a throne, with his back straight and proper. It must take him at least two hours out of everyday to comb through those long, blonde locks of his. The elf that you had followed in gave him more of a bow than he had given you, then walked back out of the doors that you had come through. Unsure of what to do, you gave a bow yourself, the way that you had been taught as a child. Just because you were a traveler didn’t mean that you didn’t have manners. Your parents had done their best to teach you well.

“King Thranduil, it’s an honor,” You said, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. You were surprised to find that his reaction wasn’t as formal as you had thought, but much more relaxed. In fact, he was chuckling as he rose up from his throne and began to saunter down the steps towards you. You admit it, you were staring at him with confusion, which was not one of the expressions that you had practiced.

“Y/N,” He said, then said your title; (y/g) of (y/f/n).

You were more than a little impressed that he knew your name, given that he was the King of this Realm. He had the time to learn the names of all the elves in his Kingdom, but a single traveler? Yes, impressive. “Lovely home you have here, Mirkwood,” You said, feeling the need to be kind and charming in the presence of such a royal. “I feel a bit of shame that I have to leave it.”

“And yet you woke with that very intention in mind,” He said, looking straight into your eyes. You lowered your own, feeling the force of that look.

“I did,” You admitted. “I’ve been traveling with the wind for sometime, and it is blowing me away again. I hope that at some point it will bring me back here, for it really is wonderful. The food, the bedding, especially the hospitality. I will always think of Mirkwood fondly, and speak of it so. But it is high time that I stopped taking advantage, and head on my way.”

“Do you assume that we look upon humans so little that we feel we are being taken advantage of?” Thranduil countered, with a raised eyebrow. You kept your eyes cast downward, attempting to think of anything to stop yourself from nodding. Think of dinner, think of honey cakes, think of anything but just don’t nod your head, you fool!

“I didn’t mean to assume, I just thought that as elves, you’re on a higher plane than us humans.”

Thranduil let out a little chuckle, which was better than these interrogation questions that he had been giving you. “Did you really find your stay pleasurable?”

“Oh yes, all except...” You hesitated as your mouth started to blurt what you were thinking.

You had spend far too long talking to yourself to pass the time on your travels, it seems.

“Except for what?” Thranduil’s voice came across as serious, though not offended which was a good sign.

“Except for I realized just how much I missed being beneath the stars,” You continued. It was difficult to stop once you had gotten started. “I like to look at the constellations at night. And track the moon so I know when the next full one will be. Those are the best nights to travel on, though they come with the possibility of bandits. Watch the sunrise early in the morning, and see the beautiful colors. The forest is beautiful, but the canopy is ... protective, a little too protective.”

“So you prefer the open skies rather than the cathedral of trees?”

“I suppose I do, Your Highness.”

You finally found the courage to lift your eyes to meet his. There was a glow about him, inexorably coming from within for it was night here. The lights were few and far between around here, since the elves had impeccable eye sight. They seemed to be more for the aesthetic than out of necessity.

“Before you leave, I would like to show you something. Come with me.” He offered his arm out to you as a request, which you could tell was just that, and not a question.

You accepted, curious despite not having a choice. You laid your hand gently on his forearm, and you were caught off guard by what you had felt.

While most of the elves that you had met were on the willowy side, Thranduil had strong arms under the soft and fancy fabrics that he donned.

You understood why he had offered you his arm as you walked away from the throne room. Once away from the floating lights, it was black as pitch out here. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, not even your nose which was always out of focus, let alone your surroundings. You gave in completely, and allowed him to be your guide.

When you both emerged from the blackness of the forest, you were greeted by open fields and wide skies. What you had said apparently pushed Thranduil into taking a walk out here as well. Your breath hitched in your throat as the smell of the wheat, blowing softly in the grass, reached your nose. It reminded you of home. It wasn’t often you came across many cultivated fields like this. With the lights of Mirkwood being hidden by the trees, it really was just the two of you and the darkness of the night, along with the half-moon above. It looked like a crooked smile, with stars as eyes. You were still holding onto Thranduil and you gripped a little tighter as you saw a shooting star above. “Wow.”

“Varda’s gift,” Thranduil said. You looked up at him, finding his smooth voice to be a welcome addition to the night. You started to let go of him, and he didn’t counter that. But you stood close enough to feel the heat from his body. It wasn’t as much as a human man’s, but it was still enough to keep the main chill of the wind from penetrating into your bones. “The Queen of the Stars. She created them in the beginning of days. She fashioned them, and the constellations, for the awakening of the Elves. My father used to tell me the stories when I was a little elf,” You could just faintly make out the outline of his smile. “She established the courses of the Moon, and the Sun. They are illuminated with her own light, the light of Eru Ilúvatar.”

It was hard for you to see past what your own father had taught you. “I was taught that the stars are the spirits of our ancestors, looking out for us. Whole generations, going back to the beginning of time. It’s a comfort to think that we’re not alone when we feel that we most are. And that one day, I’ll be up there, looking upon my family.”

“I see,” Thranduil said in a voice which showed that he disagreed with what your belief was.

“But your story is more interesting than mine,” You admitted, wondering what a Queen of the Stars would look like. Beautiful, no doubt. “Was there a King of the Stars as well?”

“She was married to the elder King, Manwë. He was a kind and compassionate ruler. Free of evil, a rarity in all worlds, even this one.” He let out a little breath, as if contemplating on these last words.

“Sounds like the perfect man for one as good as her,” You said, putting your arms around yourself. Thranduil looked down upon you, remembered suddenly that you were a human who could suffer from temperatures around you - and you had not yet dressed for the weather outside.

“She is the favorite among the Valar,” He said, removing his outer cloak and putting it on your shoulders. Under the weight of it, you could feel just how luxurious the fabric was; fit for a King.

“I can understand why,” You said, relishing the warm feeling. “And it is ... it is wonderful that Elves respect the Queen in such a way. Among humans, it is always the men that are getting the praise. You only hear about the Kings, and very rarely are Queens and Princesses ever mentioned. There’s more equality among your race.”

“Again, you have underestimated us,” Thranduil continued, smoothly, making your cheeks flush. He had a point, you really had just thought that elves were snooty.

“I suppose that I have. Can you tell me more about Varda? I’d really like to know more about her. She’s all I’ll be thinking about when I look at the night sky, now.”

You and Thranduil stood on the edge of the forest, speaking about the history of the stars, according to his legends. And you even found yourself believing in it, imagining the unearthly beauty of Varda as she created the skies above. All through this, you fingered the lining of the inside of the cape, appreciating it’s grandeur.

You stayed until the sky seemed to brighten over in the East. The sun was starting to rise. The birds had started to sing. Dawn had snuck up on the two of you while you were talking.

“Thank you for taking the time, your Majesty, to tell me these things,” You said, realizing that it was far beyond time that you should be off. But you found yourself a little more reluctant than you had the day before. Your superstition about the moon guiding you through your adventures, warning you to leave, wasn’t as strong. In fact, the stories that you had heard told you that you really had no control over it, for Verda had brought you here, to Mirkwood. But you couldn’t take advantage of Thranduil’s time or hospitality any further. It was still time that you leave.

“Abandonment is an ugly habit,” Thranduil said, surprising you since that was not at all where you had thought the conversation was going. “And that includes abandoning what is best for yourself. You should stay a while longer, I have so much more that I could tell you. Teach you.”

“May I ask you a question,” You hesitated, though Thranduil nodded so you continued. “Why bother with a human?”

Thranduil turned to face you, his long blonde hair waving about so it sat imperfectly on his shoulders.

“You’re not just any human. I’ve been keeping my eye on you, since you’ve been here. You’ve caught my interest, Y/N, and it is rare that any mortal does that.”

“But my entire life is like a blink of an eye for you, it seems impossible that someone like I-”

“Why don’t you let your elder tell you just what is possible?”

Thranduil did have a point there, he had seen many things that one might have considered impossible at some time or another. Which made it all the more odd that he was interested in you, someone who you would consider to be pretty ordinary. “I suppose that I could stay a little longer, if you have more stories to tell.”

“A lifetime’s worth.” Thranduil gave you what you assumed was a rare smile, since it was the first time that you had seen it. He barely smiled at any of the other elves, you noticed. Not even his own son, a charming young elf named Legolas. Well, young for an elf, ancient to you. You started to shrug off the cloak to hand back to him, since the sun was warming up the day nicely, and you intended to get a little more sleep before the next story session began. But he put up a hand to stop you. “I think you should keep that - after getting it hemmed. You’re a short little thing, aren’t you?”

“Compared to you, maybe,” You said, grumbling but you couldn’t help but smile as you brought the cloak further on you, wrapping it around both your front and your back. It did drag on the ground behind you as he lead you back through the forest, but he didn’t even seem to mind that it was getting dirty.

It was yours now, after all.

[usagi-mitsu]

Werlyt & Gaius - a bunch of thoughts.

I am a little late to the party. I know. But I just finished the Emerald weapon and before I go to try out the „not Zenos“ weapon as in „Diamond“, I need to get my thoughts on the story straight.

Perhaps I have been spoiled by 5.0s brilliant MSQ and cannot appreciate the inherent beauty of at least decent writing any longer. But this felt so wrong and out of tune with the rest of the game. I started writing this 2 hours ago! I wanted to one in bed by now! XD But I had to get it out of my system… so….

Spoilers for the MSQ and Werlyt incoming??? And no I did not re-read this so not just spoilers but also writing errors incoming. -.-

The good

These fights are epic! I have only ever cleared the normal versions, but I loved those. They are amazing. The callbacks to Eula (her being a woman here! When did they discover that???), Regula (may he rest in peace) and Gaius himself in his prime were delightful. But I could do with a little less rotating, ok? A dragoon has positional, you know? And being allowed to pilot my very own mecha was like *chefs kiss*. On that front? Well done Square Enix!

I am also glad they were able to get another use out of Porta Praetora! That place looks amazing with the wide open field and the lake – and Ala Mhigo across it. It was one of my favourite Stormblood areas and I am always glad to return there. And of course… being able to visit the allied camp again… And Werlyt itself. It’s simply a beautiful place. It reminds me very much of southern Greece. If you’ve watched the movie Mamma Mia you know what I mean.

The music too was really nice. But I don’t think I’ll… you know… listen to it on repeat as I am doing with other parts of the soundtrack.

I’ve also loved how much amazing lore we got about Garlemald and especially the garlean military. And the military abroad. The way soldiers not from the mainland get treated. I love learning about these things.

Gaius

The man. The legend. The guy yelling in Prae.

He’s so very boring here. He has so much potential as a character and maybe I’m missing something, but all throughout this story he has been nothing but passive. He’s a reactive character in this storyline. You know. The guy who made deals with Lahabread (the d is intended), tried to take over Eorzea, lead a whole army, stood idly by as the moon dropped, almost died but then decided just not to die and then though „hm… I’ve got so much freetime now. How about I go and hunt some ascians?“ That guy is NOT a reactive character. He is active. He goes out of his way to make shit he wants happen. And in here? He seems too starstruck and devastated by his adopted kids actions to actually have one clear thought.

The only explanation I have is that he might have gotten hit in the head by something on his way to the ruby weapon. I get why he would rely on Cid for help, but the WoL??? The alliance? If you wish to be an ally and help or something, fucking act like it. You were a former legatus and I expect you to live up to your name – even after retiring.

And yeah.. I guess it’s hard having to watch your kids willingly, knowingly dying. But you fucking raised them. You are a big part of the reason to why they are in that predicament. So like… Aside from that I don’t even get why you are in this story at all.

And for the record: I’m not sorry for him. I’m just flabbergasted by all the bullshit we’ve been learning about him.

To be quite honest, I think this story could have worked just as well or maybe even better, if we got another man as the „hero“ of the story. I am talking about none other than our engineering, hammer-swinging, ex-enemy - of course talking about Nero!

The MSQ has long established that his research into the Ultimate Weapon had been taken, twisted and turned – Estinien had to experience this first-hand. I’m not saying that Nero was in need of a redemption arc and I cannot remember if these weapons were of his creation or even stem from anything he did, but it would make so much more sense for me, to have him confront his past in the garlean military like this and be responsible for the death of his former colleagues. Soldiers that he served with, whom he faught with. Give me Nero and them working together to get the weapons going and him bonding with them as his pilots to a degree. Comrades. Not that strange familiar bond that Gaius appareantly has with them. … Scratch that: Let Gaius be the father figure. Him being that wouldn’t change Nero’s relationship with them, but maybe his with Gaius as his superior.

The story wouldn’t even need to try and redeem Nero: He has already gone through major character development with the MSQ and the Omega raid tier. It would simply be Nero, confronted with the things he created, hopefully instilling more morals and a sense of responsibility for his creations. Heck: Let Cid yell at the guy! Seriously! Cid sticking around to help out would make so much more sense if it was Nero instead of freaking Gaius! Cid hated the guy! He might be a professional, but he is not one to torture himself by staying around a guy he (as far as I know) detests.

Make Nero the central figure and give Cid and Gaius the roles of „angel and demon“: One desperately trying to reach out to his old friend, reminding him why they became engineers and trying to make him realise that he can’t just run around designing weapons and leaving the scematics for everyone to read; while the other has trouble letting go of his imperial past and is struggling to see the errors of his ways – if Nero was wrong, than he (Gaius) was wrong too -and of course they did all of this for their home, to further their cause, and to bring peace to the savage lands of Eorzea, who had been fighting amongst themselves for so long… You get the point.

And you could still have these gundam themed fights. But I think everything would make so much more sense in general.

But speaking of which-

The children

I do not truly care for any of them. And that is a shame: I do think there are great characters and dynamics hidden behind these very few cutscenes. When they were first introduced I was wondering why I was suddenly watching „heartwarming“ cutscenes of my foes as children – until I realised that I was supposed to care and that they were supposed to make me feel pity for Gaius. I was supposed to feel bad for him, because they died and he blames himself. But while their fates so far have been gruesome, I cannot say that I am sad they died. They chose to die as they did. There were a myriad more options. And they chose that.

Actually. Their whole story makes me feel like they were huge masochist from the very beginning. They could have just run away and gotten help from someone more competent than them, but they stayed in an abusive military arrangement just so nobody else got hurt?? Please. Use your brains next time. And for the Berserk-like torture scene? I mean. I get what was implied here. But was it necessary? As a writer myself I follow the rule that torture and sexual violence should never be used in a story, unless it must be in there for the story to work or to bring across a vital point important to the story or it’s moral (or if you are writing porn and you are into it – but we are talking official in-game content here). But the violence towards these „children“ seems unnecessary for the plot and the violence of their deaths by piloting the weapons is already gruesome enough. Sometimes it’s better to leave things like this out – the emotional torture of feeling stuck and having a martyrs complex would have been enough here, I think. If the rest of the story had been well written at least.

(I believe my utter lack of sympathy shows how little character developement they had. I love tragic characters, who choose to suffer for the good of other people – even better if those people don’t even like them. It’s just my thing. And those kids are just… well.)

Their reasons and especially why they were making Allie out as the one who would need to survive was also just… weird. Like. I feel like 75% of what happened would not have happened, if they actually talked to each other, used their brains and had done something about their problems. But no…

These characters are also so exchangeable with basic anime/j-RPG character tropes… I only remember Alfonse, Rex and Allie – because I just did the Emerald weapon. And right afterwards I thought, „huh. So… Fullmetal Alchemist?“ Which brings me to my third point …

…the story at large.

„Pacing is a virtue“ or was it patience..? Anyhow: The author of this story should have had more patience with his story and characters and taken a bloody break! And I am not talking about the obvious blunder of „How is Allie feeling?“, „she is in shock and you cannot talk to her“ turning to „oh yeah if you are careful you can talk to her now“. I mean. WTF. That was MAYBE 10-20 in-game minutes of dialogue.

But everything was moving so very fast – and not even in a good way. There are few things better than a fast paced, action rich story about a group of young people trying to safe (their) world. But if you try to cram in two expansions worth of character development and story telling into about two hours of content each patch.. Well, then you get whatever the hell this is.

Gaius is a very interesting character and while I did not understand why they needed to bring him back in 4.4 (?), I do see how he could be a good asset for endwalker. And his involvement in 5.0 with Estinien was just a dear delight. So I am not opposed to learning more about him, to watching his character grow and changed with time. But I am not ready for badly written content of which 50% get told by suddenly induced echo-sequences. I mean – weren’t there rules for the echo at some point???

I’m not sure which one of the devs said it, but the feature that let’s you play an NPC is super convenient for them to tell the story, because before they could only show what happened where the WoL was.

And that’s just it. Rule number 1 in writing anything is „Show don’t tell“. It feels like they literally turned this one around for these cutscenes. While Valens torture and diet-Fandaniel-routine were very much „show“, the rest of the story was one long cutscene of exposition: We get exposition by Cid, by Gaius, by echo, by Gaius and his crew again, then by Allie. Before having to watch scenes we are not there for.

BTW. Dear square Enix: Your writers are capable of writing amazing villains, antagonist and despicable assholes. You don’t have to write „asshole, must die“ on Valens name card. And I also think the „WoL, strike here“ sign above his head was a tad bit too much. Nuance, dear writers. Nuance. Or perhaps I just got spoiled by these last few foes in the MSQ.

When I said I wanted to just be able to punch a bad guy for once and not feel bad about it, I did not mean this! I meant that I just wanted to play training dummy with Danny-Boy.

(Oh! And as far as I’m concerned you can just… sideline Gaius … „would be killer“ and the lady? Make them targetable NPCs with Dialoge to read. Let them stand somewhere accessible and comment on the latest developement. But ffs don’t give me hour long speeches about how you are going to kill Gaius if he does something you don’t like. The guy could and would wipe the floor with you if he felt like it. -.- So. Please. Shut up.)

Conclusion

Basically. I have to finish the Diamond weapon. But I doubt it will change my perception of this story line even in the slightest.

To be perfectly honest though … bringing Gaius back, having this story with and about him, forcing a sort of redemption ark here. It feels like they are really „grooming“ him to be a morally grey ally in Endwalker, with perhaps a big part to play in the endgame. At this point I wouldn’t even be surprised if they pulled a GoT and made him „King in the North“. Or if they had him die a heroic death to save the world, but especially his country. And to do so they need us to think his sacrifice means something. Or that he is the right person to lead Garlemald into a new future (I don’t think he is). But: For one, neither we (the players) nor the characters need to find him worthy of throne or death by heroism for his sacrifice/ascension to work. To be a useful tool for the story, only the other garleans who might oppose the alliance and scions need to deem him or his sacrifice „worthy“. And only they. And Ishikawa-san has all of 6.0 to accomplish whatever the hell she needs him for. He did not need to be the center of his own botched redemption ark. If that’s what they wanted to do. Or maybe I’m looking at this all wrong and all they wanted was to give the writes in training some literal training grounds to test their abilities.

But! On a positive note: I have yet to be told that raids and other side content are canon to any degree. So when playing the next story quests I’ll blissfully ignore all that happened in Werlyt and if it get’s mentioned (because they do that sometimes when you’ve done certain content) I’ll just ignore it.

Happy ignoring! Also: GIVE ME MORE NERO CONTENT!

[theplumsoldier]

THE SZÉKELY [1]

title: fox in the henhouse

summary: count dracula visits your family home in greece and takes a special interest in you (set sometime 1800-ish) also this is just the first part:)

pairing: dracula x reader

word count: 3864

warnings: none

IT WAS THE FIRST time the Count had paid Greece a visit and he was just as enlivened as a shark with the scent of fresh nourishment. The voyage was long, exasperating, really, and it was one on which he would have to meet the requirements of an actual Count, rather than conform to those few obligations keeping a castle himself went hand-in-hand with.

It was a family by the name of Galani who had offered him shelter. They had, in fact, been burdened with the task through the Master’s (that is Basil) vocation, and had figured that given this man was a Count, he came of great wealth. Who would they be to deny expanding the company network and seeing as this man appeared to have taken a lot of interest in the firm late times, he was indeed one to impress.

And it was no secret the Galani’s kept a great manor. With their maids galore and the ever-suspicious butler, Abas, their abode was the most pompous, imperious one on the block and they were the proud inhabitants.

Towering pillars made out the front of the manor, marked with great iron-wrought detail and nearly no wear or the years affected them as they regularly were cleaned to its birth-look. Marble tiles and high ceiling, golden details on the spiral staircase, staff racing to take one's coat before you even could shrug it off. At least that was the case for the Count. He adored the rustic semblance.

To the right looked to be a gallery, some closed doors that no wonder hid a kitchen or perhaps scullery, something that looked like a parlor, and to the left, he was already met with a baroque set-up of a dining area. Howbeit, it was not one to eat at, only for the single display of the vase with yellow tulips that stood upon it. Someone was in a cheerful, daring mood, thought he.

Heavy steps suddenly sounded and pausing his inspection, Dracula turned to the thumping sound until his gaze met that of a man. Stout and tall, almost hovering the Count when they came to shake on greeting, and Dracula would suppose he was around his own age, but that would be laughable. He certainly was in his late fifties and as he bellowed in a fit of laughter of elevation, his Adam’s apple jumped in his throat.

“Count Dracula! What a great pleasure it is to host, may I just say that!”

The Count snickered and wrung the man’s hand tightly. It was clammy. “You may. And what a beautiful home. It’s rare I get to enjoy such grandeur.”

Bar his own house of glory and gore, of course.

“Come! Meet my family!”

And so he did. Two girls—or rather women, were lined up side by side. One with her hair tugged strictly from her face, embracing those features proudly that frankly, Count Dracula could not seem to find much beauty in. The daughter, however, you, now—wow! thought he. He could not keep his eyes off of you and you noticed this, blushing as he came to kiss your hand.

It was sad, you thought. How you were in your late teens and had never before been kissed, not even on the hand, until now. For a moment you thought of whatever silly boy that had snuck into your all-girls private school you had formed somewhat of a crush on just last week. Disregarding those imbeciles, you realized you had just gotten your first kiss from a real man.

“It’s a pleasure finally making your acquaintance,” spoke he and your heart hitched just then. Polite, as well.

“And you as well, sir, my father speaks highly of you. One would think you two were close.”

Count Dracula tilted his head toward Basil, your father, and he nodded proudly, flushing beneath his wrinkled eyes. The Count chuckled and looked back to you, sighing as if though he stood on a stage performing a drama. If you were not there to watch him, you would have pictured him swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as well.

“Alas, I regret to say we are not. I live all the way over in Transylvania. But, I suspect your father and I will bond just fine!”

They did, actually. Albeit it seemed Basil was more into the topics than the Count, who was otherwise preoccupied, sending you flickering – almost naughty if you did not know any better – glances. Your parents appeared to be either unbothered by the sir’s amorous yet wavering examining or simply heedless to the situation. To you that seemed out of the question, considering, right at that moment, your whole world revolved around his lingering, inviting gaze.

It was one of the rare occasions in which you were allowed a glass of wine as well. You could not possibly say no to just one glass, you would not want to come off as a little girl. But when you had your glass it was disclosed that the count did not drink a drop of liquor, or any other liquid (you later found out, over supper) so instead, you watched your fantasies vaporize in a cloud as you sipped the bitter-warm red wine.

Count Dracula confessed just before the main course, that he was guilty of having renourished a while before his arrival and already was satiated. He would not be so rude to retire to his sleeping quarters just yet, so he sat through supper, making conversation.

“What do you think of Greece so far? I’m certain you have had time to catch conversation among us Scots, have you not, Count?”

And the count chuckled as a memory of something bitter-sweet passed his recollection faintly.

“I have indeed. All I can say is your people are very, what’s the word, delectable,” decided he and it went quiet for a moment.

“Delectable” here meaning five-star rated blood but that the Galani’s need not know. And they did not, at least not Basil for he soon cackled a laugh and threw his hand on the table, eyeing the Count generously.

“Delectable indeed! Certainly our women have a great reputation, too!”

The comment made his wife, Evadne, scoff, her face contorting out of shape while you merely kept quiet over your greek cuisine. While the food indeed was delectable, your father revolted you deeply.

To be candid, and he always was, Dracula missed your involvement in the topic which fell Basil in taste. He wanted to hear your voice, so he better could imagine the sound you made when he was looped around your throat—if, no! Now he could not, he would hate to be the one to make a mess of such a pretty young lady. He was supposed to the good guest from afar with great elevating stories of Transylvania, not some brooding vampire in a b-grade meant-to-be-thrilling gothic novel.

When you suddenly did invade a pregnant pause you had his undivided attention.

“How is Transylvania anyway?”

“One big forest, really,” said Count Dracula, skimming a finger along the rim of his water glass which he had not yet drunk a drop of. “But I suppose I’m the wrong person to ask, I don’t often stretch my legs beyond my own pasture.”

“Oh, but you have to tell me something!” pleaded you, putting on a sullen frown. One he could not possibly deny even from across the oak table and he was inclined to believe you be well aware. “I have never been anywhere but little Greece. They say “it takes a lifetime for someone to discover Greece, but it only takes an instant to fall in love with her”, but I swear to you, she’s really not that great.”

“Y/N!” scolded your father, cross of your lowly talk. “Be proud of your country. It is sublime and the history that comes to our ancestry is a tale to be told.”

So he did, of course. Basil would not dare meet a stranger to whom he would not spill his entire life story to as well as the stories of his ancestors. Meanwhile, as Basil got lost in a journey some-hundred years ago, Count Dracula turned to face you, a mock smile splayed clear across his features. Your upbringing and good manners averted you from rolling your eyes at the guest.

The hours rushed by like seconds and the Count retired to his chambers before anyone else. The long trip had worn him out, he said. You thought it strikingly odd how he had all that luggage with him – well really it was only a large body-sized box filled with dirt – when he only was meant to stay with you for a few days before his return to Transylvania.

You were on your second glass of wine and already beginning to feel light-headed, merry even, had it not been for your fatigued body. Your every limp felt heavy while you were ready to throw a ball, it did not quite match up but so it appeared human anatomy was not made to make sense to the average joe.

In the late evening, when supposedly everyone had gone to bed, Count Dracula made his rounds to locate each room, or should he encounter a soul throughout his inspection, “appreciate the architecture”.

He was surprised to see the door to the hosts’ sleeping chambers ajar. What kind of people would sleep with the door wide open when occupying strangers in their own house? Though, he supposed, it makes little difference to leave a door open as opposed to shutting when they already had let evil in.

A few steps later, and he was inside, making out the center of the room.

His eyes look about him. Count Dracula felt like a muzzled fox in a henhouse, for all these treats were on display, neatly lined up. Their necks were displayed, veins pumping blood and after all, blood is lives. He bristled, shivering because he could have none and he knew that, so he brisked up his hunt and shut the door fully.

Next, he was caught mid-transit, the chary butler halting in his tracks. They both ought to be in their beds by this time, so neither could deliver very convincing defends to account for their whereabouts.

As they bid their goodnights, Dracula warily trod down the corridors until he finally heard a humming sound.

The door was barely squeezed open by a centimeter, but little light shone from inside the room and it and your sing-song hailed the Count in.

Carefully, he slid the door open by a few more inches. To his surprise you were not yet in your bed, he knew that for it was the first thing which his eyes caught. His lip twitched up, for he thought it funny, the bed, that is. All that comfort he had noticed humans seemed never to get enough of. Where he lied in a coffin filled with dirt from the Carpathian Mountains. They were complete luxury animals and it was comical to Dracula for natheless of their opulence desires, they always seemed to settle for less.

Next, his eyes landed on your figure. You stood still dressed in your gown, brushing your hair and humming to a tune which felt to your taste. He did not recognize it as a piece he knew, but just then your voice sounded so soft, so angelic and it brought him to wonder if your blood tasted the same. He had no plans of ruining your life with his thirst, he still was quenched from the early morning, but he had a code to always live spontaneously. Never say never, and his smile grew bigger as you brushed your hair from your neck, displaying yourself perfectly for him.

He was both drooling and getting hard at just the sight.

You sat before your vanity table and a few bottles were displayed before you along with the glass of wine from earlier. It was now empty, nearly licked clean and Dracula smiled even bigger, musing over the many ways he could take advantage of the situation.

“Count,” gasped you suddenly, catching him off guard while he thought of the various ways he could take you. Having you against your vanity was one particular he would not mind in the slightest.

“Oh apologies, Miss,” excused he and made the effort to step forward, into the dim lighting. “I was just retreating to my room when I heard a wonderful tune. I hope I am not intruding.”

“No, no–not at all,” slurred you, standing up to make yourself presentable. What he did not know was that you had spent your late drunk hours, making a play of him entering your room with any excuse. You would not have believed it had anyone told you that you would, in fact, receive a personal visit. “I was merely fooling about for a bit, I was going to get ready for bed. Should you not do the same?”

“Yes—” he sunk his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Yes, I should, only I figured I would postpone the act for a while. I don’t sleep well away from my home.”

You smiled and put the sand-colored brush down before you waded a tad closer to him.

“They say home is where the heart is,” said you lovingly, offering him a kind smile and he thought if you too would smile in bliss when he sunk his teeth into you.

He hummed and put his head on tilt. “Do they now?”

Nodding, a small pause ensued.

“I had this whole dream life envisioned when I was little,” spoke you suddenly.

Little, he sucked in his cheek to avoid chuckling. You are little, he thought to himself.

“Tell me about it.”

“First I would get the hell out of here,” said you decisively and his eyebrows bounced at your profanity. The sign of the cross on your neck derided you from speaking in such a manner surely, that much he was certain of escorted your doctrine. He also could understand from your dialogue earlier on that your father was not necessarily a big fan of you leaving the nest. “But I could never do that. I’m destined for nothing greater than this.”

“You do that quite a lot, don’t you? Doubt yourself.”

You shrugged lightly, absorbed in thought.

Your brood was tangible to Dracula and his legs slowly carried himself a bit closer. As if he could only near you but never lay a hand on you, and that repentance showed in his dark eyes, for the sign in the center of your collarbone shunned him.

Dracula made a show of circling around you like a vulture, much like one would when descending on its dead prey. The thought, that you were his prey, struck you and you shuddered.

You took a deep breath like you were preparing yourself to hold your breath, and to your dismay, you dug your grave deeper as you fell deeper for the man. Even his cologne was to die for, its main accords aromatic, fresh, citrus and something you could not quite put your finger on, but whatever the scent, you suddenly grew hot.

“Take off your necklace.”

Bewildered as to why you stilled. Unsure but keenly interested as to what he had in mind, you did as per request and walked to your bed. You hung it from the knob of your closet and turned back to face him.

You had this wild and utterly insane fantasy of where this would go, but that was fantasy and frankly, fantasy cannot be a reality, certainly not yours. Still, with the thought of him kissing you again, this time on your lips, you did not dare look him in the eye.

The Count’s prying gaze could be felt from his several feet away and you grew anxious, trepidation clear in your feet. When your eyes flickered about, you were surprised to see him suddenly turn his back on you.

Had he grown tired of you already?

“Have you heard what they are saying about the heavens?”

Furrowing your brows, you slowly made your way to the bed, taking a seat and keeping one hand on the footboard.

“What are they saying?” asked you, inquisitive.

He stood by the window, watching the night sky as if he could arbitrate all its mysteries right then and there.

“That we are in a system of thousands and thousands of stars—planets. Gas and dust all make up for the galaxy. There could be planets out there, just like ours.”

Now you wondered if he had drunk a bottle all to himself in secrecy.

You grinned softly, feeling the weariness of the day’s adventures take over you. He gave you a funny look and you shook your head, still smiling and looking at the ground like a fool in love. In a way you were, still, it was odd to think you only had known this man for a single day. It suddenly was very hard to think of a time where he was not there. Gosh! You are a fool falling!

The Count pulled the drapes, shunning out the moonlight as the last source of lighting bar the few candles that did put a soft amber-gold light to your room. You gulped and looked down. It suddenly felt a lot smaller, your room.

“That’s absurd,” annunciated you.

His tongue clicked, and you could hear his smirk.

“No, you’re being bigoted, Y/N.”

“I’m being realistic,” corrected you, finding your small voice.

Next, you knew he stood right before you, his shoes toe-to-toe with your bare feet. The lump in your throat was back.

Surely regrettably you forced yourself to finally lookup. And you guessed it. He gazed right back at you.

He brushed your hair aside, exposing your neck to his touch.

“Heavens, you look seraphic.”

You snorted, suddenly feeling bold. As if you had not heard that before. Sometimes it was difficult telling when his bravado came to a halt, and when it was his actual self began.

“Don’t you mean “delectable”?”

He grinned, and you marveled for a moment at his burst of awe.

Earlier on, you had examined hisself and made certain he brandished no wedding band, lest making yourself uncomfortable when you, later on, would imagine him hovering over you. It was odd to think a man of his nobility was without matrimony, but he had admitted to “waiting for the right one” over dinner. Until he stepped into your room, you had thought you would fantasize about him in your dreams but that seemed unlikely as you could not even look him in the eye without blushing.

“Would you kiss me again?”

Pause.

Then he laughed, wandering a few steps back, only to circle himself, then return to meet your front.

“Would you like me to kiss you, dear?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling very little before this grand man. While he indeed could appear intimidating, he had this warm aura about him which made you want nothing but to throw yourself at him.

“Is that it? On your hand again?”

You stood up, your chest heaving heavily.

“On my lips.”

The Count smiled bigger, his pearly white teeth on perfect display, catching the glimpse of the light and you suddenly became bothered by the tension. He could not put his hands on you quick enough.

“Please,” pleaded you and he tsked entertained, his hand snaking down your side.

“When you ask like that who would I be to deny the missus?”

He watched with hardly hidden delight as your blood pumped hard in your head. His focus lingered on your lips now. Delicately he pressed his lips down on your, pulling you close as possible with a large hand on the back of your neck.

Then he pulled back. While you attempted your best at maintaining normal breathing, the shock wore off. It was not that it was unexpected, simply that it, in fact, had been a wish you had not imagined he would grant you. His gaze trailed along your neck, the curve of your figure in the corset, how your breasts were pressed tight.

You were close enough to feel the warmth roll off his body, his hair so elegantly pushed back like a dark crown, now a single stray string falling unto his forehead and the air was knocked right out of you again.

Your lip wobbled, unsure of what to say as you breathed heavily, a groan escaping your lips as his idle finger dexterously trailed along with the cut of your throat.

You fell back to sit on the bed again, coy eyes lingering at his. He leaned over you and you eagerly pulled his lips back down on your own, feeling the swell of the covers you were supposed to be sleeping under around you.

The Count sucked on your bottom lip, his teeth lightly chafing your lip and you moaned into his mouth, carefully greeting him with your tongue. He could not help but grow harder, needier of your exquisitely luscious moans.

Encouraging you to lie on your back, he pulled your leg up about him and even through the many layers of your exorbitant dress you could feel his hard against you. It was a feeling you had only ever imagined, one you would never have thought you would feel and with a stranger, not to mention, a count.

You shivered and cried into his mouth, gasping at the feel and he could already smell you. Goodness, it was difficult to control himself in your presence. Not that he was doing much to hold back, but it took everything in him not to taste you right on the spot.

“You’re drunk,” whispered he suddenly.

You looked puzzled up to him, wondering why he had stopped.

He then began to scramble to get off of you and you sat right back up, breathing loudly.

“What? No, sir. If you think of my judgment, I’m more than capable of making my own decisions.”

“Oh, I know you are,” responded he. He simply could not handle it any longer. He feared he might lose control, drain you just then and he would hate to ruin something, someone as precious as yourself. “But I ought to return to my own sleeping chambers now. Your parents are just down the hall, dear.”

He was already making his exit.

“I can be quiet!”

Your voice was desperate for more, and he turned, the slyest of all smiles writing itself across his face.

In two long strides, Dracula stood before you in a split second and you gulped down, for his expression was blank. But as he sighed and took your face in his hands, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

He forced you to look him in the eyes.

“Sleep well, my love.”

And so he left, leaving you with nothing but a lesson on high hopes and wet undergarments.

[yungidreamer]

Heart in the Sea

The third oneshot in my Kinktober fantasy series

Summary: A selkie will always feel the call of the sea, but can she choose between the sweet and big hearted Seungmin and her true home when their paths cross.

Word count: 5.6k

Content warnings: The longing and bitter sweetness of love that is split between two worlds. A story of love and understanding that lasts a lifetime.

Suggested music: In the Distance by Tony Anderson and When You Fall Christian Reindl and When You Love Someone by Day6

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

The nearly full moon hung high in the sky, sparkling brightly off the surface of the calm sea. She came ashore in her familiar cove, scooting her torpedo-shaped body up the soft sand and through the surf until the tide only lapped at her as it reached it’s farthest distance up the beach. With a sigh she sloughed off her skin, transforming into the beautiful woman she could change into only these three days around the full moon.

Tucking her skin under her arm, she scurried up the soft sand of the beach to the hidden little cave she knew was there. She pushed aside the curtain of vines and tucked her skin inside at the same she pulled out the human clothes she kept there for when she returned. Changing into them, she made sure the little cave was hidden again before setting off down the beach to enjoy her time here on land.

Not far down the beach was a pier where humans tended to gather. They had built restaurants, stores, and even a dive shop over the last decade. She and the others didn’t mind it. It was actually sort of nice to have them around, especially since they mostly stayed around the area that surrounded their pier. Their area just to the north was a designated refuge for wildlife which meant they were mostly left alone but were still near enough to take a swim with people when the mood struck them. The divers could be fun and, honestly, it was hilarious to imagine how many pictures there were out there of her looking adorable with her big black eyes and pert whiskers, waving at another divers go-pro.

She walked down the beach until she could hear the hum of the people mixed with that slight buzz their electric lights gave off that none of them seemed to notice. No one took note of her as she walked through the sparse crowd, heading to the stairs that lead up to the raised pier. It had a beautiful view of her ocean and often there were couples there, standing together watching the beauty of her sea.

Her bare feet felt cold on the damp wooden planks. It was cold, but not yet cold enough to make her wear shoes. They were something she had never really gotten used to. Too constricting and they kept her from feeling the beach, the sea. In winter she bowed to necessity but for now, when it was just that little overlap in the year when summer blended into fall, she would not yet.

Taking a seat on a bench on one side, she quietly watched the people chatting and laughing together. A few older men stood, poles in hand, fishing as they leaned on the wooden rails. A couple passed by, fingers entwined as they spoke quietly together. People seem so happy when they are coupled together, she thought as she watched them. Pairing off wasn’t really something her people did but part of her wondered what it might be like. If there was another like her in her colony, one who could shed their skin and walk in both worlds, perhaps she would pursue such things but, alas, she was the only one.

“Are you waiting for someone?” A voice startled her from her reverie and she turned to find a tall young human male standing very near to her.

“No,” she replied, taking a moment to really look at him. His hair was a light brown, neatly cut to a feathery softness around his ears and neck. It was slightly messy, having been mussed by the winds that were always blowing along the shore. He had dark brown eyes she could only describe as kind as they sparkled in the low light. He was dressed in a white button up shirt with a pale blue sweater vest over it, and jeans of a similar shade. It reminded her of summer mornings, full of the promise of warmth but still cool and fresh as the morning mist began to fade away.

“Would you mind hanging out with me?” He asked, stepping forward but still not taking a seat yet. “I’m not here with anyone either.”

“If you’d like,” she shrugged but scooted closer to one side of the bench. 

“So do you live somewhere near here?” He was fishing for something to talk about.

“Not too far,” she admitted.

“Is that why you’ve come out here so late?” He asked, looking out at the other people rather than at her as he spoke.

“I like this place,” she shrugged, giving a half smile. “It has a lovely view of the sea and it’s not too loud. Not too many people.”

“You like the sea then?” He nodded.

“It’s a part of me,” she spoke honestly, but guessed that the meaning probably escaped the boy beside her.

“I feel like that about music,” he confessed, his face breaking into a joyful grin. “Writing music and singing is just a part of me. I’m not sure who I would be without it.”

“It must be nice to have that kind of passion about something,” she said after a moment's pause. “What sort of music do you do?”

“I like ballads,” he explained shyly. “Love songs and acoustic things.”

“People seem to like things about love,” she remarked, looking at all of the couples around them.

“Love can be wonderful,” He laughed. “It can also hurt like hell, but when you find the one, it's all worth it, you know?”

“Not really,” she admitted, giving him a quizzical look. “I don’t really understand love very well.”

“Haven’t you ever listened to love songs?” He sounded surprised.

“No, not really,” she shrugged and turned her eyes back to the sea.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” He suddenly asked.

“Yes,” she nodded, she had another couple of days on the shore. 

“Can I meet you here tomorrow after school?” His voice was filled with excitement and she couldn’t see the harm. She nodded and he seemed satisfied, standing up with a bright expression on his face. “I should go home, but I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, then I can teach you about love.”

“Alright,” She gave him a nod and watched as he started to walk away.

“I’m Seungmin by the way,” He said before he got too far away. She only waved in response watching him go.

Seungmin spent the whole day thinking about seeing her again. He went to class with only half of his mind on his courses as he thought about the mysterious girl he saw at the beach. He had to admit to the possibility she wouldn’t be waiting for him, or that she wouldn’t care to hang out with him even if she was. It was possible, but something about her made it worth trying. When classes were done, he ran home, grabbed his portable keyboard and headed for the beach with a happy spring to his step.

He found her there, sitting on a rock towards one side of the beach that stretched out in front of the line of shops that surrounded the pier. She sat alone, her knees pulled up to her chest as she looked out at the water. There was something...separate about her. She didn’t seem to fit in with anyone else there and it didn’t seem to bother her that it was true. That aloof, mysterious exterior just made him want to know what there was underneath. He wanted the chance to plumb her depths and explore her inscrutable soul.

“Hi,” Seungmin said as he took a seat on the rock next to hers.

“Hello,” she looked at him with warm eyes. “I wondered if you would actually come today.”

“Of course,” he laughed, giving her a wide and joyful smile. “I have something I wanted to show you.” He pulled out his keyboard and balanced it on his lap. Laying her head on her knees, she watched him flip some switches and make some adjustments before clearing his throat and bringing forth the first few notes from the keyboard on his lap.

“It was a really hard day today. My heart aches for you, the only thing I can do for you, is to be next to you, I'm sorry.” His voice was sweet and melodic as he sang. It had a warmth and intensity that spoke to her soul. Yesterday he had said he loved music and she could hear it in his voice. He was good at it and equally skilled at drawing the notes from the mechanical thing in his lap.

“When you love someone so much that it overflows, it's so amazing because this is how it is. I hope I can be a little helpful at least. I hope I can be your resting place. I'll try to make you feel at peace whenever you think of me during your busy days.

“You're such a soft-hearted person, every time you are silently in pain, even if I have to give my all, I want to make you smile again…” 

They sat together for an hour as he sang some of his favorite love songs; the sad ones and the happy ones, the longing ones and the silly ones. She was sure that he could feel them in his bones as he sang them for her, giving her just a little window on what love meant, at least to him. It seemed selfless, joyful, and sweet, though perhaps that was really just him.

“Thank you,” she said as he took the keyboard off his lap, slipping it back into the bag he had brought with him. “Your voice is beautiful. Sonorous and soulful. It reminds me of the whales.”

“I haven’t ever been compared to a whale,” he laughed. “But thank you.”

“I suppose it is what I think of when I think of beautiful music,” she shrugged, blushing slightly. “I meant it as a compliment at least.”

“Whales are amazing,” he agreed. “We learned about them in school. I’d like to see one in person someday.”

“They are very pretty,” she nodded.

“Have you seen one before?” He asked with excitement.

“A few,” she replied. “But there aren’t that many left.”

“Yeah, we hunted a lot of them nearly to extinction,” Seungmin sighed.

“Humans seem to like killing things,” she observed, thinking of what she knew about people hunting seals like her. 

“Some do,” he admitted. “I’d rather take pictures of them than kill them. I think sometimes it’s harder to get a good photo of something than it is to hunt it.”

“At least everything involved gets a second chance at it when you shoot with a camera rather than with a gun.” She concurred with good humor. They whiled away the hours together on the beach until he had to go home for dinner.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” He asked as he got up to leave.

“Yes,” she nodded. “But then I’ll be gone for a while.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow then,” he promised. 

And he did. When they parted that last day he asked when she would come back. Soon she promised, around the next full moon. So long, he wondered sadly to himself as he rode the bus home that evening, so long to have to wait to see her again.

During the month that he waited for her to return, he still went to the beach most days, just to check and to explore the shore nearby. He spent a few days just wandering up and down that section of beach that was near the pier and it’s shops. There were natural barriers to either side with rocky outcrops reaching into the ocean except at low tide. Really, the area was more a massive cove, it just happened to be so wide it wasn’t terribly noticeable. 

Over the second week, he began to explore beyond the rocks. One side extended into a long rocky beach filled with rocks that had been washed to smooth roundness. As the water washed ashore, it rushed through the rocks making the most wonderful whooshing sound. It was so calming, so rhythmic. I wonder if I could write something that would capture that feeling, he thought as he sat on an outcropping a slight distance from where the water swept in against the shore.

The week after that he went the opposite direction. At low tide he set out, following along the rocky, narrow beach until he found himself in a small horseshoe shaped cove surrounded by high rock walls that were nearly vertical. The cove itself was small and sheltered from the wind. The sea lapped in against the soft sand beach with a quiet sloop sloop sloop.

Taking a seat on a dry part of the beach, Seungmin took out his keyboard to try and write a little something. He dabbled with little tunes, a smattering of notes he combined and tested out, trying to make it match the sound his soul was waiting for. He couldn’t stay terribly long or he risked getting stuck there when the tide came in so he packed up to head back. As he threw his bag over his shoulder, something caught his eye out in the water. A little head was bobbing out among the waves. A seal, he wondered, squinting to try and get a better look. Before he could, it disappeared into the waves.

When the moon rose on the night before the full moon, she came out of the water and slipped her skin. It was getting colder and soon she would have to wear shoes, but now she still stubbornly refused. At least not today. Putting something on, she stole along that long half flooded beach to go look for Seungmin. She was sure he would be here. After all, he had been somewhere along her beach, near the pier, or on the rocky shore almost every day since they had first met. It wasn’t that she had gone to search for him, she assured herself. It was that she happened to see him that first day, then she wondered if he had come back, and eventually it just became a habit to look for him, to see if he had come again. Most days he played music. Sometimes it seemed to be something he knew, a whole song he had long since memorized, but often he seemed to be trying to find something in the notes, trying to invent something new. She liked those times. The sounds, while not perfect and not always sweet and melodic, held a creativity and expressiveness that captured her.

“Seungmin!” She said in surprise as she emerged from around the last outcrop to find him already there, waiting on a blanket on the beach.

“Hello,” he smiled at her, standing up and coming to the edge of his blanket. “I had a feeling you might come from over here.”

“How…” her eyes widened and a fear and suspicion trickled into her heart.

“Just a hunch,” he rushed to assure her. “Come here, I have a surprise for you. Do you want something to eat?” He extended a hand to her, inviting her to sit with him on the blanket. She took his hand, gingerly stepping onto the blanket with her damp feet. Seungmin reached into his basket and pulled out a hand towel he offered her to dry them off. Accepting it, she took a seat, drying her calves and feet which helped them to warm faster. She was grateful and offered him a thanks as she passed it back to him. When he took it back he handed her something else.

“What are these?” She asked, holding up the ball of knitted fabric he seemed to have handed her.

“Socks,” he replied. “Here, let me help.” Taking them back, he unfolded them, rolling one up in his hand before lifting one of her feet and slipping it on her up to her knee. He did the same with her other foot before setting it down with a shy smile.

“They are very warm, thank you,” she said gratefully. Seungmin nodded and turned back to the basket, pulling out a small packet of something and handing it to her.

“It’s a tuna sandwich,” he explained. “I thought you might like it.”

“Thank you,” she peeked inside the parchment paper bag to see the sandwich and the scent of fish wafted out to her. It smelled delicious. Usually she just fasted for the days she was with people. It wasn’t that long and had never really been a problem for her, but she had to admit, it wasn’t something she looked forward to. They ate in silence, both just sitting and looking at the sea, watching as the light faded into night. The night was still as the moon rose and the sun set opposite one another.

“Would you play something for me?” She finally asked.

“I’d love to,” he smiled at her. Pulling out his keyboard, he put it on his lap and turned it on. She stretched out on the blanket and closed her eyes, just wanting to listen to him play, to hear that joyful sound mix with the waves and wind of her home. She recognized small portions of the notes he played from the times he had come and played on those more isolated areas of the beach.

“Do you like it?” He asked when he stopped.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I like your music.”

“Thank you,” He let out a joyful laugh. “I wrote it for you.”

“Why?” She looked at him with questioning eyes.

“I like you,” he admitted shyly. “I wanted to have something to give you. Something you could take with you… even when you aren’t…” he let his voice trail off. There was a good chance he was wrong, that he had let his imagination run wild and had spent too many hours listening to the stories his grandmother liked to tell him.

“You know what I am, don’t you.” She said for him. “Are you going to trap me? Steal my skin.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said with absolute seriousness. “I could never do that; I couldn’t steal your life from you like that.”

“Why not?” She was curious, not that she wished he would but what she knew of humans, she would have guessed that most would have without much thought.

“Because love that comes from a selfish place only brings pain to everyone,” he replied. “I’d rather have just a little time with you that is happy than have you always but filled with sadness.”

“You are very special,” she told him, moving to sit beside him.

“No,” he denied, taking one of her hands in his. “I’m nothing special. Perhaps I just know how lucky I am.” He spread her fingers, gently weaving his in between and looking at how the skin between them went just a little higher than a regular human’s did. He sat with her on the beach as late as he could, heading home only after getting a call from his parents wondering where in the world he was. Packing up his keyboard and his basket, he put his shoes on and started to head up the beach to go home.

“Wait, aren’t you going to take the blanket?” She asked, standing beside it in her socks.

“You can keep it for this visit,” he said as he continued to move away. “I’ll take it back when you go.”

“Thank you,” she said loudly enough to make sure he heard her.

“See you tomorrow,” he waved one last time before he walked out of view. She sat down again, turning her gaze to the water to wait the hours until he would return.

One Year Later

“I have something I have to tell you,” Seungmin told her on the last night of her change.

“What is it?” She said, leaning her head on his shoulder as they ate and watched the sea.

“I’m going to be gone for a while,” he confessed. “I’m going to university in another place. I’ll come back when I can, but…”

“I understand,” she told him. “I knew you couldn’t always be here. I couldn’t ask you to give up your life any more than you could steal my skin.”

“Part of me wishes you would,” he admitted, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and burying his face in her hair that smelled like home to him now.

“You’re still here,” she said, bringing both their hands to sit over her heart. “Even when you aren’t here.”

Over the four years he studied, Seungmin came back as often as he could. When he could stay over the period of the full moon, he camped out in their little cove, bringing a tent they could both stay in together, enjoying the fleeting moments they could steal between them. If he was home when it was time for her to live as a seal, he would come and play for her. Sometimes she would come, wriggling her torpedo like body up onto the shore to nap beside him as he played, and others she would just bob in the shallows, playing in the water as she listened.

When he graduated, he came back home, working jobs to make ends meet as he also worked on his music and composing. In only a few years, he was able to make ends meet with his composing alone. His ability to make music that could pull at your heartstrings or make your heart soar brought money, if not renown to him. It was all he could have asked for. 

When he had saved enough he bought a patch of land among the dunes a little down the beach from their cove and built a simple cottage. It was not large but had enough space for him to live in more than comfort, with a room he could compose in and a porch he could sit out and look at the sea anytime he wished. Now when she came ashore, she had a home to come to, a place that was warm year round and that was safe for her to keep her skin. She never needed shoes and never needed to worry that some adventurous soul would happen across it or that someone would steal it and trap her.

Many Years later

“Seungmin,” she said softly as they lay together under the covers. “I don’t think I can go back tomorrow.”

“Why?” He turned on his side to look at her with concern. She had never, in all the years he had known her, not gone back to the sea. “Is something wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say wrong,” she hedged slightly before taking his hand and placed it on her stomach. “I think it’s going to be like you so it would be best if I stayed like this until it comes.”

“A baby?” He breathed, wonder sparkling in his eyes. “How long?”

“I think as long as it takes people to have a baby,” she replied. “So probably half a year or a little more. I know I haven’t stayed that long before and perhaps it would be safe for me to go back, at least for a little while longer…”

“No,” he interjected quickly. “Stay, please. This is your home always, no matter how long and no matter your form, you can always stay here.”

“Thank you,” she smiled up at him. “Are you happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he asserted. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.”

“If it is like you,” she said timidly. “Can you care for it while I am gone?”

“Of course,” he couldn’t help but sound a little offended that she would even ask. “It is my child. I will love it and provide it with anything it needs.”

“I wasn’t even sure if you wanted children,” she pointed out. “We never spoke on the subject and I didn’t know if you would welcome one at all or not.”

“To have a small piece of you always here with me,” he smiled and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I can’t say how happy it will make me.”

“I’m so happy to know that you want it as much as I do,” she spoke softly, cuddling up to him to go to sleep.

“I love you both,” he replied, pulling her into his arms.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered to the small child in the crib. “But I have never left so much of myself behind before.”

“We’ll be here when you come back,” Seungmin promised, wiping away the warm tear that rolled down her cheek. She stood and hugged him before going to where she kept her skin, stripping her human clothes before walking down to the beach to slip back into her skin and dive beneath the surf.

“Mama!” The little voice shouted from the porch as she saw the seal pop up from the softly lapping tide. “Daddy, mom is home!”

“Let’s go see her,” Seungmin scooped his daughter into his arms and carried her down the path to the beach. She was already on shore by the time they had wound their way through the dunes and sea grass. Her skin sloughed off and draped over one arm, she walked up over the soft sand to them. He greeted her with a kiss, trading their daughter for her skin before the three headed back up the path to their home.

“Sarah, what have you been up to while I’ve been gone?” She asked the little girl.

“I started school!” The little girl shouted.

“That’s wonderful,” she said with a smile.

“Why don’t you go get some of your work to show her?” Seungmin suggested.

“Okay!” The little girl ran upstairs excitedly.

“Welcome home,” He said, giving her a kiss.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she smiled up at him. “I have a surprise.” Placing his hand on her stomach, she smiled up at him.

“Another one?” Seungmin said excitedly. “Does that mean you’ll stay for a while again?”

“Not this time,” Her smile turned slightly sad, but did not disappear.

“Then let’s enjoy the time we have now, while we can.” He pulled her into a hug. 

“Look mama!” Her daughter bounded down the stairs, papers gripped in her arms.

“Let me put something on, then you can show me everything,” She kissed her head before heading to where her clothes were already laid out.

During the long months she could not slip her skin, she stayed near her home, near her beach as much as she could. Seungmin spent many hours watching her swim in the waves or sitting with her as she sunned herself on the shore as their daughter played around them. Then, one day, she was not there alone. She was there with a small, white, fluffy pup.

“He’s beautiful, love,” he told her proudly when he joined her that morning. She fanned out her whiskers proudly, squinting up at him in her best seal smile. 

Still more months passed before their second child was old enough to shift with her and they could both finally come home with Seungmin and her patiently waiting daughter. When the two of them stepped out onto the shore, he was struck by how old his son already looked. Rather than the months old infant he had expected to meet, he looked more like a toddler as he cuddled against his mother, holding her neck as she held him.

“Deacon, Mama!” Sarah shouted, running down to the beach to greet them. “Welcome home!”

“You look so grown up, my love,” she said, kissing her daughter's forehead. 

“I’m in middle school now,” Her daughter beamed at her. “It started last week. School starts earlier now, but I’ll still try to wave good-bye every morning, just in case you can see me in the dark.”

“I can see quite well in the dark,” she assured her. “I will try to be here earlier so that I can see you go.”

“Do you want to see what I am learning?” Her daughter took her mother’s skin and passed her the robe she had brought before doing the same for her younger brother.

“We would love to see what you are learning now,” Her mother nodded.

“What is school like?” Deacon asked, taking his sister’s hand as they walked back up to the cottage.

“It can be fun, but it can also be really boring,” Sarah explained after giving it some thought. “You could always go to school, too.”

“Would I have to stay on land to do that?” Her brother asked.

“Yeah, but it isn’t so bad living up here,” she gave him a good natured laugh.

“I know it's not bad,” Deacon nodded. “But it isn’t really where I belong. I wish I could bring you with me to swim with us and see all there is out in the ocean.”

“Maybe I can learn how to dive and come visit one day,” his sister suggested as they stepped inside.

“If you do, I’ll help you swim,” he promised. “People don’t swim that well, even with the fins and stuff. But I can help.”

“Sarah, can I ask you to help him with something?” Her mother asked, coming back after putting her clothes on.

“What can I do?” Excitement filled her voice.

“Can you see if you can teach him to read a little while we are here?” She suggested. “Just for a little while each time we come. What do you think?”

“Sure! Come on Deacon, let me show you,” the two children rushed upstairs hand in hand.

“Did you really want him to learn, or were you hoping to get a little time with me?” Seungmin chuckled as he stepped out of the kitchen to greet her.

“Perhaps a little bit of both,” she admitted, giving him a happy kiss.

“He’s growing so fast,” Seungmin sighed, casting a glance at where they had disappeared. “I feel like I am missing so much of his life.”

“I know,” she commiserated. “I feel the same about our wonderful girl. But you have done so well raising her.”

“We have,” he agreed pointedly. “We have wonderful children.”

“Sarah Kim, Masters in Marine Biology,” the president announced, signaling it was her moment to step on the stage. Dressed in her graduation cap and gown, she stepped up, shaking the hand of the department heads, professors, and administrators as she made her way to accept her degree. It was perhaps predictable that she would follow this path, having always wanted to be a little closer to her mother’s world that seemed so close yet just out of reach. She wanted to understand it, she wanted to be a part of it, and most of all she wanted to protect it. After all, it was a part of her, too.

In the audience, her mother watched, seated beside her father, having stayed human this time, not wanting to miss this moment. Her brother had gone back to the sea, still far more comfortable there than on land and certainly uncomfortable with such large crowds. Sarah understood, she knew he would be there on the beach when she came back home, giving her a greeting before disappearing back under the waves. She knew he was proud. He had helped her learn and see so much on their dives together. They had both learned to walk in each other’s worlds.

After decades she came back from the sea a final time. She was growing old and, though the sea would always be a part of her, with her end near, she wanted to be with her loved ones. It was time to say goodbye and she could not imagine just never returning; leaving them wondering what had become of her one day when she just disappeared.

“I think I have finally come to stay, my love,” she told Seungmin as she took a seat beside him on the porch of their cottage on the beach.

“No more returning to the sea?” He asked quietly, putting an arm around her. “What about our son? Will he be alright out there, the only one of his kind?”

“He’s an adult and he will find his own path and his own family of his making,” she said with a proud confidence. “It’s not goodbye, just… time to let him go his own way.”

“Would you like me to play you your song?” He asked after a long silence.

“My song?” she asked, giving him a smile.

“You heard the part of it back on the beach the first time you came back to me,” he informed her. “I’ve been working on it ever since. It’s still not done, maybe it never will be, but would you like to hear it anyways?”

“Yes,” she said as she stood, ready to go to the music room where his piano sat, like his small ocean. It was an inseparable part of him, a little bit of his soul.

She stayed that final year in that cottage with the people she loved and still so near to the sea that would always hold a part of her, something even larger when her son was in it’s depths. When her time came, she could say she went without regrets and with her love by her side. Seungmin spread her ashes on their beach and in the sea so she would always be a part of both. He followed her only months after, at peace with his life and what he left behind. The cottage became the home of his daughter and a place where their son could always return to and always call home. His ashes joined hers, on their beach and in their sea, finally uniting them in a single place they could both always be.

Masterlist

[threebeanzinatux]

My Darling Ayah~ A Royal Parent AU

WARNING: There are mentions of death/a dead body, blood, scars and child birth. If any of the above listed things makes you uncomfortable I kindly suggest that you turn away now. If you choose to read do so at your own discretion. I’m sorry but I won’t be taking responsibility for anyone who ha been triggered by anything written in this piece as I’ve given more than enough warning. Thanks for reading ~ Cookie🍪 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A king hastily marched down the corridors of his castle. He was about to miss something of extreme importance. As the thought weighed on his mind, his pace began to quicken. Quickly shifting from a speed walk, to a light jog. Eventually he broke out into a full sprint, thundering down the castle halls as he searched desperately for the room his wife and their future child were being kept in. His heart began racing at the prospect of arriving too late when suddenly he heard a woman’s scream echo throughout the grand building. The shrill sound was carried down the hallway and like a bucket of cold water dumped on his head, it washed over him. This seemed to revitalise the king and he began running with a new fervour. His heavy boots hit the marble floors with loud thuds, matching the pace of his beating heart. He felt as the sweat began to roll down the smooth skin of his temple but he dared not pause to wipe it, instead continuing to run. His sword clanged loudly at his side as the metal of his boots collided with the scabbard every time he took a step. He’d just returned from battle and had hoped to celebrate the kingdom’s victory with his wife and their citizens. However, his plans were thwarted, for as soon as he entered through the grand doors of his home, dripping with sweat and stained in the blood of his enemies, a servant sidled up to him. The tall and lanky man leaned into the king’s ear to whisper the news to him. The news of his wife’s early labour. It seemed the stress of knowing her husband may not come back home had severely affected her, stressing her and coincidentally sending her into premature labour. The king, wasting no time, thanked the servant for the information before starting off towards the room they’d made prior plans to have the birth in. It was close to the back of the castle, away from listening ears and prying eyes. It was a small, dimly lit room with a single bed and a large table at the foot of the bed. The proximity to the castle’s wrap around moat meant there was an abundance of cool air in the room, meaning the need not worry about the queen overheating. As the king reminisced about this, he found himself in a familiar corridor. There was a second scream, much louder than the first, coming from the room at the end of the passage. The king’s brows raised and a smile found its way onto his bearded face, crinkling the corners of his almond shaped eyes and scrunching his slim nose. This was how his wife saw him in her final hours. For as soon as the king burst through the door of the delivery room and made his way over to his wife, she gazed up at him with glossy eyes and a sweet smile. As if she knew what was soon to occur. “Sirius…” The queen’s soft voice called out to the king, flowing along the curve of her slender arms as she reached up to cup his cheeks. Her eyes roved his face lovingly, her fingers stroking the grooves and wrinkles that rested there from aging. Her thumb traced over his lips and the scar that ran through his brow, over his right eye and down to his right cheek. The same scar he’d received in a previous battle that ended up partially blinding him. The king’s hands came up to rest gently atop his queen’s, the smile that illuminated his still handsome face never once faltering. This urged the queen to give him another smile of her own. A melancholy smile that spoke of unforeseen horror. The king, in a daze of happiness, mistook this as a smile of reassurance and simply closed his eyes and leaned into his lover’s touch. The sweet moment was broken when the queen suddenly furrowed her brows, grey eyes narrowing in pain. The lines adorning her forehead spoke volumes of her struggle, causing the king to grasp her hands tighter in his. The queen lowered her gaze to the blonde haired midwife at the foot of the bed and bit her lip, preparing herself to bring their baby into the world. The birth was short, with less screaming than before it began. It seemed the contractions were worse than the actual birthing process in this case. As the queen gave one final push, she squeezed the king’s hands tightly, prompting him to lean closer to her and place gentle, loving kisses atop her head. At the end of her struggle, the queen exhaled heavily and a loud wail filled the room. Though the royals thought it impossible, the king’s smile widened even further, his thick brows raising higher and almost disappearing into his hairline. The king released a gusty laugh and turned to look at his queen who seemed to be growing paler by the minute. Overcome with joy, the king failed to notice her grip on his large hands loosening. He released her hands and in three large strides, stood next to the midwife and her two helpers who were in the process of cleaning the child. ‘Oh?’ The king thought. ‘A girl?’

Images of what his daughter would look like as she aged flooded his mind, making his chest swell with pride. He chuckled loudly and swept a hand through his chocolate brown locks at the thought. The queen, on what was to be her deathbed, smiled as she watched him fawn over their child. She was certain he would do well in raising the little girl. Knowing she hadn’t much time left, the queen pushed herself up into a sitting position and called out to her king.

“Sirius, I want to see…” She called. Her soft voice, like a soothing melody, reached the king’s ears causing him to turn and smile at her before nodding swiftly. He washed his hands free of the blood and sweat that remained before carefully taking the still crying baby from the midwife’s arms. He cradled the small child, amazed at the difference in size between his hand and her head. She was so tiny, after all, she was born two months early. The king brushed a bruised knuckle over the baby’s ruddy cheek, shushing her softly and gently bouncing her. This seemed to work as the baby’s cries got quieter. The king smiled and walked back towards his queen, gazing at her with love and apparent pride shining in his stormy blue eye. The queen smiled again, the corners of her eyes crinkling similarly to that of her husband and she lifted her arms to receive the child. Gently, she adjusted the baby so that her head rested on her bosom and she sighed. 

‘You’re here.’

She thought as her vision began to fade. ‘You’re finally here…’

She bowed her head and placed a kiss on the little girl’s cheek, causing the baby to open her eyes and look up at her joyful parents. The queen gasped and her eyes filled with tears as she gazed into the baby’s beautiful grey eyes. Identical to her own. The queen laughed, a sweet tinkling laugh that made all others in the little room smile brightly as they watched their royal family.

Alas, good things can only last for so long.

As the queen’s laughter died down, she leaned back against the cushions to meet her husband’s loving gaze with one of her own and she sighed her final words.

“Thank...you...Sirius~” Her voice trailed off as her grey eyes dimmed and her arms slacked. The king’s smile wavered as he leaned closer to her, wondering if she had perhaps fallen ill. As he leaned closer, he noticed that her smile seemed frozen and her eyes were only half open and unblinking. His heart, which hadn’t stopped pounding, seemed to skip a beat once he recognised the signs.

‘She was gone? No...She couldn’t be.’ He frowned and his brows drew closer together.

‘She has to be here to watch our child flourish....She promised she would.’

The king reached out a trembling hand to his queen. Anxiously, he touched her cheek. It was still warm and that gave him a small flicker of hope. He gently gripped her shoulder and shook it, only serving to further loosen the queen’s grip on the child. The baby, startled by the sudden movement, let out a loud wail. As if it were a siren, the king’s eyes widened abruptly in realisation. He grabbed both of the queen’s shoulders and shook her, desperately attempting to wake her. “IRIDESSA!” His deep voice filled the room, plunging it into a frenzy of motion. The baby screamed and began kicking, while the king shook his wife’ body, unaware that his child was dangerously close to following in its mother’s footsteps. The midwife noticed this and immediately ran to catch the child, cradling it against her chest before running out of the room with her helpers to go and fetch the doctor and mortician. The king remained in the room, but at this point he’d stopped shaking the queen and was now crying. At some point he’d gotten on the bed and straddled her, trying his hardest to get a response from what he knew but could not bring himself to believe was his dead lover.

“Iridessa please! Answer me!” He yelled, his eyes wide and fearful as he waited to no avail for a response. The king hunched over and buried his face in the crook of the corpse’s neck as the sobs racked his body and the tears blinded his left eye. Wrapping his arms around her, he adjusted himself so he was cradling her body in his lap, uncaring of the blood staining her white maternity gown. He held her close and stayed like that, crying and begging her to come back to him. He pressed his forehead against her own, staring into her vacant, unseeing eyes with a deep sadness he’d never previously experienced and tried again.

“Please my love...come back to me…” Still, no response. Of course, the king hadn’t expected to receive one, yet the deafening silence seemed to hurt worse than it had before.

 He shut his eyes again, and hugged her closer, savouring the remaining warmth in her body and continued to cry. He cried and cried until the midwife returned with the baby, doctor and a mortician in tow, only releasing her to allow the doctor to examine the body. He lay her down gently, passing his hand over her face once to properly close her eyes and put her to rest. Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, he smiled down at her and swept her long black hair out of her face for the last time. Silently, the king washed his hands in the basin of water at the back of the room which had long since gone cold and walked over to the midwife. He stopped before her and wordlessly plucked his child out of the woman’s arms. 

The midwife watched him as he walked away with the infant, too shocked to say anything. She briefly caught his eye and winced at the pain swirling in its depths before bowing her head and turning away. The king exited the room, shutting the door quietly so as not to disturb his sleeping beloved. Leaning against the wall by the door, he cradled the child in one arm and reached down to unbuckle the sword strapped to his waist. It clattered to the floor loudly and soon his body followed as he slid down the wall. He sat on the floor and raised his legs to prop the infant up on his thighs. Placing his arms on both sides of his legs to prevent her from rolling, he smiled at the baby’s sleeping face. He allowed his eyes to roam her face, noting that the child seemed to take after her mother in features more so than she did her father. The tears began welling up again, but this time they didn’t fall. He lifted a hand to gently caress his daughter’s cheek and whispered.

“You are very small and very powerful, though you do not yet know it, but you could loose a single cry, my little one, and I’d burn down empires to dry your tears.”

The king’s smile widened slightly as he, for the first time, uttered the new princess’ name.

“My darling Ayah”

On that day, the king made a vow, a vow that he would uphold ‘til his last breath had left his body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Credit to @theprofessionalpromptmaker for this wonderful writing prompt.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Do you hear what I hear - Harry Hook x reader - soulmate!AU

Soulmate au type, hearing your soulmate sing.

=

Harry had never heard a voice, not once in his life, from a wee babe to a rowdy teen, not a single note had echoed in his head.

His father had praised him, for his son, the only VK without a soulmate! It was one of the few times he had been vocally proud of his son.

While harry had preened at the praise in front of his father and his “friends”

Only he, his sisters, and uma knew the truth.

Harry wanted a soulmate, someone to truly understand and love him, someone to help him through his episodes and attacks, someone to just be there with him.

But alas, he had never heard a voice, so the only likely conclusion was he didn’t have one.

Until one Christmas season, when he was 18, his very first Christmas in Auradon.

A voice, a beautiful voice, echoed in his head.

Oh holy night, the stars are brightly shining~

What? Harry bolted up from his school desk, in awe as the voice filled his mind.

It is the night, of our dear saviors birth

Harry was so distracted by the voice, he didn’t hear FG call his name, so as she tapped her ruler on his desk, scaring him slightly.

“now what is so important that you couldn’t hear me Mr.Hook?”

“i-I” his voice cracked, tears beginning to fill his eyes “I can hear singing”

FG stern look melted into pure shock and joy, having been told of Harry's misfortune.

“oh my! That’s wonderful! Ohoh!!! Class dismissed!”

Uma bolted right up, her mouth opened in a wide grin.

“you can hear them!!!”

Harry started to laughed, touching his ears “I can hear them!!”

“It must have been the barrier that blocked the magic!”

Harry felt hot tears of joy slip down his cheeks, his face daring to split from the grin.

“i-I have a soulmate!”

“you have a soulmate!”

Long lay the world~, in sin and error pining. Till he appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

=

Mary did you know~ that your baby boy, would one day walk on water~?

Harry sighed, leaning on his hand, listening to the voice flowing through his ears.

“dude you haven’t even met them and you are smitten!” uma teased, pinching his ear. Harry flinched away from her, pouting.

“they’re meh soulmate uma,  of course, I am”

Uma chuckled “I know I know, so when are you gonna go on the hunt?”

Harry shrugged, smiling as the voice became for powerful “aye Dinnie kae, im just kinda hopin’ tha’ I’ll just find ‘em” uma smiled fondly.

“you will, maybe for christmas~!”

=

You had never heard a voice, you had never run to your parents exclaiming ‘I hear them!’ they were sad for you.

Because there were only two options, one: you didn’t have one, or two: they were on the isle of the lost.

Honestly? You preferred the latter because it meant you still had someone to love, and someone to love you.

You…you didn’t sing a lot, you had grown up with taunts and bullying about your voice, so you were a quiet one.

Except when Christmas came around, oh boy.

You couldn’t stop singing, at least when you were alone.

“Mary did you know~ that your baby boy, would save our sons and daughters~? Did you know~ that your baby boy, has come to make you new~”

You sang softly as you wrapped presents for your secret Santa present, for Harry Hook, the new pirate boy.

You had to admit, he was extremely handsome, his voice wasn’t bad either, the Scottish accent did things to you.

Though you had never talked to him, being the shy person you were. You really wanted to though, you felt such an odd pull from him.

Just come on and tell it like it is, oh yeah, just come out and say it~

You stopped, your entire body freezing, as a male voice began to echo through your head.

“no way” you whispered, slowly sinking to the floor, joyful tears beginning to burn at your eyes.

Take a chance and the words fall out, open up let me hear you know~ ohh ooh, just come on and tell it like it is

You knew this voice, you had listened to him speak for hours.

Harry Hook.

=

The voice had stopped, Harry had sourly accepted after a few days that it would not continue. he would get tunes of Christmas songs stuck in his head, which he realized was his soulmate humming something.

But no full-on singing running through his head.

His soulmate wasn’t singing anymore.

And honestly? He was kinda sad, and also it was almost Christmas, he was hoping to find his soulmate by then. And Christmas was in three days.

Harry sighed, breathing into his hands, trying to warm them up when he noticed a person stuck outside in the snow.

Quickly jogging outside, he caught them before they were blown over by the wind.

“woah there” harry called, letting his arms wrap around them and bring their smaller form into his side “I've got yeh”

Harry hurried them inside the warm school dorms, they felt like ice.

“hey are yeh okay?” they looked up and Harry's heart stuttered when he met (e/c) eyes, and blown (h/l) (h/c) hair, lips and face darkened from the cold.

“uh-uh” they shuttered, teeth chattering from the cold “y-yeah-the-thanks--h-har-harry”

Harry swallowed harshly, nodding “uh yeah no prob-wait yeh know my name?” they raised their brow.

“uh yeah? You’re quite popular around the school?”

“oh” harry shuffled on his feet, slightly embarrassed in front of the pretty person in front of them “so uh, can I know yer name?”

“oh” they smiled, white teeth showing “my names (y/n)”

“nice the meet yeh (y/n)” you held your hand out, letting harry shake it “now what were yeh doing out in the cold little (lassie/laddie)?”

“oh um” you blushed “I was getting a last-minute thing for my soulmate” Harrys heart began to hurt, but he didn’t know why.

“really? Alright, well I see yeh later?” you nodded, clutching your jacket closer.

“yeah! See ya later”

You started to walk away, biting your lip as you walked away from your soulmate.

=

It was Christmas, and Harry hadn't heard a peep from his soulmate, and now it was time for the class secret Santa, and it was his turn.

FG gave him his gift, he nodded slightly, frowning at the small package.

“wow, someone didn’t spend much on you huh hook” Chad taunted, wincing as Lonnie smacked his shoulder.

Harry glared slightly, opening the envelope and raising his brows at what he saw.

Meet me in the chapel, were the sound of music echos to the heavens, at midnight tonight.

-your soulmate.

below the note was a scarlet red thick scarf, his initials sewed into the edge.

Harry blinked wildly, jaw-dropping slightly, his-his soulmate? They wanted to meet him.

…

Alright then, he showed the letter to uma, who squealed slightly, hitting his shoulder.

“you gotta go!” harry sighed, nodding. “I will”

=

Said the night wind to the little lamb, Do you see what I see

Way up in the sky little lamb, Do you see what I see

A star, a star. Dancing in the night

With a tail as big as a kite, With a tail as big as a kite

Harry heard two voices, one within his mind, and another echoing from the chapel. Harry walked closer, tightening the scarf around his neck, the voice coming from the building becoming louder than his mind.

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy, Do you hear what I hear

Ringing through the sky shepherd boy, Do you hear what I hear

A song, a song. High above the trees

With a voice as big as the sea, With a voice as big as the sea

 There was (y/n), their voice, their amazing voice echoing on the walls, rebounding and surrounding him.

“(y/n), yer my” Harry whispered, watching as their voice became more powerful.

Said the king to the people everywhere, Listen to what I say

Pray for peace people everywhere, Listen to what I say

The child, the child, Sleeping in the night

He will bring us goodness and light

He will bring us goodness and light

He will bring us goodness and light

They looked angelic, their air gleaming under the candlelight of the chapel, their lips moving softly with their voice, dressed in a ravishing (suit/dress).

(this but crimson red)

They slowly danced around, (dress/suit) flowing around them.

“soulmate?” (y/n)s voice came to a stop, opening their eyes and locking with his.

“harry” they whispered, a small blush on their face, “I didn’t know if you would come”

“well,” Harry stuttered, patting down his red jacket, now feeling underdressed “i-I had ta, I wanted the-I needed ta meet meh soulmate?”

(y/n) smiled, making Harrys heart race as they stepped closer “that’s-that’s good, I really wanted to meet you too”

“re-really” harry grinned, biting his lip nervously, playing with his fingers.

“Yeah, ya know, oddly enough I've had a major crush on you” (y/n) laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of their head, shuffling their feet.

Harry felt his face burn, he stepped closer, reaching his hand out “im harry hook” and now he felt stupid, face burning hotter as (y/n) giggled.

“pfft, feeling that awkward huh? Well harry hook” they shook his hand, a bright grin on their face “im (y/n), the descendant of (Disney character)”

“Nice ta meet yeh (y/n)” Harry muttered shyly, smiling.

“I hope we get along”

“We have to” (y/n) laughed, pulling Harry in and hugging him “ we’re soulmates after all~!”

--the end--

@marichat4lyf​

@sweetweasleygirl​

[kathrynethegreat]

Dr.Lecter and Leda and the Swan

The below is from an essay by the artist Anne Shingleton discussing Leda and the Swan, her artwork, and why she believes Hannibal Lecter likes it. The essay was originally provided by the now defunct Hannotations from the contributors BloodandIvory and NyxFixx. Minor content edits by me, but you can read the full essay here. You can also learn more about Anne Shingleton and her artwork at her official website.

[Lecter’s] absentee landlord apparently had a fixation on Leda and the Swan, The interspecies coupling was represented in no less than four brozes of varying quality, the best a reproduction by Donetello, and eight pantings. One painting delighted Dr.Lecter, an Anne Shingleton with its genius anatomical articulation and some real heat in the fucking. The others he draped. - Hannibal, Chapter 97, by Thomas Harris

Ever since the misty dawn of Greek mythology, Leda and her doting swan have lived and loved in countless poets' lays and, less ephemerally, in thousands upon thousands of embodiments in paint, line, stone and metal.

They appear in the arts of Rome and Hellas in a profusion of sizes and materials, from golden bracelet pendants and silver table ornaments to great sculptures cast in bronze and hewn from marble (such as the Great Relief in the British Museum), from delicate drawings on precious ceramics to colourful frescoes on the walls of atria and chambers. But after the decline of Rome they nodded off into the many long centuries of bleak post-Roman Europe, awaking briefly now and then and here there to invigorate some ornamental arts and crafts of the Middle Ages.

(The essay, as well as an image of Anne Shingleton’s version of Leda and the Swan is below the cut. It’s a little bit graphic, so fair warning)

                                             Leda and the Swan by Anne Shingleton

It was the Italian Renaissance with its exuberant rediscovery of classical antiquity & say, from about 1400 or so onward that brought them once again into the limelight of profane (in the sense of non-ecclesiastical) imagery. Nearly all the great Renaissance artists drew, painted or sculpted their Ledas, conspicuous among these being an oil-on-canvas by Leonardo Da Vinci, known only through several copies by his followers, and Michaelangelo’s stunning marble, today in Florence's Bargello. From there they coupled their way through the next five centuries and far beyond Italy's shores and borders, into and out of the Baroque and Rococo, into the nineteenth century to brighten some sclerotic corners of Neo-Classicism, and eventually even into Art Nouveau, there briefly to beguile a languorous Belle Époque. After August 1914 they withered, along with the rest of Europe's humanistic culture. 

Nevertheless, even today, in our own age of mostly meretricious rubbish art mass-produced to con newly-rich illiterates, they glow softly still among the now very distant and still receding constellations of our classical heritage.

Who, then, was Leda, and who the swan?

Antiquity sang several different versions of her tale. Most agree that she was the daughter of Thestius, king of Aetola, and the wife of Tyndraeus, king of Lacedaemon. Somehow she inflamed the passions of Zeus, Some said that he saw her bathing in a sparkling sun-drenched stream, others that Hephaistos had told him about her dissatisfaction with her husband's ways in bed, and others still that he was only out to spite his consort, Hera.

In any event, he was smitten and, having just lately visited Danae as a shower of gold, Europa as a bull, Io as a cloud, Ganymede as an eagle and others still in guises no less inventive, he decided to assume yet another one for his tryst with Leda: he would swoop down majestically on snowy pinions . . . as a swan.

Mythology fails to tell us whether these forms were mere travelling costumes, so to speak, and whether, as we may well suppose, upon arrival at the bedside he reassumed his customary and divine semblance of a robust, virile man in the prime of his maturity. I've heard that a swan's penis - to be precise: a cob's - is exactly like a circumcised human one in miniature, and that this gave rise to the amorous-swan legends . . . but I confess that I've never checked it out with a cygnologist, though I should've done so long ago. Perhaps some thoughtful cygnologist will let me know?

In any event, swan or man, he had his way with her, or she with him, or each with the other. Of it came an egg, or, in other versions, three eggs, and in others still seven, and you mustn't act surprised: when a fertile lady mates with a cob she'll lay eggs - faultless logic, that, and winsome science. 

One tremendous event that soon followed was to become a bedrock and fountainhead of Western culture: for whilst out of two eggs hatched the twins Castor and Polydeuces.

I relinquish the podium to Homer. 

My own versions…. differ a little from the conventional ones. For one thing, neither my painted nor my sculpted Zeus arrives in the form of a swan but rather dressed up as one . . . he's wearing a (rather skimpy) swan costume, under which he is very much the Chief Olympian: strong, handsome, supremely male, his ebullient libido refined by aeons (he being immortal) of experience and divine dedication to his beloved's (not always female) pleasure. 

For another thing, most Leda depictions are intra-coital: it's happening, nobody can figure out just how but they're at it. My painting instead shows them as post-coital.

In the painting, the oil lamp on the rocks just right of the love nest is still burning but night is fleeing, crescent Selene is fading, colours are being reborn everywhere. First light is bathing the two dreamy, sated lovers. Birds chirp in chorus. An exquisite post-orgasmic Leda is savouring the last after-tremors of her lique-factions while scenting the dewy flowering of day. Zeus has retired to the top of the bower, his costume all awry, a smile of surfeit on his lips. Post coitum omne animal triste, said Aristotle: after mating all creatures are sad. I think there is truth in that, but it is more complex, less formulaic. The martyrs enter the arena hand in hand but the lions eat them one by one. Lovers in the act dispense with the meum-teum sense (Robert Graves), but after the shared orgasmic heats, the post-orgasmic chills overtake them one by one, and, slowly, deliciously if all went well, they drift apart, sometimes a little numbed, nearly always bewildered, on separate outbound tides. Even, or perhaps especially, if they're gods. My painted Leda and her god are poised over this hot-cold watershed. Until the next time…

Why does the doctor 'delight' in the Leda story? I don't know. Best ask Tom Harris. But I'll have a guess.

As he does in The Silence of the Lambs, as does so much literature both old and modern, Harris draws unconsciously or knowingly - I don't know which - on the world of myth and fable, that genome of the collective human subconscious. The leitmotif in both Silence and Hannibal, not deafening or intrusive but audible throughout from the dark beyond the firelight, is that of The Beauty and The Beast. Since I'm neither a poet nor a scholar I'll refrain from windy disquisitions, but to me the parallels between that fable and the interbraiding of the lives of Hannibal and Clarice Starling seem clear enough.

Clarice-Leda has taken vestal vows, has dedicated her body and soul to the FBI: not for her the traditional role of wife and woman as prescribed by patriarchal orthodoxy. Like the life of chaste and virginal Beauty, Clarice's life, so far as we've been told, is manless, and hence, conventional wisdom would have it, arid. The fable now demands that she be sexually fulfilled, 'sexually' having here a wide, deep, polyhedral meaning far beyond mere genital tiddlywinks.

Lecter-Swan is a beast, no doubt of that, and no need to dwell on definitions. The fable now demands that she make him human, meaning here humane. 

And behold, in the book, though alas not in the film, both undergo the magical transformation: Beauty turns the Beast humane, the Beast wafts Beauty to, up and over the moany summit where she is, presumably, fulfilled. Both are reborn from scratch - from the egg, so to speak, through each other.

I think that could well be why the doctor delights in the one painting in the room that he leaves uncovered for Clarice to see.

Anne Shingleton

[rickyxginaa]

Skate Park

a/n: I AM SO SORRY this definitely was supposed to be posted last week but then the end of the semester stressed me tf out and now we’re here!! but i made it extra long to make up for the delay <3

Part One

*****

“Well, if it isn’t the Ricky Bowen himself.”

Ricky and Gina’s conversation is interrupted by a teenage boy with dirty blonde surfer hair wearing a tight, long sleeve shirt that definitely emphasized his six-pack.

Ricky laughed and dapped the boy up, “What’s up, Mason?”

“Not much, but we missed you man! Where have you been?”

“You know, school and stuff.”

“Ah whatever, it’s all good. Gina’s been keeping us company.” Mason went over and hugged Gina for barely more than five seconds but to Ricky, it felt like an eternity. He didn’t know the two would be as close as they were but then again, he doesn’t really know anything about Gina’s life anymore.

“I’m way better anyway.” Gina joked as she let go of Mason and went to greet the rest of the guys she usually hangs out with each weekend leaving Ricky and Mason alone.

“Damn right.” Mason said under his breath while staring at Gina as she walked away. Ricky looked back and forth between the both of them and grew suspicious.

“Do you like her or something?” Ricky asked with evident attitude in his voice.

“Like her? No. She’s gorgeous and we flirt sometimes but she definitely has feelings for someone else.” 

Ricky decided to ignore the whole ‘flirting’ comment. What really intrigued him was what Mason said about her having feelings for someone else. “How do you know she likes someone?”

“Dude, she’s resisting me. That’s the only logical explanation.”

Who can it be? It can’t be anyone from their friend group because everyone is basically in a relationship. Maybe it was Rico, he had caught him eyeing her at rehearsals the other day. Or maybe it’s EJ, she does live with his cousin and they hang out all the time so it only makes sense that she’s fallen for him. Unless, Ricky was completely wrong about both of them and Mason was just trying to protect his fragile ego because Gina isn’t falling at his feet. He thought it’d be best to go with the latter.

“Why do you even care anyway? Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Mason said. Ricky furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Mason goes to West High and they haven’t talked since the beginning of the school year, so Ricky wondered how he even knew about Nini. 

The curly haired boy began to notice Gina down in the rink practicing her tricks and was anxious to join her so he cut the conversation with Mason short.

“Um, yeah I do. But we’ll catch up later, alright?” Ricky moved towards Gina with his skateboard. 

*****

Two hours had passed and during that time the two teenagers were the happiest they’d been in weeks. Ricky caught up with all his skater friends and Gina even ended up teaching Ricky some new tricks. Of course, Mason incessantly flipped his pretty hair and tried flirting with Gina but unfortunately for him, she was too consumed by Ricky. Gina’s not blind, she knows how attractive Mason is and she’s picked up on his frequent flirtations. She’d be an idiot to not give it a chance. 

Nonetheless, she couldn’t get past the fact that his piercing green eyes don’t mesmerize her the same way Rick’y chocolate eyes did. Nor was his wavy hair shaped into delicate curls. Gina could go on and on about how Mason and pretty much any other guy she’s ever met will never compare to Ricky. But that’s not a particularly healthy strategy since she’s supposed to be moving on from him.

Although they were having a great time, it was getting late and both of them had to be home soon. 

“I had so much fun tonight.” Gina smiled from ear to ear as she took off her gear.

“Same here. You’re pretty good, Porter. But don’t worry, I’m gonna get my title back.” Ricky teased.

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you next weekend, Bowen?”

“As Troy Bolton would say, bet on it.” Ricky cringed as soon as the words came out of his mouth followed by Gina’s laughter.

“I think all these musicals are finally getting to you.”

“They really are. But um, do you need a ride home? We could stop for ice cream if you want?” Her heart started pounding. If Gina didn’t know any better, she’d think Ricky just asked her on some kind of informal date. But of course, Nini was the one that he loved, not her. 

Before she could respond, Mason appeared. “Hey G, need a ride home?” 

Ricky visibly sucked in a breath as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Mason had been getting on his nerves a lot more than usual tonight and Ricky couldn’t really figure out why.

Gina glanced over at Ricky. She could either go get ice cream with the boy who she was supposed to be getting over or ride home with the boy who was most likely just trying to get in her pants. 

“Uh, actually Ricky’s taking me home.”

She was never good at making decisions anyway.

*****

Ricky and Gina sat in Ashlyn’s driveway in his car while enjoying their frozen treats.

“Ugh, you have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve had ice cream. Ashlyn’s mom is starting this new diet and forbids anything that’s actually edible.” Gina excitedly licked her chocolate ice cream, unaware that she accidentally got some on her nose. Ricky smirked at the sight.

“What?” Gina wondered what could be so funny about her basically being starved by Ashlyn’s mom.

“Um, you just got a little something.” Ricky reached over and gently wiped the ice cream with his thumb. His touch sent shivers down Gina’s spine, it’s been so long since they had any kind of physical contact and it was taking an obvious effect on the teenage girl. To her dismay, it seemed as though Ricky was completely unfazed. 

“I forgot to thank you. For tonight, I mean. You really helped get my mind off things.” Ricky ran his free hand through his locks. 

Gina nodded. “Of course Ricky. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, what was your fight with Nini about?” 

Ricky’s shoulders tensed as he was reminded of the huge argument him and his girlfriend had beforehand. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk about that particular subject but it’s been proven time and time again that he couldn’t say no to the girl sitting beside him. 

“If I tell you, will you answer a question of mine?” If Ricky was going to indulge in his relationship with Nini, he might as well get something out of it.

Gina shrugged her shoulders, “Sure, whatever you want.”

Ricky took a deep breath and exhaled, “Um, you probably haven’t noticed but Nini and I are not exactly ... good right now.” She would think that upon hearing this news, she’d be ecstatic. But that wasn’t how Gina was now, she wanted Ricky’s happiness and seeing him in pain just made her world crumble. 

“Every day, it’s a new fight. Sometimes I wonder why we’re even dating anymore. Which is what my idiot self told her today and it was just some big blow up. Things were said, she threw me out of her house and now I’m here.” Ricky slowly looked at Gina to see her reaction, sadness was written all over her beautiful face.

“Ricky, I may not have been at East High long but ... I know you and Nini are good for each other. Sure, you guys have been hitting some bumps but c’mon, you’re the Ricky and Nini. Your love will bring you back together, just give it time.” Gina always puts Ricky’s feelings above her own, she’s like that way with everybody. If that meant putting on a facade, so be it.

Ricky scoffed, “You think so?” 

Gina plastered a small smile on her face, “I know so.”

“Well, I guess it’s time for my question. Mason mentioned that he’s been flirting with you but he thinks you like someone else. Is that true?”

Gina was taken aback by his question. Was he serious? Why does he want to know if I like someone? If they lived in a parallel universe maybe she would find the courage to admit that her feelings for him were growing uncontrollably and how she’s terrified of this newfound feeling. Maybe she’d confess how hurt she was when he dropped their friendship like it was nothing even after everything they’ve been through. Alas, she couldn’t possibly say any of that.

“If you’re asking me if I like Mason, the answer is no.” A heavy weight lifted off of Ricky’s shoulders. Good, he thought, she deserved much better than him. She didn’t fully answer his question but it’ll have to do. “My turn again, do you still have that terrible hat I made you?”

Ricky’s face brightened as he pulled the middle console up and grabbed the hat Gina made, it felt like years since she initially gave it to him.

“Got it right here, I would never throw it away. Do you still have that hoodie I gave you when we went to the mall that one day?”

Gina smiled to herself as she thought of that memory, “Yeah, it’s hanging in my closet.” She made sure to leave out the minor detail of how she had slept in that hoodie on multiple occasions, up until Ashlyn brought her back to reality. 

She still had it. Ricky didn’t know why but he felt this strong urge to do something, anything. He found himself leaning closer towards her, causing Gina’s entire body to freeze. All common sense Ricky had inside him flew out the window as he looked down at her soft lips and back up to her wide brown eyes.

Gina had no idea what was happening, with Ricky being so unbelievably close to her, it was impossible to think clearly. Ricky just wanted to feel that passion again, the kind of passion he knows he would feel with Gina. He wanted to feel like he actually mattered to someone. He stared longingly at her face as he pushed a stray curl behind her ear. 

Gina was sure he could hear her heart physically exploding inside her chest but remained silent as she was unsure of where this was going. He lightly placed his finger under her chin as she bit her lip. He couldn’t take it anymore, she was driving him crazy. He had missed her so much over the past few weeks and tonight proved that he never wanted to be away from her again. 

One kiss, that’s all he needed. 

“Kiss me.” Ricky whispered. 

[lady-divine-writes]

The Prince of the Sea and his Child of Fire - Chapter 10/15 (Rated NC17)

Summary: Blaine is a water sprite, prince of the undersea kingdom and sole heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen and his big coronation, he decides to take a journey to the surface, to seek out a legendary flame said to be tended by an evil witch. Instead of a witch, he finds something else entirely ...

Kurt is a fire fairy, prince of a race of fire fairies and heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen (on the night of a full solar eclipse when he will transform and become king), he sees for the first time in his life a water sprite - a member of a race that he's been raised to hate.

What will happen when these two mortal enemies fall in love? Is there any way for them to escape destiny and be together?

Read on AO3.

Chapter 10

The frigid breeze off the water stings Kurt’s wings, but he pushes on, even when he begins to fear that they will become brittle and snap. The farther away from the Eternal Flame he flies, the colder he feels, as if he’s losing all the heat in his body. He has heat of his own, of course, but it’s not the same. Fire fairies come from the flame. It’s their source of life. His mother always warned him to stay in close proximity to it.

He wonders how far away from it he can go and still feel its warmth.

He tries not to think about it. Instead, he focuses on Blaine swimming below him, his body cutting through the water as he zips beneath the surface. Kurt has not seen him like this before – his strong arms and legs propelling him along, the line of his back straight so he can slice through the swells. Blaine is handsome on land, but he’s powerful in the sea.

A sea that is no longer safe for him.

Kurt wraps his arms around his torso and shivers, but thoughts of Blaine’s body keep him warm.

Blaine stops swimming so suddenly, Kurt flies past him about a mile before he can stop. Blaine breaks through the surface and calls up to his fairy.

“I’m looking for a big sea turtle! Do you happen to see her anywhere?”

Kurt looks around him at the water as far as he can see. There are only a few animals on the surface, though it would probably help Kurt if he knew what a sea turtle looked like.

“How will I know a sea turtle if I see one?” Kurt calls back.

“She’s large and round, with a broad, flat shell,” Blaine replies.

Kurt turns a full circle, surveying the animals he can see. There are four that fit that description, but he’s not too sure about any of them, and he doesn’t have time to be wrong.

“Here!” Kurt flies down to Blaine. He grabs the sprite’s arm and tugs. Blaine lifts his arms up so the fairy can loop his around his chest and lift him into the air. Kurt flies with Blaine into the sky and shows him the lay of the water.

“There!” Blaine points to the east. “Right on the surface, bobbing through the kelp! There she is!”

Kurt squints, looking at the creature sitting amid a massive bed of brown plant-looking things.

“Got it,” he says, setting Blaine back gently in the water.

Blaine takes Kurt’s arm before he can fly away and runs his hand along the fairy’s pale skin.

“You’re cold,” Blaine says, pressing his lips to the back of Kurt’s hand. It’s a small dot of warmth on a frigid landscape, but it’s enough to make Kurt want to go on.

“Yes, I am,” Kurt admits, “and I’m not getting any warmer staying here, so let’s go get to that turtle!”

Kurt shoots into the sky and takes off in the direction of the massive animal before Blaine can try to convince him to head back to land.

Kurt knows at this point it wouldn’t take much convincing.

They reach the kelp and find the turtle sitting within the thick ropes, nibbling on the leaves and soaking up the sun, eyes shut in peaceful repose.

“Oh great and powerful maiden of the sea!” Blaine starts as Kurt hovers nearby.

“Oh for crying out loud!” Sue exclaims, turning her prodigious girth in the direction of Blaine’s voice. “Nearly a hundred years I’ve gone without having to talk to any of your obnoxious kin, and now – twice in the space of a few days! What the heck do you want now, oh Fallen Sea Prince?” Blaine jerks at her taunt. The sea turtle smiles. “Yeah, yeah, I know all about that. You’ve lost your crown to your best friend. Now what are you going to do?”

“Ho---how did you know about that?” Blaine asks, embarrassed that word of his shame has gotten around so quickly.

“I have my sources,” Sue says with a wink. “None of which I’m at liberty to confirm or deny …” But she didn’t have to. Blaine has always suspected that a fish or two in their kingdom were spies for Sue. One in particular - a bubbly clown fish called Becky - seemed to have a similar calculating look as Sue does in her eyes. “So, tell me - who did I wrong in a past life to deserve the punishment of your company?”

“I have another question to ask you,” Blaine says.

“Obviously,” Sue remarks with a dramatic roll of her black eyes. She catches sight of the fire fairy hovering above her head and smirks. “Ahhh. So this is about him, huh? Your little porcelain prince?”

“P-p-pleased to make your acquaintance,” Kurt stutters, rubbing his arms to ward off the cold.

“Oh, you presume too much, little fairy,” she says, turning her attention back to Blaine. “What do you and twinkle toes want? I was hoping to nap for about fifty years, and you guys are kind of harshing my mellow.”

“My father has declared war on the fire fairies,” Blaine announces.

Sue scoffs and shakes her head. “Well, it took him long enough, I suppose,” she says, her voice more sad than sardonic, and Blaine knows he’s come to the right sea creature.

“The thing I don’t understand is why. He found out about us …” Blaine’s eyes find Kurt above his head, shivering violently. He frowns with worry at the bluish tinge to the fire fairy’s skin “… and he got angry, but why the full-scale invasion? Why this need to be rid of them?”

“Yes.” Kurt risks lowering himself so his voice can be heard. “What have we done that he feels the need to destroy us?”

Sue’s large eyes look up at the fairy, then down at the sprite.

“You don’t know?” she asks Blaine, who shakes his head. “And you don’t know either?” she asks Kurt, who shrugs with his arms still wrapped around his body. Sue blows out a breath. “You two are so vain!” the turtle scolds. “So vain and so selfish! And so ignorant! You are both princes of your kingdoms, about to be kings!” She stares at Blaine significantly. “At least, you used to be. And you know nothing about your history!”

“I’ve tried asking my mother!” Kurt cries in his defense. “Over and over! I’ve courted the depths of her anger and still I tried! But she will not tell me! There is no lore in our tomes, no other fairy who’s lived long enough to have seen it first hand! So how am I to find out!?”

Sue rolls her eyes up to Kurt, looking thoroughly unimpressed by his claims.

“And you, young water sprite. Have you asked your father, the Great King of the Sea, why this feud between your kingdoms has lasted so long?”

“No,” Blaine admits. “I have not.”

“And why not?” the turtle asks.

“Have you met my father?” Blaine counters with bitterness in his voice.

The turtle looks on him with remotely sympathetic eyes. “Fair enough.”

“But that is why we have sought you out, wise turtle!” Kurt tries. “To find the answer and stop this war!”

“I’m not sure the answer I have is going to help you,” Sue says. “In fact, it might make things worse.”

“How can things possibly get worse than all-out war?” Blaine asks, staring up at Kurt with deeper and deeper concern.

Sue sighs, paddling back and forth with her front flippers, stalling as she considers her answer. She’s usually not a creature concerned with delicacy. But this is a matter that even she agrees may require some.

“Your father, Malek,” she says, “and your mother, Elizabeth, were once much closer than you two could ever imagine.”

“How d-do you m-mean?” Kurt stutters, flitting over to a patch of sunlight, searching for warmth.

“The King of the Sea, and the Queen of the Fire Fairies are, alas, related.”

Kurt’s head snaps down as Blaine’s head snaps up, wide eyes locking.

“So, his father and my mother are … brother and sister?” Kurt asks.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, fairy,” the turtle replies.

“My name is Kurt,” Kurt offers.

“Like I care,” Sue says. “Anyway, a long time ago, at the beginning of all things, your mother and Blaine’s father were one. As a single entity, your parents were all that is good in the world. They were love and hope and creation. They had power, yes, but they were fair-minded and just …” The turtle pauses to sigh. “And beautiful. So, so beautiful.”

“What … what happened to them?” Blaine asks, wishing he could hold Kurt close since he expects the worst from the sea turtle’s tale.

“The same thing that happens to all perfect things in the history of forever. I should know …” She tosses her head back with conceit. “The gods grew jealous of them, as gods tend to. Never happy unless they’re miserable, gods are. They lied to your parents – told them one was planning to break away from the other. Overthrow them. At first, Malek and Elizabeth didn’t believe it, so in love with each other they were. But slowly the voices of jealousy picked them apart, and they believed the lies so completely that they tore themselves in two. Malek’s hate became all-consuming - so large that it took the entire ocean to contain it. And Elizabeth’s hate burned within her until it spilled over and threatened to set everything ablaze. They created this world. It depends on their maintaining balance. If that balance is hate or love, it means nothing, just so long as one does not become more powerful than the other.”

“But … that’s going to change when my father attacks!” Blaine exclaims. “Neither the sprites nor the fairies will win!”

“Meh,” Sue says, dismissing Blaine’s concern with a shrug.

“How do we fix this?” Kurt asks.

“You can’t,” Sue says. Kurt gasps and Blaine glares, but the sea turtle only rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, but you can’t. You can’t fix your parents. And as soon as those two unleash their fury, that will be the end of it.”

“The end of the water sprites and the fire fairies,” Blaine moans. “We know.”

“No, I mean the end of it all,” Sue says. “The whole gall-darn world.”

“What?” Kurt cries. The end of the world? Of everything? No! He can’t even picture it.

“Yup. You’re going to have to start over somewhere else, on a place where fire and water can live together in peace, the way your parents did long ago.”

“You’re lying!” Blaine spits. “You’re playing games with us! If this battle means the end of the world, then why the hell are you so calm!?”

“Because, to be honest, I really don’t care,” Sue admits. “A sea turtle’s life is usually 100 years. I’m well beyond that, my tiny friend. If this is the end, that’s okay. I’ve lived long enough. I’ve had a good life. At least if I’m dead, then I might finally get some peace.”

“Where is this place?” Kurt asks, glowing red with shame at considering leaving his kingdom – his mother and sisters – to their perilous fates. “This place where Blaine and I can be together? Where we can start over?”

“Well, well, well.” Sue looks up at Kurt with a new-found respect in her cynical eyes while Kurt hides his from Blaine’s expression of shock. “Someone has a backbone now, don’t they? There is a field not too far from here, covered in white flowers made of both fire and water. They are always there, but they only bloom during the eclipse. They will release their pods into the night sky. If you catch one, it will carry you away to a star where the two of you can begin again.”

“You’re lying!” Blaine growls angrily. “There is no such place! You’re toying with us for your own amusement! I was stupid for thinking you’d actually give us a real answer!”

“You probably were,” Sue says, unfazed. “Believe what you want. Like I said, I couldn’t care less. I’m not the one about to lose the love of my life.” Sue looks at Kurt with oddly imploring eyes. “But take heed, little ones. Your time on this planet is growing short, so whatever you’re going to do, do it fast. As for me, I must bid you both adieu. I’m not particularly eager to see how this all turns out.”

Sue moves her flat fins, swirling the water in a whirlpool around her. It picks up speed, pushing Blaine farther and farther away. She ducks her head beneath the surface and disappears below the kelp. The water stops spinning, the kelp becomes calm.

And she does not resurface.

Kurt looks down at Blaine, the sprite’s golden eyes seething at the spot where the turtle had been.

“B-Blaine?” he calls softly.

Blaine doesn’t look up. “No,” he says. “I don’t believe that’s the answer. Running away? There has to be something else we can do.”

“But, what?” Kurt asks, berating himself silently for even considering it – escaping to a place where they could be together, like in his dream, at the price of leaving everyone else behind to die.

What a shameful king he’s going to be.

Kurt needs to find a way to get Blaine back on his throne. He deserves the station more.

“I don’t know yet.” Blaine looks up at Kurt, his gaze softening when he sees a frightened Kurt trembling in the air above him. “My father stopped listening. Why don’t we try your mother?”

“No!” Kurt cries. “No, Blaine! She’ll kill you if she finds out about us!”

“I’m sorry, Kurt.” Blaine reaches out a hand even though he knows he can’t risk touching Kurt while the fire fairy is so cold. “But it’s a chance we’ve got to take.”

 ***

Rachel’s arms grow heavy from exhaustion as she dances, her movements slowing, the fire flickering weakly. But she has to keep going. She has to keep moving, keep singing. She pictures her brother and her mother in her head, twirling around on the wind, their effortless grace and beauty, the way they can turn the fire colors and make the flame bend. The mulberry leaves sit in the grass where she left them shortly after Kurt and his water sprite left. All she would have to do is retrieve a couple and toss them in the flame and her brother would come home. She knows it, but she refuses. She is not so much of a selfish, silly fairy as others think her. She knows exactly what is going on. She understands why her brother left.

Their kingdom is in danger, and Kurt went off to do the right thing.

He is acting like a king.

It is time she started being a better princess … and a better sister.

Rachel doesn’t blame him about the water sprite, either. The one thing she has always dreamed of is falling in love. Not a simple love. Those aren’t any fun. But a complicated, twisted, painful, all-consuming love. Something you burn to have. Something you would happily suffer for.

She owes Kurt more than she has ever given him. He has always been patient with her, unerringly kind, even when she didn’t give him any reason to be. If their mother finds out about Kurt leaving with his water sprite, she might hurt them.

She might even kill them.

Rachel wants to stop, wants to rest for a few moments, but the fire is dying, and if it goes out entirely, their mother will see. Rachel’s bleary mind comes up with a desperate solution. If Rachel could fuel the fire with her body, with her own internal flame, she could keep it lit long enough for Kurt to return.

She just has to be strong and not succumb to the flame.

Fire fairies come from the flame, and it’s to the flame they all return.

 ***

Elizabeth gazes out the window of her palace, down to the water’s edge where her son and daughter diligently tend the Eternal Flame. There isn’t much time left for Kurt, and soon, there won’t be time left for Elizabeth at all. She’s not sure how she will tell her children this. Maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe she should quietly return to the fire when the time comes and let life continue on without her.

But now is not the time to think about that.

She sighs into the night, lets the sparkle from her own inner fire add to the landscape of stars. The fire’s pinkish hue licks at the sky, setting the surface of the water aglow. It is spectacular – so spectacular. She envies her son and daughter – their beauty and their youth. She envies Kurt most of all – at the beginning of his journey when hers is so close to an end. The only thing that he doesn’t have, that he desperately wants, is freedom. If he was any of her other children, she would let him go, let him be free to follow his whims and find love. An immense and incredible love like the one she had before … a long time ago.

As much as she hates to keep her eldest son a prisoner to their traditions and customs, it’s unavoidable. Elizabeth is tired, and regardless of the flame’s magic, she is growing older. An eternity in existence is too much, too long. She feels her own fire dimming as sadness clouds her heart. Soon, there will be little left of her but a memory.

A memory and her children.

Elizabeth gazes at the fire Kurt tends so well.

“The flame is beautiful tonight,” she says to her attendants, watching the flame dance where it hovers out of reach of the water. “But it seems so lonely … so sad.”

Elizabeth peers into the dark, trying to find her melancholy child whose sorrow influences the flame. The hue of the fire comes more clearly into view. That which she at first thought to be pink is actually red.

It’s red, and it’s crying.

“What?” Elizabeth leaps from her window and flies to the cove. She finds the fire burning on its branch, all alone. “Kurt?” she calls into the inky darkness. “Rachel? Darlings?” She spins in place, waiting for them to appear, but there isn’t a sign of her children anywhere. She puts a hand out to try and speak to the flame, see into its memory, but the flame begins to sputter.

Then suddenly, it burns out.

In its place lies a fairy - still and cold.

Elizabeth gasps, throwing a hand to her lips.

“No!” she sobs, each tear hitting the water and forming ripples, the sound echoing around the cove like the herald of an oncoming storm. “No!”

A legion of fairies answers her cries, flying down from the palace with weapons drawn. They fill the trees surrounding their grieving queen.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Your majesty? What has happened?” A chorus of tiny voices rises up around her. Cries start as more fairies crowd around and see the body of Rachel lying on the branch. “Oh no! It’s the princess Rachel! She’s dead! Rachel is dead! Where is the prince? The prince who will be our king? The prince is gone! Someone has killed the princess and kidnapped her brother!”

“Find him!” Elizabeth yells up, as if summoning the stars in the sky. “Find Kurt! Wherever he is! Whatever it takes! Bring him to me!”

“But where is he, my Queen?” one guard asks.

“Where will we begin to look?” pipes in another.

Elizabeth scans the ground, the sky, the water’s surface still upset by her tears.

The water - churning in the cove now that the fire has gone out.

No one but the water sprites would benefit from the loss of the Eternal Flame, or the death of their princess … and possibly their prince.

“The water sprites must have done this,” Elizabeth roars, turning to the body of her daughter lying before her. “They must have! We have no other enemies among the creatures of the earth. They’ve murdered my precious daughter and taken my son! And now they must pay!”

[eliotandquentinsittinginatree]

Getting back up

*Quick notes: This is in no way, shape or form related or compliant to season 5. Because I have not and will not watch season 5. You cannot take away my favorite character and destroy my favorite ship with it, and then expect me to keep watching your show, you meanie showrunners.*

This might be something that I will occasionally work on. It’s all thought out and finished in my head, so the only question is how well I will be able to put it into words. This is pretty much a teaser chapter, which I will expand on at a later date, when I have more time. English is not my first language, and I am not as eloquent or articulate as so many of the other talented writer I have had the pleasure to discover in this fandom. Alas, the plot bunny has gotten lost in my head, and now I have to write this thing out. I sincerely do hope that someone might find some enjoyment out of this fic, when it’s finished, but I caution anyone to not expect too much. It will likely be very slow going, and not as well written as it could be. :-)

It’s also entirely self-indulgent. I don’t want Quentin to stay dead. I want Queliot to happen. I want these people to all be actual friends who love and trust each other. So these are all things that I will be working towards, even though it might not always correspond well with the canon that has been established in the four seasons leading up to Quentin’s death.

Summary/teaser:

“Did I do something really brave to save my friends, or did I finally find a way to kill myself?”

- As Quentin gets the answer to this last important question, he also learns that his friends are still in need of saving.

Funnily enough, even though Quentin had spent literal years worth of time thinking about death (most specifically his own), he had never really pictured his funeral.

And, well, technically this might not qualify as a funeral, Quentin thought as he watched his friends sing and feed simple but significant trinkets into the fire, it was indubitably more beautiful than anything his broken brain could have ever cooked up.

Dean Fogg’s presence had surprised him a little, to be perfectly honest, but he certainly appreciated it.

Penny had taken him to Fillory first, where Josh and Fen had set up a memorial feast in his honor.

In memory of King Quentin Coldwater, savior of Fillory, magic, and the world.

Quentin felt unworthy of the title. After all, he hadn’t ever really handled any kingly duties the way Margo and Eliot had, and he hadn’t been the only one fighting to save all those things they were celebrating him for. But non the less, seeing as a whole kingdom raised their (metaphorical) glasses to him, as well as Josh and Fen’s honest tears, had filled his heart with warmth.

Then getting back to earth, watching the people he had come to love in each of their own specific ways, watching as Eliot and Margo had made their way into the circle, and god ELIOT! The tall man was leaning on Margo heavily, stumbling ever so slightly, face pale, clearly still hurt, still healing.

But in this very moment, he was the most beautiful being Quentin had ever seen. Alive.

Eliot was alive. They had done it. It had all been worth it.

Eliot was alive.

Thank god

Thank god

Thank god

Eliot was alive and on his feet. Quentin was unashamed of the tears that streamed down his face.

Margo, Alice, Julia, Penny23, Kady, Josh, Fen. They were okay. Sad, sure. Grieving, crying, for him, and this was still a concept that was somehow so hard for him to grasp, yet filled his heart with so much affection for each and every one of them.

But they were alive and whole and in time, they would heal.

He felt at peace.

“They are gonna be okay, right?”

The question was more of an after thought, murmured in Penny’s direction. And Quentin fully expected Penny to smile in that soft, knowing way of his (which was still so new and strange to Quentin, but somehow, fit the other man perfectly), and tell him not to worry, that their friends would be just fine.

But when no answer came forth, Quentin forced his eyes away from the group sitting around the fire to look back at his friend, and found an expression he had trouble deciphering.

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t ask me this, Q.”

The shock of those words, as well as the use of that nickname (Penny had changed so much. And the weirdest part of that was how Quentin still thought of him as the same person. As part of the team. Always one of them), made him turn around fully. 

“What do you mean? They.. they will be alright, right?” Anxiety was building up. “We. - We got the monsters out. Julia and El- Eliot, they are .. we saved them. We did it! Everett is gone, and, and you said the library is in better hands now! Magic will return back to the way it was. Why-” He had to pause to get rid of the lump that was forming in his throat, threatening to strangle him. The song behind him was coming to an end and he turned his head to cast another look at his friends. They were fine. They were fine and alive and they were together! (Well, Josh was missing, but they had an easy way back to Fillory, and he knew, he knew they wouldn’t abandon each other)  He watched as Eliot and Margo leaned into each other, both crying silently as they watched the flames consume the peach and blacken the crown. They were fine. They were alive. They were fine!

“- why wouldn’t they be okay?”

He was looking at Penny with what he hoped was conviction, but felt more like desperation. His words had been meant to come out strong, but had likely been a plea. 

And Penny.., Penny looked like he wanted to fold his body into itself, while also trying to scrape together the words needed to talk someone away for the ledge. Quentin knew what that looked like. Because he had been in both positions. Been the one trying to talk someone down, and been the one who was being talked down. Right now, he felt like he was there again, looking down at the ground from high above, but he didn’t know if he was the one who wanted to jump, or the one who wanted to save the jumper.

“Quentin, look, I.. I literally can’t lie to you about this, but I really, really want to. Because this is not on you. This is not your responsibility. But if I answer your question, I know that you will take it as such.”

Penny took a step closer to him, settling his hands steadily on his shoulders, squeezing tightly, and looking directly into the smaller man’s eyes.

“I want you to listen to me closely. You have done and sacrificed enough. For the last three years, you have been running yourself into the ground, putting out fires, while ever more kept getting started. And I know you blame yourself for most of those as well, but I’m telling you right now, it wasn’t your fault. What happened to the others, what happened to me, what happened to the world as a whole. That wasn’t your fault, man. You just died, saving the people you love. There is a ticket in my pocket for you. That will take your soul to be reborn. All the pain, all the drama and tragedy, all that will be gone. It will be a good life, Quentin. A peaceful one. No apocalypses, no self serving gods or monsters. No more broken brain. You will be happy, Q. You deserve this. So please, don’t make me answer that question.”

Penny looked at him so earnestly, beseechingly. And Quentin felt bad about not being able to follow his request.

“Why won’t they be okay, Penny? ... Please.”

The other man closed his eyes, a sigh full of sorrow and regret leaving his lips, and squeezed the deceptively frail looking shoulders again, as if in apology.

“Is the thought that losing you is something they won’t get over, really so far out of your grasp?”

The answer to that was clearly obvious in the wide, uncomprehending eyes of the shorter man before him.

“...What?”