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slutsofren · 4 years

Note

I’m begging you to please give us more Kylo & Mistress AU!! Whatever you want to show us, first time ever together (sex)? Or more details on the honeymoon?

I have been thinking a lot about Mistress and CEO Kylo’s first meeting and subsequent affair, I really do love them,,, so much,,, so fucking much,,,, the attitude,,, the power shifts,,,, the playful air that engulfs them,,, ugh swoon,,, Anywho, once I got started on this, I couldn’t stop. This monster is big for a blurb lol

You can read it on AO3 here

** CEO Kylo & Mistress AU: the meet-cute, first date sex, Bazine calls when y’all are fuckin’ and you let her listen, kind of vanilla since this is the first date and all, more in-depth into CEO Kylo’s background. I hope you enjoy this shenanigan as much as I did, Anon!

First Time Meeting and Second Missed Calls

Your phone had buzzed for the second time that night, yet another missed call from the filth of a man you were to be meeting tonight. You gave absolutely no second chances for potential business associates, especially if they’re late to the very first meeting. You rose from your seat nearby the window, asking the server to redirect your bill to the bar as you planned on drinking a couple glasses of wine to soothe your irritation.

Tonight was one of those nights where you bothered to wear heels, something you once learned from a mentor in college about appearing powerful and showing you would never bow to a man in this industry. That you could easily poke an eye out with the length of the heel. It always worked.

It had taken you some time to grow accustomed to loving your body, each and every inch of it was yours and you’d be damned if you let some man make you feel like you were less than because of your gender and curves. You loved yourself and that was that. You’d claw out the eyes of the next man who would belittle your business practices based on your gender, you would always come out on top.

You caved in and ordered whatever sweet dessert wine they offered, something few knew about you was your sweet tooth and how you’d love to sneak a delectable treat in once in a while. You drummed your fingers against the countertop, your other hand began fingering your wine glass. You took these few quiet moments to watch people, trying to silently guess why people were in Momofuku Ko on this particular evening during this very hour. A small game you enjoyed playing to pass the time.

Next to you, a woman stumbled to the bar nearly dropping her martini all over your silver dress but breaking the drink in her hand. A quick glance at her and you knew she was plastered, her loud and obnoxious voice scratching your ears. She looked relatively hopeless as she looked at the shards of glass and dripping liquid from the counter, the mess she made matching the mess her presence had.

You rolled your eyes as you checked your dress and purse quickly, making sure this miserable woman didn’t ruin your items.

“Hey! Can I get another mart-,” she tried to yell at the man behind the counter before a man cut her off, placing his hand on her shoulders from behind her. He shot you an apologetic look and faced the bartender.

“My apologies, sir, would you mind calling a cab for this woman, she seems to be out of her mind,” he stressed the last few words in her ear. The bartender raised a brow and nodded, motioning for some help from a nearby server.

“Hey you,” she threw her comments at you, “why are you dressed like a slut in front of my-” the man pulled her away from you.

She protested, throwing her hands which way and that trying to stop herself from being promptly escorted from the premises by some security. Once she was gone, the mystery man looked at you once more, fixing his tie and suit.

A small smile left your lips as you raised your glass to him, “Wild night?”

He let out a huff, “It would seem to be.” He took long strides and sat on the opposite side of you, avoiding the broken glass and dropped alcohol.

“Your wife,” you pressed on. Curiosity nipping at your heels.

The man let out a grimace, “That obvious?”

This time you let that smile you’d be holding in appear across your plush lips. “My apologies, Mister-?”

“Ren, Kylo Ren. May I buy you another glass of wine for the inconvenience of having to see that woman’s unpleasant side, Miss?”

You paused a moment pretending to think, even taking the extra long couple seconds to suck in your bottom lip and bite it oh, so gently. “You may.” You reached your hand to his, introducing yourself to him. That meeting that brought you here was far away from your mind now that your phone hadn’t rang for what seemed like hours, maybe that fool got a clear picture that you did not offer second chances.

Before long, you two had moved to a quiet section of the restaurant. You both talked and drank the wine you prefered. Kylo said it was a new adventure since he mostly kept to whiskey but you could tell he was charmed by you and you with him.

Slowly yet surely, you found yourselves inching closer and closer to each other over the course of your conversation, his warm arm pressed around your shoulders as you both talked from everything from business pet peeves, to stock prices, and fashion.

You looked into his eyes and for the briefest moment, you felt guilty. This was a married man, you clearly saw his wife earlier. Kylo held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, looking straight into your eyes and you felt as if he was looking into your soul as well.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he whispered your name.

“You’re married.”

“I am.”

“Then why-”

He leaned back in his seat and tore his eyes from you. He looked at the plate of food in front of him, to your hand that was still on his knee, then to the wall ahead of him. “We didn’t marry for love, if that’s what you’re wondering. I am a terrible man, I’ve burned people, I’ve caused deaths of some, I’m fire and brimstone to others. One thing I am not, is a liar.”

He took a pause, letting you absorb his words. “Bazine is my wife but it’s more of a title than an actual relationship. She owned a wonderful portion of a business I wanted to acquire and merge with my own and the condition for me to take full ownership was to be married to that dreadful woman for five years. Afterwards, I could divorce her and leave it all behind and do whatever I wanted with that company. At the time,” he finally admits, “it didn’t seem like I was sacrificing much, instead I would be gaining that much of a stronger footing over those who kept me down for so many years.”

“Delayed gratification,” you prompted.

He let out a chuckle, “Yeah, something like that. That was almost three years ago. Three years of dealing with Bazine- her drunkenness and mishandling of the company. It’s been a long three years and will be an even longer two more.”

Kylo looked at you once more and grabbed your hand, raising it to his lips giving your cold fingers a warm kiss, “Come, let me take you to your hotel.” You conceded and followed him. After all he expressed about the complications of his arranged marriage, you felt for this man. In all his struggles he just looked worn and tired and you could tell he hid it well.

You both shuffled into the cab after Kylo insisted to settle your bill with his, his warm wool coat was draped over your shoulders, covering the sparkling silver satin your dress shone like tiny starlights.

The fifteen minute or so taxi drive from Momofuku to where you stayed at the WestHouse Hotel was cozy. Kylo didn’t press on your thoughts and you admired the comfortable silence that came with being in his presence. You let yourself lean on his body, trying to absorb some of his warmth that he radiated since you met him.

Upon your arrival to the hotel, Kylo once again insisted on paying for the taxi as he did at the restaurant, “Spending this evening with you was the first time in years where I wasn’t expected to be a certain person or act in a particular manner. Being with you tonight was truly a breath of fresh air.”

Kylo fiddled with a small piece of your hair, lacing it around his fingers before letting it go. The artificial lights from the hotel illuminated his face, much more than the intimate lighting at the restaurant did. Now you took notice of each and every freckle that littered his sharp features and his eyes, how they bore into yours. Anticipating.

“Bazine,” you left your unspoken question lingering in the air between you both.

“She has had her fair share of affairs during our,” he struggles to find the right word, “situation.” You were surprised at his confession, afterall you were fairly certain she attempted to call you a slut for making eye contact with Kylo just before the two of you properly met.

“As I said before, I am many things but a liar I am not.”

Kylo cupped your face and his eye contact never faltered from your gaze. “I will never force you to do anything,” he licked his lips, “uncouth.”

Fuck it.

You grabbed his hand and led him inside WestHouse, interlacing your fingers with his. Behind you, you could hear Kylo give a low chuckle, admiring you from behind as his coat engulfed you. It didn’t matter if you were tall or short, larger or smaller in size, this man made everybody look small in comparison, not to mention how obscenely wide his chest was. He was too damn sexy for his own good and you were daring to drink from that chalice of forbidden wine at any moment now.

In the elevator, you admired how your interlocked fingers appeared together so naturally, how his large hand encompassed yours. Your white glitter painted fingernails seemed to radiate what you were feeling within you, a rush of passion and fervor. If this were to be a one night stand, so be it. It would be a night you wouldn’t forget for a lifetime.

Once the two of you walked past the threshold to your hotel room, Kylo pinned you, throwing your purse to the side. Your back against the plain door shutting it in its place, locking you two away from the outside world. His large hands cupped your face as he did moments before down below at the entrance but this time, this time he kissed you as deeply as he could. You granted his tongue access as your kisses grew heated. Wanting nothing between you if you possibly could.

Kylo dropped his hands from your face to his coat, slipping it from your shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. You took this moment to reach for his belt, slipping it from the loops of his pants, your mouth practically watering at the sound of the leather and metal falling to the floor.

He took your hand in his and led you deeper into the room, watching you like prey as you sauntered and gracefully stepped out of your d’orsay heels without having to touch them. Kylo moved your hair to the side as he began to pull on the zipper that kept you in the confines of the tight dress you wore for the evening, the sounds of the zipper being forced open on your back filled the room and you began to unbutton his shirt, the jacket he wore was thrown about somewhere else. Wherever it landed didn’t matter, only that you both got what you came for.

Each button stripped away revealing the broad chest you envisioned he had, your fingers expertly undid them as if you had been doing this dance with him since the beginning of time.

You both did not make a further move to kiss, only to gaze into each others’ eyes, as if you were engraving this moment in your minds forever. With his shirt unbuttoned and your dress just daring to fall, he raised an eyebrow at you and you let out a laugh before practically jumping into his arms. He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you more, trailing each one further down as he stripped the gown from your body.

Kylo was completely enthralled by you, enchanted by your confidence and ability to not shy away from the reality of who he was, a man who dominated every aspect of his life. He showed it, he showed you and promised himself to show you just how wild you make his heart beat if you’d allow him the pleasure, just as he bound himself to give you an insurmountable level of new highs tonight.

Reaching the top of the panties you donned for the evening, Kylo paused and looked up at you, “Is this okay?”

You placed one of your hands in his hair, feeling the strands tangle around your fingers as if trapping you and never letting go. “Yes, Kylo.” He leaned forward, laying his forehead at your stomach as if silently praying, thanking whatever it was out there that led you to him. Fate intervening.

A part of him wanted to hurry and bury himself deep in you but his skin screamed to stop and take it slow, to let these moments last and treasure your body- admiring each and every curve and dip. He inched your panties lower and lower until they fell and he took this moment to kiss that beautiful spot where your thighs met your sweet spot. After a few moments of soft languid kisses Kylo lifted your leg to straddle his shoulders as he began to kiss, bite, and suck at you.

You tried to keep your composure for just a little while longer, you really did try but once he began his magic, you fervently began to release breathy moans which only encouraged him on. His large hands grasped your ass, your thighs, anywhere those long fingers could grab. His tongue worked between your folds and it threw you overboard into cascading waves of pleasure.

Two orgasms later, Kylo released you from his hold, letting you stand on your own. As he rose, he kissed his way back up to your lips and you tasted yourself on his tongue. You began to strip his clothes off him, as he did for you. Down to his boxers you led him to the bed and laid yourself down gently, a modest queen size bed for a queen afterall.

You hesitated for just a moment and asked, “Are you sure you want to do this, Kylo?”

Hearing his name drip like golden ichor from your plush lips was a true taste of ambrosia that made his mind spin. Not once has anybody spoken his name as you have, it was always spoken laced in fear, anxiety, or greed but you, you spoke his name with adoration. You looked at him from the bed, turned to face him, anxiously waiting for his reply.

Kylo kneeled on the bed, hovering over you, encasing your body under his as he laid another chaste kiss to your lips, “More than anything.”

You raised your knees and opened yourself up to him. Mind, body, soul. Everything. Your fingers brushed past the elastic in his waistband and pulled the cloth down to reveal his large cock at your core. Grasping his hardened length he let out a breathy gasp and you could see between you both how red his cock was, desperately begging for attention.

“Fuck me,” you whined as you stroked him, “Please Kylo, I want you.”

“I want you too,” he said as he began to thrust into your hand, enjoying how your fingers felt around him. You lifted your feet to rest on his hips as you led his length to your core. He began to kiss all around your face as you let him sink into you, splitting you wide open.

He let out a quiet, “Oh fuck,” as he reached his hilt, burying himself so far into you. His large fingers came up and got tangled in your hair as he began slow ministrations of pulling almost all the way out before thrusting deep into you and beginning that cycle of pure toture and pleasure in one.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered against your neck, eyeing your expressions how your face controrts with each thrust he makes.

“Don’t stop, Kylo, please, don’t stop,” you cried. Your heart opened at his words but you forced those feelings away, unsure of what his intentions are.

Kylo sat up and kneeled once again, taking this moment to watch as his cock disappeared in your pussy. Watching how when he pulls back, his cock is glistening with physical evidence of your arousal. He became mesmerised at how your tits bounced and your face lit up with the same waves of absolute pleasure he felt. He didn’t want any of this to stop.

From the foot of the bed, a phone began to ring and Kylo let out a groan. He ignored it and continued his slow thrusts, fucking you nice and deeply. His phone stopped ringing for the briefest moment then rang again. “Fuck,” he growled. He wasn’t going to stop, no way was he going to stop one of the nicest nights of his life. The phone stopped and resumed ringing one more time, whatever it was seemed to be urgent.

He eyed you and you nodded your head, letting him leave you to get it. “Are you fucking kidding me,” he groaned.

“What is it, Kylo?”

“Bazine.”

Without giving it a second thought, you demanded, “Answer it.”

He turned and cocked his face into a smirk and placed the phone against his ear, “What do you want, Bazine.” He stepped forward back to the bed, you could now begin to hear her slurred whines and cries on the line, screaming at him.”

You reached for his phone and put it on speaker, tossing it to the side of you as you guided Kylo back to where you were before she interrupted.

“Where are you Kylo, how could you embarrass me like that,” Bazine cried.

“You embarrassed yourself, as for where I am, well,” he kissed you. “I’m currently inside one of the most beautiful women I have ever met in my life, fucking her nice pussy,” he groaned as you tightened around him at his compliment, “and wanting you to fuck off so we can keep going.”

Bazine let out a harsh gasp, appalled at what he was saying, “You- you’re lying.”

“Say hello,” he motioned to you.

After a moment, you cleared your voice, “I would greatly appreciate it if you’d leave Kylo alone for the night, he is a bit busy fucking me.”

“Stop fucking lying,” she yelled.

Kylo brushed his hair back as she penetrated you, “Fine, if you don’t want to believe it then listen to us fuck and deal with it. Leave me alone, Bazine.”

He began to fuck you once more, letting loose all the lewd noises your pussy could make from how sweetly he rocked into you, deeply caressing each part of you.

You arched your back and he bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked bruises on the skin there. Wanting to leave a small part of him on you just as you left scratches on his back. Wonderful scars for a wonderful woman, he thought.

“Oh, Kylo, just like that, don’t stop,” you cried, Bazine already leaving your mind. Kylo reached over to hang up the phone and he threw it against the wall, not giving a shit if it broke. Right now all that mattered was you.

You reached up for him and placed a gentle hand at the base of his skull, pulling him to the side so you could be on top, not once disconnecting your bodies. Kylo gripped your ass as you began to bounce on his large cock, throwing your head back. “Fuck- Kylo!”

He tried, just as you did, to keep his composure but you felt far too good around him and he began to let out just as many moans.

He moaned your name and gripped your ass so hard you hoped there would be bruises there to keep as a temporary memory of this affair. Your neck was exposed to him and he reached a hand up to caress the skin there, sending shivers upon shivers down your spine. “You’re doing such a good job, bouncing like that on my cock,” he praised, “You look so beautiful.”

“Come here, little one,” he reached around you to hold you close to him as he laid you down on the bed. Not once letting you take a moment to think about that little nickname.

Kylo hoovered over you as you began to cry, he had you feeling so good that you couldn’t stop the hot tears that welled in your eyes, “Please, Kylo, go faster, I’m so close!” He took that command and did as you told him, pumping his cock so fast and so hard into you, it was earth shattering. Kylo reached his long slender fingers and began to violate your clit, aiding your desire.

Your back arched as you came around his cock, feeling overstimulated and well-fucked but he still kept going, chasing his own orgasm. Finally, he let out a deep guttural moan as he came inside of you as a sigh left your lips. Your pussy fluttered aftershocks around him, milking him. Kylo kissed you deeply once again, wanting to etch this memory deep into his mind, trying to remember the taste of wine on your lips. When he pulled away he brushed a piece of your hair away from your eyes and your gaze met his. You lifted one of your hands to brush his clean shaven face with the back of your hand. “I don’t want you to leave,” you admitted.

Kylo pulled out, and stepped off the bed. For a moment your heart broke into tiny pieces believing he was going to leave until he pulled the white duvet covers down and motioned you to slip underneath them. He returned to you, covering both your bodies while he reached his fingers down between your folds, pushing the evidence of both your orgasms back inside of you. He kissed your forehead and entwined your limbs together under the warm sheets, “Neither do I.”

#posted on ao3 #ceo kylo x mistress au #requests are open #kylo ren reader insert #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x oc #kylo ren/reader #star wars reader insert #star wars smut #kylo ren smut #kylo ren fanfiction #modern kylo #modern kylo reader insert #anon ask #asher talks #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren/you #asher’s writing

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ameth18blog · 3 years

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Unexpected Encounters. Chapter 10: The Search (Part 4)

Finnick is in the west of the city, unlike the others he preferred to do his search alone. At the moment he was in a bar having a few drinks that he was curious to try, since he had heard of them from Jack when they were on the plane on their way to Japan. Even before all the events happened, he and Nick had made a bet on who would last the longest drinking the alcoholic beverages that would come to this country. They were supposedly stronger than the ones sold on Zootopia. Jack and Judy weren't happy with the bet the two of them made, but Finnick knew they couldn't stop him or Nick.

Even obviously he had to search for beings from other universes, he thought to take a little break, since he had a suspicion that they would not take long to appear. Even if he didn't know it, it wouldn't take long for them to appear before him.

So far he had had four glasses: Sake Honjozo, Sake Junmai, Ji-zake and Nigori-zake. As he tasted them he realized that they tasted very different from other things he had tasted in his entire life. He would have asked for more glasses of each, but he didn't have enough money with him at the time. And he aside he knew that he shouldn't waste much time, since he still had a great perimeter to cover.

But just before he got up, three beings who seemed travelers because of the way they were dressed entered the bar.

The first was a tall yellow fox. His nose was black as were his eyes. He wore a light blue long-sleeved shirt, green pants and was completely barefoot. He wore a type of cape that had stripes of two different shades of blue on the outside, while on the inside it was purple. Also on his head he wore a cream-colored flat hat that had two holes so that he could stick his ears out. Also this hat had a rope that went towards the lower part of the fox's head, so that it could be held and did not fall off its head or fly off.

The other two beings were twin slightly smaller brown boars, which only reached the fox's waist in height. They wore open orange jackets, although they were shirtless under the jackets, they wore green pants and both were barefoot. Both wild boars carried on their backs giant green bags with swirl patterns, tied around their necks. The big physical difference between the two wild boars is that one had a spot on its right cheek, while the other did not.

They both walked over to the counter, right next to where Finnick was sitting.

"Sorry sir, but you can not bring children to this place" said the manager of the bar.

"Oh, don't worry about that, despite their sizes, they are adults" said the fox.

After that, both wild boars took out some identifications that were proof that they were adults.

"My apologies" said the bar manager bowing his head. "What do you want me to serve you?"

"A Sake Honjozo for the three of us" said the fox.

"I'll bring them to you right away" said the bar manager, leaving.

"Does that happen to you very often? Finnick asked looking at the fox and the two wild boars.

"Ummm, what thing?" asked the fox when he saw that they had asked him a question.

"I meant if their companions are mistaken for children when they see them," Finnick said.

"Oh yes, several times that has happened to us" said the fox.

"Sometimes it is annoying," said one of the boars.

"But at other times it is beneficial," said the other boar.

"Seriously?" asked the fennec fox.

"Yes, sometimes we manage to get food and money thanks to that" said the fox.

"Wow, the world is small. I do the same" said the fennec fox.

"Seriously?" the twin wild boars asked.

"Yes, where I come from I have a method to deceive people, I wear an elephant costume and I keep quiet at all times so that they feel sorry for me and give me money and food," said Finnick.

"Wow, it's a coincidence, we do the same" said one of the boars.

"Only we don't need to dress up for that," said the other boar.

At that moment the conversation stopped momentarily when the bar manager handed their drinks to the fox and the two wild boars. After that, he left his clients to continue his work.

"So where are you from?" asked the fox.

"I come from the United States, specifically from the city of Zootopia, what about you?" asked the fennec fox.

"We are from this country. We don't have a fixed home, since we travel so that I can achieve my goal" said the fox.

"And what would it be?" the fennec fox was curious.

"Well, my goal is to get a wife, have my own castle and be the king of pranks" said the fox.

"Wow, that's thinking big. What are their names?" said the fennec fox.

"My name is Zorori. But I'm also known as Kaiketsu Zorori" said the fox.

"My name is Ishishi" said one of the boars.

"And I'm Noshishi" said the boar with the mole on his right cheek.

"My name is Finnick" said the fennec fox introducing himself with the fox and the two wild boars.

"And then Finnick, how did you get here?" Zorori asked.

"Oh well, I have a friend who works for an agency where they gave him vacations to any place in the world that he chose and since he was once here in Japan, he wanted to come visit again. And since they gave him six tickets, he gave me one so I could come with him," Finnick replied.

"Wow, you are very lucky with that. Although we are from this country, the way we got to this city was somewhat unusual, but since we have experienced other things like that, it didn't seem strange to us" said Zorori.

"Unusual?" Finnick asked.

"Yes, it was because of a white light that appeared suddenly" Ishishi and Noshishi said in unison.

"White light?" Finnick told himself as he lowered his head and saw that the communicator on his wrist was blinking. He hadn't noticed when he first started blinking. These were the ones he was looking for and how ironic that he found them in a bar.

"Tell me, have you three been in this city for 3 months?" asked the fennec fox.

"Yes, why do you ask?" asked the fox.

"Well, because I partly know what that white light was," Finnick replied.

"You know that?" asked one of the wild boars.

"Could you tell us?" asked the other boar.

Finnick told them about Chaos Emeralds, Chaos Control, and Dr. Eggman. He told them everything he knew.

"Wow, this sounds like a great adventure you are living," said Zorori.

"Isn't that strange to you?" Finnick asked.

"No, as I said before, we have been through unusual situations" said Zorori.

"For example, we die once when and on that journey we visit both heaven and hell. After fixing a misunderstanding we came back to life" said Ishishi.

"Once we had to find a type of fairies known as Najō to restore color to a magical forest," Noshishi said.

"And once we had to return an electric eel that had been stolen from a forest inhabited by ghosts," Zorori said.

"Wow. They look like children's book adventures," said Finnick.

"Yes, we know. But we are used to that by now" said the fox.

"And what were they doing when chaos control brought them into this universe?" asked the fennec fox.

"Well, we were having a picnic with some old acquaintances. It was a normal day for us like any other" said Zorori.

"But suddenly a fairly strong wind began to blow. We had three friends in that meeting who are magicians, but they said it had nothing to do with magic" Ishishi said.

"It was at that moment that that white light appeared that began to envelop us. Our magician friends used their magic to create a force field to prevent the effects of that light from affecting us" Noshishi said.

"Although the force field didn't work, it does prevent us from being separated, since when we woke up we were together, on top of the Tokyo tower. You can imagine how hard it was for all of us to go down" said the fox.

"So there are more besides you in this city?" asked the fennec fox.

"Yes, you want to meet them" asked one of the boars.

"Of course, this concerns them as well" said the fennec fox.

"It's okay. We will take you with them" said the other boar.

After finishing their drinks and paying for them, the 4 left the bar in the direction of a nearby area of the city.

...

Once they arrived, it was a building that had an inspiration in castles from the Middle Ages, it was located outside the city in the middle of a forest.

"Amazing, nice place. Who owns this building?" asked Finnick.

"The owners are a prince and a princess that we have known for a few years" replied Zorori.

"Wait, there was no prime minister in Japan."

"Yes there is, but in the section where we live there are royal families who have granted them permission to govern certain areas."

"Definitely your life seems to come from children's books."

Once they entered and after having passed through several corridors that reminded Finnick of the fairy tales that he read to Nicole and Jerry when he cared for them while Nick, Judy and Jack went out to work. Finally they came to a door that after opening it gave way to a quite luxurious living room with furniture and decorations that definitely made Finnick feel as if he had traveled back in time to the Middle Ages.

In the room there was a strange mix of inhabitants of different types:

There was a black panther with pink cheeks and a light brown cat with dark brown hair who were a prince and a princess, since each wore their respective crowns and clothes that gave away the status to which they belonged.

There were two others who had traveler-like clothing albeit with a more western attire. One was tall, had brown fur and yellow hair. The other was shorter and with an orange-brown fur.

There were three others who had wizard robes. Since the two girls had witch-like clothes, while the boy had clothes more similar to that of a sorcerer. One of the girls was dressed in white and the other in magenta. While the boy wore black. For some reason each one carried a broom in one of their hands.

There were two that looked interesting. One looked like a plush doll that could be seen in any cream colored children's cartoon with a small red antenna and no nose. The other had the look of a ghost that had a kind of white scarf around its neck.

Seeing all of them Finnick for a moment thought that he was amazed by the drinks he had had, since he seemed to have been involved in a fairy tale, where there were princes, princesses, adventurers, witches, sorcerers, strange creatures and ghosts. He was silent for a few seconds.

Seeing the surprised reaction, Zorori decided to introduce them.

"Guys, I introduced you to Finnick. We met him in a bar and he gave us an explanation of how we ended up in this city, right?" said the fox.

Coming out of his shocked reaction, he told them the story of what had happened and how they ended up in this city. Once he finished telling this to beings he had just met, they came forward.

The prince and princess introduced themselves as Arthur and Elzie. The two travelers introduced themselves as Gaon and Pepero. The sorcerer introduced himself as Roger. The witches who happened to be sisters introduced themselves as Milly and Nelly. The creature introduced itself as Najō. While the ghost introduced himself as Puppe.

Once the introductions were over, Finnick's communicator suddenly began to ring.

"Hi, this is Finnick. Oh Nick, what's up? Cool. I, too, have just found an interesting group. Yes, I can take them with me. See you later".

"Who called?" Zorori asked.

"He was a friend. I wanted to ask all of you if you could join me, since the ones who sent me to look for you want to talk to you" said Finnick.

"They all looked at each other and Zorori answered for all of them "Sure we can go with you."

"Good, but I think that before going out I think they should change their clothes, since with those clothes they wear they will attract a lot of attention among the inhabitants of the city."

When they saw each other they realized that it was true. After waiting a few minutes, everyone was ready. Before leaving, Najō hid inside a backpack and Puppe became invisible as they would definitely attract attention if anyone saw them.

Once they left the building, they returned to the city and headed in the direction of Gori's apartment to meet up with everyone else.

#writing #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction #my wrtitng #zootopia #Zootopia fanfic #zoophobia #zoophobia fanfic #aggretsuko #sonic the hedgehog #jack savage #nick wilde #Judy hopps #retsuko #haida #sonic #amy rose

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our-wargame · 4 years

Text

take three steps to your left; take me with me you [2/2]

Read Part 1

summary: Takahiro’s not sure why but he hates it when people get Matsukawa wrong. And they always seem to.

tags: rated t, pining, dialogue heavy now because oi-matsu-hana are three drunkards, maybe a part three from Matsukawa’s take?, dw matsukawa shows up yay, hanamaki/oikawa friendship and iwaizumi is yay

notes: the first chapter was supposed to just be that, just a short take on possible matsuhana relations, but then i decided why not make it a fic yknow. although part 1′s a good standalone!! this one’s much less serious but yeah! if you happen to reblog my work, i will most likely read your tags and then die of joy.

as always, ao3 link

Last chapter:

“Oh we forgot something,” Oikawa says, and this time there’s thoughtfulness sharpening the eyes sweeping over Takahiro. “We forgot about the part where you’re in love with him.”

Takahiro freezes.

Before Takahiro knows it, his arm is out. Is it really his fault though? It’s not like this was a first-degree planned nose-grabbing. One second Oikawa is saying some bull; and the another, Oikawa’s nose is just...in Takahiro’s crab-claw. His heart’s pounding a little faster than usual, but it’s Gucci.

“Makki! That hurts my conker!.” Oikawa squirms into a sitting position and then scoots his ass back, pretty much over Takahiro’s lap to prevent his nose from getting torn off.

“Nice conk bro.”

When Oikawa wrinkles his nose, Takahiro lets go. He keeps wiggling it, exercising it with ugly ogre faces and complaining he can’t smell Takahiro’s teen reek or something like that.

“Hey, I’ve seen you looking at Iwaizumi after practice.” Takahiro shakes his head. “Just because he’s all sweaty-”

“That’s not-!” Oikawa jumps up, yelling. “He’s not-! You can’t just say-”

Takahiro laughs. Three years of friendship have given Oikawa neural damage, a better poker face, and a properly tainted sense of humor, but specially made mentions of Iwaizumi Hajime still sends him into a loud, quacky fluster.

“You know,” he says casually, comfortably stretching, splaying his arms out over the couch. “I’ve caught him staring back at you.” Leaving a soft pause for the atmosphere shift, Takahiro tilts his head to the side with a small, lopsided grin and waits.

Yes, he expects Oikawa to melt. Instead, Oikawa lets out a small sigh and plunks back down beside Takahiro. His gaze shifts from ground to ceiling and back again. A tiny, hard pit plunks into Takahiro’s stomach. Apprehension. He’s about to joke about how he never makes Oikawa wait this long when he’s teasing him, but the noise that comes out is a sad sort of wheeze that he ends up trying to pass off as a cough.

At last, Oikawa pursues his lips. Takahiro’s given him an opening and he’s taking it. “Makki. You’re in love with Mattsukawa-”

Takahiro’s breath hitches.

“And he’s in love with you.” Oikawa skewers him with his gaze, captain to one of his men, like they’re in one last match. “So. How about you save us spectators the time and-”

Never Gonna Give You Up rings shrilly through the air.

Oikawa’s mouth drops open. Takahiro he lunges for his phone. “Matsukawa,” he reads off the screen like they hadn’t both known from the ringtone.

“Huh. Well.” hums Oikawa. “I need to take a piss.” And he flounces off the couch with that.

Takahiro flexes his fingers, nails digging into his palm. They’re too long again, he thinks, drawing a long inhale. He’s not...he’s not nervous about taking a call from his best friend.

Of course he’s nervous. After what Oikawa tried to imply-

He presses the phone against his ear. “Go for Makki.”

“Yes, hello, I would like some chikky nuggies.”

“Sorry, sir.” Takahiro yawns into the receiver. And into Matsukawa’s ear. “We’re all out. Does that make you hangry?”

“Little bit.” Matsukawa’s low voice sounds rougher than normal, like he’s got something caught in his throat or taken a pinch of Iwaizumi’s gruff soul. The line crackles. “What say you make it up to me?”

“Mmm? What’d you have in mind?” In his peripheral, he notices Oikawa stalking over here with a shit-eating grin Takahiro’s more familiar seeing on Matsukawa’s face.

“The usual. Pick you up in four?”

“Yeah.” Takahiro says, partially distracted with batting at Oikawa. He’s not going to give captain the opportunity to say something ridiculous like...stop flirting Makki! For one, they’re not flirting. And for another, Takahiro makes fun of Oikawa; the teasing in their relationship is strictly one way. To Matsukawa, he says “Wait.”

“Mmm?”

“I’m at Oikawa’s. It’s not rude if I tell him we don’t want him hanging out with us if I say it to his face, right?”

Oikawa leans over and gets his hands on Takahiro’s phone. He might be unable to rip it out of Takahiro’s grip,but he can, and does, bring his head down to yowl, “Fine! Enjoy your date without me!”

Oikawa’s going to die soon and it’s a shame Takahiro will be too busy disposing the evidence to attend the funeral.

“Okay make that five minutes. Also. Forgot to mention,” Matsukawa says, smooth as ever. “Iwaizumi’s sleeping over for the night. If you guys want, I guess we could make it a foursome.”

“Dude, don’t be gross.” Takahiro grumbles. “That’s almost as yucky as thinking about how Oikawa spends the entire time oogling Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oikawa huffs. “Oikawa-sama likes Iwa-chan, Oikawa-sama likes Iwa-chan without a shirt on! Everyone knows and all they do is bully Oikawa-sama about it!” Oikawa finally pauses to breathe. “Also, Makki says we’ll be there. And he says he wants to be sleeping with you guys tonight.”

“Cool. Gross but cool.”

“Yeah, great.” Takahiro says as flatly as he can muster. “Mattsun, hurry up and rescue me from the crazy man?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Static crackles over the line. Matsukawa’s probably has the phone awkwardly caught between his shoulder and ear, to free his hands. “See you soon, yeah?”

Takahiro opens his mouth. And closes it abruptly.

It’s nothing new, Matsukawa waiting for Takahiro to sign off. Matsukawa knows Takahiro hates feeling burdensome. Matsukawa always lets Takahiro end the call, no matter how silly they start out to be. It’s nothing new, but it’s one of Takahiro’s many preferences that Matsukawa just never forgets. It’s nothing new, but for someone infuriatingly attached to simplicity, Matsukawa sure goes out of his way a lot for Takahiro.

“Makki?”

“Yeah.” Takahiro bites himself in the tongue. “See you soon.”

He jabs the end call button before he can do anything else. When he catches Oikawa’s mouth twisting he asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Oikawa says, straight faced. And then when he can’t help himself, he wears a dopey grin.“Y’all are just so fucking cute.”

Takahiro rolls his eyes, even as a slow heat creeps up his neck. He gathers his things and gives Oikawa a quick hug before making for the door. Then he delivers a swift kick to the ass when captain makes the mistake of showing his back.

“Makki!”

“See you tonight!” he shouts, dashing out the door and right into his getaway man.

“Ow,” Matsukawa drawls, standing in a casual gray set of t-shirt and pants. He’s flexing his jaw because Takahiro friggen headbutted him. “I know you missed me but tone down the Iwaizumi-affection.”

Takahiro hardly thinks twice before snagging him by the wrist and hightailing them both away from the danger zone. “Stop slowing me down,” he chokes, and Matsukawa laughs. They almost make it.

“Oi!” Takahiro scowls, whirling around. “You asshat, Crocs only!” He snatches up the sneaker from where it’d bounced off his back and flings it at its owner.

“That hurt, Makki!! My ass and my feelings!!”

“Yeah, yeah. Catch you later, captain.”

Matsukawa snickers and Takahiro elbows him in the ribs as they walk down Oikawa’s driveway. “You were absolutely no help, you big lug. Should’ve known...would’ve ditched you immediately.”

“After I kindly offered a ride? Youch.” Matsukawa peers at him. He might only be a few inches taller but it does mean Takahiro has to pass over his lips to get to his gaze.

But since Oikawa’s said what he said...Takahiro looks away. Hovers and talks at the passenger side door. “Wanna give me the keys?”

They both know he hates driving.

Matsukawa snorts. Apparently he’s not even going to dignify the shoddy joke with a response.

The truth is, they both know a lot of things, Takahiro starts to think. He leans against the window, the glass cool to his skin. But maybe Oikawa’s right and he’s missed one.

...you’re in love with Matsukawa...and he’s in love with you.

Just to be practical, to seriously think about what it would be like, Takahiro takes a hot second to hand control over to his imagination. Imagines himself turning his body, tilting his head, looking into dark eyes, a bright grin, pulling Matsukawa in and- Takahiro swallows. So he’s flushing. Okay. This is okay, hahaha...

They reverse out the driveway, Matsukawa shifting gears and into traffic with an ease Takahiro should be jealous of. But Matsukawa moves, does it all like it’s secondhand nature. The quiet confidence he wears is rare, but it’s the same kind Oikawa has, putting the ball in Iwaizumi’s hands without hesitation, without doubt, day after day. Each of them has the other’s confidence; are each part of the other’s confidence in himself.

Takahiro leans back and closes his eyes, lets the hot sun wash over his thighs, soaking through his shirt.

Maybe it’s not smart to compare, but Takahiro thinks he places a similar kind of trust in Matsukawa. Or at least the most trust he can muster.

After all, he is a cynic. He’s the one who tells Oikawa they could never have won nationals anyways, and that the likelihood of going to nationals was made in the same ridiculous mold. He’s not a shonen protagonist. His faith is not in people; it’s in numbers, in facts. And that’s how it’s always going to be.

But. Takahiro thinks, thinks that if that was ever going to be different, maybe it’d be because of Matsukawa.

“Hey.”

Takahiro blinks himself alert. Matsukawa’s turning the car around, sliding into the parking lot. They’re lucky there’s a spot right at the front of the diner, even if it’s a bit of a tight fit between two SUVs. “We’re here, meathead.”

“Meathead?”

“It was that or meatball.”

“How hungry are you.” Takahiro springs his seat belt free and he’s got a hand on the door handle when all of a sudden, Matsukawa drops his phone into Takahiro’s lap.

“I’ll go. Do me a favor and text Iwaizumi back for me?”

Takahiro nearly unhinges his jaw. “Do you realize the amount of power you’re giving me. Do you know how much restraint I am being forced to perform right now.” Oh Holy Mother of Volleyball - he could change all of his contacts to Oikawa’s number.

Matsukawa grins his hey!-i’m-the-boy-next-door grin. The corners of his eye crinkling and all, and shit, he’s cute.

Okay, but he’s always been cute!! This is nothing new either!!!

“I am looking away,” Matsukawa says, hopping out his car. “The usual?”

Takahiro nods. Watches Matsukawa turn, watches his back grow smaller as he walks away.

And he’s in love with you, rings in his ears once more.

Is he? Because. If Matsukawa was. And they both...wanted to give it a try...

His shorts are suddenly shifting. He looks down, wraps his fingers around the phone starting to slide down his thigh and brings it up to examine.

The lockscreen’s an old blurry photo of the seniors previous to practice (but the picture changes often. When Oikawa’s bored or Iwaizumi’s feeling vindictive and finally ready to retaliate, or when Takahiro wants to. Often, like he said.). There isn’t a password because Matsukawa says he has nothing to hide, but mostly because Takahiro refuses to memorize any numbers he’s not going to use on a test and it’s more fun using Matsukawa’s phone than his own for some reason.

He makes a quick pit stop at the Photo Gallery, creating copies of some of the pictures of the guys and annotates extra dicks onto them. Most of them are actually photos he’s taken, he realizes. While he’s wondering if he should go ahead and delete some of the bullshit photos so Matsukawa doesn’t need to when he wants to download a new game and he’s got no space, Takahiro remembers he’s supposed to be replying to Iwaizumi. Contacts...there, Iwaizumi’s the first one.

You: so 8?

Iwaizumi: yeah. Iwaizumi: unless Iwaizumi: you know You: ?

Iwaizumi: you know. Iwaizumi: you and hanamaki take a detour

Iwaizumi: to talk bout your feelings Iwaizumi: you’re going to right

Matsukawa’s left it at that, left Iwaizumi on read.

Takahiro blinks.

Matsukawa wants him to answer Iwaizumi’s text.

Matsukawa’s giving him an easy out.

Takahiro closes his eyes. What. Is. Going. On. What does this even mean!!! He reads the text again and- Iwaizumi had said your. What.

He doesn’t get much time to think about the implications because Matsukawa’s walking up to him, passing him his order. The smell of hot food isn’t anywhere near as attractive as it usually is, so he place it on his lap. It can wait. He’s not sure if it’s appropriate to laugh out his nerves or glare, with Matsukawa slipping into his own seat, calm and collected as ever. From head to toe, in every piece of his posture and each inch of his expression, Matsukawa Issei tells the world just how perfectly at peace he is with it. Takahiro compromises by biting his own tongue, which triggers his swear-reflex.

Matsukawa snickers.

Ohoho, alright. Takahiro dials up his glare to the max. “Got something to say, asshole?”

“Yeah, actually,” Matsukawa’s lips twitch, a sign he’s suppressing a smile. Takahiro tries to do the same until the blocker says, “You’ve been kind of spacey. What’s up?”

“Ah.” Takahiro ducks his head. “Not much.” Just realizing I’d like to kiss you. Whaboutyou? ”Oikawa just. Said a thing.”

“Mm?”

Matsukawa’s not expecting a reply, he’s just offering Takahiro the opportunity to, should he want it. Affection, warm and rich, blooms in the spiker’s chest. His shoulders sink, falling lax. If he smiles, a little, sue him. “Pretty insightful thing too. Unusually helpful for a change.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It turns out, before you talk about your feelings,” Takahiro says, looking right at Matsukawa while his ears burst into flames. “You have to be aware of them.”

“Holy shit.” Matsukawa blinks. And then he slaps a hand over his eyes and starts laughing, his shoulders actually shaking. Takahiro should kick hit him or run for the hills, right, except Matsukawa is talking to himself. “Wow. Iwaizumi was...right. I mean. And I thought-”

“Issei.”

“I’ve.” He finally meets Takahiro’s eyes. “Had the biggest crush on you. Since end of first year. And you never knew?”

His expression must have answer because the silly guy starts laughing again and Takahiro honest to the gods, feels giddy enough to join in. “Were you going to tell me?”

A gentle shrug. “Don’t know. Wanted to though.”

Takahiro hums. Neither of them have said the real words though and maybe they should do the thing the conventional way? “So.” he begins. “What would you say if we called today a date?”

“Ask you when the next one would be?” Matsukawa puts a hand on the back of his head, an act which Takahiro recognizes as nervous. “Or ask, ‘wait, so you do like me, right?’“

He’s so silly, Takahiro marvels. So silly.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

(Epilogue)

Five minutes past eight, Takahiro enters Oikawa’s house. With his boyfriend.

Boyfriend boyfriend boyfrienddd boyyyfriend boyfriend Matsukawa-boyfriend-Issei.

These thoughts do not belong aloud, it turns out, when Oikawa spots them and immediately yells- nonsense at first, and then something along the same lines. Following up, is a demanding, “So?? Did you kiss yet? Yo! Answer the question! Did y’all kiss??” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and tells him to mind his own business.

“Do you really want to know, captain?” Matsukawa smirks. Takahiro’s fingers find his and they link. Watching Oikawa’s eyes expand to the size of dinner plates is just as satisfying as watching the cogs in his brain turning to try and figure out the answer on his own the rest of the night. In the meantime, they’ve taken their spots on the couch while Iwaizumi fiddles with game settings to accommodate the four of them. It’s game night after all.

(Yeah, Takahiro supposes he owes Oikawa; he’ll give the details captain is dying for later. OR. he muses. Maybe he’ll get Oikawa and Iwaizumi together and then call his dues paid? Matsukawa would be down for either.)

Iwaizumi is as characteristically Iwaizumi as ever. At the snack break, Takahiro sees him giving Matsukawa a shoulder pat, and thinks that’s it. After the two of them get knocked out of the Smash Bros round early he plans on sitting back to watch the defending champion and Mr. Kirby war. Instead, he finds his shoulder being tapped and follows, getting led into the kitchen.

Vice captain hands him a water and leans on the counter. “Congrats.”

“Thanks, Iwaizumi-kun.” he deadpans. “I’m sorry we couldn’t work things out but I’ll cherish the memories.”

“Hey, man, I’ll punch you. No boyfriend around to defend you, y’know.” Iwaizumi taunts.

Takahiro smirks right back at him. He’s not sure if he could be happier if he tried. “So what’s this about?”

Iwaizumi tilts his head to the side. “Oikawa tells me he helped you.”

“Yeah,” Takahiro can allow this. He nods. “Just like you helped Issei.”

“Ha! If only you knew.”

Takahiro raises a brow.

“You know the texts I sent him?” Iwaizumi’s grin is so very wolfish. “He asked me to send them. Fabricated all of them himself. He had me set you guys up.” And then he's calling out “See you later!” due to the fact Takahiro is hightailing out of the room.

Oikawa is absolutely beating the shit out of Metaknight, although Matsukawa’s still winning the trash-talking contest. But as Takahiro enters the room, he trails off, eyes leaving the screen for Takahiro’s. Taking his opportunity, Oikawa finally pushes Metaknight off the platform and whoops to kingdom come. It doesn’t really matter though, Takahiro has walked over, leaning down.

Matsukawa meets him midway. The kiss is soft and sweet but it still messes him up. In the best way ever.

Oikawa’s squeaks go ignored.

“You’re adorable.” Takahiro shakes his head as he sinks into the spot besides the blocker on the couch. He puts his head on Matsukawa’s shoulder and breathes in cotton and cool.

“Iwaizumi sold me out, huh?”

Another kiss stolen. “Dibs on him as my best man.”

Matsukawa snickers while Oikawa protests, “The hell? What about me? Makki, I had your back! I made the play of the year! I’m literally game MVP.”

Iwaizumi appears, nudging Oikawa to scoot over until they both have enough space. “I heard my name?” He gets himself two fistbumps.

Oikawa scowls.

#matsuhana #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #my writing #yay an ending

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twit-moonstar · 4 years

Text

i fall to pieces: chapter one - roger taylor x fem!reader

N/A: Hey! This is just the first chapter of this little mini series I’ll do. I was intending on doing a big ass one shot but I can’t force myself to finish it so I decided to post what I have and see if there’s actually any interest on reading this. It’s a 80s Roger x Stripper!Reader, in case the little banner didn’t gave it away. Let me know your opinion and reblog the fic if you liked it <3

N/A2: I edited this myself, so pardon me if there’s any grammar mistake or incoherence! (Doesn’t excuse me but) English it’s not my first languaje.

Summary: When Y/N, a dancer at the Blue Velvet stripclub mets rockstar Roger Taylor, she’s torn between mistrust and flirting shamelessly but little by little they find a way to each other’s heart.

Warnings: There’s no smut in this bc i’m not up for it but there will be a few references to sex.

Words: roughly 3K

“Bring you ass here, Laura!” exclaimed Coco and you rejected the various shots that Laura offered you before she walked to Coco with a simple gesture of your hand. Applying the deep wine lipstick carefully, you smile in different ways in the mirror to try to get into this persona you had created for the club.

Working on the club night after night was taking its toll over you, and you were in desperate need of a vacation but you wouldn’t dare to ask Mike about it. Your rent was due in a week and you still needed a few pounds to get the amount of money you needed.

Maybe I should go on that date with that guy, Tate, you think. You already know him and how his crushes tended to go for the girl he had put his eye on—The fortunate chosen one would end up with a new shiny pair of brand shoes and a gold bracelet or a diamond necklace, all of that without even sleeping with him. Of course, those who did sleep with him could get a whole lot more but that wasn’t something that you were thrilled for— and he was certainly interested in you.

You walk out of the dressing room. The club wasn’t yet at its fullest, as it was fairly early yet. The lights, however, were starting to get lowered and soon the place would be bathed in blue and red.

“Busy night, Karma?” asks the new barmaid, Matt, you think. He’s been trying to get into your pants ever since he started to work, but you never pay him any attention.

“Not yet, Matthew,” you reply, passing by without looking at him and walking straight to a group of three men drinking beer and watching to one in particular.

They seem delighted with your presence as if you had chosen them for some special reason. By the end of two songs, you’re fifty pounds richer. It’s not the most you can get, but you’re tired and at this point of the week you don’t even care.

You walk to the bar and observe the club. It wasn’t the fanciest place, but it felt cheery enough for you after all this time. Sometimes it scared you how comfortable you felt there but you had to remember why you had started to work in a place like this.

A group of men enters, laughing at some joke probably, and they stumble to one of the black velvet sofas. As a dancer of the well-known Blue Velvet strip club—or as the owner preferred to call it ‘gentleman’s club’—, it wasn’t uncommon to see band members around. The almost-naked girls were beautiful and the alcohol was the good kind if you had the money, who wouldn’t be attracted to come? So when you recognise at least two of them as Roger Taylor and John Deacon, you’re not surprised.

You walk to the pole that’s right in front of them and start dancing, without looking at them at first, just to catch their attention. Bet they’re good money, you through, lucky me.

Much to your surprise, Roger requests for a private dance, just for him. That flattered you; you wouldn’t deny it. Rockstars usually picked someone else—like Ginger, with her long legs and big ass, or Coco, who had straight blonde hair and nice tits.

Of course, you had your charms, but usually, you would give private dances for rich and boring businessmen in suits. Never someone as exciting as Queen’s drummer.

With his blonde hair, mischievous blue eyes, and delicate yet strong features, he was, by far, the most attractive man you had ever met.

Despite your nervousness, you flashed him a flirty smile that he returned as you led him to a private room. He sits down on the black leather couch while you pour him a glass of whiskey.

“You don’t drink?” He says, taking a gulp and licking his lips afterward. You shake your head no with a little smile.

“I don’t drink while working, Mr. Taylor.”

He asked you then to not call him mister, to which you replied with a smile and an amused ‘yes, sir.’

“What’s your name?”

“Karma,” you replied simply, walking to the little selection of vinyl you had to play. “Do you like Pink Floyd? Or maybe Led Zeppelin?”

You know there’s a lot of magazines that gather trivial information like what’s his favourite band, or book, and even actress, but you never bother to buy them. You’re not greatly interested in keeping up with the life of any rockstar, to be honest. You’re quite busy trying to keep up with your own life.

He cocks his head slightly to the side, thinking for a moment before ignoring your question. “Why did you pick it?”

You weren’t bothered by his curiosity, although not many had asked you about it.

You had earned your nickname in your first week when you slapped a guy when he tried to undress you himself. Whereas some of the girls believed you would be instantly fired, the owner warned you against taking the matter into your own hands next time and let it slide, saying you had to call security next time—unless it was urgent.

To the exception of a few regular clients, who had already heard the story, men usually came to ogle over your body and not to learn anything about you.

“Because I’ll punch anyone who has it coming,” you reply.

“When is that?”

“When someone tries to piss me off trying to get way too handsy when I don’t allow it,” you say with a light and joyous tone. Oh, how you would be happy to throw a punch or two to some idiots that believed that could touch with no consequences because you were wearing little clothes. You had gained pretty much all of your patience just working here.

He took the glass to his mouth again to cover a nascent smile, but you notice the corner of his lips curving upwards.

It made you smile as well.

Despite the more than a generous tip that Roger gave you, you didn’t think he would come back and were pleasantly surprised to see him again two weeks later.

There was a certain lustful glow on his deep blue eyes, and you would lie if you said that the prospect of having his hands all over you didn’t send a jolt of desire straight to your core.

So you decided to end your dance by sitting on his lap, giving him a proper view of your almost naked tits, and taking his hands to slide them to your ass.

A little flirting never hurt anyone, you think.

He grinned at you. “You’re not gonna hit me, right, love?”

“Of course not, sir.”

He squeezed your ass and you grinded against him trying your best to follow the rhythm of the music.

“When does your shift end?”

You almost stop on your tracks at the question but you laugh softly instead.

“We only provide dancing services, sir. Don’t let your hands on my ass confuse you,” you replied teasingly, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t seem offended by the insinuation on your word’s choice but instead amused.

“I was planning on wine and dine you.”

This time you do stop moving and look at him, slowly getting out of his lap and standing in front of him. The music keeps playing, but you don’t move at all as you watch him carefully, searching for any hint of…

What were you looking exactly? Something in his eyes that gave away his true intentions, probably, since you always guided yourself by your mistrust when it came to people, especially men who were older than you.

“You did, huh?”

He’s obviously only interested in seeing what’s down the skimpy lingerie, right?

But he seems sincere, so you smile. “Fine.”

“Can I get your real name now, love? I think I deserve to know with whom I am having dinner,” he asked, and you rolled your eyes, but smiled, nonetheless.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name, like savouring every syllable in his tongue, made your heart give a little jump on your chest. “Nice.”

Despite Roger’s best efforts to impress you and convince you to stay a night at his place, it takes two dates more before you finally agree to do so.

It’s not that you aren’t impressed you have enjoyed very much the expensive wine and fancy restaurants, but you truly enjoy his company and there’s this feeling that if you sleep with him once you will never see him again.

Not that you can see getting involved in a romantic relationship with him, but if you can just spend time with Roger, then you would take the most advantage out of it you could.

“Sit down, put yourself comfortable,” he says, walking into what you assume it’s the kitchen and you nod.

You observe the spacious place. The walls are painted with a warm cream colour, which doesn’t exactly match the wooden furniture, like the shelving on the corner. You’re surprised to see the great number of books and before you realise you’re standing in front of the shelving, caressing delicately a book spine.

You take one out and look at the cover. On the road by Jack Kerouac.

“That’s one of my favourites,” Roger’s voice says on your ear and you jump a little on your spot, which makes him smile. “Have you read it?”

“No. I was about to buy it once, but I choose another,” you say, opening a random page and reading whatever it catches your attention.

«"I love love," she said, closing her eyes, and I promised her beautiful love.”» You smiled. Would it be just a coincidence that you had read exactly that paragraph?

“What’s so funny?” he asks and you read it out loud for him. Roger looks into the nothing, his blue gaze deep in thought.

“That’s a good chapter,” he says simply and you nod, without knowing what to say.

Had been reading something like that a too-bold of a movement? You didn’t expect anything from him, you couldn’t have the luxury to fantasize about him. A few dates can’t mean anything, do they?There’s a strange shift in the air, and you hate it. Ten minutes ago you were laughing and whispering silly things on the corridor while trying to open the flat’s door.

“Do you have something to drink?” you say softly.

“You can keep the book if you want,” Roger said and you looked at the book on your hands. It’s in good condition, which means it’s either new or he hasn’t read it that many times, but he said it’s his favourite and you feel a little bad thinking about taking it.

“Oh, no, that’s fine. I couldn’t,” you say, shaking your head and leaving the book on its place.

“If you don’t want to keep it, you can borrow it.”

“I’ll think about it. Now, what about that drink, uh?”

“Yeah, yeah. You like white wine?”

“Actually, do you have something without alcohol?” you ask, sheepishly, and he nods.

“Of course. You like Cola?”

You both sit down on the couch, facing each other, and drinking.“Y’know, we have been in three dates but I don’t think I know much about you,” he says and you bit your lower lip softly, which only brings his attention to your lips. He’s making conversation before fucking or is interested in knowing you? Men usually weren’t interested in hearing whatever you had to say, it was the sad truth and you had already gotten used to it.

“Nothing worth of telling you, to be honest,” you shrug, taking a sip of your drink.

“That’s a load of crap, and I don’t buy it,” he replies and you smile, before leaving the glass on the little coffee table. Getting closer to him, you finally connected your lips to his. It tastes of wine and the cigarette that he had been smoking earlier while driving.

“Let’s go to your bedroom,” you whisper before deepening the kiss. He pulls apart, getting up and taking your hand to lead the way. Chit chat can come later if he still wants to be around after fucking.

You’re the first to wake up the next morning so you try to be as quiet as possible as you roll out of bed and go to the toilet to refresh yourself a little. You wash your face, trying to get rid of the eyeshadow under your eye as much as possible, and after you’re satisfied you tie your hair on a loose ponytail.

You’re already dressed, so all you need to do is get your bag and coat, write him a note or say goodbye if he’s awake and leaves. You open the toilet door and go to the living. Just as you’re putting on your coat, Roger gets out of the kitchen with a water bottle on his hand and smiles at you like he’s thinking gotcha.

“Stay for breakfast?”

“I got things to do,” you lie quickly. Roger raises an eyebrow, probably questioning your answer.

You’re one to value honesty but right now, you can’t bring yourself to spend more time with him. He’ll start to ask questions and that’s the last thing you want, as much as you like his company.

“Really? I’m starting to think you’re just using me for sex,” he says, with mocking hurt and you try not to smile.

“That’s a low blow,” you accuse.“What you got?”

“Coffee, toast and pop tarts,” he recites with closed eyes like he’s mentally looking through his cupboard.

You think he probably doesn’t have a lot of food right now since it’s the last days of the months. You wondered if someone did shopping for him and when was the last time he did? Did he ever do that? Was he able to do it now, being famous and all?

“What flavour?”

“Strawberry?”

“I want two,” you demand. Roger just nods with a smile.

You walk inside the kitchen and sit on a stool by the breakfast bar and observe Roger preparing breakfast. He’s wearing a white shirt and black sweatpants; his hair is dishevelled but it gives him certain charm.

“You slept well?” Roger asks, placing your coffee in front of you.

“Yeah, I think I can confidently say your bed is the most comfortable I’ve slept in.”

“You’re welcomed in again whenever you please,” he winks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Shut up,” you reply, taking a bit of your pop tart but you’re smiling.

“I’m serious, though, I’d love to repeat that. Dinner included, of course.”

“We’ll see,” you just say.

A long beat happens before you speak again. “Why are you so interested in me?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he says, sipping on his cup.

You sigh. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t, I’m just saying it’s strange.”

He raises an eyebrow, and his blue eyes are inquisitive, looking at your face like he could find on your eyes the answer to your constant changes between being apprehensive and flirting shamelessly. “Why?”

“Because I- I thought men like you wouldn’t be interested in someone like me?”

“Someone like you?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think I can be interesting and, maybe, a good company but you could be with anyone you want,” you state like it’s obvious like it’s the kind of thing every man with a highly successful career thinks.

“And I want to spend my time with you, guess it’s because you’re good company,” he states, matter of factly but your expression must give away that you’re not so convinced so he takes one of your hands and interlocks your fingers.

“Look, I like you and as long as you’re willing to entertain my interest on you, I’m gonna keep asking you out.”He looks at your hands for a second before looking up to see you smiling down at him.

“Fine. I like you too, you know?”

“I know,” he replies with a cheeky smile.

“But I gotta go,” you say and he lets go of your hand.

“Can I pass to the toilet?“

“Go ahead, you know where it is.”

After you’re done, you get out of the toilet to put your coat on and get your purse. However, you’re not exactly sure of how to say goodbye, so you stand awkwardly in front of him, close by the door.

“C’mere,” he chuckles, softly pushing you flush against him and cradling your face to kiss your lips with delicately.

“See ya soon, love.” He opens the door and you step outside on the corridor.

“Goodbye, Rog. Thanks for yesterday, I enjoyed it very much,” you smile.

He grins. “Well, of course ya did.”

“Don’t get too cocky now, Taylor, you lean towards him, your mouth close to his ear. “It wasn’t me begging last night, after all,” you whisper and kiss his cheek quickly, like fearing being seen, and start walking to the elevator.

He watches you with a smile until the elevator door closes.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor x you #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor x female reader

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farelian · 4 years

Text

Galactic Quarrels: Unexpected Visitor

And here I am, back again with another edition to this series. Thank you all for your support, this one I flashed through and had so much fun writing it! Be prepared for the next one because things are about to get... teddy bit crowded

~~~~~~~

In the early morning, as the sun rises over the horizon, Michael is out on the balcony doing stretches, bending his body and legs in ways a Zarqonan would most definitely find disgusting and painful.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes returning back into reality, looking left and right looking at all the high-rise buildings and the large blue lake over in the distance.

He needs to maintain his physique and strength, but as of now, he hasn’t built up the courage to go outside in sleeveless shirts and running pants with shoes. So to substitute for it, he starts doing body exercises and stretching in his residence.

Walking back inside he walked to the coffee table picking up his holo-watch and taps it a few times. Screens show up showing his fitness routine and exercise record, not enough by him letting out a disappointed sigh.

He is still a citizen of the UTF as per the migration deal, he’s basically just out on vacation instead of moving away from his parent’s house and finally moving into his own.

And being a citizen of the UTF, he is still a Lieutenant in Frontier Command, UTF’s equivalent of a space army and fleet.

He wonders if he should go home again.

Turning the watch off and placing it back on the table, he walked to the kitchen counter taking his glass of orange juice. It’s a surprise when he got a package of Earth’s fruits, he also got a blender so better use it rather than leaving them in the fridge.

He feels watched though, the last few days he has this unease in his heart and the feeling of being watched 24/7, even when he’s going to go to sleep. He looked up and around the apartment again, there have to be cameras in here there has to be.

He returned his focus back to his orange juice and went behind the counter to blend some dragonfruit. The sounds of the motor and turning blades blast the room while the noise of the fruit being chopped and blended echoes outside into the hallway.

“I hope they don’t think I’m making a bomb in here” *He muttered to himself as he waited and waited. Turning it off and pouring it into another glass, he raised it up to his mouth, ready to drink the dragonfruit only to be interrupted by the quiet knocking of the front door.

“What?” He said quietly, he knows Yaku, or any Zarqonan never knocks on the door and just burst in unannounced, this is new. “Coming” He yelled putting down the glass of dragonfruit and cleans his lips with some tissues before walking to the door.

He looked around again as that feeling of being watched still lingers, then he faced the door. No peephole or see-through tech, he wished he was back on Earth now. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the knob. This feels different, it feels like it’s not a Zarqonan over on the other side. Could it be a Murumur? Could it even be a government agent that came to pick him up without telling him in advance?

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know if he opens the door he will wake up inside a shipping crate on his way to the edge of the galaxy to be sold in the galactic black market.

A muffled feminine voice can be heard. “Come on what’s taking so long?” Human, a human voice.

He’s taken aback, he turned the knob and slide the door open and looked down at the figure. A human woman, wearing a black and dark red coat with a full military-style uniform. Taking a quick glance at the woman’s face, yellowish eyes with hair that’s tied back into a long ponytail that stretched down to her hips.

Around 5’7” tall, he couldn’t believe it. “Um, hello how may I help you?” Michael let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “Haven’t seen a human face for a while”

“Of course you haven’t” The woman replied with a relatively sour but somehow comforting attitude. “Jill Porter, nice to meet you, Michael”

“You know me?”

The woman laughed while nodding. “Everyone knows you, Lieutenant! The mad man that wants to migrate to the Zarqon homeworld” Mad man? Is that his title now? The mad lieutenant?

“Oh, that’s uh… interesting I guess” “Yeah, interesting indeed” Jill claps her hands together and peeked into his apartment. “Can I come in?” Michael stepped aside. “Sure, let yourself in.”

As the woman walked into Michael’s apartment, he walked into the kitchen finally drinking his glass of dragonfruit while the door automatically closes itself. Glancing back towards the girl, he prepped a cup. “Tea or coffee? They’ve come from those weekly packages.” He said taking the coffee jar.

Jill took a seat on the armchair in the living room, looking back at him. “Cofee would be good” Then she looked up and around his apartment. “Nice place”

“I thought every room is designed like this?” He responded while brewing a cup of coffee.

“I mean yeah mine is basically a carbon copy but it’s nice to be polite” Jill replied with a chuckle as she fixed her attention to the tv, turning it on.

He walked over placing the coffee onto the coffee table and sat on the couch, leaning forward resting his elbow on his thighs folding his hands together. “Alright, cut the chit chat. Who are you and what do you want?”

Jill laughed as she looked back at Michael with a smile. “Are you deaf? I just said who I am. Jill Porter.” She shrugged and tilted her head. “For what I want, I want you to help me here.” She said pointing at Michael.

Silence, a few seconds pass by without a word being spoken before Michael replied to her request. “I like to know who my employer is.”

Jill laughed once again, shaking her head then nods. “You’re smart Michael, no wonder you go through the ranks at a young age.” Jill reached into her coat and pulled out an id card. “Jill Porter, lead xenobiologist for the Putter Institute.”

He took the id card and looked at it. A rotating model of Jill, name, age, occupation. He returned it and sighed. “Alright, what do you need help with?”

“I need a willing specimen, a Zarqonan”

“And what will you do with them?”

Jill pulled out a holoprojector. “Exactly one week ago a Zarqonan arrived at our local Topirus branch, the outermost colony in UTF space” An image of the Zarqonan in question appeared. “She is missing a back-left tentacle after a horrible accident in one of their orbital research stations.

To create the prosthetic requested by the Zarqonan, we need to examine the back-left tentacle.”

“Let me guess, they don’t let any humans onto the station?” Michael concluded first before she continued.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Alright, I understand why you’re here now,” He said nodding while Jill put away the projector.

Jill leaned back into the armchair. “So, lieutenant? Can you help”

A few seconds of silence as Michael stared at the ground. He looked back up and answered. “I know a girl”

~~~~

Michael’s residence has been turned into a makeshift examination lab and Yaku was brought in for the examination. The xenobiologist, Jill, worked examining Yaku’s left-back tentacle taking scans and examining its structure.

Yaku herself did not mind but is thinking if there’s another way to make this more efficient and not resulting in a mess.

Power cables scattered across the floor connecting the power to the lights and scanning equipment Jill brought with her. The doctor looked eager examining the subject, asking Yaku all sorts of questions.

“So what are the purposes of your tentacles?” The doctor asked while Michael is leaning back against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Moving up one of her two front tentacles, she speaks. “The two front tentacles are used to maneuver, turning left and right and to slow down.” She then lowered the tentacle lifting up one of the back ones. “The back is for moving around.”

Michael grunted as he pushed himself off the wall and walked over, crossing his arms on his chest. “I still don’t know why you just don’t render a model immediately and make it.”

While continuing the examination, Jill answered. “At Putter we do not waste resources. We take the exact measurements, the exact height and preferred weight, joints and muscle contraction points” Writing the last bit of info into her datapad she stood back up.

“Also, this is a great learning experience for us, in the case aliens demands for prosthetic rises,” She said turning away to the table and portable little computer transferring the data.

“So there’s a consumer satisfaction stance, and a marketing stance,” Michael concluded once again.

“A hundred percent correct Michael, I thought you would be hard to work with” She turned back around. “But it looks like everything worked out fine.”

Michael turned to Yaku and nods. “Thank you Yaku”

“No problem Sir Michael, I’m glad to help.” Yaku said turning to Jill and make an attempt at smiling.

The two humans not noticing the subtle small attempt of smiling, both of them shook hands. “Well looks like everything’s done now, thank you, Michael, I’ll get an update soon enough”

“My pleasure” Letting go of the firm handshake. “Well since everyone is bored and doesn’t have shit to do, want to stay and watch some movies?”

Jill chuckled and shrugged with a smile. “Well sure! Just don’t put on a romantic one, we’re not there yet.”

Michael laughed and waved her away. “Oh, how bold of you to think that we are already in a relationship? We’re just acquaintances” That gained laughter from the opposition. Michael turned to Yaku and gestured to the couch and armchair. “You want to join Yaku?”

Yaku looked over at the couch and tv before nodding slightly. “I would love to.”

“Great!” Michael was about to go to the kitchen only to realize all the equipment in his room. “Oh uh, clean this mess first would you?”

Things are starting to get a tad bit crowded.

#humannature #humans are awesome #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are crazy #humans are strange #humans are insane #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #sci-fi #sciencefiction #science-fantasy #Alien #humans #space orcs #Space Orks #humans are space orcs #galactic quarrels #galactic quarrels series

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katefiction · 4 years

Text

Traces of Us

by katefiction (Maria) / 2014

Malcolm Kenton didn’t care for celebrity, and he didn’t understand why anyone else did either. He lived in a small cottage on the Isle of Anglesey with his wife Rosanne and his Labrador, Toby. He only bought the Guardian on principle and refused to watch anything but the BBC.

Malcolm’s grandchildren thought him old fashioned, and he often heard them sniggering behind his back when they came to visit, playing horrific ‘boom boom’ music, as he called it, and watching some mind numbing reality TV show with people so desperate to be famous they’d strip naked on television.

When he and Rosanne visited Ye Olde Bulls Head Inn for a quiet drink, Malcolm would refuse to enter the pub quiz. He knew he’d get a perfect score on the every category, but would fail on the entertainment section. The one time he’d tried, the whole pub had erupted in laughter when he mistook a picture of Michael Jackson for Cher.

It came as a surprise to everyone then, when Malcolm announced he had been asked to come out of retirement and act as estate agent for his old friend, Sir George Meyrick.

Malcolm was to help sell the most famous farmhouse in Wales.

The farmhouse in the hamlet of Bodorgan boasted four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, dining room, and a stunning view of Newborough Forest. But even with that, the initial rush of voyeuristic customers who wanted to rent the property because of its famous connection had died away.

Now, five years after the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge had packed up and left for London, bookings were down, and Sir George was finally ready to sell the place.

Despite living in Anglesey all their lives, neither Malcolm nor Rosanne had ever met or even seen the royal residents around the island during their three year stay. Not that Malcolm would have cared if he did. Other people’s lives didn’t interest him and as he waited outside the farmhouse that winter’s day to give his tenth viewing, he sincerely hoped that his next clients wouldn’t do as the last nine had done – ask him questions about William and Kate.

‘Is this their original bed?’, ‘Would Kate have cooked on this stove?’, ‘Who did up the garden, the duke?’ Malcolm was sick of it. This wasn’t a museum for heaven’s sake.

The family of four rushed up to the door, where Malcolm, a firm believer that he didn’t need a coat to keep warm, was standing, his shoulders hunched from the cold. He had no time for tardiness.

‘So sorry we’re late!’, the woman said, bundled up in a scarf and hat, ‘I’m Bryony, and this is my husband Mark’

Mark who was similarly dressed in thick winter wear, shook his hand and exchanged pleasantries.

‘And these are the kids’, Bryony pointed, rather unnecessarily, Malcolm thought, to the young boy and girl chasing each other around the driveway.

‘Kids!’, Mark called, ‘get over here please, let’s not keep everyone waiting any longer’

The children ran over to their father dutifully and followed as Malcolm led them into the house.

The young couple seemed taken with the whitewashed house as soon as they entered, exchanging words of approval at the large hallway, and a painting of the Irish Sea hanging by the doorway.

‘Welcome home Mrs Wales’, William said, throwing his bags carelessly into the hall.

‘Thank you Mr Wales’, Kate replied, being all the more careful with their belongings, placing her bags down on the hard wooden floor.

‘You know I was always Mr Wales?’, he teased, ‘it hasn’t got the same charm as when it’s brand new’

‘Four days of being your wife and the novelty hasn’t worn off yet?’

‘Not a bit’, he smiled.

William and Kate were firmly in the honeymoon phase, despite not having been on their honeymoon yet. They hung off each other’s’ words, wanted to spoil each other at every given second and couldn’t keep their hands off each other. This was wedded bliss personified.

They had lived together in their Anglesey home for over a year, but coming back to their secluded house as husband and wife four days after their enormous wedding, it already felt different.

William kicked the door shut and grabbed Kate from behind, hoping to savour every moment they had together before he went back to work the next day.

‘Can I unpack first?!’ she giggled, poking him in the ribs.

‘Nope’, he replied, turning her around.

‘Tough, you know I hate mess’, she attempted to pull away, though if she was honest, her heart wasn’t really in it.

‘You have to obey me now you’re my wife’, he said with a smirk, knowing it would rile her.

‘Oh you have a lot to learn’, Kate shook her head.

‘I’m doing alright so far aren’t I? At this whole husband thing?’

‘You are’, she kissed him to show her approval. ‘Though we’re going to have to talk about you leaving your stuff by the doorway when you come in after work…’

‘The doorway!’ William said suddenly.

He took Kate by the hand and pulled her back through front door. They both stood on the step, just as they had five minutes earlier.

‘Will, what on earth?’

Lifting her up, he threw her effortlessly over his shoulder, ‘how could I forget to carry you over the threshold?’

‘This is ridiculous, put me down!’ she laughed.

He took her into the hallway, her arms and legs flailing in a bid for freedom. It didn’t have the desired effect, and instead, her foot hit the painting of the Irish Sea that hung on the wall, sending it crashing to the ground.

‘Oh crap!’

William let her down, ‘that was very naughty Mrs Wales’

She pushed his shoulder, ‘that was YOUR fault!’

‘I’m not the one who was causing a fuss!’

Kate picked up the painting and on finding that no damage had been done, hung it back up.

‘We’re married now’, she said, ‘we have to act like grown ups’

William knew better than to think she was serious. For being with Kate let out his fun side and she knew it. And if he was going to have fun anywhere, where no-one could see him, it would be here in Anglesey.

‘I suppose there are plenty of grown up things we could do’, he said, raising an eyebrow.

Kate narrowed her eyes, pretending to look unimpressed, but it wasn’t long until she broke out into a large grin, ‘you’ll have to catch me first’

With that, she sprang up the stairs, William not far behind, chasing her like a cheetah about to pounce on a particularly tasty lunch.

Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief as he took the family into the dining room. So far they hadn’t made any reference to the duke and duchess.

French windows looked out onto the forest, opening up the dining room, which held a large wooden dining table, ornate light fittings and fireplace.

Bryony and Mark admired the table as the children looked longingly out of the window, breathing on the glass and making shapes with their fingers in the mist.

‘Lovely for entertaining’, Bryony remarked.

‘Indeed’ Malcolm said. He wasn’t really the best salesperson in the world.

‘Looks like there’s been a little scuffle here’, Mark bent down and touched one of the table legs.

Malcolm cursed them under his breath. They had been the first ones to notice that unfortunate damage.

‘It looks like it’s been gnawed at’, Bryony said, now joining Mark at the table leg. ‘Really, who lets an untrained animal loose at an antique table?!’

‘KATE!’ William yelled through the house. ‘Kate, get in here!’

She rushed into the dining room, ‘what’s the emergency?’, she said, scanning the room for the disaster.

‘That is’, he pointed down to the floor where their twelve week old puppy was chomping on the leg of the dining table.

‘Lupo!’ she exclaimed, grabbing his back and trying to pull him off the table.

‘Bad dog’ William said, rather unhelpfully. ‘You should really train him’

‘I AM training him, no thanks to you’, she said, finally dislodging Lupo from the table.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’, William’s brow creased into a deep line.

‘It means that all you ever do is cuddle and play with him, all the hard work is left for me’, she said sternly.

His face dropped like a small child, ‘I’m no good at training him, you know that’

‘Well you need to start trying a little harder!’, she stormed out of the room, clutching Lupo, who looked rather confused at the site of the couple arguing.

‘What is wrong with you?!’, William called down the hall as he followed her, ‘because I know this isn’t about the dog, Catherine’

Kate turned on her heel so fast, Lupo’s ears swung like a helicopter, ‘it’s about the fact that we want a baby next year and you can’t even discipline a dog’

William was taken aback, he wasn’t expecting that. ‘So you’re saying I’m going to be a bad father?’

‘I’m saying that I don’t want to put all the ground work in to set boundaries for our child and have you undermine me’

He walked over to her and put his hands on both of her arms. He was stung by her words, but some things weren’t worth the fight.

‘I know I can spoil him sometimes, but your word rules, we’re a team, always have been’

‘I know’, she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry’

William chuckled, ‘I refuse to let our baby be as much of a brat as I was’

Kate managed a smile, ‘William the Terrible, wasn’t it?’

She was sure she saw him pink a little, ‘yes, but that’s not the point, the point is our baby will be nothing like me’

‘I guess it would be ok if he was a little like you’

‘Oh it’s a “he” is it?’, William laughed.

‘Yep’, she said confidently. ‘We’ll have a son, just you wait’

William had already learnt that his wife was almost always right.

The children were dying to go out into the garden, ‘Please Mummy! I won’t run off anywhere, I promise!’

‘We said no, now don’t ask again please’, Mark said, ruffling the child’s hair.

As Malcolm took the family into the living room, with its large sofa set and more antique oak furniture, he instinctively placed his foot over a pale mark on the patterned rug that was under the coffee table. He didn’t want Bryony and Mark to notice anything else wrong with the farmhouse.

‘But please Daddy!!!’

Malcolm didn’t know which one of the children was making that repulsive whining noise, he preferred not to converse with anyone without cognitive thinking. His own son, like William and Kate, had left Anglesey for London and had barely looked back since. Only when his son wanted to offload his teenagers on Malcolm and Rosanne, did he see him.

He loved his son in his own way, but childhood was just a necessary evil to get to adulthood in his opinion. He could never understand the way children turned grown adults into fools. Especially babies; sticky, ugly little creatures that people went wild for.

His mind wondered back to five years ago when he had been looking forward to watching the start of the Ring O’ Fire Marathon. He had bumped into his neighbour one morning as he was collecting his milk bottles from the door step.

‘Yoo hooo! Malcolm’ she hawked. ‘Did you hear the good news?’

‘What’s that then?’, he said dryly.

‘Only that Prince William and maybe even Catherine are attending the marathon this year!’

Malcolm nodded without saying a word. He truly hoped this wouldn’t bring a load of tourists from the mainland.

‘I do hope they bring the little baby, wouldn’t that be wonderful?!’

‘Why, is it going to be entering the marathon?’

The neighbour laughed uncertainly, she never did understand Malcolm.

Kate was on her knees scrubbing at a stain on the rug.

‘You really should start getting ready’, William said.

‘I have to get this stain off’, she said distractedly.

Last night, their baby boy had leaked through his nappy, leaving an unsightly stain on the rug.

‘You’re gonna wear a hole in it’, he said soothingly, but Kate ignored him. ‘We need to leave soon’

Finally, she sat up, taking her eyes off the rug for the first time in fifteen minutes. ‘I can’t come’

‘Not this again’, William sighed.

‘I can’t do it, I can’t leave him’

‘Your mum is here and he’s asleep’. William had repeated this about twenty times already. If Kate didn’t move soon, they’d be late for their first engagement together since George was born. It was their final way of saying thank you to the island.

‘What if he needs me? What if he wakes up and doesn’t want to drink from the bottle? He’ll wonder where I am, he’ll be scared William’, the irrational panic was rising in her voice.

William sat down on the sofa. This was going to take some convincing.

‘You went out the shops without him, and he was fine then, remember?’

‘That was only like half an hour, and I’d just fed him’

‘But he was fine, yes?’

‘Yes but…’

‘Kate, your mum knows what she’s doing, more than we do. Try and remember why you wanted to come in the first place’. He ran a hand through her hair.

He was right, she had wanted to go to show her thanks. Anglesey had been wonderful to them, all four of them.

‘What if something happens?’

‘Rebecca has our phones, but nothing will happen, he won’t even know we’re gone’

Kate knew he was speaking sense, but first time motherhood didn’t pair itself with rational thinking. Especially when you were leaving your baby.

‘I guess’, she said softly, standing up to stretch her legs.

‘He’ll be fine’, William said, stroking her arm, ‘and so will you’

She gave him a little squeeze for reassurance, ‘what would I do without you?’

Mark and Bryony were eager to see the upstairs part of the house. With four bedrooms and two bathrooms, it would be perfect for this little family, Malcolm thought.

He showed them each room in turn, ending with the master bedroom. Bryony and Mark smiled at each other as they entered. Clearly the spacious wardrobe and king size bed was a hit.

Malcolm had a good feeling about these clients; they seemed to like everything about the house and hadn’t yet uttered a word about the previous tenants. Sir George would certainly be happy if he found a suitable buyer.

‘Great view’, Mark said, his hands tucked in his pockets, staring out of the window. The view from the bedroom was Malcolm’s favourite. It looked out onto a small beach that Sir George owned. ‘I could look at it all day’.

The waves lapped at the rocks, sending water spraying across the beach. It was why William loved the view from his bedroom window; you never knew what the sea would be doing from one day to the next.

‘See that George, that is what Mummy and Daddy got to wake up to every morning’. He looked down at his son who was blinking at him sweetly, tucked up in his arms.

He turned around and looked at the room, now almost empty, but for a few boxes that had to be taken away. This had been his home for three wonderful years. It pained him to think that George wouldn’t grow up here.

As Kate took charge of the packing downstairs, William walked solemnly from room to room, recalling memories to George.

They were different like that, Kate always kept herself busy when she was stressed or worried. William on the other hand would sit and stare at the ceiling with the sounds of the African bush pulsing through his headphones.

‘This is where we found out we were having you’, he said, showing George the all-white bathroom. ‘Daddy even cried a little bit that day’, he whispered.

After moving through each room as slowly as he could, he finally reached the largest spare room. ‘And this would’ve been your room, it would’ve been so cool, I’d have put all sorts in here, little elephants and lions on the walls, you would’ve loved it’

If things had been different, William, Kate, George and Lupo would’ve stayed in Anglesey. But with the Search and Rescue Service being privatised and William’s other duties calling, they had no choice but to leave.

‘Will, are you done?’, Kate called from downstairs.

‘Just a sec’, he called back.

‘One day, you, me, Mummy and Lupo are going to come for a summer holiday here. I’ll take you to the beach and we can have a barbecue, how does that sound?’

George gurgled in agreement, making Will laugh.

‘Shall we say goodbye then?’

He took George downstairs and met Kate at the front door.

‘Ok?’ she asked, sensing his mood.

‘I was just telling George about us coming back for a summer holiday’

‘That would be fantastic’, she said, rubbing his back softly.

It truly was bittersweet. As much as Kate was excited to move into their apartment in London, to have a home she could decorate without renting restrictions, she loved this home as much as William had. Their memories here were countless, each room, nook and cranny left behind a trace of them.

‘Shall we?’ William said, reluctant, but ready to leave.

‘Let’s go home’, Kate said, confident in the fact that eventually, their lives in apartment 1A would live up to their little Welsh farmhouse.

Boxes removed and cupboards emptied, they left the keys on the counter in the kitchen, closing the door on the best three years of their lives.

The Cambridges hadn’t been back for a holiday, that much Malcolm knew. He could always tell when they were about by the blacked out cars driving up and down the island. It was too late now, he thought. It would be sold, probably to this family, in a couple of months.

He could go home to Rosanne a happy man, knowing that he didn’t have to show any more people around here.

‘So, shall I tell Mr Merick you’re interested?’ he asked the couple as the children ran out of the door.

The couple looked at each other, ‘I think we’ll have a think about it’, Bryony said.

‘Yes, but it is lovely, thank you for showing us around’, Mark said as they left.

Malcolm locked up the house and meandered down the path, watching the family bundle into the car. He was off to the Ye Olde Bulls Head Inn, but certainly wouldn’t be taking part in the quiz, he muttered to himself.

‘So what did you think?’ Mark said, strapping himself into the driver’s seat.

In the back, the two children were arguing, the boy shouting bossily at the girl.

Bryony pulled off her hat and scarf, and turned to face her children in the back seat.

‘George Alexander Louis, if I have to tell you one more time to stop yelling at your sister…’, she shot a warning look at her five year old son, stopping him in his tracks.

Turning back to her husband, she answered, ‘it was nice to see one last time, even if it wasn’t for our summer holiday’

‘Do you think that bloke suspected anything?’, his sharp blue eyes gazed into hers.

‘I think he was in his own world’, she laughed.

The family drove away in their Land Rover, the children arguing and laughing in turn all the way home.

The fingerprints of the young prince and princess against the French windows was the only trace they left behind.

#katefiction #royal fanfiction #cambridge fanfiction #kate middleton

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magnusbanewastaken · 3 years

Text

ONE NIGHT AT MR. DRY'S

SUMMARY: Nothing ever happens on Wednesday. Well, there was always something happening, especially in New York, but those ‘somethings’ barely amount to anything worthwhile. Like cogs and sprockets within an automaton, everyone and everything just simply are, evermoving and existing in uninspiring mundaneity, especially on Wednesdays.

RATING: G

CHARACTER/S: Magnus Bane

also @ ao3

Nothing ever happens on Wednesday. Well, there was always something happening, especially in New York, but those ‘somethings’ barely amount to anything worthwhile. Like cogs and sprockets within an automaton, everyone and everything just simply are, evermoving and existing in uninspiring mundaneity, especially on Wednesdays.

What was typically a place of raucous revelry and evenings filled with unbridled guilt, Mr. Dry's would sing a different tune that night. Despite the speakeasy only occupying a small space hidden behind a wig shop, enough for about twenty or thirty people moving and bumping into each other at a time, having it be occupied by no more than ten patrons almost makes it seem as spacious as the Plaza Hotel lobby. Most of the space was reserved for the dance floor and the stage, but there were no patrons wearing out the surface of the dance floor tonight. The band wasn't there either, save for the pianist playing a soulful, delicate tune to match the serene ambience of Mr. Dry's.

Connor Brannigan was a pale man with a long, severe face, and a mess of auburn hair like the autumn foliage in Central Park. He wore a lose-fitting dark grey three-piece suit and an untied bowtie hanging around his neck. He looked to be in his thirties but he was actually just in his early twenties and he had his stern and serious visage to blame for that. He was a difficult man to read at first glance but his eyes and hands, both gentle and passionate, would tell you a different story. He could play the liveliest upbeat melodies with the rest of his band on the weekends, one might even catch a glimpse of a smile on his face too, but it was on slow days like these when he preferred to play the most. He was practically playing for an empty room, but the pianist's demeanor and focus was the same as he would have any other night. Though he seemed to be quite a daunting person at first, he was not exactly a difficult man to connect with. Like any other man, he reacts quite well with the right kind of drink.

Behind the marble bar in the far side of Mr. Dry's stood its proprietor and only barman for tonight, Magnus Bane. He appeared to be quite the respectable young man with his perfectly coiffed hair, sharp bright eyes, and prepossessing smile, though no one would imagine someone who looked as young as he was would own the joint. He was wearing a gothic-style, midnight blue waistcoat over a white dress shirt that's unbuttoned just enough to expose his bare chest. The sleeves were rolled up to this elbows so it wouldn't restrict his movements as he mixed drinks. He filled in the shaker in his hands with ice then poured in some whiskey and a chilled, strong brew of earl grey tea. He capped off the open end of a shaker and shook it so that it all blends well together as he hummed along to the tune that Connor was playing. He poured out the light rusty brown liquid into a glass pint then topped it off with ginger ale and stirred it before setting it on a tray. He filled up another glass with just water and let it sit next to his cocktail concoction before putting up the countertop to get to the other side of the counter. He skillfully picked up the tray with one hand then made his way towards the stage.

“Your drink, sir,” Magnus called out with his most charming smile as he approached the pianist, setting his drinks on the coasters placed atop the piano. Connor turned his head to face him without interrupting his playing.

“Thanks, Boss,” he smiled and nodded at him in acknowledgement.

He kept playing, even with one hand, as he took a swig off the drink, inhaling the spicy scent of the whiskey cocktail. Magnus called it The Piano Man in his head since the colour reminded him of the pianist's red hair and the taste of his fiery yet firm passion when playing. Magnus hasn't exactly been a fan of redheads before or green eyes, but people who had a penchant for music and the arts in general have appealed to him. There was just something about the way they made him feel safe and loved even without saying a word. It's a shame what happened to his fiancée, but even after five years he has never taken his ring off. Magnus admired him for that.

As soon as Connor set down his empty glass and went back to playing with both hands, he smoothly segued into a slightly more upbeat and soulful tune compared to the slow and serene one he had been playing. The pianist's expression subtly lit up which made Magnus perk up a bit as well. No one was sitting by the bar right then as the few people in attendance were satisfied with the bottles of beer they had on the tables, so Magnus thought to stay with Connor for a moment. They didn't speak, if one could believe Magnus capable of not speaking for more than a minute, but he was more than satisfied with just listening to Connor play.

“Magnus Bane!” came a voice that echoed throughout the room. Magnus recognized it but did not want to hear it at all, not when it was one of the few quiet nights of respite he had at Mr. Dry's. Connor seemed to know who it was too as he simply said, “Good luck,” and punctuated it with a light chuckle.

After getting a pat down from the doorman, the young man who called out to Magnus followed him back to the bar area. He looked to be barely even legal to drink but he was very clearly made of money and people like him normally think they were above the law. His name was George Vanderbluff and was the shining example of the privileged. He had blonde hair combed neatly, parting towards the right. He also had bright, ocean blue eyes which Magnus would normally be enthralled by, but on other people, not George. He was wearing a loud, yellow, patterned full suit lined with jewels at the lapel and a vest to match but he did not wear any dress shirt underneath. He was adorned in fine gold jewelry around his neck and his hands and wrist and just generally stuck out like a sore thumb. If Magnus was going to be honest, he thought the young man was looking quite tacky even for him who, on special occasions, liked to be adorned in all things glittering and sparkling.

“Magnus, my friend, I see business is slow these days,” he spoke in an annoying, nasally voice with a terrible imitation of a Trans-Atlantic accent. Or at least that's how it sounded like to Magnus.

“It's a Wednesday, George, unlike you some people have jobs to busy themselves with,” Magnus replied as he returned to his post behind the counter.

“You wound me, Magnus, is this how you treat your customers?”

“Not normally, no, only with you.”

“I feel special.”

Magnus really disliked George. Not so much as loathing him but he did feel like he was a massive nuisance. He didn't like the way George would treat him. He was trying to be nice to Magnus which wouldn't normally be bad but not when George, just like any other bored elite out there, was currently into foreign exotic cultures. And Magnus being the closest “foreign exotic person” he could find, meant that George was very much interested in him. Despite all that, Magnus was in no position to have him be blacklisted lest he wanted to risk Little Georgie to run and tell daddy—who was quite close with a certain Officer McMantry—about Magnus's little speakeasy. And so he had to endure a little inconvenience, hoping George tires of his fleeting flights of fancy in the exotics soon.

“Will you be drinking or do you plan on wasting both of our time?” Magnus asked, his arms folded across his chest.

“Easy there, Mags, be nice,” said George as he leaned against the edge of the marble bar. “I brought the friend I mentioned before here tonight, see?”

True enough, he did bring someone along with him. Magnus completely missed him on account of his attention and ire have been directed towards George. Unlike him, this new person was dressed simply and sensibly in a white dress shirt and red tie underneath a brown blazer that was a little bit tattered around the edges, and he also wore black slacks and shoes. Thomas Wagner, George said his name was and he had chestnut brown hair, a lovely set of hazel eyes behind his square, thick-framed glasses, and an apparent burnt scarring on his neck and jaw, something Magnus wouldn't want to ask about, or until the third or fourth drink perhaps. Why a seemingly-ordinary young man was friends with George was beyond Magnus.

“Pleased to meet you,” Thomas smiled stiffly as he shook hands with Magnus. His grip was just as stiff as his smile and he felt a bit jittery, like he was nervous or something. It took Thomas a couple of seconds too long before he broke away from the handshake. Perhaps he really was nervous, Magnus thought, but for what, he didn't know.

“Give me the usual, Magnus, and one of your very best for my cousin.”

Magnus rolled his eyes shut immediately got to work. The sooner George gets his fill, the sooner he might stop talking to him. George's ‘usual’ drink was called The Prick's Drink in Magnus's mind, because he was of course a massive prick.

“George told me all about this fun operation you got here,” said Thomas.

“You do know that the main point of this ‘fun operation’ is secrecy?” Magnus was looking at George as he started mixing together equal parts of vodka and rum in a glass jar then followed it with a hefty amount of squeezed lemonade they had in stock.

“Oh, you don't have to worry about me, sir, I haven't any friends to tattle things to,” Thomas smiled. “That sounded less pathetic in my head.”

“And that's why I brought my dear cousin here to check out the place before throwing him here 'round the weekend. Fancy schmancy scientists like him ought to be going out more,” George spoke, but Magnus was barely listening, he was filling the jar with ice until it reached its neck before capping it off tightly to shake it and mix the contents until it looked frothy.

“So you're a scientist?” Magnus asked as he uncapped the jar and poured in the icy, frothy, yellow liquid into a glass goblet, and garnished it with a couple of mint leaves before sliding the glass towards George.

“A physicist, yes,” Thomas began and then he continued talking about the kind of work he did.

George laughed and looked at Magnus symapthetically thinking that he might get bored with Thomas's talk of quantum mechanics and equations but he was not. He very much preferred that than listening to another word coming out of George. Magnus would even throw in questions which the physicist was very much excited to answer. Suddenly, he felt grateful for actually listening to Ragnor and his Royal Society friends over coffee all those years ago.

Thomas did a lot of talking but unlike George, Thomas was actually quite pleasant to talk to. He even told him about how he got his scar from an experiment that went awry back in his university days. He was also genuinely interested in what Magnus was doing as he watched him fix him his drink which involved mixing together moonshine, spiced rum, and lime juice in a shaker. Thomas was amused when he saw Magnus also put in a couple of dashes of Tabasco sauce in there as well as honey. He didn't think any of that fit with alcohol but Magnus was more than happy to explain his methods. George would sometimes throw in a few quips here and there but they would remain largely ignored. After some vigorous shaking, Magnus poured in the lime green liquid in a pint glass until it was all in. He picked up the glass and put it under one of the taps behind the bar and filled the rest with a clear, carbonated lemon-lime liquid of Magnus's own making.

“Here you go,” Magnus spoke brightly as he set down the pint glass back to the surface of the marble bar then gave it a little stir before pushing it towards Thomas.

Magnus watched him expectantly as he gulped down from his pint, hoping that the physicist would react well to it. As he drank, his eyes widened and when he set the glass back down a smile formed on his face.

“This is really good,” said Thomas. “It's sweet but I feel it pack a punch and—woah, I think my head just throbbed a bit.”

“Let's call it The Quantum Punch then,” Magnus smiled.

The three of them talked more a bit afterwards, with George finally sounding a lot more tolerable now that he had a drink. By then some of the patrons who had been there on separate tables have started to leave, a few times calling out to Magnus just before they go and he would tell them that he'd be expecting them in a couple of days. Even Connor followed soon after and went home. Not long after that, George already had too much to drink. Thomas held on just fine though and they had the same amount and kind of cocktails to drink.

“We should get going,” Thomas said.

“Good, I can't stand your cousin anymore, and it looks like he physically can't stand anymore either,” said Magnus, looking at George, knocked out and slumped over the counter yet still somehow standing. As soon as he said it he almost regretted it not for George's sake but because he thought he might have offended Thomas. But Thomas just laughed and said,

“Sometimes I can't stand him either, but it's just the money talking, he's a good kid.”

He helped George out from literally slumping over the counter and flung his cousin's arm around his neck as he carried his weight beside him. George still had the sense to walk, or more accurately wobble, next to his cousin.

“See you around, Magnus!” Thomas called out without looking back. He faintly heard him say, “Morning, ma'am,” too and when he looked up from cleaning up the glassware there he saw a woman making her way towards the marble bar sporting a nurse's uniform, a black coat over her white dress uniform and a nurse cap still pinned to her hair.

“That funny looking blonde, was that your admirer?” she asked as soon as she reached the bar and leaned forward and rested her arms over the countertop. She wasn't blue—the literal shade of blue—today as Magnus had observed. She had skin of dark brown and instead of her silvery white hair, her hair was as black as a raven. That was her go to look when under a glamour for the mundanes.

“My greatest nuisance, yes,” Magnus replied as he took out a couple of fresh old fashioned glasswares and set it aside. “But he was kind of alright today, his cousin Thomas was quite nice.”

“Do you like him?” she asked as she unpinned the cap from her head, letting loose her raven hair, flowing like the invisible currents hidden deep in the ocean. Magnus was gathering half-and-half, condensed milk, instant coffee, chocolate syrup, and vanilla at the same time.

“I don't like every well-mannered pretty boy I see, Catarina,” he said as he began pouring in the ingredients he just gathered into an electric blender, mixing them at low speed for half a minute.

“No, but you'd think they're the bee's knees,” Catarina teased. Her elbows were perched on the counter and her hands joined together underneath her chin as she grinned knowingly at Magnus.

“Well, he was,” he replied as he filled the two glasswares he set aside earlier with ice. “How are things at St. Mary's?”

“Where do I even begin,” said Catarina then let out a heavy sigh of exhaustion before she got started on her story.

It wasn't an easy job being a nurse at a children's hospital, even more so when you were one of the few ‘coloured people’ working there since a lot of children of colour going in there don't get the same treatment and care as the white children. Helping those kids was one of the main reasons why Catarina decided to have her glamour be of someone who was a person of colour. She was already technically coloured originally and while her warlock mark wasn't specifically her point of prejudice, she was still someone who can sympathize with those mundanes, especially the children, who would experience a lot worse.

As Magnus was listening to her, he started pouring about an ounce of black coffee liqueur in each glass then filled the rest with sarsaparilla. He then topped off both glass with the crème liqueur he concocted in the mixer. He called this one The Graveyard Shift. He listened on to her as she recounted how her day went all while drinking with her. He would refill it every now and then with the black coffee liqueur and crème liqueur until the very last drop, most of which were served to Catarina since between the two of them, she was the one who needed to relax and let out her weariness.

Before the sun rose, it was finally time to close up shop. Catarina helped Magnus with cleaning up, both sneakily using their magic under the doorman's nose as they did. As soon as they were done, they all came out of the wig shop, which would be open for normal business in a few hours, and parted ways to go home.

Wednesday didn't turn out to be as uneventful as Magnus had originally thought, perhaps he was wrong in thinking that nothing ever happened on Wednesdays. It would seem that Thursday should be the one to take that crown, as he had experienced after opening up Mr. Dry's the next night. He couldn't hardly wait for Friday, he thought, that's when the fun begins and that's when Magnus—and the rest of his weary-hearted, wayward patrons—would begin to shine and live, there in the mundane world's own brand of Downworld.

#magnus bane #the bane chronicles #the mortal instruments #tmi fanfic #tmi fanfiction #river writes crap

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aquilaofarkham · 4 years

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title: half spent was the night rating: mature (canon-typical violence, blood, coarse language) summary: Upon receiving an ominous invitation, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, and Alucard attend a strange wedding during a winter night where not everything is as it seems and the veil between the living and the dead is thinner than ever.

AO3

DECEMBER 24

The scroll sits on his desk, unopened and untouched amongst scattered piles of books and other papers left neglected for some time. Sparingly, Alucard’s train of thought will latch itself onto it while he sets about completing another mundane chore of the hour. It’s only when he enters the study does his gaze drift away, drawn towards the piece of rolled parchment held together by a red wax seal. Even from a distance he sees its emblem—a sparrow carrying a branch of mistletoe in its beak.

How seasonally appropriate, he thinks, looking more sullen than usual.

Alucard received the scroll the same way most ghost stories begin. There was a sound at the castle entrance that he could not ignore. Knock. Knock. Knock. Each pound echoing throughout the corridors like a persistent drumbeat. The steady beat within his own chest quickened, his ind a flurry of quick, presumptuous answers to his one question—have they returned? Yet upon opening the massive door, he found nobody. No familiar face, not even a messenger. Only what they left behind.

Another wayward glance towards the parchment. Alucard can still smell the cinnamon and roasted chestnuts as strong as it was when he picked it up the day before. He’s tried to bury the memory of his father. There’s no sense in dwelling over dead things. But something he said a long time ago haunts Alucard now more than ever. A warning about strange parcels that might be left on his front doorstep.

“If ever in late December you receive a letter sealed with a sparrow and a mistletoe, do not open it.” Those words used to confuse Alucard. Why should Dracula fear a simple letter? Until he discovered much later that the warning was never meant for the castle lord himself, but for his wife and child.

He knows his history and is fully aware of the story behind such a letter. Yet ominous memories and facts from the past are not enough to dissuade Alucard’s innate sense of curiosity—one of many traits he inherited from his mother. He is an adult now, and ghosts do not scare him. They only cause him melancholy.

Tired of his own hesitation, Alucard picks up the scroll and breaks the seal with a sharpened nail. The parchment feels soft under his fingertips, surprisingly so. He unravels it and reads, just to confirm his suspicions. First, he notices the calligraphy; familiar, recognizable, most likely commissioned by a monk. Yet the lettering hasn’t been in popular use for centuries. Then the message itself:

Thou art cordially invited to attend the joining of Lady Sofia Cel Tradat and Sir Darius Lupei in holy matrimony on the thirty-first evening of December. The celebration of this blessed union between houses shall be witnessed at Castle Cel Tradat upon sundown.

Stationed at the very top of the invitation are two crests, one that shows a feral wolf holding an arrow in its fangs. Beside it is the very same sparrow with the same mistletoe. Alucard sits at the desk, his chin resting upon his fist thoughtfully. There are two normal reactions one can have when receiving a wedding invitation. First being joy, then apathy. Indifference. Alucard feels neither. It’s not fear that grips him, yet the ink words creep through his bloodstream like the very same ghosts who reach out to him. Not fear, but instead an odd sort of resolve.

He leaves the study and makes the long, cold trek through the freshly fallen snow then down to the underground archives. The newly built staircase creaks under his weight but Alucard is light on his feet. Large portraits obscured by curtains displaying the Belmont crest surround him as he descends. Maybe one day he’ll finally unveil whatever’s behind those curtains. The hold itself hasn’t changed much—perhaps a bit neater, better organized, and with less bloodstains.

The mirror is where he left it: centre of the room near the directory. Alucard runs a hand across the cracks in its glass then over the newly engraved runes along its frame. Hopefully everything will work. Hopefully they will hear him this time.

Who knows how long it’s been since Trevor Belmont last greeted his days with a gruelling hangover—an awful habit, which he doesn’t miss. The groan that escapes his lips as he stretches upon his makeshift bed is one that comes from a night well slept, not a headache that pounds away behind his eyes. Bright winter sunlight streams in through the slight opening of the canvas. The wagon feels cramped but also warm and safe.

Trevor sits up, surrounded by their provisions, and sees Sypha right where he left her. Close by his side, securely curled up within her own little fortress of blankets. The sight amuses him, especially since she’s the only one who can walk through snow while wearing nothing but sandals upon her feet. A few more minutes sleeping next to her won’t hurt.

Something rattling inside the wagon catches his attention, causing Trevor to jump slightly. Must be a rat trying to steal what little food they have left. He grumbles at this slight morning annoyance before lazily pushing aside every container in order to find this little devil. It’s a wonder how Sypha can sleep through the sound of boxes and heavy burlap sacks being tossed about. Trevor finally reaches the source of all that noise: a thin rectangular travel case shaking on its own.

Funny... He thinks, not terribly concerned with its sudden jerking movements. The rat probably found a way inside and now can’t get itself out. I don’t remember packing this. Trevor opens the lock only to stare down into a pile of broken glass, as though whatever was in there had already been shattered beyond repair. But he saves his expletives for when the shards come to life, dancing in the air before they form a small mirror. Trevor stumbles backwards and stares into his reflection—awestruck, confused, a little bit panicked. It soon dissipates until he comes face to face with familiar golden eyes.

“Can you hear me, Belmont?” Asks the vision of Alucard... if it really is Alucard. Trevor might still be asleep, and this is only some wishful dream. “Let’s try this again. Can you hear me?” No answer yet; Trevor needs a moment to settle on one question at a time while they’re spinning in his head.

“... a nod of the head or a simple ‘fuck’ would be helpful.”

“How are you doing this? Where the hell are you?”

“I’m using the distance mirror from your family’s museum. With the repaired runes, it can once again be used for communication as well as observation. Only with other distance mirrors, of course.”

Oddly enough, this is all beginning to make sense to Trevor. “That’s why you looked so... cracked. When did you even pack this thing in our caravan?”

“Right before you and Sypha left. I thought I could surprise you both.”

“Well, you sure as shit surprised me.” He taps one of the levitating shards and watches it spin back into place. “This is the strangest thing...”

“You’ve seen far stranger.”

“Trevor, why are you talking so loud...” Complains Sypha, her words slurring together as she forces herself out of a heavy sleep. Her half-lidded eyes open wide at the sight of Alucard in the mirror. He smiles, glad to see the absence of bandages on her arm and shoulders. After exclaiming his name, she climbs over Trevor, shoving her hand into the side of his face (not on purpose) in an excitable attempt to get closer. So much for feeling tired.

“Is this another distance mirror? Why is it smaller? Or is it meant for travel? Are you using the one back at the hold?”

“Good morning to you as well, Sypha. Has this one gotten you into any trouble lately?”

“Actually, she gets me into trouble more often.”

Sypha ignores Trevor, entirely fascinated by this ground-breaking method of communication. Already her frantic mind begins to conjure up ways in which it could help the Speakers. “How are you, Alucard? And why have you waited so long to speak with us like this?”

Alucard doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he wasn’t waiting all this time. That he’s tried over and over again, yet could never reach them. It doesn’t matter; he can see them now and there are more important matters at hand. “Poor management of time on my part. I’ve actually reached out because I am in need of assistance.”

“With what?” We’ve done away with one existential threat to humanity, don’t tell me there’s another already. Trevor holds his tongue, biting back his irritable thoughts. He’s gotten better at it; maybe one day he won’t even acknowledge them.

“It would be better if I showed you.”

“That means we would have to travel back to the castle.” Sypha’s point is valid, but she doesn’t make it sound like a hardship. In fact, Trevor and Alucard think they hear the slightest hint of excitement in her voice. Why shouldn’t she be? There’s still much within Dracula’s laboratories and libraries which she hasn’t yet uncovered with her own eyes hungry for more knowledge. Trevor on the other hand feels a twinge of apprehension. True, the castle has been subdued but the Belmonts have always been taught to remain wary of a vampire’s abode. At least he trusts the new lord of this one.

“I realize how tall of a request this is, as I presume you two have been traveling for some time now. But I would prefer it if I saw both of you in person.”

Alucard’s stoic, near professional composure cracks when he catches a better view of Trevor’s face. There it is again—another one of his wry grins. The kind that forms on its own whenever the Belmont is about to say something stupid. Yet those who live in glass houses should not throw stones. Alucard has also said his fair share of stupid things directed at Trevor. While he would be caught dead if he admitted to this, he’s glad to see that unmistakable smile along with the man behind it.

“Aw you missed us, didn’t you? You can say it, we promise we won’t judge.”

Sypha clasps a hand over Trevor’s mouth before another syllable can crawl out of it. “It would be no inconvenience to us, Alucard. We will leave now and be at the castle within the next day or so.”

“I look forward to it. Safe travels.” Alucard’s last words before he’s left staring into his own fractured reflection. At the same time, countless of miles away from the castle, Sypha and Trevor watch as the mirror shards gracefully return back into the box until they’re needed once again.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask if he’ll be preparing dinner for us.” Trevor’s little quip is rewarded with the sudden feeling of Sypha’s foot pressed against his lower back. Giggling, she gently pushes him towards the front.

“Up you get. Remember, you’re still in charge of the reins.”

“Easy now, I was just asleep.”

“You woke up before me!”

Their wagon is situated between two towns, yet close to neither of them. All that surrounds them are trees, fields, and mountains— everything blurs together in a painting of deep greens and the endless white of snow. But Wallachia is not a terribly large country and they always know where to go.

DECEMBER 25

Sypha blows into her cupped hands, warming them while they drive down yet another road that cuts through dense forestry. Skeleton trees all around, straight as the bars of a cage. There’s the sound of fresh snow crunching beneath the horses’ hooves coupled with the caw of a nearby crow or two. It’s like those damn birds will never leave Wallachia, even in the coldest seasons. She recognizes this pathway, as does Trevor. He remembers to say good morning to his beloved tree (perhaps his oldest friend) and makes the incorrect assumption that Sypha can’t really hear him. Just as she thinks he can’t feel her arm tighten around his.

The road begins to widen and soon they arrive at the gutted remains of a family’s legacy. Trevor huddles into the fur of his new cloak, breathing out a soft huff of frozen air. There used to be a sharp pain that gouged its way into the very pit of his chest whenever he looked upon these ruins. Like the tip of a needle that’s been shoved into the still burning embers of a slowly dying fire as a cruel joke. A reminder that he never left his home behind.

Of course, Trevor never allowed himself to show it— not consciously. It hurts less, now that the manor is in better hands. At least the walls are still standing. Maybe one day while he’s still young and able, he’ll put down the Morningstar, pick up a hammer, and get to work.

Soon another structure comes into view, far more imposing than a pile of old stones. Standing as tall as the mountains, a maze of spiked towers and bridges going in all directions. Dracula’s castle was once filled with an ever-present orchestra of steam and working gears. These days, it remains unnaturally silent —as though it shouldn’t really exist.

Trevor and Sypha believed that before. It’s strange to think and even stranger to admit, but they’re glad the castle exists, all due to its current lord. A few more trots forward and they already see him waiting patiently by the grand steps leading up to the massive front door. He greets his two guests with a smile.

“Welcome back.”

Sypha is the first to jump out of the wagon and run towards Alucard, joyfully exclaiming his name. His body goes stiff, his expression more surprised as she suddenly wraps her arms around him. He was expecting a friendly “hello” or “it’s good to see you again”. Perhaps it has been too long.

“Oh... I, ah...” Alucard returns the embrace not uncomfortably, but stunned, nonetheless. “It’s... nice to see that both of you are in good health.”

“You’re looking rather stately as well.”

“Yes, well...” He searches for a better response to Trevor’s comment only to find himself empty-headed and feeling more awkward than before. They hold themselves so casually, speaking as old friends should. To his relief, Alucard regains his equilibrium and tries matching their nonchalance. “Come in. We have much to discuss.” He turns to the castle, leaving Trevor and Sypha a bit put off.

“Right to the ugly business, eh?”

“We were hoping to tell you about our travels... at least a little.”

Upon hearing the utter dejection in Sypha’s voice (coupled with the always recognizable snark of Trevor’s), Alucard stops. He faces them with a soft, penitent gaze. Always speaking too soon, more from the head, less from the heart, much to his and everyone else’s detriment. “And you shall. I want to hear everything. Every adventure, every mischief... but I’d rather not delay any fur—”

Trevor raises a hand. “It’s fine, Alucard. Just tell us what you need help with so badly.”

“Then it will be our turn to talk your ears off.”

Still wounded by his own unintentional single-minded thinking, Alucard manages another smile. “I would like that very much. But as you said, let’s get this... ugly business out of the way first.”

They follow him up the snow-covered steps, cloaks and robes billowing in the cold breeze, wondering how “ugly” this business really is.

“Need a hand up there?”

“I will be down in a moment. I just need to find it...”

Trevor and Sypha have already heard those exact words—multiple times, in fact. They can’t even see Alucard as he searches the shelves that curve around them in a perfect circle. It’s not that there’s no enjoyment to be found sitting in Dracula’s library, marveling at every book and tome amassed over centuries while they wait for his son. But one can only stare up at each level spiraling higher towards the heavens for so long without feeling the slightest bit bored. Trevor is far more antsy, still getting used to the castle as a whole.

The very antithesis of what Sypha felt the moment Alucard led them through the door. She mentally congratulates herself for keeping the excitement in check, despite her growing desire to comb through every forbidden page until her fingertips become bloody and raw. Hopefully there will be time for that should she and Trevor decide to extend their visit.

“Here it is,” announces Alucard from some unseen level. Before either of them can stand up, he jumps—or rather glides down and lands on two feet with poise while holding a book that barely fits underneath his arm. The pages, so thick they’re near to bursting out of their binding, have turned brown and tattered along each edge. Even sitting from afar, Sypha notices these minuscule details before Alucard can join them on the cushioned bench. Trevor tries to get a closer look at its cover but with the obstruction of Alucard’s arm and the old lettering, he has difficulty making out the title.

“You wanted us to come all this way for some light reading?” He asks as the dhampir squeezes between him and Sypha.

“No. I wanted you to come all this way to read this.” Reaching into a pocket of his robe, Alucard withdraws the letter. It looks deceptively harmless in his hand. He unscrolls it and waits for the message to be read by new eyes. In the silence, Trevor touches the parchment between his thumb and index finger slowly, thoughtfully, and with the right amount of care. Just as Alucard did when he first received it.

“This feels new... but no one writes invitations like these anymore.”

“I recognize this calligraphy. It’s ancient, isn’t it.”

Alucard interjects, significantly more comfortable with the letter’s presence now that others have examined it. “Mid 12th century. Not entirely ancient, but old enough to remain somewhat alien to our own time.”

Trevor sits back and leaves the scroll to Sypha’s capable hands. “So the Cel Tradats obviously know their history. They want to show off their nobility and wealth through the wedding of their daughter Sofia. Well done to them and to her. What’s the issue, then?”

Without giving either side of him a slight glance, Alucard begins flipping through the book. “Sofia Cel Tradat has been dead for two centuries.” Said as though it were a simple fact. Expressions harden as everyone’s collective gaze settles on a page with gold and red lettering that shines in the light. Painted vines creep along the sides like the ones sheltering the Belmont manor.

“Sometime during the late 12th century, a minor civil war broke out between two noble families—the Cel Tradats and the Lupeis...” Alucard’s fingertip ghosts over the exaggerated sparrows and wolves that intermingle with the surrounding vine.

“The dispute concerned territory in the Carpathian Mountains. Eventually, money for the Lupei family ran completely dry and they had already suffered more losses than the other side. So they were forced to surrender on their own volition, but as a sign of good faith, the patriarch offered to marry off one of his sons in an effort to unite the two houses. Lucky for him, the Cel Tradats had a daughter named Sofia who was of age and yet to be wed.”

“You mentioned something about lack of funds,” interrupts Trevor. “Did Lupei really want to unite the houses or was he just looking for a sizable dowry?”

“That may have been the case, but it’s not important to us.” Alucard lets his annoyance drip off every word. At least it’s a sign that Trevor’s been paying attention thus far. “Despite the arranged marriage, it’s said that Sofia grew to admire her fiancee in the weeks leading up to the wedding.”

“However...” Sypha voices just what Trevor is thinking. There is always some sort of “however” with these particular stories.

“Not everyone was happy with the arrangement, especially on the Lupei side. The matriarch thought this entire affair was a sign of weakness. Her husband had lost the war, willingly surrendered, and was now marrying off her last remaining child to the enemy. She hated them all and saw only one way to restore honour to the Lupei name.’

The wedding ceremony itself was perfect and both parties behaved. But during the celebration, Sofia Cel Tradat was stabbed by a Lupei assassin while the rest of her family were either poisoned or assaulted themselves. They wouldn’t even spare her husband from their blades. There was no mercy for traitors of their house.”

“That’s terrible...” Sypha’s voice is low and her gaze unfocused, turned away from the open book.

“It does not stop there. Despite bleeding out, Sofia watched as her entire bloodline was being destroyed and became consumed with rage for the Lupei matriarch.” Alucard turns the page to an illustration that might as well have been ripped from the Belmont’s family bestiary; two women engaged in a violent clash, one with blood covering her open mouth as though she were a vampire.

“Sofia stumbled towards Lady Lupei, knocked her to the floor, and tore out her throat with her own teeth and fingernails. During this, any Cel Tradat who wasn’t dead yet started attacking the nearest Lupei. That night, Castle Cel Tradat was filled with over a hundred people, but only a small handful of guards who saw what happened walked away alive.’

‘Since then, those who pass by the abandoned castle on the last day of the year claim to see lights and hear music coming from inside. Every December, nobles and lords receive the very same invitation in your hands. Those foolish enough to accept are never seen again. Dracula always warned my mother and I in case one ever found its way to us.”

He closes the book, his palm lingering atop the front cover a second longer. “Seems Sofia Cel Tradat finally found the Tepes family.”

An air of silence, thick and unavoidable, once again passes over all three as they let the story sink into their thoughts. Trevor is the first to speak up after letting out a less-than subdued “fuck” under his breath. “That’s quite the winter ghost story. But how does it concern us?”

“I’ve decided to accept her invitation.”

Sypha narrows her eyes; perhaps she misheard Alucard. “You just said those who do that are foolish.”

“It must have been foolish of me to oppose my father, yet I did it anyway. I’ve accepted because there might be a way to help Sofia. It’s been said that when a person dies while deep in the throes of an intense hatred, a curse is born upon that soul, forcing them to remain in this world. Reliving the very moment of their death over and over again until something changes.”

“You’re talking about exorcising the spirit of a centuries old bride who ripped out her mother-in-law’s throat with her own bloody teeth.” It’s no surprise to Alucard or Sypha that Trevor would speak so plainly. Exorcism must have been his family’s bread and butter, along with the more common business of bestial slayings.

“You make her sound like a monster.”

Trevor contemplates for a moment, resting his elbows on both knees. “Not exactly. Shit, I honestly respect the poor girl for what she did. Still, she sounds like a force to be reckoned with.”

“You could be right. But this curse clearly isn’t any fault of Sofia’s. She was betrayed; the attempt on her life and the lives of her family occurred during her own wedding. Of course she would want to take immediate revenge. The fact that this event took place during Yule might have also contributed in some fashion.”

“Why do you think so?” Inquires Sypha.

“Originally, Yuletide referred to the days between winter solstice and the new year. During this time, it was believed that a veil separating the seen from the unseen world grew thin. This allowed for certain things to pass through—ghosts, the Wild Hunt, and the like.”

Sypha perks up at the mention of such a festivity. “I know the Wild Hunt. We never celebrated Yule, but my family used to hear stories about it from locals whenever we traveled... then again, they were always meant to frighten the younger ones so they would go to bed earlier.”

“That does not surprise me. There are less than savoury tales involving the Wild Hunt. I remember my father entertaining us every dark midwinter’s night with stories he heard himself. In any case, Sofia doesn’t deserve to continue suffering like this. I believe there’s a way for her soul to finally be put to rest.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing. What do you need us for?” Trevor doesn’t mean to sound cynical, but the tone of his voice says otherwise. He’s still trying to shed that former version of himself.

For your companionship. “From my experience, there is always strength in numbers. And I don’t know what to do or where to start... not really.”

Trevor gives him an empathetic nod. He himself knows what it’s like to give off the illusion of knowing—he’s practically mastered it. Though Trevor never thought he would hear Alucard of all people admit to something like that. “Then I guess it’s back down into that museum you love so much.”

“So, will you help me?”

“What do you think our answer is? No? We’ve already done this before, one more time shouldn’t hurt. Besides, I’ve never been to a wedding. Should be fun.”

“Sypha?” He looks to her for a similar response. She stays quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically so, but raises her gaze to match Alucard’s.

“We did not come all this way just to leave again.” Sypha rolls up the invitation before handing it back to Alucard. “Now would you like to hear about our travels over a hot drink?”

Neither man wants to refuse her offer, especially not Trevor. Letting out a sigh of what sounds like relief, he stands up and follows Sypha to the door. Alucard would join them, another introverted smile on his lips, until the smell of cinnamon and chestnuts returns. It briefly lingers in the air until something changes. He fiddles with the parchment, his senses slowly overwhelmed by the creeping stench of rotting flesh.

Trevor and Sypha are already out of the library before either of them can smell it as well.

DECEMBER 27

Sypha Belnades gets to tell her stories. The evening of her return to Castle Dracula, she’s quick to fill Alucard’s head with tales of the somewhat heroic deeds she accomplished alongside Trevor. Every road their humble little caravan came across, they disposed of the remaining night creatures who continued to plague the shadows, stumbling from place to place, searching for their next prey. Lost, hungry, and with no master they could crawl back to. Killing them was almost a mercy. The duo had found themselves in far direr circumstances with certain men of the cloth who brandished false words and insidious influence than they did with fangs and claws.

There are the softer stories. When the two of them wore crowns made from wildflowers and were convinced by other Speakers to join in their celebratory practices. Sypha still makes light of Trevor’s two left feet, despite his honest attempts. Then as reparation, she recounts the day when she took him to the beaches of the Black Sea and how he stared in awe at the open waters with their hues of lapis lazuli and turquoise. Awe and a sense of peace he thought had been forever lost to him. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t need to.

Alucard’s gaze instinctively glances to his side and sees a familiar blush warming Trevor’s cheeks.

All three spend the evening in content spirits, despite the dark task that lies ahead of them. Yet now as Sypha sits at one of the worktables in Dracula’s bright laboratory, combing through tome after tome, a pervasive feeling dulls her usually sharp focus. It’s not boredom, god no. She could never get bored in a castle like this. It’s more of a melancholy; not as intense as that night down in the Belmont Hold when Trevor offered his dusty blanket to her and they sat together in the glow of a single candle. Yet it makes her just as tired, just as depressive.

Sypha’s finger flips over another heavy page, her eyes half-lidded, skimming over the words. I feel like I’m slowly turning into Alucard by the day, she thinks, a little bittersweetly.

In the midst of her daze, she hears a rough yet understated voice coming from behind her. It reminds her of rich coffee mixed with more than a hint of whiskey. She enjoys both, much to her own surprise. “You’re a hard person to find.”

“What makes you say that?” Sypha closes the book, an easy smile on her face, and turns around to face Trevor.

“Thought I’d find you down in some corner of the archives.”

“I like it here. The castle gives me something different to look at... and something different to think about. You might disagree.”

Trevor awkwardly scratches the back of his head; a way of confirming Sypha’s assumption. “At least it looks, err, neater than how we left it.”

“I think Alucard has been busy since we last saw him.” A pause, then a change of topic. “Did the Belmonts ever receive one of those invitations?”

“Not that I can remember. Either they were destroyed, or we never got them since Yule wasn’t something we celebrated.” Despite the tense way he carries himself close to Dracula’s scientific instruments, Trevor aimlessly wanders around the laboratory while speaking. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something about these contraptions that fascinated him.

“I doubt Dracula ever celebrated it either.”

“Maybe those spirits saw a kinship with him. Creatures of the night always flock together, remember? Like flies to an open stable.”

“That is disgusting.”

“But an apt analogy, no?”

“No.” Sypha laughs, causing Trevor to join in. It quiets down before dying completely when that pervasive feeling comes back, souring the mood. The expression in Sypha’s eyes and on her face changes—it no longer feels right to smile. As much as she appreciates Trevor’s attempt at a casual conversation, somehow it feels wrong to make light of their mission. She looks to the floor, wondering if she should really get back to work.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“I’ve heard that excuse before.”

“Really, nothing’s wrong.”

Trevor still won’t take that as a good enough answer. He’s far more perceptive than most believe him to be. “You’ve gone quiet and you’re staring at your feet. That means something’s eating away at you. What is it?”

“It...” Sypha crosses both arms across her chest, encasing herself in a cocoon made from her own baggy robes. “It is difficult to put into words.”

“You’re not happy here.”

“No! I am! And I’m happy to see Alucard again. But it always seems like all three of us are brought together because of a monster or dire situation.”

“Always? It’s only happened twice.”

Twice is enough. A sign, or rather an omen of patterns that have yet to happen. For Sypha, twice is one too many. “I only wish for us to be like other friends. Spend time together without worry or urgency and do things not involving some threat to humanity.”

Her lamentations are reasonable, and they spark a twinge of empathy within Trevor—perhaps even revelation. What he wouldn’t give to have all three of them settle down and live their lives without blood caked underneath their fingernails or the threat of being ripped apart by something inhuman. But whatever unseen higher power must have said no. Sypha was right (again); god truly does hate them.

Trevor tries to rationalize as best he can. “Maybe it’s alright if we’re not like normal friends. You have to admit, none of us are particularly ‘normal’ people to begin with.”

Sypha cocks an eyebrow. “Are you calling me strange?”

“I’m calling everyone strange, myself included.” She doesn’t know how that answer is supposed to make her feel better, yet it does. Trevor always has his own peculiar way with words. His eyes then briefly light up as he reaches into one of the pouches attached to his belt. “Almost forgot. I came here to give you this.” Something calls from his hand before dangling from a thin chain—a six-pointed star made from silver, the bane of every night creature.

“A Magen David?” Sypha takes the necklace and holds it in her palms, unfortunately cracked and turned dry from the frigid air outside. It’s simple, maybe even the simplest piece of jewelry she’s ever seen, but it feels heavy. Sacred.

“Found a couple of those down in the Hold; enough for all three. They’re meant to protect the wearer. Went looking for them last time we were there but couldn’t find any in time. It’s not much...”

“It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Trevor almost returns a smile to Sypha until a knife plunges its way into the centre of his back—at least it feels that way. A sharp pain that slowly dulls while coursing through his body as easy as the blood in his veins. He grits his teeth behind closed lips, trying to hide the discomfort but like Trevor, Sypha is perceptive.

“Everything alright? Did you injure yourself?”

“Might have. My fucking back and chest have been itching to be the death of me for a couple days now.”

“I didn’t know you were that old,” Sypha giggles. Trevor’s reaction is amusingly frustrated.

“I’m not.”

“You should speak to Alucard about your pain. He might be able to help.”

“Well, I did plan on finding him but how would he know what to do?”

“His mother was a doctor. He might have inherited some of her knowledge.” Trevor heads towards the door, even when Sypha isn’t finished talking yet. He needs to listen and hopefully learn from this last piece of advice. “You could also use this opportunity to settle your differences.”

She receives a flippant scoff in response. Typical. “I’ve already settled my differences with him.”

“You know what I mean, Trevor.”

He does, but only after a moment of thought. There’s no witty comeback, no stubborn retaliation, and no self-preserving denial; only acceptance. He and Alucard haven’t really made up—not in the way that adults are supposed to. Some things need to be settled through words and not only through vaguely charitable acts. Trevor leaves Sypha to her own work with the tentative hope that Alucard will feel just as willing.

The castle is alive.

Dracula said this to his son the day he took him into the engine room. Adrian was getting old enough, thus it was about time for the boy to learn. Despite his grand stature looming over everyone and everything, Dracula always felt dwarfed by the massive gears and pumps emitting billows of steam. His son even more so; like a mouse amongst the giants that breathed life into his own home.

But the lord of vampires was secure in the knowledge that Adrian wouldn’t remain a mouse for much longer. Soon he would have power, duties, and responsibilities. Which was why Dracula felt it necessary to show him the very ribcage of the castle along with its ever-beating heart stationed at the front—a geometric device hovering above a pedestal that rotated on command without a single touch of one’s finger. A bloodless, meatless organ in which Dracula poured his very intellect and soul into.

Now it means nothing. Pieces of black iron and dirtied gold lay scattered upon the very altar that once held them. Worthless. At least to a stranger’s naked eye. Alucard holds up one of the triangles against the bright winter sunlight pouring through the towering windows. It seems as though he’s done this a hundred times before and always comes to the same conclusion: the castle cannot be fixed.

And yet it remains alive, now more so than ever. Alucard noticed this immediately. In his efforts to create the perfect machination that bent to his every will, Dracula must have miscalculated. For when does a home feel truly alive? When there are beating hearts residing within its walls.

Alucard almost loses himself in his own thoughts—a common occurence—until he hears footsteps close behind. Followed by an exasperated “fucking finally...”

“You still know how to announce yourself.” Without turning around, he places the castle’s broken heart back with its brothers and sisters as the familiar presence draws nearer.

“And you’ve still mastered the art of sulking off by yourself.”

“What do you need, Belmont? Usually you don’t come to me willingly unless you want to say something important or crude.”

“It’s not all that important.”

“Then it must be crude.”

Another flinch from Trevor, which Alucard notices out of the corner of his eye. But the hunter manages a smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” A second mildly humorous jab almost makes its way out into the open until Trevor receives a look which tells him he should choose his next words very carefully, so he does. “I do need your help with something.”

“Yes, I can see that now.”

“How?”

“You’re slouching more than usual, and you seem discomforted.”

Sure, if you want to use that term. “It’s my back and chest. Must have been all those nights sleeping in that cramped wagon or swinging around the whip, but I’m worried it’ll get worse before it gets better. You know more about medicine than anybody else so...”

Alucard’s cold expression melts; did he just hear a hint of bashfulness in that last sentence? How interesting. Normally Sypha’s the only one who can bring out that hidden side of Trevor. It’s more than enough to convince Alucard. “Alright. Let me have a look at it.” He walks down the altar steps and gestures for Trevor to follow him.

“Wait, just like that?”

“I’m not cruel, Belmont. And I can’t have you injured right before we make our way to Castle Cel Tradat.”

They leave the engine room, which bears more of a resemblance to some grotesque art installation with melted gears and pillars that have hardened over a period of time than a well-oiled facility. “Is that why you’re up here? Trying to figure out how to move this thing so we don’t have to travel like regular human beings.”

“We’ll arrive fine enough using that old wagon of yours.”

“But is it actually possible to get the castle working again?”

Alucard leads Trevor into a different, smaller room filled with more books, more glass vials, and decides to leave the question open-ended. He would have answered a while ago: “this castle is as dead as the man who created it”. Now he’s not so certain. “Sit up on the table.” A convenient way of diverging the subject, to which Trevor thankfully doesn’t pry about any further.

“Am I your first patient?”

“Only if you don’t count childhood toys and small animals.”

Trevor glances over his shoulder at Alucard, whose hands are hovering dangerously close to his body. He lets out a regrettable chuckle. “That wasn’t meant to be taken literally, right?”

“You will be fine. You said it was your back and chest that hurt the most, correct?” Trevor mumbles out a presumable “yes”. Alucard reaches around, placing his fingers upon his ribcage just below his left breast. His touch is firm like a doctor’s yet gentle like a friend’s. He presses into the soft flesh. “Breathe into this hand.” Trevor’s breaths are shaky despite his efforts to keep them long and deep. His ribs barely move due to the pain. He’s stiff, understandably so not only because of his ailment. Alucard tempers his hold on him.

“You’re very warm,” he says with a smile (grateful that Trevor can’t see it else he’d have to explain himself). But his statement is true; he can feel it even though the worn fabric. A comfortable, soothing warmth. If he’s not careful, his hand might sink into the hunter, followed by the rest of himself.

“Is that some kind of diagnosis?”

“No. Just an observation.” Perhaps a compliment as well if Alucard swallowed his lingering pride and just admitted to it.

His hands continue their course along Trevor’s back muscles, searching for any abnormalities, any sources of his irritation. He thinks about every scar and bruise he might have passed over. How many are small; small enough to heal on their own? How many did Trevor have to stitch up with his own bloody, trembling fingertips? As Alucard reaches the other side of his chest, he dismisses any questions concerning past scars. He knows Trevor wouldn’t want to talk about that—not with him. Not yet.

“Well? Am I going to live?”

“Oh, absolutely. It isn’t that serious. A few displaced ribs, that’s all.”

“... sorry, my ribs are what?”

“When you strain your body too much or have poor posture, your ribs can slide out of place. It’s common and easily fixed. I’m shocked this hasn’t happened to you sooner.”

“You know, it’s bad bedside manners to insult the patient.”

“And you would know a lot about manners.”

“Enough to fill a book.”

Alucard tries to hide his smirk—and another snide remark. A very short book, maybe. Adjusting the positions of his hands, he forces Trevor to sit up a bit straighter. “Start counting. You’ll feel much better before you reach ten.”

Unlikely, but Trevor plays along. “One... two... three... four... fi—Jesus fuck!” It lasts for only a few seconds, the feeling that every bone in his body has been broken apart then hastily put back together. At least it’s short-lived. Hand presses against chest as Trevor takes a breath, vocalizing his surprise and whatever’s left of the pain through long-winded gasps. Alucard pats his back, rather pleased with himself.

“Go rest and try not to move too strenuously. You’ll also need to hold something cool against your ribcage. I suggest a damp cloth.”

“Thanks.”

“No need. You could have done it yourself.”

“I still appreciate the help.”

Alucard could let things lie; he’s been blunt and honest with Trevor enough already. Yet his next question won’t leave him alone until it’s let loose. “Why did you come to me? Was it so we could bury the hatchet together?” He pretends to busy himself with another task, unable to watch Trevor’s expression—and unwilling to show his own. The response he receives is... unexpected. A strange sort of comfort.

“I buried that hatchet the moment you decided to stop swinging that needle of yours at me. I just enjoyed pushing your many, many buttons.”

“... I acted like a spiteful brat, didn’t I? You can say so.”

Still feeling tender from the sudden rearrangement of his bones, Trevor joins him as they stand in front of a cabinet filled with things both scientific and occult. Consolation is not the strongest suit of his. There was so little of it during his own life, giving it seems almost alien to him. But he tries. With a simple touch on Alucard’s shoulder, he tries. “We both did. At least we can admit to it now.”

Words stop there, for the moment. Trevor remains at Alucard’s side in an unsure manner. Is this how it’s done? Have they finally made up? Buried the hatchet as they put it? In the midst of his over-thinking, he remembers why else he sought out the dhampir. “Here.” Trevor slips the same Magen David necklace into his cold hand. “Sypha’s got one as well. Thought it might help us when we’re inside the castle.”

Alucard stares down, entranced by the piece of silver in his palm, prompting Trevor to say something a bit too revealing. “Once when I was fifteen, I tried to do some good and handed these around to local communities, so they’d be protected. Made them from sticks and twine I picked off from the roads... felt stupid doing it.”

“Efforts to commit good deeds are never stupid.” Alucard retorts, his voice softer than usual.

Thanks for the vote of confidence. “I managed to get a rabbi to bless them. They actually worked fine until...”

“Until what?”

“Nothing. Forget about it.”

The word “pogrom” tastes like bile in Trevor’s mouth. He’d like nothing more than to spit it out and stomp on it until it’s nothing more than a stain upon the stone floor. But he wants to leave this meeting with Alucard on a much lighter note—or as light as he can make it. “I’ll leave you to... whatever it was you were doing.”

“Trevor...” Before either one can realize what was just said in place of “Belmont”, Alucard swiftly regains his stoic composure. “A bath might also help. With your ribs, I mean.”

Trevor snorts. “Sure. For my ribs.” He leaves the room, determined to own the last witticism spoken between them. Alucard lets him have it, but not begrudgingly. He’s more focused on how the Magen David hangs perfectly in the v of his shirt’s neckline, sitting against his bare skin. It feels warm atop the scar, though that could be from when it was held in Trevor’s hand.

DECEMBER 31

The hunter, the scholar, and the former sleeping soldier make good use of their time. When the day comes and they follow the sun as it descends across the sky, each carries an arsenal of their own. Sypha’s head is full of new spells as though it might burst. Alucard’s sword is sharp enough to cut a single drop of ice water in half. Trevor’s belt is heavy with blades large and small, resting next to his beloved Morningstar. He might as well be married to it.

The Magen Davids hang off their necks, swaying and dangling with every bump the wagon drives over. Tiny pieces of armour they’ve put most of their faith in, but not all of it. The rest goes to each other for support, protection, and morale.

Up in the Carpathian Mountains, the wind blows differently. Through the dense woods, it howls and batters against the wagon’s canvas covering, blowing ice into exposed eyes and exposed skin. The three shelter themselves into the furs around their shoulders as best they can hoping to either wait out or outrun this squall. Then the mountains become quiet and clear the deeper they venture, like a graveyard in the dead of night. Not a single falling snowflake to obscure their vision. Until they turn round another corner on the road, kicking bits of snow and dirt into the ravine below.

The travelers hear Castle Cel Tradat before they see it. Jovial and celebratory music that cuts through the silence, growing in volume as they drive closer—just as Alucard described it. The castle itself seems humble; stout with thick walls and a set of four towers on each corner. Not a ruin similar to the Belmont abode and nowhere near the profuse architectural opulence of Dracula’s. From a distance, the dim torch fire that lines the entrance look like fireflies in the darkness.

They leave the wagon at the foot of the bridge; any closer and they fear something might happen to the horses. Trevor takes a moment to pat their snouts and gives them a few dried apple rings before catching up with his companions. In a rare sight to see (at the suggestion of Alucard no less), all three are dressed in the same dark tones save for their halos of grey fur.

“Someone should tell him we’re going to a wedding, not a funeral.” Trevor whispered to Sypha before they left. He soon realized the mistake of his comment. Perhaps they are attending a funeral and they’re the only ones who know it. As they make their way down the bridge alongside other attendees comprised of both ghosts and unfortunate living nobles who never bothered to read up on their history, Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard wordlessly hope they won’t end up betraying themselves or their true intentions.

“Invitation,” demands one of the gateway guards. Alucard slips the rolled-up parchment out of his coat pocket and presents it. “And these two?” Just as the guard makes eye contact with Trevor, he carefully hides the Belmont crest beneath the folds of his cloak. No particular reason, only an old habit.

“My guests. I assume guests are permitted?”

The guard pauses for a thankfully brief moment. “Go on in. Straight through the doors.” Alucard and Sypha bow out of respect, but Trevor glances over his shoulder as they ascend the front steps. It all feels too easy; he didn’t even check for weapons. The Cel Tradats must have been incredibly trusting or woefully naive that night they all died.

It’s a short walk to the grand hall. If it weren’t for the stench of old blood clouding Alucard’s heightened senses, he would assume the place had been untouched by death. Dresses and fine tunics move across the tapestries in a thick haze caused by candlelight smoke, one can barely see to the other side of the room. Cinnamon, winter cranberries, and pine tree furs line the tables alongside an endless multitude of food. Sypha has never seen so much meat or drink in one sitting. If the butchers and farmers of Targoviste’s most bountiful markets could witness this sight, they would weep as though on their mother’s deathbed. People laugh, cheer, and dance upon the centre floor. They live like they’ve never lived before.

Trevor quickly takes hold of Sypha’s wrist and the back of Alucard’s coat. “Don’t eat or drink anything,” he warns in a dire tone. Neither one needs an explanation as to why. Rather than join the revelry, they hurry off to the side out of sight.

“Look. Up at the front.” Alucard is the first to find Sofia overlooking her merry subjects, seated halfway between the Cel Tradats and the Lupeis, now an envoi of both houses. A sparrow and a wolf. Full rosy cheeks, brown irises deeper than the richest chocolate, and long red hair like a river of blood. Her husband with wide eyes and an even wider smile is almost as beautiful as his wife.

“They seem so happy.” And unaware, Trevor thinks to himself.

Sypha chimes in with her own opinions. “There wasn’t much written about Darius Lupei in the history tomes. Apparently, he was an idiot... but at least a loving idiot.”

“One of us needs to warn her. But don’t make a spectacle of it otherwise this entire room will be thrown into chaos.”

“What about the assassin?”

“We will need to find them as well without drawing any attention.”

“So, we stop Sofia from being murdered and the whole night goes on without a hitch.” There’s skepticism in Trevor’s voice, which doesn’t surprise Alucard. “Is that supposed to bring peace to her soul along with the rest here?”

Sypha turns to Alucard and waits for an answer. He’d say “yes”, but it would be dishonest of him to even think that he knew what they were doing. “I don’t know. But it’s worth it to try.”

Trevor lets out a heavy breath; a common response when he doesn’t feel like analyzing the gritty details of a plan. “Not exactly a traditional exorcism. I’ll go warn Sofia.” Barely a step forward and Alucard already stops him.

“I said don’t make a spectacle of it.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning you have as much subtlety and tact as a kitten drunk on milk.”

Sypha mutters “he does have a point” under her breath to no avail as Trevor turns to her, shocked and a little insulted. “You have to admit, Trevor, negotiations are not your strongest skill. You’re better at ending fights with that whip than you are with words.”

“Traitors. The both of you.”

Alucard’s golden eyes narrow with growing frustration. “We don’t have time for petty squabbles. I will go speak with Sofia.”

Trevor places a palm against his chest and holds him back. “She’ll take one look at your fangs and start screaming about a vampire in her court.”

“Boys...”

“Can you keep your voice down?”

“I am keeping my voice down!” Trevor’s short-lived outburst carries itself throughout the hall, attracting the attention of a few confused onlookers. Fortunately, they return to their own little worlds while the music plays on. Alucard and Sypha push their hunter towards the nearest wall, silencing him with their hands.

“If we let you walk up there and request an audience with the bride, will you please be quieter?” Trevor nods, which is enough for them. An unseen clock ticks ever closer to the fated moment between Sofia and the assassin’s dagger; it would be better if they hurried. Alucard and Sypha let go, exasperated but willingly.

“I’ll watch your back in case something happens.”

“I’ll search for the assassin.” Alucard pulls Trevor in close. “Please do not make me beg for you to not fuck this up.”

“When have I ever?”

A sharp inhale, then Alucard decides to let it be. The two men set off in opposite directions while Sypha’s cheeks burn hot with irritation towards both of them. She hides behind a pillar and keeps an eye on Trevor as he navigates himself through the sea of dancers. Her fingertips tingle with fiery embers and the cold prick of ice, yet she holds back. Not yet and if all goes well, not tonight.

“You seem to have your hands full with those two.” A different voice speaks up. Sypha ignores the comment, assuming she had just received a snippet of some unrelated conversation. That it wasn’t meant for her.

The same voice speaks again. “Friends of yours, I presume.”

Still composure turns into masked panic. Sypha’s heart thumps against her ribcage in an almost painful manner. She could stay focused on the tuff of Trevor’s fur cloak as it weaves as it weaves amongst moving bodies, or she could make absolutely certain of one thing: how much did they hear?

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop on strangers.” She does not face whoever’s talking.

“It’s also not polite to refuse a bride and groom’s generosity.”

Sypha remains where she stands, but glances at the crowded tables against her better judgement—one woman, not quite elderly but past middle age, stares at her with friendly curiosity. Sypha tries to avoid another instance of eye contact. “I am not hungry.”

The woman laughs. “You don’t have to eat anything, though it would be preferred if you did. Just come and be present.”

Impulse pushes against intuition as Sypha struggles with herself. If it will please the woman (and possibly shut her up), then fine. She can watch Trevor just as easily from the tables. Finding an empty yet claustrophobic space on one of the benches, Sypha squeezes in between a happy drunkard and her sudden enabler. Already her body wants to close in on itself or leave altogether.

“There. Now I’m present,” she mutters bitterly.

“Well you’ve got quite the tongue... that’s meant to be a compliment, love.” Sypha gives her a hesitant smirk, which fades the longer she speaks. “Though it can’t be easy putting up with two men who have so much pride.”

Sypha scratches the tip of her index fingernail along the table wood until it nearly falls off. She isn’t in the mood for conversation, even with a harmless ghost who seems to understand her. Still, the urge to play the woman’s game is too much and Sypha has just the response for her. “It is easy enough. Find something that gently wounds their pride and they are like puppies with their tails tucked between their legs.”

The woman chokes on her gulp of ale before letting out another laugh that sounds too big for her thin frame. Personally, Sypha didn’t think the joke was that funny but she appreciates the reaction. “And I would not trade either of them for anyone else in all of Wallachia.”

A few drops of the woman’s drink might have somehow made its way into Sypha’s veins, but she speaks truthfully. She’s always let the truth be heard; it’s molded her into the person she is now. Honesty makes her and those around her stronger. So perhaps she should save this particular truth for the ones who need to hear it most.

All these unfocused thoughts cause Sypha to drift away from what’s important, what matters right now in the moment. Only the woman’s next inquiry brings her back, but not in the way she wanted. “Is that why you’re not with your family right now?”

Sypha’s stare drives daggers into the woman’s throat while she sits there and simply drinks her ale, aware and uncaring. “Doesn’t surprise me. You don’t really belong with the Speakers anymore, do you? Bit of an outsider. There are other scholars of magic, of course, but none quite like you. That’s another compliment. It might be best that you stay away from them for a while... maybe forever.”

Fire and ice surge their way through Sypha’s hot blood, begging to be released. Anger dulls her senses along with her movements. “I will never abandon my people.”

“You already have, love. You abandoned them when you agreed to join that hunter and the bastard son of a vampire.”

Sypha’s first instinct is towards violence. She wants to slap the woman with the backside of her hand or wrap her fingers around her neck and squeeze as tight as possible or place an iron hot palm against her cheek and give her something to talk about with her friends and neighbours. But none of it would matter. Sypha tears herself away from the table and regains control. The castle’s deceptions will not get inside of her so easily.

Only now does she notice the smell of sour fruit, moldy bread, and rotting meat being picked apart by greedy flies. Flies to an open stable.

If Alucard were thinking straight, he would have found the assassin by now. If he had found the assassin, this night would be done and the three of them would be on their way back to Castle Dracula. If they were back home, he would be in bed savouring his first peaceful sleep now that he’s no longer alone. But none of those wishes have come to fruition. Alucard’s search leads him away from the wedding feast and down into one of the side corridors. Darkness has never given him much trouble, yet here it blurs his vision. If only he held a torch or even a simple candle.

“Lost, sir?” Alucard turns to face a tall woman with broad shoulders dressed in the same funeral-coloured garb as he. There’s rouge upon her sharp cheekbones, dark hair held back by a golden pin, and demeanour cold yet polite. She must be the Lupei matriarch.

Alucard’s immediate response is to bow courteously, despite his hand twitching closer to the holt of his sword. He could consider Lady Lupei to be the real assassin, but she would never dirty her hands in such a direct way. Killing her now would only quicken the oncoming madness. Better to make an excuse than to act on rash thinking. “Apologies, my lady. I simply wandered off for some fresh air. If you will pardon me—”

“No, I do believe you are lost. You’ve been lost for some time.”

“I’m sorry...?” Her steps towards him are slow, calculated. She keeps a coldly gentle expression on her serene face. Alucard tries to look past the Lady, his eyes searching for the warm glow of the grand hall. He sees nothing, only more of the same corridor he finds himself trapped in. The song of his sword waiting to be unsheathed rings louder in his ears.

“I know you like to think it wasn’t your fault. Once your father went mad, there was nothing more you could have done to pull him back.”

The tip of Alucard’s fang grazes his lower lip, drawing blood. Just a drop, but the taste of metal floods his mouth. “You know nothing of me or my father.”

“But I do know. When you get to live as long as I do and see people for what they truly are, you come to know a lot of things. How you lie to yourself and those around you. How you think it will help mask your guilt and shame.”

“There is no guilt!” Alucard’s voice suddenly cracks. Lady Lupei continues to descend upon him as a shadow—like his father did that night of the blood moon. “My hand was forced... I had no other choice.”

She laughs; more out of bitterness and anger than amusement. “You’re just like my husband. Nothing but excuses.”

“Leave me be, damned spirit.”

“When your father’s ashes scattered to the winds, you should have turned that very same stake against your own heart. Why not do it now? You have your blade, so finish what you started.”

Alucard feels his hand grow heavy. He looks down and sees the silver of his blade trembling. Steadying himself, he knows how to use it. Forget his previous hesitance; if Lady Lupei is in his presence, then better to end this cursed night now. If only she were still here. Raising his head, he realizes that he’s been left alone—and with no easy way of returning. Alucard turns in both directions; the corridor has no end in sight. The castle, its ghosts, the curse, none of them are through with him yet. He sheathes the sword back in its place and follows the faint sound of music.

What’s the polite way of saying “your mother-in-law is about to brutally murder you”?

Trevor snakes a path across the floor, resisting the increased urge to push everyone aside and march straight up to Sofia before pulling her away. Knock the goblet out of her hand, spilling expensive wine all over her pretty wedding dress. She’d struggle, kick about, possibly curse like a sailor in their faces. A small price to pay for sparing her from a violent fate. It would be so easy if they all moved out of the fucking way.

Closer now; it seems he’s been getting closer for hours. The floor feels soft beneath his boots. Yet she’s still out of reach. Maybe if I just shout at her. Trevor remembers the “promise” he made to Alucard and Sypha, but to hell with it. They want this night over with as much as he does.

Something crashes into him. Trevor spins around, thrown off his already weakened equilibrium, and is carried away from Sofia by one of the dancers shoving himself into his arms. “You’re a handsome one!”

“Would you let me go...”

“Come and dance! It will clean that scowl right off your face.”

“Thank you but no thank you. I need to—” He doesn’t care for his protests, no one does. They hand him off from dancer to dancer; it’s a miracle he hasn’t tripped over himself yet. In his disorientation, Trevor is struck by a familiarity. A much better time than this. He said he didn’t want to dance, never learned it enough as a child so it would be at best humiliating and at worst painful as an adult. The Speakers convinced him otherwise—they always manage to. Placing a crown of wildflowers atop his head, he turned away so they wouldn’t see how red his cheeks grew. He couldn’t hide it forever, not when Sypha took his hands and lovingly teased him. That night felt like a dream blessed enough to be real. It felt like something he’d been missing for so long.

“It felt like home.” Trevor stops, unsure if the voice came from him or one of the dancers. He’s not given the luxury of time to think or resist when he’s thrown into another’s arms, then another’s.

“You miss that feeling. You miss having a home.”

“You miss being part of a family.”

“You can have a home here. You can stay if you would let yourself.”

“Come home.”

“Mother? Father?” There’s a warm sensation in Trevor’s stomach that burns and aches. Home, family, and stay meld together spoken by the sickly-sweet tones of the dancers and the voices of two dead Belmonts. His worst nights after crawling into the very bottle he emptied at a local tavern were never so terrible.

“Trevor! Trevor, look at me!” Cold hands press on either side of his head, dragging him away from all the suffocating bodies. Eyes shut tightly; he now finds the will to fight back.

“Fuck off of me! I want to go home!”

“Trevor, it’s me. Calm down.” He tears open his watery eyes and feels his heartbeat slow when Sypha wraps her arms around him. Trevor holds her, terrified that she might fade as all the other ghosts will. Even more scared of what he had contemplated.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry.”

“It’s just the curse. You’re alright.” Sypha repeats it until Trevor can believe it himself. He catches a glimpse of Sofia—does she know? From the way she laughs and clings to her husband’s side, she evidently may not.

“Sypha, where the hell is Alucard?”

“Honourable allies of the Lupeis and the Cel Tradats.” Trevor, Sypha, and the rest of the party turn in the direction of the announcer. “May I present to you, Sir Darius Lupei of House Lupei.”

“Shit...” They’ll have to make do without Alucard. While everyone else stands at attention, the two of them use this as an opportunity if not a fleeting one. As Darius begins his speech, they run.

“I wish to thank all of you for witnessing this momentous event. Once the Lupeis and Cel Tradats were enemies. Now through this bond of love and marriage, we are made friends and equals.”

“Stop! Sofia! Lady Sofia! Move, you fucking idiots!”

“We need to speak with Lady Sofia!”

All members of both houses stare in confusion at the man and woman attempting a mad dash towards them. “What is the meaning of this?”

“She’s not safe! None of you are!”

Darius takes pause, considering the roguish man’s warning, yet dismisses it just as quick as he heard it. Sypha should have better taken those passages written about the living but small-minded lord to heart. “Must have let all that drink overtake their common sense. Remove them. They shall be dealt with later.”

Sypha and Trevor wrestle with the guards, driving their feet between their legs and beating fists against armour until their knuckles turn a sickening purple. They create more of a spectacle while Darius carries on with his public address. he extends a hand, places it in Sofia’s, and motions for her to stand.

“May I present to our joined courts, my wife and your new lady, Sofia Cel Tradat Lupei.”

Trevor’s vision is momentarily obscured by his own thrashing, though it does not matter. He, Sypha, and the entire castle hear Sofia’s screams all the same. A dripping rose appears on her white and green dress, spreading over her abdomen and turning her fingers a similar dark coloured red. Darius’ own shouts of shock devolve into choking gurgles as knives slash across his throat. The grand hall erupts like a pack of beasts let loose from their cages to attack whoever is nearest. There’s panic from all except Lady Lupei and her house, including the guards that hold Trevor and Sypha. They should have noticed the wolves on their chest plates.

Sypha acts the quickest. One guard shrieks in horror as blue and red ice daggers appear straight through his arms; the other spits blood and teeth upon contact with Trevor’s sword. The two find shelter underneath a table and watch the centuries-old carnage. Sypha never knew ghosts could bleed so much.

They fear the worst for Alucard. The castle with its lies has swallowed him whole. Until another Lupei guard falls dead in front of them, a familiar sword lodged in his back. “Where the fuck were you?” Trevor snarls as a disgruntled dhampir joins them.

“Trying to survive this wedding, same as you both.” Before any of the bickering can start, a far more dire sight begs for their attention—Sofia and Lady Lupei on the ground, their nails digging into each other, one of their mouths spraying blood the louder she screams.

“This is not working, Alucard. What do we do?”

“It’s too late. I don’t know if there is anything we can do.”

“You’re saying we just let this happen, wait until next year, so this whole shitstorm can repeat itself until we get it right?”

“I would prefer to hear a better plan come out of your mouth, Belmont.”

Alucard is being facetious (to ill effect), but Trevor does have something better in mind. He fiddles with the Magen David like a nervous tick. There is no maybe; this will get him killed, he’s certain of that. When has it ever stopped him?

“Clear a path for me.” He’s already out from under the table before Alucard or Sypha can rightfully question him. They react fast, moving in front so he might have a shield. Fire scorches bodies into blackened cinders; limbs fall to the floor with the effortless swipe of a thin blade; Trevor uses his whip sparingly. He doesn’t touch it when he reaches the bride. She turns with wild eyes, blood seeping through the cracks of her teeth. Rivers of red flow from her stomach and down the steps, mingling with the rest. The tapestries did her rage no justice.

“Don’t touch me!” She violently sputters.

“I just want to talk.” Trevor raises his hands, his voice oddly calm. When she doesn’t listen, he removes his cloak and shows her the embroidered emblem on his breast. Sofia’s fury melts into realization.

“The Belmonts...” As Sofia gazes down at her defiled hands then towards her mutilated court, something shatters within. The past hundred years of darkness and repetition make themselves known. “Merciful god, what have I done...” She whimpers, face wet with tears and blood. “What have I done...”

“Sofia...”

“Get away from me! I know who you are! The Belmonts kill monsters. You’re here to kill me.”

“You’re not a monster.” Along with his cloak, Trevor lays the Morningstar and his Magen David by his feet. Alucard and Sypha stay behind with the shaky hope that he knows what he’s doing. “I know what it’s like to lose your family to violence. Betrayed by the very people you wanted to help. You deserve every right to be pissed off and hate them. But you also deserve peace. You shouldn’t have to continue suffering like this.”

“It hurts so much.”

“I know it’s hard. But let go.”

Sofia forces herself to look up. The tears have turned her bloodshot eyes into shining glass. “If I do, will I face eternal punishment?”

“You won’t.”

It’s quiet behind them. No more sounds of the dying or killing. No more broken bones or blood-filled screams. Sofia grows weary, her last few breathes slow. Pieces of skin begin to peel and float like snowflakes. Before they can see how she’ll fade away back into the annals of history, the windows shatter and release a blizzard that had been waiting far too long to break in. It blows through the grand hall, carrying itself around the castle as a cascade of snow, dust, and wind. The last time a curse was lifted in this manner, there were ashes and the disembodied moans of despair.

Then it’s over. The three of them stand in the middle of a dark empty room. Trevor picks up his belongings, leaving the unchanged Magen David for last. There are no words shared amongst them because they cannot find the right ones. Alucard steps up, perturbed by Trevor’s silence. He offers a hand on his shoulder for comfort, mirroring what Sypha once did for him, but his touch is too light for Trevor to really notice.

“We should go.” After such a bout of silence, Sypha’s voice makes them jump slightly. They leave the castle in its true abandoned state and hope never to come back. Perhaps a brief visit at the end of every Yule to place flowers where Sofia used to stand.

Halfway across the bridge, Sypha turns her head up to the snow speckled skies. Shouts of merriment and well-earned victory grace her ears; the arrival of a hunt returning with its spoils. Though she cannot see it, nor is she completely certain of its presence.

“You alright?” Asks Trevor.

“... I thought I heard something.”

JANUARY 1

The first early morning of the new year is always strange, even stranger to spend it alone inside Dracula’s castle. A disheartened hunter, a thoughtful scholar, and a tired dhampir retreat to his library without so much as a “happy new year”. They should sleep and yet they crowd onto the same chair, silently wishing for someone to lighten the mood before shuffling off to bed.

While the other two stare at their feet, Sypha looks around for some topic of small conversation. Her eyes eventually bring her to the top of a bookshelf, squinting at a tiny branch of green leaves which didn’t seem to be hanging there before.

“Mistletoe?”

Alucard overhears her mutter and glances upwards. His explanation is very matter of fact, with no joy. “Sometimes pieces of nature will appear on their own... an old spell put in place by my father to make my mother happy. He never had the need for growing things before he met her.”

Sypha knows the traditions and the good superstitions, despite never partaking in their origins. Standing up (the first one taking initiative to do so), she kisses Trevor’s cheek then does the same on Alucard’s forehead. “Shame to waste it.”

The boys are left in pleasant surprise—and with ideas of their own, especially on Alucard’s part. He doesn’t want to end the night with nothing to say to Trevor. They’ll step into this new year on good footing. Just when the Belmont least expects it, Alucard kisses his opposite cheek. An admittedly risky act on its own accords, but he thinks it was worth it to try.

“I was wrong. You did well tonight.”

Pink faced, Trevor’s gaze never leaves Alucard until he’s through the door and out of sight. “Mistletoe is supposed to be poisonous; you know.” He says to no one in particular.

#castlevania #trevor belmont #alucard #alucard castlevania #adrian tepes #sypha belnades #netflix castlevania #castlevania fanfiction #my writing #*cvfic #its done..... its finally done.....#oh god i hope the read more works

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spunky-89 · 4 years

Text

A Very Merry Christmas

A/N: Hellloooo, so I know it’s not the weekend, but in my defense, I lost a day. I thought today was Sunday but I have been informed I was wrong. Anywho, this will be a two-parter as I wrote soooo much it felt like I needed to snip it a bit. So without further ado, here is the next part (not in story timeline) of “Domestic(ish) Life”!!!!!

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3100

The second Thanksgiving ended, you were all in on Christmas. This was not new information to Steve and Bucky. Though Bucky only had a year under his belt where Steve had five. But they knew how much you loved the holiday so even when they weren’t really in the mood, they put on the Santa hats and smiled because it made you happy. And there was nothing they loved more than seeing you happy. ---------

“Come on, come on, come ooonnn,” You whined as you tried to drag the two super soldiers into the tent.

“We’re coming,” Steve laughed.

“Not fast enough.” you groaned and ditched them to head into the tent in front of them.

“I don’t understand why we don’t do this-”

“If you say the old fashion way I swear Bucky, I will murder you.” You glared as he came up behind you.

He put his hands up and laughed, “All right, message received.”

“Good, now put these muscles to use and pull that tree out for me.” You asked as you patted his chest and pointed to a tree towards the back.

You knew that you could actually go to a tree farm in New York, but your family had always gotten them from the tents at Home Depot, Lowes, or just a stand off the main road. It was one of the traditions you couldn’t let go of. That and needing to get a real tree, even when you were alone and had to drag it up to your apartment by yourself.

Steve came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you shared a quiet laugh as you watched Bucky fight to get the tree you wanted from the pile.

“Thank you for doing this with me. I know it’s kind of silly, but-”

“Hey, it’s not silly. It’s something you love and something that means a lot to you. You know we’re there if it means making you happy.” He said. Bucky then let out a string of curses under his breath as he finally got the tree out. “And I can’t say I don’t enjoy myself.”

You giggled and moved forward to evaluate the tree.

Two hours and three Tree Tents later, you had found your perfect tree. The boys helped bring it up and set it in its base. You smiled, clapped, and did a little dance once it was in place.

“I’m glad you’re happy, but I am never doing that again,” Bucky grumbled.

“Aw come on, don’t be like that.” Steve teased.

“There is sap all in the groves of my hand. That shit is never coming out.”

“Le gasp! We do not use that kind of language sir!” You exclaimed in fake shock.

“God I hate you guys.”

“But seriously,” You giggled as you pecked Steve on the cheek in apology, “I told you to wear gloves. It is not my fault you didn’t listen.”

“I didn’t think they were necessary!”

“Well, you should know that I’m always right and you should really listen to me more.” You smiled.

“Whatever, let’s just decorate it.”

“Sorry hunny, but we can’t decorate quite yet. We need to give it a day or two to make sure it’s all puffed out.”

“I have no idea what you just said or why that’s a thing,” Bucky stated as he plopped next to you on the couch.

“It meeaanns, the trees from tents are usually all wrapped up, so it takes them some time to flatten out. So if we put lights and ornaments on it now, they are liable to just fall off once the branches have adjusted.” You explained.

“I see. I still think it’s stupid and next year we’re taking you to a tree farm.”

“Oh, so you’re already planning for next year huh?” You teased.

“You can’t get rid of me princess.” He said as he grabbed you and pulled you into his lap as he hugged you tight and layed kisses all over you while you giggled.

-----------------------

The boys were extremely unhappy when a mission popped up two weeks before Christmas. They were so excited to do all the fun Christmas things with you for your first official Christmas as a couple. You assured them it was fine, as it was just a day after all. You firmly held the belief that the day you celebrated didn’t matter, as long as you were celebrating with the ones you love. So off they went.

You were almost kind of glad they were gone. It gave you plenty of time to get their gifts done. You firstly picked up some of the gifts you and Bucky had discussed for Steve and the same with Bucky’s. You had all made the decision to include each other in the gift-giving process to make sure no one got the same things. It was working out pretty good. You did decide to do something extra for both the boys. You wanted to spoil them and it was something you’d been planning for a while anyway. So you got to work. Though you loved buying gifts, you also loved making them. It made you feel like it was just a touch more personal. Luckily you had some time off and were able to put it to use. You actually made it a girls’ night. Nat and Wanda weren’t needed for the mission, so you invited them and Pepper over. You all had a ball, mixing wine and crafts. Though they were all crafty in their own right, they always said your assistance and expertise made it way easier and the product much prettier. Some of the creations were just for fun, or in Pepper’s case, a fun gift to give the man who had pretty much everything.

“So what’s the deal with that?” Nat asked as she was laser-focused on her wine glass, not the one that was full, the one she was painting.

“Well, I’ve been working on this for months, bullying Tony and even enlisting Maria’s help to gather some relics from their past and- I don’t know. I thought it would be cute.” You said with a shrug.

“Oh it’s adorable, I just wasn’t sure what it was from or where you got the idea.” She assured you.

“Oh, it’s from one of my favorite movies.” You explained.

“I see,”

“Hey (Y/N/N), how do you use this thing again?” Wanda asked, staring at the Cricut with hatred in her eyes. You laughed as you put down what you were working on and went over to show her.

---------------------------

When the boys returned only five days later, they were thrilled. There was a minor concern that their mission would mess up the holidays, but luck was on your side for this one. But they were faced with a new problem. Christmas was coming fast, and they were stumped at what to get their girl. They knew very well she wasn’t super materialistic and cared more for small gestures then grand ones. But they were just so unsure of what to do. This was the first official Christmas as a triad, and they were panicking.

“I feel like you gotta go jewelry, my man, it’s a classic,” Sam suggested when the boys brought their fears and worries to him.

“But that’s just it, it’s classic. She deserves more than that.” Bucky said with a groan.

“I don’t know, jewelry is pretty romantic. And it can be kind of personalized for her.”

“Still not what we’re looking for though,” Bucky argued.

“Hey, you asked for my help!”

“No Steve asked you. For some reason,”

“Stop it, both you.” Steve sighed, pinching his nose between his fingers and shaking his head.

“I’m just saying, I mean, how many successful relationships has he had?” Bucky asked,

“I’ve had relationships!”

“Name two that have lasted longer than 2 months.”

“Listen here-”

“Enough.”

The three men sat in silence for a while after that.

“What about a companion?” Asked a female voice. Steve and Sam jumped a bit at the sudden appearance of Natasha.

“What?”

“Like a pet or something. I mean she’s always sad when she’s left alone when you guys go on missions.”

“No no, that part I got.” Bucky said, “But how the hell did you know what we were talking about?”

“You guys have been struggling for a week. It’s getting really close to Christmas, I gave an educated guess.”

“You scare me,” Sam said, completely straight-faced.

“Oh, I know that.” She said, smiling innocently at him.

“I don’t know Nat, an animal is so much work.” Steve said, “And they usually end up destroying a lot.”

“Yeah, but (Y/N) is great with animals.” She argued.

“I don’t know,”

“I kinda like the idea.” Bucky chimed in.

“Of course you would. You want a pet just as much as she does.”

“All the more reason. It’s a two-for-one gift.” Bucky said a bright smile on his face.

“I hate you.”

--------------------

An hour later the two men were at a local animal shelter asking the kind workers for help. The receptionist freaked out for a minute but was able to get over her shock and help them. They took a picture with her but made her promise not to post it anywhere until after Christmas as to not ruin the surprise. She willingly agreed.

“So, are you looking for a dog or a cat? Or something else?” She asked as she led them to a back office to talk so they wouldn’t be seen by others out in the main area.

“Uh, we’re not really sure actually,” Steve admitted.

The woman laughed and had them sit down to chat.

“Okay, so this is for your mystery girlfriend I assume?”

“Yeah, we want to get her a companion for when we’re gone, but we’re not sure what would be best,” Bucky explained.

“Alright, does she have a preference for one type of animal?”

The two boys snorted.

“Anything that has fur and four legs.” Bucky laughed,

“Well, that’s not true, she also loves birds and bats.”

“Oh true, can’t forget the bats.”

The woman looked at the two icons in front of her, fond smiles on their faces as they spoke of their lover. She hoped she could one day find someone who would look like that when they talked about her. “I feel that I'm the same way.” She laughed, “Unfortunately, we don’t rescue bats here but we have lots of furry friends.”

“Do have any animals that have been here for a while? Or any animals that you guys don’t think anyone is going to take?”

“Well, we have quite a few that have been here for a year or more, a few senior animals which are less popular, and then animals who have some form of illness or disability.”

“Not one with an illness or disability. Though I’m sure she would love it unconditionally, I think a healthy animal would be better.” Steve said.

“So judgmental Steve,”

“Shut it punk,” Steve said as he glared. He turned back to the woman who was smiling as she watched the two men.

“Come on, I’ll show you a few different critters and you can see what you think will complete your family.”

She led them out the door and down a hallway. Immediately they could hear the barking.

“So, these are some of the dogs who need special attention or are small enough we can fit them in the kennel. We have bigger dogs and healthy ones outside in big pens so they have room to roam.” The woman explained.

She led them to a cage with a small shaggy terrier. It started yapping as soon as the boys walked up.

“So this is Nancy, she’s 3 years old and she’s been here for 8 months. She had some heartworms but she is finally done with treatment and is ready to find her forever home.”

The two boys shared a look.

“She’s cute but I don’t think we want a tiny dog,” Steve said.

“Specifically no yappers,” Bucky added.

The woman laughed and nodded, “I don’t blame you. But that will help our search a little bit.”

She then led them outside where they could see a number of fenced-in areas with dogs of all kinds running, sleeping, or playing with their toys.

“So, first we have Pluto, he’s a 6-year-old Lab/Pit mix. He’s a sweetheart but people get scared with him being part pitbull. He’s active but not so much that he’s too much to handle. He does enjoy going for walks and playing with his ball. He also loves tug-of-war, but I usually warn people about hurting their shoulders due to his strength, but I get the feeling you two won’t need to worry about that.” She smiled as she crouched down to call over the dog.

“Yeah, I think we’ve got that covered.” Steve laughed.

Bucky got down right next to the worker and started petting him through the fence.

“Oh, aren’t you a cutie. Oooh, you’re so sweet.” Bucky cooed.

“I’m gonna live to regret having you here aren’t I?”

“Listen, these cuties need someone to love them. Let me live my life.” Bucky snapped playfully defensive.

Steve laughed and they all moved on to the next dog, then onto cats, and finally the birds and small critters like hamsters and ferrets.

---------------------

Their next stop was the pet store. They talked to the woman at the shelter about what supplies they would need and she gave them a detailed list with some things that weren’t necessary, but might be good to have.

They never realized how many toys you could get for animals. Needless to say, they were extra glad for the instructions as they would have been lost without them. They had put their new family member on hold to be picked up on Christmas Eve and somehow figure out how they were going to smuggle it into the apartment. But they would worry about that later. Right now they were arguing over colors.

“We should get the pink or purple, they’re girl colors,” Steve argued.

“Did you really just say that? Do you know what (Y/N) would say if she heard that?” Bucky asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Steve nodded, realizing his mistake.

“Obviously,”

“Don’t get smart with me punk.”

“Whatever, we still need to pick a color.”

“What about (F/C)?”

“No, that’s a weird shade. She would hate that.”

“What about this one?” Steve asked, holding up a sparkly red/orange one with little brown flecks in it.

Bucky tilted his head. “It’s very fall, but I think she’ll love it.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“One thing down, a hundred to go.” Bucky sighed looking at the list.

“I don’t want to hear it, this is all on you pal. You wanted to do this.” Steve said.

“Oh I know, I have no regrets.”

---------------------

Once they had all of the stuff, they made a quick stop to get bags, boxes, and wrapping paper. They knew they would have to wait until tomorrow to wrap their gifts as by now you were bound to be home from work and they had too much stuff to hide effectively.

They were so glad they had figured this out because they were down to the wire. It was only five days till Christmas.

With it being so close to Christmas you were practically glowing and floating on air. There was constantly a Christmas candle burning and music playing. After all the stress of the year between missions and dealing with telling people about your relationship, the boys were glad to see you let loose and be happy. You were only minorly stressed out because you had offered to host a small Christmas Eve get together with a few of the team who didn’t already have plans. Though you would all be gathering at the Tower for Christmas dinner. But on Christmas Eve it was just going to be Sam, Wanda, Vision, Natasha, and Bruce.

You had grand plans of making all sorts of delicious baked goods for both meals, but on top of it, you had to make an actual dinner for Christmas Eve. But you were thrilled. You loved hosting events and you were ready to hold a holiday in your own space. The boys helped you clean everything and make sure all the presents for the team were wrapped, as well as the presents for each other. You managed to wrangle Steve into assisting you with some of the cooking and decorating of the desserts. Bucky had long been banned from the kitchen because he infamously ate everything and you would end up having to make more. So he was stuck on cleaning duty and doing other minor jobs for you.

-----------------

After a whirlwind of activity leading up to the big night, it was here. You all had discussed it and decided to get a bit dressed up, especially since Tony had decided that it was going to be a pajama dinner. So while the food was finished cooking, you got all dressed up in a dark red, sparkly, knee-length dress. You did your make-up and put on some jewelry before topping the look off with heels you knew you would take off within half an hour. Each of the boys stuck with a nice pair of jeans and a button-up. Both looked absolutely delicious. Not long after you all finished getting ready, you heard the first knock at the door.

As everyone arrived, wine and mixed drinks were served and you all gathered at the table for the meal. As they all sat, you stayed standing.

"Before we all enjoy this meal, I just wanted to say, thank you. This has been a rough year between missions gone wrong and huge fallouts. I want to say thank you for being my family when my family was being dicks. I firmly believe that family isn’t defined by blood but by love. I feel so incredibly lucky to have wonderful people like you surrounding me and trying to keep my dumbasses safe." Everyone laughed a bit, but your eyes had started tearing. "I love you guys. Thank you for accepting me into your family and for understanding that love comes in many forms. Merry Christmas." You finished, raising your glass, tears trickling down your cheeks.

Everyone chorused a 'Merry Christmas' and you sat between your boys, who both squeezed your hands and kissed your cheeks.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve x reader x bucky #stucky x reader #stucky #christmas fluff #christmas #Domestic(ish) life #Winter Solider #winter solider x reader #captain america #captain america x reader

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clearwillow · 4 years

Text

White Day

A/N: Tohru Honda’s sweet personality from Fruits Basket is the way to describe Rin’s kind personality within this one shot. I hope you all enjoy this short story.

White Day By: @kimmigirl9

Valentine’s Day came and went in a blink of an eye. Now today was March 14th, also known as White Day. A day where men return the favor by gifting the girl a sweet treat in return. I wasn’t a man of sweets but I thought about making a sweet treat from scratch. But I forgot I’m not that handy in the kitchen. I would end up burning the treats instead. I just decided to go out and just buy a sweet treat instead. “Maybe chocolate covered strawberries?” Finding a gift for Rin wouldn’t be too hard. She wasn’t picky when it came to gifts. I could pick a single flower just from a branch of a tree and she would appreciate it very much.

Walking through the city I looked through the windows of shops near my townhome. Nothing called to me. Though the sweet gifts were white, they weren’t the exact white I was looking for. Instead of a sweet treat I decided to look at jewelry. I’ve never gifted Rin jewelry before, but I know she would love whatever I presented her. After I walked a few blocks I found the jewelry shop. Looking through the glass window the perfect shade of white caught my eye. The necklace was the perfect white. The silver chained held a plum blossom flower. “Rin’s scent.” The flower necklace was in fact what Rin’s scent was. I knew I had to buy this before anyone else did.

I walked inside and was greeted by the manager I believe. “Good morning to you sir. My name is Jakotsu, how may I be of assistance to you on this fine day?” His voice had a bit of a girly tone to it. He was dressed in a woman’s festival kimono and his hair was pulled back with a hairpin.

I pointed over my shoulder, “the plum blossom necklace in the window. I would like to purchase the piece.”

“Ah, such a fine piece I have to agree.” He went over and picked the necklace from the bust it rested on. “Would you like it gift wrapped?” He asked cheerfully.

“Yes, it’s a white day gift,” I said quickly.

The dude’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “You must have a special girl in your life.” I only nodded to him. He placed the necklace in its proper box and then wrapped it up in shiny white paper and gold ribbon. “Is there anything else I could be of service to you or will this be it?”

“Just the necklace, how much?” I asked as I pulled out my wallet from my back pocket.

He rang me up, “that will be ¥11,000 yen sir,” he said with a smirk. I handed him my gold card to pay for Rin’s gift. “Thank you sir. You have a marvelous day. I do hope the special girl of yours enjoys your gift.” I only nodded my head and left without another word to him.

I looked at the time on my phone and it was almost noon. “I’m supposed to meet Rin at the white day festival at the park.” Turning into a ball of white light I shot towards Ueno Park. She wanted to have a picnic to celebrate today. I wasn’t the one for picnics but I didn’t want to let her down and went along with it.

Arriving at the park the festival was in full swing. Couples young and old were scattered around enjoying the festivities with one another. Vendors lined up and down the walkway selling anything from marshmallow treats, to white chocolates, and jewelry. It’s a good thing I found Rin’s gift in town. I hope she likes it when I present it to her later.

The wind blew around me and I could pick up Rin’s sweet scent not too far off from where I was. “So she’s near the lake?” I veered around the couples and walked down the paved path for a few minutes. Looking to my right, there she was. Rin was dressed elegantly in a long white kimono dress. I never seen her look this beautiful before. She is usually dressed like a tomboy since she plays different sports. Seeing her dressed this magnificent I realized she has an amazing frame. The white fabric wrapped around her body like art. I never knew she had such a delicate figure. Her hair was pulled back and wrapped up tight with a hairpin keeping it in place. While I’m dressed in a quarter sleeve white button up shirt and denim blue jeans. My long silver hair was pulled back in a braided ponytail. I look more like a university student studying to be a lawyer with the black glasses I’m wearing.

I walked over to her as she had her back to me, “Rin?” I called to her softly.

My voice I guess startled her as she jumped a few feet. When she turned around her eyes lit up. “Sesshomaru, you startled me. How are you?” She asked softly and bowed before me. Lifting her head she gestured a hand to sit down on the blanket she had set up.

“The same as always. I may as well ask you the same.” I took a seat across from her as she sat on her knees.

“I am well, thank you for asking,” she smiled brightly. “Are you hungry? I made some fish cutlets and a few other delicious foods?” She pulled out a plate of fried fish, a bowl of mixed fruits, and a plate of raw vegetables. I have to say Rin has a green thumb when it comes to cooking. I nodded to her question and picked up a piece of fish. Bringing the cutlet to my mouth I could smell it was cod. She knows my favorite fish all too well. I took a medium sized bite and chewed it quickly. “Is it to yourself liking?” She asked happily.

“It’s good. It’s very fresh and the cod has a juicy taste,” I let her know. Her chocolate eyes lit up with enjoyment. “Are you going to eat?” She hasn’t picked up any piece of food yet.

“Oh! Yes, I just wanted to ask if you liked my cooking. You know I’m going to get my culinary degree and I need someone’s feedback.” She picked up a small piece of cutlet and took a small bite. “It’s so good. This definitely will be one of the foods I’ll make for my entrance exam.” I know she’ll do well. “After our lunch is there anything you would like to do or go see?” Her smile is what attracted me to her. Though we haven’t hadn’t our first kiss yet and we are technically dating, I just wasn’t ready.

“We can walk around the perimeter of the lake or the festival,” I let her know. Her eyes keep lighting up.

“That would be wonderful and I really appreciate that very much,” she said as she took another bite of the meal she made. Her lips were calling to me. I know I won’t be able to resist them much longer. She picked up a bowl of fruit which had mango, strawberries, and cherries in it. “Here have some fruit and also some veggies.” She picked up the plate of carrots and broccoli. I grabbed a small plate and put a few pieces of each food she held in front of me.

“Do you happen to have anything to drink?”

“Oh how rude of me.” She placed the food down and pulled two water bottles out. “I’m so sorry Sesshomaru. I was so excited for you to try my food that I forgot that I brought water for us.”

“It’s quite alright,” I let her know. She can be a bit of a ditz, but that’s what I like about her personality. “When do you take your exam for culinary school?”

“At the end of the month. I’m a bit nervous though. The school I’m trying to get into, well they expect high results. So since I’m planning the cod cutlets I want to create a sauce to put as a drizzle on top. So far ones I’ve made in the past don’t taste great with it,” she said softly.

“Why not try salsa? Possibly mango?” I hope these ideas brighten her day.

“Mango salsa?” She thought. “Oh wow that actually could work. Thank you Sesshomaru,” she bowed to me with gratitude. “When I make it, will you be my first tester?”

“Are you trying to make me your guinea pig?” I asked, giving her an awkward smile.

“Haha, maybe. Besides no one else, even my other friends wouldn’t try my food. So you were the only one I knew would.”

I couldn’t turn her down for that. “I’ll be your guinea pig.”

“Yay! Thank you. I promise this will be a meal you’ll love the most.”

0/0/0/0

Later after we cleaned up our lunch, we went and looked around the festival. The vendors tried to persuade us into buying their products. The items weren’t equally as special as the gift I’ll present Rin later. The perfumes burnt my nose that I had to pull us away from them. “I don’t blame you for wanting to get away from the perfume vendors Sesshomaru. The aroma is too strong for me,” she said softly. “I prefer aromas that are light with a hint of citrus.” I smiled very quickly at her words.

As we veered around everyone dark clouds started to cover the sky. “Looks like it’s going to get bad here soon. Come Rin, let’s get under a pavilion.” I took her hand without asking and I booked us under the closest one near us. I guess others had the same thought. “We’ll wait here till the storm passes.” The rain came down in sheets. Lots of people were getting soaked. It’s a good thing I got us under here fast because we both would have been soaked like everyone else. Plus with Rin’s white kimono, she would be totally exposed and I couldn’t let that happen.

“Okay, let’s take a seat,” she pointed towards the dirty tables. I can’t let Rin get her white kimono dirty. So instead I took a seat and pulled her over my lap. “Umm, Sesshomaru?” She had a look of confusion in her eyes.

“You’ll get your kimono dirty if you sit on the bench. We’ll move here soon.” I can tell the storm won’t last long. Maybe ten minutes at most.

“Okay. Is there anything you want to do later? I know they’re having a fireworks show tonight.” I looked at my phone again and it was almost two-thirty.

“It’s still quite a while till the show starts. We can go get a cup of tea after the storm passes.”

“Tea sounds lovely. Do you want to go to one of the cafes in town or here at the park?”

“In town.” I don’t care for vendors’ tea. They aren’t worth the money. Rin suddenly moved and rested her head against my shoulder. “Are you cold Rin?” I thought I felt a slight shiver from her.

“A little, but I’ll be okay. I enjoy the cool breeze. I’m sorry, I should have asked if it was okay to lay my head against you,” she said as she tried to sit up. I pulled her back against me and released my mokomoko. This would be the first time she would see my tail. I wrapped it around her, not daring to let her go. “Umm…is this alright?”

“It’s quite alright. My tail will keep you warm.”

Her delicate hand slithered through my fur which actually felt comforting. “Your tail is so fluffy and cozy Sesshomaru. Why have you never shown me your true side before?”

“I just never thought about it. Is it something you wish to see?” I’ve kind of debated several times to show her my true form. But fear struck me thinking she would run off.

“Yes, but only if you are comfortable with showing me,” her voice was very smooth when she said those words. “If not today, maybe sometime in the future?”

“We’ll see, for now let’s go and get some tea.” The rain finally came to an end and the clouds started to disperse. Retrieving my mokomoko we both got to our feet and walked out towards the city.

The cafe was right across the street from the park. Inside I ordered us simple jasmine tea. “It seems that all the seats are taken, Sesshomaru. Why don’t we just go for a walk? I know there’s a path in the park that goes a bit into the woods. I heard rumors of a meadow that’s very beautiful and filled with lots of flowers.”

I knew of the meadow she spoke of. “Sure,” without asking I took her hand and we left the cafe and headed for the path. It took us a bit to get through the crowds of people since it was getting a lot busier than it was earlier. But after a few minutes we finally made it under the arbor of trees within the woods.

“I love the smell of the forest after a rainstorm. What about you, Sesshomaru?” She asked as she took a sip of her hot tea.

“Only during the night when the moon is out,” I explained to her.

“I have to agree with you on that Sesshomaru. The way the moon shines on the glistening raindrops has a calming effect,” I didn’t respond. “I love to listen to music during and after the rain,” She said joyfully.

“What music would that be?” I’m kind of curious because I don’t know what she listens to.

“I’m the weird type when it comes to music. But…I love to listen to Frédéric Chopin’s ‘Raindrop’. There’s something about his pieces I love to fall asleep to.” So she’s into piano music?

“It doesn’t make you weird. I too listen to different composers of the piano. The music stimulates the brain in a good way. It helps me focus on studying.”

I guess my response enlightened her. “That’s amazing Sesshomaru. It makes me happy knowing someone else enjoys the same type of music as me.”

I wonder if she’ll let me play some Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata? I’ll ask her at a later date. We both remained quiet for quite some time. We both finished our teas and threw them away in a proper trash can tear the meadow. I could tell we were the only ones that would be there. It was quiet and calm. The only sound of people were back at the park. Since no one else was here, I was now debating to show Rin my true form. “Rin?” I said her name so softly.

“Yes Sesshomaru?” We were now in the middle of meadow. The sun was slowly setting behind the trees with just enough light for her to see my form.

“Would you like to see my form?” I asked quickly.

I looked to see not only her expression, but her response. “I would love to see your true form Sesshomaru. Do I need to stand back? Is right here fine?”

“Right here is fine. Just allow me to step back a few feet. But promise me one thing,” I said as I held up a finger.

Her eyes became like saucers, “what’s that?” She asked quickly.

“Please do not run off under any circumstances. My form will be ten times the size of the normal size dog.”

“I promise. I bet your form will be amazing. Just promise not to chase me, haha,” she said jokingly.

I only nodded and stepped back several feet. Clearing my mind, a white cool wind blew around me and I allowed my eyes to turn red. The markings along my face changed shape and soon my body changed from my human form to my true form. I went from a five and ten inches man to almost thirty-five feet tall.

I never took my eyes off of Rin. I could tell she was holding her breath and she must be a bit nervous. I lowered myself in front of her. But it would be nice if I could talk but it’s one thing I lack in my true form. “Sess…Sesshomaru?” I nodded my head to reassure that it was me. “Wow!” She carefully lifted her hand to the side of my muzzle. “So soft,” she whispered softly. “Is there anything else you can do in this form?”

“I wonder if she’ll allow me to take her on a flight?” I turned my body to the side. Hopefully she’ll understand why I did this.

“Do you want me to get on your back?” I could tell she was a bit hesitant. I nodded my head to her again. “Okay, I’m guessing I’m going to need to hold on tight?” She asked as she climbed up on my back. I could feel she was side saddling.

I nodded my head again and bounded into the air. I could feel her body heat against my back and her head hiding within my neck. I guess I should have explained myself better of what she was about to face. I stopped midway into the air and lightly purred that it was okay to look up.

It took her a few minutes before I felt Rin lift herself up. I heard her lightly gasp, “oh wow. The view is magnificent Sesshomaru.” I brought her high into the sky as she viewed the city we live in from a different perspective. “Sesshomaru why didn’t you tell me you could fly? You’re amazing and very well gifted with such power.” She laid down again and started rubbing the fur along my neck. “I wished you would’ve shown me much sooner. I want to get to know you more, Sesshomaru, each and every day we’re together.”

With those words I transferred back to my human form, grabbed her before she could fall, and pulled her around so I could hold her waist. “You’ll learn in due time. Before you can ask your next question as I can see in your eyes, yes I can fly in my human form.”

Her bright smile turned to laughter, “you can read me like an open book Sesshomaru. Oh!” Her hand went to her head and I could see the tight bun it was in earlier was now a mess. She pulled the hairpin out and allowed her raven hair to fall down past her waist. “Much better. That hairpin has been bothering me all day,” she laughably said.

“Hmm, ready to go back to the festival?” I asked her.

She smiled brightly, “yes.”

0/0/0/0

Nighttime came and the festival was in full swing. The same couples young and old gathered all around the park. The fireworks show would be starting soon and everyone was trying to get the best spot. Rin and myself found a perfect spot on an island in the middle of the lake. We set the picnic blanket back up and took our seats. I left her for a few minutes and flew back with new cups of hot tea. “Just in time Sesshomaru, they’ll be starting soon.” I handed her the jasmine tea she requested. “Thank you.”

We took our seats again and sat there in silence for a few moments when I remember the gift for Rin I still had in my pocket. Placing my cup down I pulled the white box with gold ribbon out. “Here Rin, this is my White Day gift for you. I hope you like it,” I said softly.

She smiled happily, “Sesshomaru you didn’t have to get me anything. You just being with me today was the best gift I could ask for.” She gently took the gift from me and opened it. When she opened the velvet blue box her eyes lit up. “Sess…Sesshomaru, this necklace is beautiful, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I wanted to see how it looked on her. “Lift your hair up,” I said as I pulled the necklace from its resting spot. She did as I told her and I wrapped the necklace around her delicate neck and clipped it into place.

She turned around to face me, “so…how does it look?”

Only one word described how it presented on her exposed neck, “perfect.”

Suddenly bright lights shot into the sky across the lake from us. Different colors of white, gold, silver and many other colors lit before us.

“The sky is so beautiful Sesshomaru, I have to say today has to be the best day for us.”

“Indeed,” the only thing that was beautiful was the girl next to me.

As we watched the show Rin turned to face me. Her hair blew with the light wind, “Sesshomaru I want to try something.”

“What would that be?”

She leaned in till her lips were several inches from mine, “allow me to be your first kiss.” I didn’t even respond back. I nodded my head as we slowly leaned into one another and parted our lips. When we contacted skin to skin heat built up between us. It was just as I imagined how our first kiss would be. Her arms wrapped around my neck and I cupped her cheek. I even wrapped my free arm around her waist. Her lips were warm and I could taste her scent of plum blossoms. Abruptly as our first kiss started, it ended. Rin pulled back just a bit, but rested her forehead against mine. “I love you Sesshomaru,” she finally said.

“As do I my dear Rin.” I took her lips to mine again, as we ignored the finale of the fireworks for the White Day festival.

#inuyasha white day #sesshomaru #rin #sessrin #submission

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