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fleet-of-fiction · 4 months

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Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Five

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 469 ~ Jake

The house sat at the top of a steep incline, up a winding driveway that had begun to be reclaimed by nature. Cracks in the cement where little shrubs had started to grow and leaves that were never blown away. Neglected and abandoned.

It reminded me a little of Josh's house. With pristine edges and white walls, coveted by obscure works of art. Book shelves that were gathering dust and kitchen utensils left out on the surfaces as if the owners had just stepped out of the room.

Amelia seemed to know where she was going. "I found this place a couple of months after I moved into Grandma's cabin."

She led me down a narrow corridor, flanked by a bank of full length windows overlooking a sweeping back yard that was shrouded by trees. Photo's of the family who once lived there sitting on the wall opposite, happy faces forever immortalised for no one else to ever see.

"I hit every house within a 10 mile radius. Looking for supplies, anything that I could use. Food, toiletries. And I was about to leave when I noticed this..."

She stopped at the end of the corridor, leaning against a nondescript door. Her face sincere as she ran hands up my arms, coming to rest around my shoulders.

"We have to take whatever joy we can find in this world." She said, "And if we're lucky, we'll take back some of the joys we had before."

I'd known nothing but joy since I'd almost died. There wasn't a single moment I'd had with her that hadn't made me question whether I would take any of it back to have the world filled with every other person I'd ever loved again.

It was something I'd wrestled with. The notion that I could happily exist in a world I'd come to hate simply because she was in it with me. I was thinking about Josh again when she opened the door, simply because I'd been reminded of him. And the certainty within which I knew I wouldn't take any of it back, even if it meant having him back, drew a conflict within the likes of which I'd never known before.

But it was all for nothing. As I stepped into the room she'd been eager to show me, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I loved her enough to never want the old world back.

"Amelia..." I gasped. "What in the...fuck."

Mounted on an oak panelled wall were an array of vintage guitars. A brazilian board 1959 Gibson Les Paul. Shining in the last rays of the afternoon sun. I reached out and touched it, trembling as my fingers remembered what it felt like to know strings. A custom Fender strat in dark red with a black mottled pattern that looked like spilled paint if you looked too closely. A plain red stratocaster and an acoustic Martin dreadnought with a mahogany neck.

"I know that you said you didn't play anymore. Not without your brothers. But I think you should play again. For them. To them. And maybe somehow, I don't know how insane it might be, but maybe they'll hear you. Wherever they are..."

She was nervous. Biting her lip and wringing her hands in the sleeves of her sweater. Anticipating that I'd reject the sweetness of her idea, of this perfect gift.

"You brought me here because you knew that I would love it, didn't you?" I asked, although it wasn't really a question.

"Is that so bad?" She replied, opening her arms as if I would somehow be mad at her.

The room was decked out with framed vinyls. Some were so old I'd never seen them before. There were a few more guitars leaned up against the opposite wall and a beaten up drum kit in the window. It looked as if it had been played to death, with the cymbals hanging off and the kick drum looked as if one more pound on it would tear it right in half.

"It's not bad at all, why would you think that?" I pulled her into me, her little body slotting into my embrace like it had always meant to be there. "Just because I said I didn't play anymore doesn't mean I wouldn't love this."

She rested her head against my shoulder. Let me sway her back and forth a little. Everything was so eerily quiet. Up here the wind howled a little more than it did around the cabin. It sounded like ghosts were singing to us, begging me to pick up one of those fine old ladies.

"Maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I just wanted to hear you for myself." She looked up at me, resting her lips on my jawline.

"Plenty have paid for the privilege." I replied, "What will you pay me for a private show?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I saved your life. This is you paying me, sweet thing."

She laughed and buried her face into my neck, kissing me there and holding me tight around my waist. Familiar and wholesome. Like she hadn't tried to push me away at all in the beginning.

She was the most incredible woman I had ever known. Her fears were like shadows now, she had this uncanny ability to turn them into her most beloved passions. Once she had been afraid to love me. And now, the ways in which she loved me were making me feel unworthy of it.

"Sometimes I don't think you realise how much you saved me." I told her, casting my eye on the acoustic. "Not just from that car wreck. But from a life of misery."

Of course I would play for her. If not her, then nobody. She made herself comfortable on a shaggy looking bean bag, folding herself into it and resting her head against her curled fist as she regarded me. I pulled the mahogany acoustic down from the wall, not wanting to tend to wires and amps just yet.

I considered coming up with something on the fly, but it had been so long since I had tinkered with strings that my mind began to wander so far away I couldn't make them work. I strummed a little, hearing the notes play out and something weird happened. I thought I'd never feel this ever again, this visceral wave that washed over me to the point of almost growing hard as I felt the back of the guitar against my groin.

Her eyes widened. She wasn't prepared.

"How does it make you feel, to have an audience again?" She asked softly, seductively.

The strings needed tuning a little. I turned the keys at the top of the neck, plucking out chords until they sounded pitch perfect.

"Sexy." I replied, "I always felt sexy whenever I went out on stage. They made me feel sexy. Kinda the same way you are now. Knowing they want to fuck you every time you play for them."

I didn't realise how much I missed the adrenaline. The feral cries of a crowd. Their voices rising in unison. Lights and screaming and the feeling that I might ascend with their love. I'd been someone in my life before. I'd known what it felt like to open my eyes and know I was doing something I loved completely. I hadn't felt like this in what felt like a life time.

"This is who you are, Jake." She uttered, sliding her hand down the curve of her hips. "You can't run from who you are forever."

I felt as if I didn't deserve her. For all she had done for me, for how incredible she was. There was no crowd that could ever compare to the way I felt in that moment playing for her.

"I can't sing our songs like Josh could." I confessed, "I'd be a poor imitation. But I'll try."

I couldn't hold the same power with my voice that my brother could. The part of me that had promised never to play again still sat in the shadows whispering to me that it would never be the same. But louder than that was Amelia's face watching me strum out the first chords of a song that meant everything to me.

"What's it called?" She asked.

Day 469 ~ Amelia

I knew he would love it. I'd all but forgotten about the little music room at the back of the big house on the corner of the road that led into Lafayette. It had meant nothing to me the first time I'd ventured in there. There was nothing in there that was of any use to me.

But today, it was like seeing the sun peek out from a grey cloud. I'd gone from doing everything in my power to ensure that he was never necessary to me, to doing everything in my power just to see him smile.

"It's called Broken Bells." He replied, "Josh used to say that it was about seeing that when things sometimes feel broken most of the time they're just lessons sent to help us see that everything will be alright in the end. I really wish he could be here to see that he was so fucking right."

What would I have done if he hadn't felt the same? I could feel myself dying a little inside at the melancholy way he played. His face expressing his grief. He played so hauntingly beautifully, in a way I hadn't really been prepared for. He closed his eyes and didn't even need to look at the way his fingers moved across the strings. He knew them, and they responded to him so lovingly. Almost as if they were an entity all of their own, able to come when he called.

If he hadn't have loved me in return I'd have been driven mad by it. Every rational bone in my body broken if I'd been forced to live beside him unrequited. I began to understand how lucky and fortunate I was as he began to sing. That he and I were somehow fated. And it wasn't just a coincidence that he was driving past me that day. He was creation and I was necessity. He'd made music for a world that needed to hear it and I'd treated them when they were sick. And for some unfathomable reason, we'd been left behind to exist together in this empty world.

But empty didn't have to mean broken. There was nothing but love in the world again. Nothing but this painful song that made tears spill from my eyes as I watched him and listened. What if this song was the only one being played? And the only one being listened to? I had hope that if anyone else had been left behind that they had somehow managed to find each other and find love within it.

"That was...beautiful." I sobbed, laughing at myself for crying at it.

He put down the guitar and came to me. Launching himself into the bean bag, the scrunchy sound of tiny styrofoam balls moving around as he wiggled into the space beside me.

"It always got an emotional reaction whenever we played it." He sighed, trailing soft palms down the side of my face. "It felt like people resonated with our songs for all different kinds of reasons. But with Broken Bells it always felt we were all on the same page. All of us feeling the same thing at the same time."

How could I have ever doubted him? This beautiful man with his beautiful music?

"I was just thinking, while you were playing it, that I hoped that somewhere out there that other people were listening to songs for the first time. That they'd found each other and found love, even in a world seemingly broken." I countered, feeling the heat of that familiar rush when I knew he was about to make love to me.

"If they aren't, then we have to love for all of those who can't." He said, trailing kisses down my jaw line.

Sometimes it felt silly. The things we said to each other. Things in the dead of night. In the cold light of day. In the middle of the afternoon when he was at his most sleepy, when he would linger in the kitchen looking to score a bowl of stew or soup before curling up on the couch with a book before he would fall asleep.

Even now, I could feel him nuzzle in. Our bodies entwined on the bean bag lazily tracing his thumb over my nipple as he sucked the flesh on my neck into perfect little shapes of his mouth.

"So, you really do like it?" I checked, just wanting to hear him say it one more time.

"Oh, yeah." He yawned, "That Les Paul is coming home with us for sure. And maybe I'll come back for the Strat, too."

I was wearing the black yoga pants I saved for hiking. The ones that I wore to collect fire wood. To muck out the horses and clear out the chicken coop. I never felt particularly sexy in them, or desirable. It felt almost like we'd become accustomed to seeing each other in our most desolate states.

But when he slipped them down around the curve of my ass and hitched me around so I was facing away from him, I was glad that I'd worn them. The way he pressed his hard on into my back and continued to roll my nipple around between his fingers as he breathed harder into my ear was the blessing I'd needed to know that I'd done the right thing.

We were both tired from the hike. Our bodies crying out for rest. The afternoon sun began to slip away, making room for cloud and darkness. I was acutely aware that there was no power in this house. No electricity. No running water. No heat. It was in my mind to interrupt his ministrations with these facts, but as his hand slipped below, coming up into my entrance from behind, I lost all manner of speech.

"You gonna let me thank you properly?" He asked, slaking two fingers inside me slowly. "Be my good girl and let me show you how much I love you?"

I was in no mood to protest. I watched the light outside fade as he ran stripes up my slit and into my clit. Whispering obscenities and freeing himself one handedly as he played with me. Letting his cock rest between his stomach and the curve of my ass, leaking a little against our flesh.

"Can you feel it?" He breathed, "How much I love you?"

It was all I could feel. There was no house. No darkness. No eerie silence as the wind rushed through the trees. Howling like there was someone out there to hear it. Only Jakes breath, the bean bag as it shuffled beneath us, and the sound of my untamed scream as he penetrated me.

He didn't try to quieten me. Buffeting my wild moans with deep thrusts that came like chasms to break me in half. Each time he bottomed out, he savoured it. Taking the briefest of moments to feel me clenched around him before pulling back slowly. The need to fuck and the need to sleep battling it out for supremacy.

"Pretty fucking grateful, aren't you?" I replied, leaning my head back into his waiting mouth.

When he was like this, all in need and eager to satisfy any way that he could, I often thought back to how it had been that first time. On the ground in the mud, knees caked in it and the earth beating in time with us. And how in the time since, we'd leisurely made love on the kitchen floor some mornings. In the shower, just stroking each other to pass the time. Him, on top of me, in the bed we now shared. And me, arms around the trunk of a tree whilst he fucked me from behind out in the woods even though it was still a little cold out there.

"For this pussy? Always." He purred into my ear, like he was serenading me.

I knew that I'd never tire of it. The way he felt inside me. The way he fit so perfectly. I never felt so full, like something had been made just for me. He wasn't just rhythm and blues, he was equipped to make me quiver with the mere mention that he might take me right there and then.

I'd lament it later on. How all my lovers before him had been lacking. How I'd swiped left and right, attended blind dates and settled when I shouldn't have. For men that couldn't make me cum or men who couldn't text me back.

"Mmmmm..." I murmured softly, arching against his quickening pace. "It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

The gentle laughter that expelled from his mouth against the shell of my ear was like summer rain. Teasing my senses, touch taste and scent. His hair was sweat drenched at his temples, as it often was when he fucked me, and I could taste the salt of it in his kiss.

"She speaks so highly of me." He breathed, "Now let her know no other man will ever have her..."

He would claim me. Over and over again. Even when there was no other to counter his claim. I let his hand wrap around my throat, edging me to the distance it would take to push me over the edge of the world. Thrusting into me so hard my entire body shook. I knew the bean bag had ripped at some point, sending the tiny little white foam balls scattered across the room. But I didn't care.

I'd keep finding them in strange places for weeks afterwards. As he rolled me onto the floor and continued to pound me, vicious and unrelenting. He'd never silenced my mewling cries before, content to let them ring out into the ether.

But not this time. It was like his gratitude couldn't be satisfied until he could hear the one sound he desired. His body raged on top of mine, our clothes half on and half off. His sweaty palm came to rest over my open mouth. Muffling my cries to a dull humm. His eyes silently pleading with me to let them die. And to just listen...

"Hush." He encouraged, resting his mouth against the back of his hand as he continued.

There it was. Against the backdrop of the breeze outside. The sound of how wet I was. His cock hitting my satiated pussy. Moist flesh against moist flesh. The most inconceivable feeling washed over me. This man, the only man that ever was, wanted to silence my mouth only to better hear the sound of my pussy being fucked.

And the drop of his eyelids as he listened had me in another state of being. Half closed and fucked with desire for the way it slipped in and out, wet and completely his.

"Thankyou, my love." He whispered, before he allowed himself to cum.

I was never certain if it was for the music, or the way I let him fuck me. I didn't really care. I let my own orgasm rise moments later, the two of us breathless and spent on the gutted belly of that old bean bag.

Day 470 ~ Amelia

We hunkered down for the night. Choosing to make our way back at first light, gathering all the blankets we could find and sleeping on the couches that were, quite simply, more luxurious than any couch we could have gotten in the cabin.

Jake took the one opposite me, falling asleep first. His gentle snores lulling me into my own dreams. It felt like no time had passed at all before my eyes sprang open, the red of morning creeping in.

I rubbed my eyes and stretched. Taking a moment to recall where I was. This place was eerie, even in daylight. And I wished that there were something, anything...that would remind me that people had once lived here. The ticking of a clock, perhaps. Or the grass being cut outside. I could have laid there a little longer, still tired and drowsy, but I was eager to be gone.

I kicked off the blankets and expected Jake to be laying there, ever the one to wake up last, but my heart fell into my stomach at the sight of the empty couch. Blankets still left precisely where he had kicked them off.

"Jake?!" I called, expecting his voice to filter down the hall from the music room.

Silence.

"Jake?!" I called again, pulling on my pants and shoes as I made my way through the house.

I expected to find him gathering up all the instruments he wanted to take. Agonising over which ones to take now and which ones to come back for. But there was nothing but the aftermath of what we'd done. And all the guitars were accounted for.

"Jake, this isn't funny." I cried, checking behind the curtains like a child playing hide and seek. "Jake, I'm being serious now!!!"

Panic began to rise in my chest. My heart soaring, making me dizzy as I flew through the house. Room after room coming up empty.

"Jake!!!" I screamed, running now. "Jake please!!!"

Had I ever given myself permission to imagine this, I would have driven myself mad. That one day he would simply vanish, like everyone else had, and truly I would have walked to my death in that moment. I had no desire to live in a world void of the man I loved.

"JACOB!!!" My voice broke on his name as I fell out of the door and into the back yard. "PLEASE!!!!"

I fell to my knees on gravel. Crying. Racking sobs expelled from me as I took fists full of tiny pebbles that cut into my flesh as I squeezed. I felt as if I couldn't breathe. My chest was tight, all the horror of him disappearing coursing through my veins as tears spilled down my flushed cheeks.

"Jake, I can't do this...you have to come back..." I begged, broken and beyond redemption.

In a matter of moments I'd gone from waking up, to screaming on my knees. I'd have thought it a nightmare had I not already endured one. The reality of this feeling was one I knew. Only this time, intensified by a love that had known no bounds. I could live in an empty world before I'd ever known him.

Not anymore.

To be Continued...

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy @char289

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smokeys-house · 3 months

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⭐️Also available on ao3!⭐️

💫 sequel to TCKD 💫

⭐️ Art by @miranagi, writing by @smokeys-house ⭐️

The Cane King's Daughter: A Story for Another Time

"Ah, Miss Puukko, I thought I'd find you here!" Moominpapa arrived through the kitchen door of Moominhouse, finding his wife and an old friend cooking in tandem for the evening's dinner to come. "The children said they saw you coming down the mountain not too long ago. It's been a while since your last visit!" He smiled, dusting off his hat before placing it right back atop his head. He looked as though he'd been in a hurry to get here.

"Aye, that it has." Puukko was squinting as she struggled to dice vegetables, the counter was quite low for her, and the kitchen quite small. She ducked underneath the stove's hood in order to add them to the pot. She wasn't terribly large, but she'd gotten quite used to living in a house her own size. She was happy to help, albeit much happier when the help was getting something down from up high.

Moominmama chuckled softly at the sight of the large moomin stooping in her kitchen. "Why don't you help papa set the table? I can finish up in here." The pair left Moominmama to her cooking as they brought dishes and silverware into the dining area. Moominhouse was calm, quiet, and now filled with the aroma of a nearly ready home cooked meal.

"Miss Puukko, forgive my er, uh, impatience, but uh, I do believe last time you were here you had said you had a story for another time." Papa began organizing each table setting.

"Aye. I believe I did."

"And it would appear, er, uh… that it is another time. Isn't that right?"

"Hmm… I'm thinkin' ye might be right. Can't be sure. Now what was it?" She playfully rested her snout in her hand with her arm crossed beneath it, striking as contemplative a pose as she could muster.

"I believe you were telling us about how you got caught. After Marion had joined your crew." Mama said, entering with a steaming tureen of stew, and setting it upon a potholder on the table.

Puukko eyed the other table settings. "I'm afraid that one's a bit impolite. Mightn't be good fer the young ones."

"The children are out camping this evening, I've just seen them off before arriving." Papa said, taking his seat. "They won't be back for at least another two days, if the weather holds."

"Then why'd we set the whole table and cook all that extra stew?" Puukko asked.

"It'll be nice in case they come back early. If they get rained out I'm sure they'll want some stew to warm them up." Mama smiled as she sat at the head of the table adjacent to her husband.

"I see… It's still not the nicest o' stories I fear. I think it can wait fer after dinner at least." Her reticence was apparent, as she idly fiddled with her utensils. She was seated across from Moominpapa, next to Moominmama.

"Nonsense, go right on ahead! No need to spare us the details, we're all adults here." Papa said. He was eager to hear the rest of the story, his repeated encouragements were evidence of that enough.

"Well… I s'pose ye earned it after sittin' through the first part. Ye know where it all started, but some time after that…"

–

Years had passed since Captain Whetstone had become legend in Marseille. Stories and songs alike featured a fearsome and dashing rogue doubly wounding a wealthy rum purveyor. The Cane King, as he'd taken to calling himself, had grown rather fond of his reputation after thoroughly scrubbing it of any misgivings. Each version of the tale was told a bit differently, but Jules Cartier, the man himself, was eager to remind the public of his own sanitized version.

There was always a pirate by the name of Whetstone. She was often depicted as devilishly handsome, and highly capable. Just as often, though counter to the first, she was depicted as monstrous, or drunk and oafish. Regardless, one thing was certain: she'd steal off with the Cane King's daughter. The fight that occurred at Cartier Manor was witnessed by many, though few spread the truth of Jules' cowardly actions following his defeat in the duel that day.

In the time since, Captain Whetstone and her now first mate; Marion Cartier, had plundered many ships associated with the Cartier family business. If there was a crate with the Cane King's face on it, the crew of The Honeyed Word was not far behind. Despite this brazen and rampant piracy, the age of swashbuckling sailors seemed near an end. Those that still engaged in the splendors of piratical adventure hung their hats in Nassau, living a free life off stolen coin. Legends had risen and fallen just like the waves they'd sailed upon, and yet few remained afloat.

"Cocoa?" A fillyjonk woman with a soft voice knocked at the door of the Captain's cabin. She entered just after.

"Ah, no thanks. I'm afraid it doesn't mix well with pipesmoke." Captain Whetstone replied from her seat at her desk.

"No, I mean as in the last bit of your name. Ko-Ko. It's cute. It makes for a good nickname." Marion was, as always, earnest to a fault. "I've just seen the quartermaster, he and I feel we've taken on all we can for the time being. That last haul was a big one!"

"Aye…" Whetstone said, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "Don't ye be callin' me that where the crew can hear, lass. Not but one knows me by Puukko these days. And that'd be you."

"But Whetstone's no fun for nicknames, cap!" Marion teased. She never seemed freer than when dressed for a day's work aboard a ship. Despite having her life upended all those years ago, it seemed she'd finally found where she belonged. She'd long since abandoned her garish trappings, finding herself far more comfortable in clothes fit for salted air.

"Nassau." The captain stood from her chair, smoke gently drifting from atop her pipe. "That's why we're sailin' fer Nassau. Dump the lot on the usual friendly faces." Her voice had grown raspy and deep over the years, but not without charm. She approached Marion, casually resting her paw upon her lover's cheek as she cleared the hair from her face. She took a moment to look into her eyes. Sapphire blue, and bright like stars. For all the time she'd been hardened as a pirate, she'd thought nothing could make her feel quite so soft again.

"Captain?" Marion stood awkwardly, blushing brighter with each passing moment. She beheld the captain's face, rugged, yet kind. Jules had given her quite the scar, a large streak bereft of fur stretched across her left eye.

"Marion.. I been doin' some thinkin'. Ye been talkin' of want fer t' see the world, and I been thinkin'... maybe I could be the one t' show it to you." She hesitated a moment, searching for the right words. "Whaddaya say after we clear the haul, you n' I find somewhere’s quiet fer a while. We could be t-"

"Crosstrees, captain!" Shouts erupted from the top deck. "Nigh on in range!"

Captain Whetstone tensed, balling her fists. Both her and Marion made for the top deck. Whetstone retrieved her spyglass, extending it to view a ship fast approaching.

"Pirate hunters." She said, laden with disdain. "I know this lot. Spanish privateers." She collapsed the telescope, turning to face the crew. "Full sail! Catch as much wind as she's able! We make fer Nassau!"

The crew got to work with haste. Every member of the crew knew exactly what they were to do, and did it fast.

"More and more of them these days, it seems." Marion said with a sigh, taking up a position near her moomin companion. "Do you think there'll be anyone taking patrol up near Nassau?"

"I'm countin' on it. Maybe a ship 'er two out 'n about. If not, well… it'll be fireworks fer the lot of 'em if they end up close enough to that ship old Hornigold beached."

"They ought to know better than to sail into these waters. They're getting bolder."

"I fear ye might be right." The captain took up the helm, stern and stalwart. The wind was fast and favorable, and The Honeyed Word took to it, sailing fast as she could. Several loud thumps forced their way through the humid air as smoke billowed like rain clouds from the gunports of the hunter ship, sending cannonballs hurtling toward their target.

"Git down!" Whetstone shouted a warning to all that could hear. Everybody laid still on the deck, covering their heads. Within seconds the sea was shattered into fine mist against the shot, narrowly missing the hull.

"No hits captain! Just out of range!" One of the crewmembers came up from the gundeck.

"Prepare to return fire, but hold! We're makin' a run fer it! Man the rear swivels!"

The hunter ship closed in on the port side, narrowing the time left for an escape. They fired another volley. Cannon after cannon fired near in unison, the majority just barely missing their target. Wood splintered violently as the iron round shot disrupted its shape, tearing through railings and walls above the waterline of Whetstone's ship.

"Booble's beard! I think she means t' board us!" The captain shouted as she got back to her feet once more. "Give 'er all we got, lads!" The crew fired on the hunter ship as it came within range, blasting the hull in several places.

"Good hits, Cap'n! But she's still on us!" A young man from the gundeck shouted.

The Spanish ship was gaining on them, and the Honeyed Word's cannons would not be ready for another volley until after the privateers had time to close in for a broadside. Whetstone's crew rushed to load their cannons as fast as they could, while others scrambled to get to their weapons and prepared to be boarded. The two ships were rapidly approaching the waters near Nassau, both focused on one another rather than their course. The hunter ship began firing grappling lines in high arcs in an attempt to catch the railings of their quarry.

Pff! Pff! Pff! BOOM!

The comparatively lesser blasts of the boarding guns were interrupted by the sound of over fifty cannons firing almost simultaneously. Captain Whetstone watched in awe as the ship that was just chasing her was sundered in a matter of seconds. The ship was there one moment, and then in its place lie only flotsam. The grappling lines that hung from the railing went limp, falling into the sea. Everything was for a moment, silent, save for the rolling of waves beneath. They hadn't gotten within range of Hornigold's safety measures, and yet their attackers were dealt with all the same. She looked ahead, utterly confused to see a Man O' War of the king's navy anchored just outside what she had known to be the haven of all pirates.

"Strike the colors, boys!" The captain shouted in disbelief. She looked around and took in the scene. "Hoist the white flag. This ain't a surrender, but I'll be damned if we get blasted t' smithereens like those fellers did."

The crew sailed slow to their destination, and were not fired upon. The Man O' War was too big to slip between the sandbars and would run aground if it sailed any closer. The Honeyed Word anchored a careful distance from shore further in than the hulking giant of a ship that had nearly shot them down. Several of the King's smaller ships were anchored nearby and otherwise sailing the area, but none of his men were seen immediately ashore save for a party of three now discussing something with a pirate down on the beach.

"Marion, I think it likely fer the best if you and the crew stay aboard fer the moment. We might be in an awful hurry t' get outta here afore ye be knowin' it." Whetstone eyed the conversation through her spyglass. The tension was high and visible in all those involved, but had yet to boil over.

"What are you planning on doing?" Marion asked.

The captain checked one of the pistols in her brace before tucking it right back in. "Just gon' ask a few questions is all. I'll be back before supper, worry ye no'."

"Just be careful. Ruth won't be here to save you like in Marseille."

"There ye'd be right, but there ought t' be at least a few dozen what sail a black flag still ashore. Can't 'ave all been shot down on the way in." She shrugged.

A short while later, the captain had arrived on shore as the tender her crew had brought her in on made its way back to the ship. The conversation she witnessed had come to its conclusion seemingly without a fight. She wandered into Nassau proper, aiming to avoid the eyes of the King's men. The veritable shanty town that encapsulated and surrounded the proper buildings of Nassau were usually alive with scores of merchants and merry-makers, instead they were filled with a tentative silence. Great change was coming, and its harbinger was anchored just on the horizon.

Canvas covered tents and makeshift shacks led onward into the heart of town, and it remained just as quiet. Captain Whetstone trod what once felt a familiar path in caution, an uneasy feeling in her gut as she took in the emptiness.

"If yer here fer nonsense, you'll assuredly find it this day." A voice like tumbling stone called out from a hammock tethered between a post on a house's porch and a palm tree.

"Calico Jack." Whetstone sighed in response. "I'd have thought you busy with yer own brand o' nonsense as usual. What in blazes is goin' on here? Where's everyone gone? Why's there a behemoth of a ship skulking outside Nassau?"

"Like I said. Nonsense. The King's come a'callin' fer a pardon. Any pirate that's wanting fer an out can get back into the good graces of his majesty, loot untouched. Everyone's holed up or arguing amongst themselves about where to go from here. Seems too good t' be true, but old Benji boy seems quite taken with the idea." Said Rackham. He gave himself a push off the ground with his foot, swinging his hammock a bit. "And them that don't sign their name?" He dragged his thumb across his throat.

"Hornigold? Ain't he practically the founder o' this place? Why give it up? We've got real freedom here."

"Founder and mayor, or so he thought himself. Among others I s'pose. The King's seen t' that, too. You be knowin' a man by the name Woodes Rogers? Failed privateer or some such. He seems to know you."

"Aye, I know of him." She thought of the moomin in the powdered wig at Cartier Manor. She chose not to bring it up.

"That'll be yer new mayor. Appointed by the crown and everything." Jack seemed as carefree as ever despite the news, his arms thrown behind his head. "Hornigold seems to think the place he built up on stolen gold could grow into something proper. I think he's gone dotty in his age an' just wants fer a statue of himself." He coughed out a coarse laugh, wheezing a moment as he wound back down.

The Captain's mind began to wander. If it was true, she could get the quiet life she wanted with Marion, away from the rigors of life at sea. She'd be free, but would Marion consider it freedom? She'd been too nervous to ask her, after all, it was Marion's dream to sail and do as she pleased. A pirate's life suited Marion better than it ever had herself, and her stint as a pirate had only just begun. Retirement had been Whetstone's goal until she met the fillyjonk she loved, but could she do so without the guilt of clipping her wings? Could she give her the freedom she'd always wanted without the risks of swashbuckling and seafaring? Each of her thoughts peppered her mind, the circular nature of it causing her to lose focus.

"You should go see Hornigold. Make of all this what y' will with yer own peepers. I'm going to take a very long nap… to clear my head." He placed his hat over his face.

"Where's he supposed t' be?" She asked. In response, Jack loudly pretended to snore. The captain tapped the underside of the hammock with her foot. "Rackham. Where's Hornigold at right now?"

"I'm sleeping!" He shouted as he turned over. The scent of booze surrounded him as he shifted. Whetstone kicked him again, harder this time. "I'm sleeeeeeping!" He sat up and sang loudly. A pewter mug flew out the top floor window of the building he was anchored to and struck him squarely on the head. He yelped, covering his head as he lay back down in his hammock.

"Damn it, Rackham, you lout! I know you ain't do much of it, but some of us is tryin' to think!" A woman with dark hair in a green waistcoat leaned out the window. "If yer looking fer Hornigold, he's up at the old fort overlooking the shore. Seems to spend an awful lot of time there these days. Nice seein' ye by the way, Whetstone. Wish it were under brighter circumstances."

"Thanks, Mary. Glad t' see some folks still got their wits about them." Whetstone said, happy to see a familiar face with some thoughts behind it.

"Careful up there. He's like to have Rogers with him. Don't let him force ye to sign something you ain't thought about."

Captain Whetstone had never really been to the old fort save for wandering by, but she had always seen it on her way in. Last she'd seen it, the fort was mostly dilapidated and deserted. It hadn't seen use since before Nassau was Nassau, and the defenses that had been put up focused primarily on the inlets rather than the surrounding sea. It seemed as though it had been worked on recently, with new bricks having been laid in some areas and a few spare cannons brought over. Supplies, crates, and tools were strewn about the fort, and new doors had been placed on a few of the scant interiors. Men of the King's navy armed with rifles lined the walls, closely and silently watching the captain as she searched around. She tucked her paws into her pockets as she walked, uneasy in the open space surrounded by unfriendly eyes.

"Hornigold?" She knocked on the new door, pressing her ear against it to listen.

"Enter." A voice said from within.

Whetstone pushed open the door, revealing that the interior had been decorated, although sparsely, with furniture and the trappings of an office. A stone spiral staircase led down on one side of the room, and a closet mirrored it on the other. Daylight poured in through the gaps in the window's impromptu cabinet doors, highlighting the peeling paint on and splintered wood within.

An older snork man sat in a chair behind a desk. He had short brown hair combed neatly to the side, fitting just between his ears, atop pristine white fur. His frock coat was gray and well maintained, beneath it was a clean and spotless white shirt. He removed his reading glasses and set them aside, before clearing his throat and folding his paws on the desk.

"Captain Whetstone I presume. A pleasure to meet you, I'm Governor Woodes Rogers."

"I knew that bastard hired a phony Rogers…" Whetstone thought aloud, just below speaking volume.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothin'! Nothin' important anyway. Ain't I supposed t' be the one beggin' fer a pardon?"

"No, I mean, I don't know what you just said."

"So there isn't a royal pardon?" It was almost never clear if she was joking or not.

"There…There is, yes. Sit down, please, and we can discuss matters further." He was clearly already very tired of dealing with pirates. The captain sat down, not wishing for any misunderstanding with several armed men just outside.

"His majesty has decided to extend his grace to any who have committed acts of piracy, they need only sign their name, give up their ways, and they are free to go. Any who do not accept this offer are to be brought in as criminals and or hanged given the severity of their crimes. No tricks, no games. We've enough trouble with the war as is, and needn't have the constant fear of pirates alongside enemies of the crown."

"So it's be pardoned or get blasted to bits by that Man O' War on the way out, is it?"

"No. Everyone's free to leave. They've all got till the fifth of September to turn themselves in, and after that they'll all be hunted down." Rogers spoke sternly and plainly, but not unkindly. "You, on the other hand…"

Just as Rogers finished speaking, Benjamin Hornigold rose from the stairwell, a flintlock pistol in his paw. His round hemulic silhouette was cut short by the sharp angles of his coat, and the broad shoulder pads within it. He pointed his gun right at Captain Whetstone, who immediately stood and reached for hers.

"Still as a sandbar, Whetstone! Don't get grabby with anything shooty 'er sharp." Hornigold pulled back the hammer on his pistol. He entered the room fully, but just beyond the range of being tackled to the ground. He'd seen much and done much in his day, and moved with purpose.

"What in blazes are ye doin' Hornigold?!" Whetstone raised her paws in the air. She eyed her surroundings as best she could, not taking her focus off her supposed ally. Rogers remained completely unfazed, sitting calmly at his desk.

Hornigold whistled loudly. "Right, boys! Kindly relieve Miss Whetstone of her belongings. She won't be needin' em much longer."

Two of the navy men from outside answered the call, entering and slowly approaching the captive captain. They flanked her on either side, while Hornigold kept his aim on her.

"Why are ye doin' this? There's a pardon, Hornigold! We can be free again!" Whetstone said. While not committed to the idea yet, her renewed hopes were being dashed before they had a chance to grow.

"Because we cannot have you roaming free anywhere in a civilized world. Most of these men became pirates out of a loyalty to country or kin, and can be reformed. You fight for nothing. You work for nothing. You do nothing but take for the thrill of taking!" Woodes Rogers slammed his fists on the desk as he stood. "I was a privateer… I traveled for five long years around the globe. My own brother was killed at the hands of scum like you. Do you know what happened to me upon my return? I was sued by my own crew for lost wages." He paced the room, the tension was palpable as he did so. The men that had arrived to disarm the captain had not yet made an attempt, instead listening to Rogers' story.

"I was badly wounded the day they took my brother. I had barely recovered by the time I arrived home. I had praise for my accomplishments, to be certain… but I was destitute and alone. Some time later I hear of some… would-be folk hero pirate– who showed up in France and stole away with some pompous fool's daughter." His composure was beginning to break as the volume of his voice began to rise. "My exploits are many, and yet no songs are sung of me. No plays written after me. My legacy exists only in a book I penned myself! I've fought to be remembered. And you… some lazy, layabout nobody… you've captivated the hearts and minds of countless men, women, and children. Tales are told about you and your purported skills and the things you've allegedly done. Doubtless riddled with lies. And to top it all off, you've roped me into your shenanigans by placing me at your duel in Marseille. You billed me as a coward and a buffoon." He turned his back to her as he paced, paws folded behind him. "You are a pox! Upon this world! A blight on the name of sailors everywhere!"

The man to the captain's right reached for one of the pistols in her brace, slowly removing it. Just then, she struck the man to her left with her elbow square in the nose, knocking him unconscious. He grunted hard as he fell to the ground. She took the other man's neck in her raised right arm, spinning him to her front as she drew her other pistol.

tst-BOOM!

Hornigold fired at the captain, instead wounding the man she captured in his shoulder. She tossed him aside and went to rush Benjamin as the navy man stumbled to regain his footing. Hornigold threw his spent gun at her, deftly backstepping as he readied a second pistol from the small of his back. Whetstone fired back, missing by a hair as she batted the thrown gun aside and sprinted toward him. He managed to bring his second gun to bear before she reached him, stopping her in her tracks.

"Enough!" He shouted. "Don't make me shoot you, Whetstone." His voice betrayed a hint of regret.

Several more navy men poured in from the door after hearing the shots. They pointed their rifles at her in practiced formation from the rear.

"Nassau's future depends on this! We can't win a war with the crown. I won't be givin' up what I've built here after so long!" Hornigold tightened his grip. "Just give it up. Please. I want a part in Nassau's continued growth. Rogers won't let that happen if yer still knockin' about."

The captain balled her fists as she growled. She was surrounded thoroughly, with no chance of escape.

"You are to be taken to England and hanged as an example. An omen to those who'd fly a black flag rather than accept the pardon and live as honest sailors. If the legend of Captain Whetstone is to be told with me in it, it will be told with a definitive end." Woodes said, sitting back down in his chair. "Your crew has already been captured, overpowered by mine and Benjamin's men. They'll be tried, and likely hanged as well. Take her away."

–

Puukko took a moment from her story, and along with it a sip from her glass. She'd hardly touched her stew, despite its enticing aroma. She found it hard to speak about those days beyond the stories worth telling. The rest of it ate at her all these years, her piled regrets folded neatly like so much laundry. She scanned her hosts’ faces. She hadn't reached the grim parts of her tale, and yet already she'd felt she'd cursed the valley with recountings of such hot blood. Neither Moominpapa nor Moominmama seemed to be put off by the story so far, each listening attentively as they ate.

“Spent weeks aboard Benji's ship. I were tied down below deck with nothin’ but me fur and a scarce bit o’ food n’ water here and there. Spent the whole time dreamin’ up revenge plans while I rotted away, but by the time I'd been brought into a private cell somewheres, I'd given up hope. M’ crew’d all been held someplace else, somewhere they usually hold pirates afore their trial I s'pose. I was put in some guarded camp with a myriad of small outbuildings, probably cells in each of ‘em. Pirate after pirate took pardons, and it were as close to the end of the golden age as you could put a point on. Word got out of my capture and soon-t’-be execution ‘round England. Sounded like the bells were tollin’. Spent maybe a day ‘er two in that cell starin’ at the moon through the bars too high fer me t’ reach. Just sat there hating myself for what I'd done to Marion. The sentence I'd sold me crew and t’ her most of all. Head was full o’ hate. Hate and fear and sorrow and all sorts of other things…”

Puukko set her spoon delicately atop the thick stew in her bowl, the surface tension holding it a moment. She watched it sink. Her eyes were distant, heavy with the fog of memory. She continued once again.

“Rackham and Read had taken the pardon. First thing they did with their new found freedom was t’ pinch a crate o’ hand grenades. Weren't sure if that part were part o’ the next bit, or if they were just feelin’ like celebrating with a bang.” She chuckled a little, though in a somber, almost mournful manner. “Anyhow, they tracked me down an’ blew the cell wall out. Quite the jailbreak. Mary took a bullet to the calf fer me then, on the run out. Not sure how we pulled it off, but after we'd made it out she'd spilled her beans about how she were fixin’ t’ save me crew, too. Whole lot, Marion included. Trouble was, she were part o’ that plan, but now she'd been shot she weren't able to do nothin’ and the execution was just a few days out. She gave me all she knew about Rogers and comp'ny an’ who what where an’ why, but it would be up t’ me to pull it off. Plan was half-baked at best, but then again I never was good at followin’ a plan.”

–

“I have had enough of fancy manors an’ fancy folk.” Whetstone said, crouched behind a hedge alongside Calico Jack. The evening air was taught and cold, but thick with the sound of a dinner party from within a mansion across the way. Similar large houses dotted the area, sprawling out from the city.

“Least you won't have to do any running tonight, missy. If ye can stay quiet, that is. You look like a bear, and smell like one, so I'm hopin’ ye can climb like one. Anyway, dear captain, I fear I've work to do! See you on the other side of all this mess.”

“Thank you, Rackham. Give Mary m’ best. In case I don't be seein’ ye.” Despite the tense atmosphere, she couldn't help but wonder just how Jack of all people would know what a bear smells like. She shook the thought out of her head.

The original plan Mary had laid out involved fine clothes and playing at being high status to get into the manor, but without Mary's wit and relatively unrecognizable face, they'd have to make due. Jack wandered off into the street, feigning a drunken stupor. He approached a duo of guards stationed at the gate, bottle in hand. Each were stout looking hemulens with constable attire and billy clubs to match.

“Oh, don't ya just hear the old man say? Goodbye fare ye well! Goodbye fare ye well!” Jack sung slurredly, now stumbling directly in front of the guard on the left side of the gate. The captain watched in quiet anticipation from her hiding place.

“Make tracks, piss-pot! This ‘ere ain't another pub for you to crawl into!” The guard shouted as he shoved Jack back into the street, nearly toppling him.

“What’s is he sayin’? That he don't… that he dun’t like my song?” Jack pouted looking over at the other guard, who was clearly bored with his duties. Rackham began singing again, practically shouting. He wandered straight into the open gate, scanning the area as he sang. “Oh don't you hear the old man say! Hurrah! Me boys! We're homeward bound!”

“Invite only! Back to the bars with you!” The constable dragged Jack out from his shirt collar, tossing him into the street.

“Meet ya there, mate!” Jack rose up from the ground, and wound up his arm comically far before slapping the guard that shoved him right across the snout, then cackled as he began to run.

“Oy!” The guard clasped his paws over his nose, recoiling from the sting of the slap. “Get ‘im in irons!”

Both guards began chasing him, clubs raised high and shouting. About halfway down the street, Rackham threw his bottle toward the guards, intentionally missing them. It landed hard, shattering and scattering glass throughout the street and an echo through the air, signaling the waiting Captain Whetstone that both guards were after him, and the courtyard empty.

Whetstone ran as quietly as she could past the gate, heading off to the side before anyone could come out to investigate the ruckus. The manor house was tall and elegant, a symbol of status gifted to Nassau’s new mayor, the man poised to put an end to the golden age of piracy. The occasional shrill shriek or boisterous laugh could be heard from inside on the main floor, the dinner party was as raucous as could be for the wealthy and the powerful. Whetstone looked around for a way up and in. Mary had scouted the place well enough, but her plan had them entering as guests.

Sparks glittered against the night sky following shortly behind a cigar tossed from the rear balcony. It tumbled into the cool grass, smoldering into darkness. The Captain couldn't help her eyes being drawn to it, she traced its path up and to the balcony railing. It stretched out and round hovering above the rear garden, pillared over the patio. The pillars themselves cornered about the perimeter, and stopped nearest to the ornate blackened metal archways supporting numerous decorative flowers which bordered the courtyard itself. She made sure the dagger Mary and Rackham could spare for her was tucked firmly within her belt, over her coarse linen shirt and borrowed slops. She tested her footing on the ironwork, climbing up and over toward the balcony's edge. She pulled herself up as far as she could muster, peeking in to ensure none saw her climbing over the railing. Despite her size, she was quite agile.

The doors were unlocked, allowing guests to enter and exit as they pleased. She snuck in and began checking rooms, hunting for Rogers’ office. She listened carefully, pressing her ear to each door as she passed them. Her heart beat loud in her ears, contested by the creak of each floorboard and the rattling of each doorknob. Her normally steady paws shook just so. The upper floor consisted of several rooms arranged along a boxed hall, each ending in stairs leading down to the main foyer. She'd checked every door alongside the balcony, and had only the riskier side halls to go. She peaked around the corner down the hall, waiting a moment to listen. When she felt it was clear, she slinked around the bend, heading straight for the first door she could see. Just then, a slender young fillyjonk abruptly exited the room nearest the stairs. He wore a hat obscuring the top half of his face, and a white dress shirt with suspenders. He held a cut cigar in his paw, and was heading straight at Captain Whetstone. She tucked herself against the wall around the corner, her heart pounding in her chest as she listened to hear if he'd noticed her.

She heard his footsteps continue at pace. Whether he saw her or not, he was still approaching, and fast. Whetstone's mind raced, she thought of heading back to the last room she checked, but her feet wouldn't move. She froze in place. She felt a pang of guilt run through her, and struggled to figure out why. The thought finally hit her, in seconds that felt like hours. The man approaching looked just like Marion did the night she met her. It was too late to turn back now, he was almost on her. She fumbled a moment for the dagger beneath her sash. The sound of its sharp edges running against the soft leather of the sheathe made her stomach churn. She was all too familiar with the violence it would wreak, but never on someone so unsuspecting, unarmed. Never in such cold blood. Never on a man who simply turned the wrong corner at a party. She'd taken lives before, but never callously. It was not something she did easy, but tonight, it would have to be.

The fillyjonk's arms appeared first, clutching a borrowed table lighter in one paw and his cigar in the other. Then his nose, whiskers drooping just slightly off his face. The captain raised her arm, dagger pointed down from on high. She felt wrong in every inch of her body. Every follicle of each individual hair in her fur felt like a thousand needles. His foot stepped into the hall just past the corner, and in an instant she began swinging down in a forceful arc.

“Henri!” A voice came from just atop the stairs. “Henri, where are you going? We're going to smoke in the parlor, not on the balcony! It is far too cold for a young damsel like me!” A drunken woman with a heavy French accent shouted in an almost flirty tone.

Whetstone's arm stopped hard just after building momentum, her muscles nearly collapsing from the sudden stop. Her arm felt like a ship breaking up on the rocks. Her eyes went wide, and she pressed her empty paw to her mouth to hide the sound of her pain and the sudden wave of guilt and relief that washed over her. Her eyes began to well up with tears.

“Coming, dear! I told you to bring a coat. You don't listen to me as often as you should, you know.” The man said smugly as he turned about face, back down the hall, completely unaware that his life was nearly cut short.

The captain's gut wrenched, she began breathing heavily as she slumped against the wall, tucking the dagger back into its sheathe. A few moments passed before she regained her composure, pushing the thought out of her mind as the reality of her task set back in.

The second door she tried after her encounter opened into a wide, unlit office space. It was Rogers’ study, she was sure of it. Decorated neatly with his accomplishments, and with a massive painting of himself hung center behind the desk. The room was fit for a lounge, with chairs, a table, a globe that was open revealing within a small bar, and taxidermy animal heads lining the walls. She opened a small door beside a display case and found a closet with several coats and hats hung within. She tucked herself inside, and began to wait.

She sat alone with her thoughts. She grieved the man she'd almost killed as though she'd done so, and grieved her crew as though they'd already hung. She grieved the pirate named Whetstone, the legend she'd created and become. Mostly, she grieved the life of freedom she'd stolen from the woman she loved. She pressed her claws into her palm one by one, the urge to pace pulling at her legs. It reminded her of the times when she would hide from her parents when she'd felt she'd done something wrong. It reminded her of the agonizing silence when she tried to speak to them as a child, her voice too quiet to escape her body. She remained trapped in her mind, the past few weeks a near uninterrupted onslaught of memories and regrets.

The door to the study creaked open, and heavy footsteps rolled in. A snork gentleman sighed contentedly as he lit the sconces about the room and the lantern at his desk. Woodes Rogers pulled his chair back from his desk and sat down. Puukko had not even noticed that the party had ended, but the silence from below confirmed it. She steadied herself, ready once again to play the part of fearsome pirate captain.

“Woodes Rogers.” Whetstone stepped out from her hiding place, dagger in her paw. She flipped it idly as she walked to the center of the room, turning to face him at the end of her stride. Woodes scrambled to open the top drawer of his desk.

“Ah! I wouldn't do that.” She said, laughing low and gravelly just after. Woodes pulled a flintlock pistol from the drawer, pulling back the hammer and leveling it at Whetstone. “How much you had to drink tonight at yer little soiree, Woodes? Think ye can kill me in one shot? Even if ye do, a whole lot more folk than jus’ you or I are gonna die if I don't make it outta here ship-shape.” She smiled a wide, toothy grin and held her arms out.

“If it isn't the famous Captain Whetstone.” Woodes sneered bitterly and sarcastically. “Shouldn't you be rotting in a cell before your execution?”

“Yup. Nothin’ left to lose, saw to that one yerself. Been real lonely since ya captured me, y'know. I'm just itchin’ fer a conversation. And I don't know about you, but I find it much easier t’ talk without a gun pointin’ at me.”

“What is it you want?” Woodes set the pistol down on his desk, within reach. “Not one step closer.”

“Just what I'm owed, Woodes. Not more'an that. I come a'callin’ fer an act of grace.”

“Ah! Hahaha!” Woodes doubled over in laughter. “It's a bit late for that now, your execution is already scheduled! Not to mention the crimes of escaping custody and breaking into my home. You've gone completely mad!”

“I'm assuming you can write those last two in there, too. Get yer pen out. Ye got one of them pardons stashed away in yer desk?”

“It's not one per pirate, it's one large document all involved parties sign. Even if I had it here, you'd need to sign it in court, buffoon.”

“Figures. Well let's talk about what we can do here ‘n now, th–”

“I could shoot you. Or you could rot in a different cell from your last one. Or both. I hardly care for the details.”

“Yer fergettin’ abou–” Before the captain could continue, Rogers reached for his gun once again. She flipped the dagger in her paw, gripping the blade before sending it sailing through the air. Just as Rogers readied the gun, the dagger embedded itself into its wooden frame, knocking it out of his paw. She closed the distance, lunging over the desk to tackle him. She gripped his throat, and with her other paw, rested her claws just against his neck. He stopped struggling as soon as she'd had the upper hand.

“Those things are awful noisy, Woodes. I'd prefer if ye could hear what I'm about t’ tell ye.” She pulled up, forcing him to upright himself, then she held him against the wall. “Say, do ye remember the Man O’ War Hornigold beached in front of Nassau?”

“Mhm.” He nodded, mouth closed.

“You were a privateer. How much powder d'ye reckon it takes fer a full broadside from her? All the guns shifted t’ the one side as it were. And how many times do ye figure she were fit to fire before taking on more powder? Bein’ a warship an’ all.” She tightened her grip. “and how much more powder ye think were… donated… to Nassau and her many pirates?”

“You're bluffing!” Rogers' eyes went wide as he put the pieces together. He slackened, and Whetstone let him free to sit atop his desk.

“I wish I were, Woodes!” She bluffed. “You could either be the man who captured and executed the legendary captain Whetstone, or you could be the man who's failures brought the newly civilized Nassau to ruin. And I'll do it again, too. Panama. Curaçao. Anywhere. And it'll be in your name. There‘re folks with torches lit jus’ waitin’ t’ hear that I didn't make it out of here. Or that I did, and that you couldn't work it out. The choice is yers.” She retrieved her dagger and the pistol.

Rogers sat and thought for a while before speaking up. “Wait, captured and executed?”

“Still a few days afore the execution. Plenty o’ time to come up with somethin’. Ye get t’ be a hero, so long as I get to walk. Ye can announce at me crew's trial that the King has shown ‘unprecedented grace’ towards his people and decided to spare them the grisly gibbet, and send them mean ol’ pirates off somewheres else. Sentenced to transportation.”

“And you? I fake your death? And then what, you skulk about England free as a bird to hop back on a ship?”

“Poof! Gone. Forever. A puff of smoke from yer pipe soakin’ into the curtains.” She gestured dramatically.

Rogers began putting pieces together in his head once more, the details fitting together neatly in his mind. “I'll charter you a ship. You're to be taken somewhere else, NOT along with your crew, mind you. No… You'll be sent a world apart from them. And if the ship's captain reports you did not show, there'll be no trial for your men. If I ever see your name or hear of someone that looks like you on a ship ever again, I'll know where to find your people. And I'll have their pardons revoked. They'll be summarily executed.”

–

"Soon after that, Marion an' me crew got sent off to Australia or thereabouts. Sent me o'er t' North America. Figured I'd just cause trouble if I went wherever else they send criminals, so I got shipped out t' the wild west. Did some gunslingin' and highwayman shenanigans. Were a gun fer hire fer a bit. Not at first, though. After I'd lost everything I figured I'd hit the straight n' narrow, work as an honest blacksmith again like I did afore I were a pirate. Didn't get very far, figured I was only good at bein' an outlaw. I were a legend brought low and vanished, a ghost of a person… Hardly anyone recognized me out that way, despite it all. Thing about it is, weren't too much use fer swordsmanship nor sailing in the mainland, and the guns o' the time were a bit harder t' manage fer an old salt like me. Bein' a highwayman an' bandit meant stealin' from folks what ain't deserve it most days, an' bein' a gun fer hire meant gettin' in fights I ain't got a stake in fer a coin. I weren't much good at it neither. At sea, there's miles an' miles o' water 'tween you and thems that know yer face and can do somethin' about it. When ye make too friendly with some feller's wife, er rob the wrong folks, well… small towns. Lots of wide open, sure, but the folk all know yer name and who done what. Us moomins cut a pretty recognizable silhouette I reckon, so I got chased out of near every town I found myself. 'Stead of pushin' further west like most folk o' the day, I kept heading east. Kept runnin' an' runnin' and eventually I realized I weren't bein' chased no more. I spent a lot o' time thinkin'... got real down on m' self. Felt I weren't good fer nothin' and felt I ought t' cut out alone somewheres. I'd been bad, and I'd done lots of wrong. Did a whole lot I ought t' regret. Heard tell of a place called Moominvalley. Set out and hunkered down alone in the mountains. Took a long time 'fore I ever came down into the valley itself… And the rest is history." She sighed and took a moment to collect her thoughts.

"When I met Marion, my only fear was losing her. As soon as I lost her, my only fear was seein' her again... Fer all I've done and fer who I've been, I'm scared. Scared I won't be able t' face her again. I thought of apologizin' an' all kinds of other things. It's the one thing I'm not sure I'm strong enough fer. I spend most of my days living a new life, and it's a life I love. But there are days I think about it all, and think about her. And what she's like now. And what became of her." She idly tore bits of bread apart, setting them in her bowl of stew and watching them swell and sink around her spoon. She hadn't raised her head to look at her hosts since around halfway through her tale.

For a moment, the room was silent. No one ate, no one said anything. The cool breeze halted and the wood of the house dared not settle nor creak. They simply sat, enduring the reality of her story. By now, most of the valley knew she'd been a pirate, but few thought more of it than the romantic stories they've heard over and over. The truth of who Puukko once was and who she became were laid bare. It was hard for the Moominparents to believe that the friend they'd come to know, the eccentric and often grandmotherly blacksmith living in the mountains had once led such a life. She was an outlaw, and a killer, and there wasn't any taking that back.

"I'm too old now to believe that only the good die young. But I sure seem t' have lived an awful long time…" The silence became too much for her to bear. She stood up, pushing in her chair. "I think it's time I got on."

Moominmama stood and grabbed Puukko by the paw with both of her own.

"I'm not sure what brought you to Moominvalley. But I'm glad you ended up here." She smiled, in a reassuring way that only Moominmama could manage. “Whatever you did back then, all we can do is make up for it by living here and now, the best we can.”

"You know…" Moominpapa scratched at his chin. "We visited the wild west once. The whole family, in fact. It's quite the story, if you've got the time! Sit back down, I'll tell you all about it! They used to call me Two-gun Moomin!”

“Dear, I believe only you called yourself that.” Moominmama chuckled softly.

Puukko smiled, returning to her seat. The Moomins had a warmth about them that she couldn't shake, and always seemed to know exactly what their guests needed. They were strange, but they were kind. It'd been an age since she felt that someone truly knew her. She felt a lump in her throat, and a sense of acceptance she'd not felt in a long, long time.

#Puukko #moomins #moomin oc #moominvalley #ao3 #first mate Marion #moominpappa #moominmamma #whetstone's whispers

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mc-lukanette · 5 months

Text

Luka tapped a melody on his leg while he waited for class to end. Having a girlfriend who saved Paris every few days or so, he knew she could handle himself, but there wasn't any support he could provide when he was stuck somewhere and unable to look at his texts.

Not that the risk of getting into trouble would've stopped him, but Marinette would be upset if he got in trouble over her.

She'd sent him the simplest of texts just before his current class, telling him:

One of the students in our class got akumatized... again. Don't worry about sneaking out, I can handle this.

He wanted to be able to look up how it went himself, as well as send her texts of encouragement and congratulations, but now he could only wait.

As he was lamenting his temporary "failures" as a good boyfriend, Luka was brought out of his thoughts, not by the teacher talking but by a small tug on his pant leg.

"...Luka!" a tiny, extremely familiar voice called in a hushed but thrilled whisper.

Being certain that he hadn't gone that crazy (yet) to start hallucinating Marinette's voice only made him more confused. He dropped his gaze to his pant leg to check the source of the voice, and his heart promptly caught in his throat.

Standing there was a miniature version of Marinette, roughly the size of his hand. She was decked out in a gray, black, and pink bodysuit, along with double buns rather than her usual pigtails. The latter, along with the rope "tail" around her waist, made her faintly resemble a mouse. It was an absurd level of adorable even for her.

Luka subtly looked around the room, making sure that no one was looking his way. He couldn't even begin to imagine how she'd gotten there, nor how she avoided being seen, but he did know that he should hide her as soon as possible.

Faking like he'd dropped a utensil of his, he leaned down. Marinette bounced excitedly in response, arms going up the instant his hand was within reach. His skin tingled where her tiny fingers touched, her body smoothly moving along with his movements so he could scoop her up.

He'd chosen to wear a hoodie that day, but dropping her into the hood itself was risky. Someone could easily catch the movement and she'd have to stay perfectly still so as to not puzzle anyone who might sit behind him.

The choice of the pocket at the stomach of his hoodie was the obvious and safest decision, so he slipped his hand into the open slot at one of the pocket's sides to let her go. Unfortunately, he hadn't realized that he was ticklish there until Marinette squirmed about to try and get comfortable.

His poker face saved him from outing his tiny girlfriend's cruelty to the class, though he must've at least gone stiff since he swore he could hear her giggling in realization. What did he do to deserve this?

——

"Not that I'm not happy to see you," Luka began the moment he was able to get away from everyone, "but why are you here?"

He held Marinette in both hands, letting her sit on one and lean against the other. She looked absolutely comfy and proud of herself, crossing one leg over the other as she replied, "I finished the akuma pretty fast, but since the school was already evacuated, we got to go home for the day."

He looked her up and down in a show of but you're not home, you're here, and also the much more obvious, you're pocket-sized.

She chuckled. "Well, after someone told me how unfair it was that I couldn't use my miraculous to make up for all the time I lose being Ladybug, I may have convinced the guardian to let me have the mouse miraculous."

"It lets you shrink?"

She nodded. "Sort of. It divides me." She counted off with her fingers, though not to any particular number. "You can divide yourself into multiple, um, selves? Or versions of yourself? So there are actually a few other Marinette back home taking care of some of my—" She squinted, having confused herself. "—or is it our? Our projects."

Like a fool, he'd truly thought that the whole "adorable tiny mouse girlfriend" thing couldn't get better, but apparently there were multiple of her now.

"Anyway," she said dismissively, brushing off the conundrum, "we figured out how to divide up what we should do, and I was the luckiest." She giggled, clasping her hands together and beaming up at him affectionately. "Sorry if I scared you a little bit, but I really wanted to come. I've always wanted to go to school with you."

"Oh, Marinette..." His voice wavered, touched. "Me too."

He used his thumb to stroke her cheek. Even as tiny as she was, his hearing fixated entirely on the delighted hums she let out at the contact. She leaned her face into his touch, running her hand along the rest of his thumb to return the caresses.

The walk from Marinette's house to his school was excessive for her to walk normally: feasible, but it was never realistic for her to transfer even if they were in the same grade. Ladybug had her yoyo to swing from, but the mouse clearly didn't have anything similar to use, so Luka couldn't imagine a tiny thing like her going all the way from her own house to his school just to see him.

He sighed blissfully, insisting, "I'm the lucky one."

He was sure they'd never be able to agree which of them was luckier, but that wouldn't stop him from voicing his opinion.

——

Unwilling to miss out on an opportunity to have lunch - even if it was just a school lunch - with his girlfriend, he made an excuse to his friends about "his muse acting up." It wasn’t technically a lie, though he still had to bring a notebook to fake like he was working. That was the convenience of having the school he did, meaning that there were a lot of creatively-inclined students who often did the same and thus not a single odd look would be shot his way.

He'd planned it out well enough to get a small table by himself in the corner, allowing him to easily talk to Marinette so long they were careful. There was another notebook opened and propped up behind her, allowing her to hide whilst still having some mobility atop the napkin he'd placed down for her to sit on.

Plus, the one thing he could count on was for teenagers to be teenagers: getting lost in their own conversations and ignoring everything else around them.

"I want to meet your friends properly someday," Marinette admitted while she watched him sort the food he'd put hastily onto his tray. "They sounded nice."

"I'm sure they'd love you," Luka assured, talking softly so to avoid drawing attention. Most people would probably think he was mumbling lyrics to himself. "They already ask about you."

"Wait—" Panic took over her face. "A-and you answered?!" She threw her arms up, gesturing wildly at him. "But you're too biased. What if their expectations are too high?!"

He picked up the apple from his tray, turning it a few times with a critical eye. Unphased by the accusation, he asserted, "I don't exaggerate, Marinette. I just told them exactly how you are."

Once he found what he determined to be the best part of the apple, he broke off a piece to offer to his pouting girlfriend.

"Thank you," she made sure to say, before getting right back to their conversation. "I'm just... nervous. Since I have to deal with hero stuff, I don't have as many chances to prove that I'm a good girlfriend. My DPS has been really bad lately."

"DP—" Luka's face scrunched up in thought. "...That's something from the video games you play, right? Damage... Per Second?"

"I can't believe you remember something like that!" She giggled, delighted. "But yeah, that's what it means, only for this it's Dates Per Strike, as in Hawk Moth striking Paris."

He frowned disapprovingly. "Marinette..."

"I know!" She bit into the apple piece almost aggressively, then swallowed so she could continue, "You don't care about that, but I do. I don't want people to think that I'm not treating you right."

"Let them think whatever they want," he huffed, biting into the apple actually aggressively. He didn't blame Marinette for the mindset that she had to take on as Ladybug - that public opinion was incredibly important - but he hated the idea of her stressing herself out over something so unimportant in her civilian life. She had enough stress as it was and he wouldn't ask her to do anything different even for his own friends.

"Still. I want to do it for me too," she argued. "We can't plan around Hawk Moth. I didn't have much of a life before I became Ladybug, but now..."

He chewed while he considered that, the bad taste in his mouth at how troubled she was overpowering the sweetness of the apple. Even the sticky sensation on his lips was suddenly unpleasant, but as he licked his lips to remove it, an idea struck.

He surveyed the cafeteria, noting that the predictability of the average teenager remained true: they were entirely disinterested in him. It was good, because he'd have no way to explain what he was about to look like.

"Luka?" Marinette called in curiosity, setting her apple piece aside and watching his hand grip the top of the notebook to slide it closer to her. He didn't want to corner her, but he needed the coverage.

His forearm opposite of the hand on the notebook rested on the table for support, allowing him to lean down. Then, bringing his face as close to her as he could, he closed his eyes and placed a kiss against Marinette's shoulder.

"A-ah~!" She squeaked, flailing in surprise. "Luka! W-we're in public!"

It was bold of her to say that after traveling all the way to his school and sneaking into his class just to see him. Doubly bold was her acting as if she was concerned about it when she was audibly buzzing with excitement.

Undeterred, he placed another kiss at the side of her head. Two tiny hands weakly attempted to push his lips away, so he kissed them too, earning another squeak as Marinette recoiled.

Leaning back just enough to look at her without crossing his eyes, he reminded her, "We don't need to plan for that."

She was blushing up to her ears, her words coming out only as sounds while she attempted to calm herself down. He wasn't sure how memories worked out when all the Marinette joined back together, but he'd happily kiss each one of them in the same way just to make sure it stuck.

Taking a deep breath, Marinette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking away as she admitted, "Y...you're right. I guess we don't need to p-plan for what matters."

Luka smirked, triumphant.

——

The rest of lunch went on uneventfully. Marinette eventually calmed down enough to ask for a bit more of Luka's lunch and he was happy to oblige. It really did feel like they were on a date, and the mental image of her bragging to the other Marinette about it made him chuckle.

When it was time to head out, Luka started cleaning up the table. Marinette stepped off the napkin so he could put it on the tray, and he stashed his inspiration notebook (that actually did end up having some new melodies in it, courtesy of his tiny muse) back in his bag. He only put the other notebook away once Marinette had safely dropped down onto his lap.

"Can I stay in your hood for the rest of the day?" she asked while he was zipping up his bag. "If you put it up, I should be able to hide where it's dark."

He nodded. He wasn't sure why she wanted it, but supposed that it was boring laying in his hoodie pocket and only being able to hear things. At least this way, she could peek out when she was certain no one was looking at him.

He ducked down, feigning that he was picking up his bag from the floor as he brought Marinette up to his shoulder. He waited for her weight to leave his hand, then went and pulled his hood up.

Standing up slowly to allow her time to get into position, he grabbed his bag and put the strap around his shoulder. He was about to pick up his tray as well to take it away, but froze as he felt a tingling sensation against the back of his neck, sending a shiver up his spine.

The giggle that followed led to one conclusion: Marinette must've kissed him there, and it was that moment where he understood her true motives.

"Sorry," he heard her say, not at all apologetically. "I promised the other Marinette that I would give you one for each of us. I'll make sure to spread them out over the rest of our school day though."

He supposed he deserved it this time.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukamouse #((Yes there are no timers in this.))

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gardensnakie · 1 month

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How does Polly feel about having two Basils now?

It was surprising at first, that's a given. Polly would stay the nights to make sure Basil was alright with this literal stranger in the house. She'd get jumpscared tons of times finding Stranger wander around the house at night (he eventually got tired of laying down for hours at a time and is used to being awake in the dark). Polly would still be nice to Stranger though. Despite the strange way he talks and his mysterious behavior, Polly eventually thinks of Stranger as another kid (teen, technically but you know)

Stranger is curious and clueless about certain things. While Basil usually kept to himself around Polly, Stranger is the opposite when first meeting her. Stranger is still reserved, but he observes instead. He is unfamilar with cooking so he likes to watch Polly do it. If Polly is watching TV, Stranger will come watch as well. Polly's cleaning? Stranger is right there and usually asks if he could help. He'll keep subtely following Polly around whenever he stays inside and there's nothing to do in the house throughout the day.

Eventually Stranger might ask questions and talk to Polly a little more. During those times, Stranger would learn more about Basil that he didnt quite remember, like Basil's grandma and parents. Even more about who Polly is, like "What is a caretaker?" "Where are Basil's parents?" "Why do you keep cleaning the same places?"

Things like that. Also, I thought I could have a scenorio where Polly teaches him basic table manners. Headcannon: Despite him being all polite and proper, Stranger eats like a wild animal (When has he ever had to eat? Let alone use utensils) . Oh and he could learn how to play some boardgames. Idk about you but Basil's house seems like a place that has random old boardgames in a cabinet somewhere. Puzzles too or maybe Sudoku.

Polly might notice how quiet Stranger can get sometimes. It worries her slightly, considering the time where Basil was the same way.

She gets used to seeing Stranger and Basil everyday, she notices the extra loudness it comes with it since the two eventually get comfortable enough to annoy each other. Its slightly amusing to watch it play out. Seeing Basil taunt Stranger for losing a card game multiple times in a row and Stranger later running around with one of Basil's belongings out of spite (he gets caught pretty quickly though).

Its a little different, but Polly doesnt mind caring for the two

#snakie goes insane #faraway stranger

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actualbird · 8 months

Note

Hey zak!

Marius is a pansexual mess, how do you think the NXX is going to react when they realize he has a massive crush on Artem's frying pan?

jkjk fdhasjkfhdjaskf

Okay seriously: How do you think the NXX is going to react if they overhear Marius making a flirty comment about them?

For instance: Luke shows Marius a picture of Vyn and Marius makes a comment like "The worst thing about Vyn is how hot he is, it drives me insane."

Not knowing that Vyn was outside the room and heard that.

well first off, i want it known that everybody in the nxx actually probably has a crush on artem's frying pan, and FOR GOOD REASON. artem's kitchen utensils, tools, and appliances are of the Highest Quality and also theyre SEXY. actually, marius has a crush on the pan (artem looks really good flambe-ing stuff), luke has crush on the knives (he loves a good weapon....uh he meant kitchen apparatus, totally), mc has a crush on the pots (love is stored in the SOUP), and vyn has a crush on the stand mixer (NOT on artem, he would like to make that clear) (marius, luke, and mc dont believe him, they think this is vyn being a tsundere about how he secretly wants to hate-kiss artem into oblivion)

......sorry, what was this ask response about again? OH RIGHT

the nxx team's reactions to overhearing marius making flirty comments about them

i wont delve too much into mc because we already know how she'd react given we see it in-game whenever marius says flirty things right to her Face: she gets all blushy -> she gets unimpressed -> "MARIUS! VON!! HAGEN!!!"

and she is so cute for that. frankly, her overhearing comments like this instead of being told it outright (oftentimes with a teasing expression) would make her feel more flattered, because "oh, he really thinks im attractive? it's not just a tease to rile me up? O////O"

which brings me to

luke, who i think would have a reaction rather similar to mc's: he overhears -> he gets all blushy -> he mentally backpedals with "OH HES JUST TEASING, HE MUST JUST BE MESSING WITH ME, HAHA, OH MARIUS, YOU JOKER!!!"

but given that this is an Overheard Instance of Flirting, luke's logic would then say "but if hes messing with you, why is he telling someone else instead of You (the person he is allegedly messing with)", to which luke would internally reply with "i dont know!! but theres no way he actually thinks im cute because!! WHAT!!! i-im not cute, im just—not that i WISH he thought i was cute, it's just! yknow!!! //frantic and aimless gesticulating" and then

vyn, walking past where luke is in the nxx hallway: what on earth are you doing there just muttering to yourself and waving your hands around?

luke: NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS //pulls out a smoke bomb from nowhere, throws it on the ground, and runs away

meanwhile, it takes artem a While to even realize that marius was being flirty in the comment he overheard. like im imagining it was something that, if you were an Ace (as in asexual) Attorney like artem is, the comment was either innocuous or metaphorical enough that it TOTALLY flies over artem's head

until days later when artem mentions it to someone else and it's like

mc: artem. oh my god. that means he thinks youre SEXY

artem: What.

mc: like, marius was making an Innuendo

artem, ears going a bit red: W h a t.

and then he just goes silent as his brain bluescreens VKJHSFSD

vyn is the one who would take it most in stride, and also affectionately use this against marius whenever the situation and ambiance permits. like, he'll overhear that exact line u mention in your ask and then vyn will just

stride into the room with a shit-eating grin on his face

vyn: do not let my looks distract you too much, i do need your mind working at some sort of standard of quality during our sessions

marius, mocking vyn immediately bc hes not one to back down from a bitch-off: ohhhhh look at me im vynnn i know im hot shittt~ get over yourself!!

vyn: i dont have to, seeing as you definitely are not getting over me any time soon :)

luke, watching with metaphorical popcorn: ooh, that was a good burn. sorry, man

marius: //screeches into his hands because even when vyn is being a bitch, hes STILL hot to marius. probably even HOTTER

ahh, the trials and tribulations of marius von hagen, in a team of comprised of people who are so infuriating (in different ways) but also so so pretty. VLAKJFSFA

#tears of themis #asks #roshie-writes #sorry for fixating on the literal pans but i cannot stress enough how artem's raw sex appeal goes up by 8232987698% when hes in the kitchen #tears of themis headcanons #marius von hagen #luke pearce #artem wing #vyn richter #tot rosa

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watermelonsugacry · 11 months

Note

more zayn and y/n moments?? i feel like they have the most adorable friendship everrr ❤️❤️❤️

love your work ❤️🔥

oh there's so many!

So you all know when the band first started, all Zayn would say is Vas Happening?! Well, YN's thing was always saying Aye Oh!

So whenever the cameras would point to them during their fetus era, he would throw an arm over her shoulder and they'd just yell their sayings super duper loudly while making a funny face.

...

During the band's third tour, the two of them would spend some time with their vocal coach in one of the smaller green rooms to go over their harmonies together.

The song they loved to perform together was Right Now because they shared the chorus.

So when they would hit those harmonies perfectly (like they always did), they would give each other a nod of approval, a smug look on their faces before giving each other a high five.

...

YN knew that while he usually presented himself with a hard exterior, she knew that he was a soft teddy bear once you got to know him. One of the activities that she would partake in with him was art. She knew she was shit at it, but she also knew that he loved it.

So during the long rides on the tour bus crossing from one city to another, sitting next to each other during an album signing/meet & greet, or stuck in their hotel rooms, she'd be there with a piece of paper and some type of writing utensil for them to draw whatever came to mind.

There was even an interview in 2014 when they were doing for their new book "Who We Are" where Zayn spent the majority of the time drawing on YN's arm. With a ball point pen, the beautiful mandalas he drew on her skin left her beaming and utterly speechless.

...

There's no denying the fact that those two were the most fashionable members of the band. With Zayn's cool, suave, bad boy style and YN's good girl aesthetic, photoshoots with them were easy and right on the money.

...

For the Night Changes music video, YN was the stand-in for basically all of the boys (except Liam who actually had his girlfriend on set). With each date, she took on the role with some seriousness, acting as if the boys were really taking her on a date.

For Zayn's part, YN actually dressed in a formal black dress to really get into character.

Needless to say, she really got a kick out of making her usually quiet band member laugh throughout the shoot. Like when Ben Winston directed him to offer her some of his spaghetti, she let out a playful sigh of relief, "Yes please. Do you see the sad fookin' excuse of a salad they gave meh?"

Or when her "ex-boyfriend" interrupted her date with Zayn, she actually played along and had an argument with him with a fake backstory she made up: "Johnathan?! What are yeh doing here? I told you to leave me alone. No, I'm over you. No. I'm sorry but I just can't listen to you rant about your Barbie doll collection any longer!"

And when the ex-boyfriend dumps the food on Zayn, as soon as the director yelled cut!, YN quickly got up from her seat and got all up in the building of a man's face (really his chest from how tall the actor was) and says with a deep voice, "the fook man!" But her facade lasted all but 2 seconds before her and everyone just burst out laughing.

...

Since the band's formation, Zayn always had and continues to have a soft spot for YN.

He still views her as a little sister and while they don't talk as much as they used to during their time in 1D, there's not a single birthday, holiday, anniversary, etc. that hasn't gone by without a text between the former band members.

#1dbandmember!yn #since 2010 series #1d!yn asks #1d!yn

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storiesbyjes2g · 9 days

Text

3.104 Concerns

I woke up thinking about how bummed Sophia was about not being able to go to the beach in Tartosa. I mean, I was too, but it seemed to hit her especially hard. No one else I knew loved the water more than her—not even Yasmine, who declared herself a "water baby." I got a brilliant idea in the shower that was sure to make Sophia happy and presented it to her at breakfast.

"Let's go to the lake in San Sequoia. We can invite my dad and Alessia and make a family day of it."

Her eyes were as bright as Winterfest lights, and I gave myself a pat on the back.

"Yeeees, that's a great idea! Wait, your sister is still here?"

"Yeah. Apparently she's not going back. She wasn't as happy over there as she thought she'd be." I snorted at a new thought. "Plus, she probably met some loser here."

"Luca!"

"What? She's not exactly in the market for quality men right now."

"Still. You haven't met him yet and already labeled him a loser. It isn't nice."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Stop!"

I chuckled and reached for the phone to inform Dad about my plan, but he advised against it. A thunderstorm plagued the area, so once again, the weather dashed our beach plans. But Dad countered and suggested a family movie day instead, so we all braved the storm and headed to Anchorpoint Wharf.

I thought the movie was funny, but Sophia said it bored her, which surprised me, seeing as she was the token goofball of the two of us.

After the movie, we hung out at Dad's house for a bit. Alessia caught us up in her life, and just as I suspected, she had met someone; I knew her so well. Apparently, they met at our party. They were at the bar and noticed they were both doing the exact same thing. She had this weird ritual she did in restaurants where she wiped down glasses, utensils, plates, and whatever her mouth or food touched. He was doing it too, and they locked eyes. The way she talked about this dude was different. Usually, she didn't care to get to know the poor fellas on this roster, and we never got any details about them. But her tone was so giddy it intrigued me. Could he be the one to break down her wall? I knew my dad hoped so. He really wanted to walk her down the aisle.

I realized we hadn't heard from Sophia in a while, so I turned around to check on her. She had droopy eyes and a frown, and everything inside me wanted to panic. But she wouldn't want me to do that in front of them. When I found an appropriate place to make our exit, I took it and ushered her and the dogs back home. Once we made it inside, we settled in the office to talk. It seemed like all our important talks occurred in there recently.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Are you feeling alright? What can I do??"

She shifted in her seat and looked everywhere except in my eyes, alarming me even more.

"I, umm... I'm concerned."

"About Alessia?"

"About getting pregnant."

My throat tightened, and I swallowed a few times to keep it open.

"Oh..."

Her confession lingered in the air like steam after a shower, and I wasn't sure what to say or do.

"I've taken a pregnancy test every day since the engagement," she said, still not making eye contact with me. "I know these things take time, but... It should have happened by now! My birthday is way too close, Luca. I'm running out of time."

I was in such a weird spot. I wanted to hold her and tell her to keep the faith, but this was bad news for me, too. She wasn't the only one looking forward to bringing a baby into the world. But it was her body going through that, not mine. And as much as it hurt to hear that, I still had a level of detachment she didn't have.

"Is there something we can do?" I asked. "I mean...is there...a test or something for that?"

Finally, she looked at me as if awakening from a trance.

"Yeah, actually. There is." She shook away those sad feelings and sprang into action. "I'll make an appointment right now. I guess I've been too flustered to think straight. I could have done this days ago."

She called her doctor and scheduled an appointment for the next afternoon. When she hung up, I finally embraced her like I wanted to and told her everything would be okay. I didn't know how true that was, but I had to believe it for the both of us.

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar #tw: infertility

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atxxzist · 9 months

Text

broken | c.s (13)

prev // next //series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 8.9k

warning: traumas, idk wut else but lmk

you're not sure how long you've been crying, your sense of time completely lost and only able to tell day from night by how the blueish sky and clouds turned into an orange horizon before the stars came out of the pitched darkness.

only able to tell the cafe is near closing time when the pitiful and sorry expressions of passersby starts decreasing and the place grows so quiet, you can hear the clinking of cups and utensils as the workers begin cleaning up.

they probably feel sorry for you, one of them even offered a cup of coffee earlier when they noticed your swelling eyes in the corner and the fact you were obviously not okay.

you wipe another lone tear with your sleeve when a gentle tap on the table takes your attention, snapping around to see one of the workers who looks about your age and is most likely a local student working part-time.

"hey, miss, just letting you know we're closing in about ten minutes," she says, treading carefully because you already look like you had an awful day.

"oh, i'm sorry," your voice comes out hoarse, bowing slightly in apology as you stand up. "i'll get going."

"would you like anything before you go?"

you shake your head, the first smile of the day settling on your lips faintly as you thank her.

the air outside is crisp as the months go by, leaving summer behind to accomodate fall. time have passed and the leaves are changing.

you didn't go back to the dorms earlier because you didn't want to face yuna when she'd occasionally return in between classes for breaks and whatnot. she would notice something immediately given how conflicting your guys' schedules are in the first place.

you didn't want to tell her that you got your heart broken (the short version) and didn't attend any classes at all. you're not ready for that conversation yet, settling for isolating and humiliating yourself in a public space instead until you're ready to go back.

but you just feel absolutely defeated and foolish, all this time clinging onto something that was never going to work out. something that you knew from the beginning was doomed to fail.

you've had so many chances to make it right and cut it off when time still hasn't ran itself into the ground and things were still in your favor.

had the relationship stopped when mingi and yunho asked you to, and had you not let him back in the day he came to the dorm, it still wouldn't feel so hard to breathe and you could've been spared the worst possible heartbreak.

but after all, you did it to yourself. so you will wallow in your own pity party and regrets, rethinking of all the stupid choices in life you've made--this being one of many.

you take the time walking back to the dorms and readjusting yourself to make sure your appearance doesn't give off you've been crying all day, and the first time you see him in a few months... he feels like the calm standing in the middle of an ongoing storm.

for just the slightest seconds, you feel relieved at the familiar head of black hair that used to be blonde and the pair of spectacles over his eyes. you forgot how strikingly good looking yeosang actually is.

"hey!" he's the first to greet, one hand in the air by natural reflexes and there's something that dances in his body excitedly before he catches on and tones it down.

"where did you come back from?" he asks after you two agreed on a spot at the side of the building, the ghostly breeze passing by the almost empty area.

"the cafe," you answer, your delivery a lot stronger than expected.

"oh. studying? i just came back from the library after cramming for chemistry."

you just shake your head, not offering anything else. you really are happy to see yeosang again but it's hard to show the enthusiam after what happened today, and yeosang can tell something isn't right.

"hey, you okay?" he speaks softly, attempting to catch a glance of your profile since you have it hidden behind your hair all this time.

and that's all it takes for you to break down again, your tears hurling before you even give it permission, because it hurts so much.

it may had stung with junseo, your ex-boyfriend. but with san, despite the fact you guys never actually dated, the pain is so much more unbearable because you loved san. you still love him.

yeosang can only stare with alerted eyes, unsure how to console you because this scenario is a first.

"i-i just feel so stupid," you drag it out, clogged throat and all, finally turning to face yeosang and he can see how puffy your eyes are even in the poor lighting.

you're not sure why it's him of all people you're telling this to. you just need to get it out of the system, having kept it to yourself for so long like a dark secret that's been slowly killing you from the inside, but now that you're about to spill it, it does feel like some of the burden will be lifted.

"i should've listened to mingi and yunho. i should've never let him back in. i should've never even remotely think that i had a chance."

once you speak, you just keep going. you feel you can trust yeosang.

"i've been seeing san behind their backs, and he dumped me today, obviously and rightfully so. i should've seen it coming," your voice changes from defeat to acceptance so quick, by the time you're finish, only a tired sigh comes out.

yeosang is stunned initially, still not sure how to react at such a raw and vulnerable confession, especially coming from you. but you must've been pushed to the last option judging by the current state.

he's not surprise san turned out to be exactly how he predicted. guys like that are cliche, but girls like you will fall for it because you're too sweet and naive, lacking of experiences and easy to take advantage of.

he had suspicions, but again, it wasn't any of his business.

"and why are you only blaming yourself for it?" his first reply is full of frustration toward the amount of slack you're giving san.

you're about to say something in response but stops because you realize he's right, recalling how mad you were at san before, but now taking it out on yourself.

"if you liked him that much, he knew it for sure and used it against you. i don't know what went down, but you should be kinder to yourself. you need it after whatever that douche just put you through."

you stay quiet, not because you don't have anything to say but because you really needed to hear that after today. something kind and heartwarming.

"i just don't know how i'm going to tell mingi and yunho. eventually they will have to know, i don't want to keep it from them forever."

yeosang curls his lips together, arranging his thoughts before speaking again, "i really do say this with the best intention, and i know mingi and yunho cares for you dearly but at the end of the day, you don't owe them anything. you're your own person and you made a mistake... a choice, and whenever you're ready, you'll tell them."

you reside in the thought for long enough before nodding in agreement. he's probably right. for now, you need time to yourself and to think everything through before pleasing anybody else.

"thank you, yeosang... for listening to me."

he smiles and nod.

"i'm honored to be someone you can trust," he says at the same time he stands up and offers a hand. "i'll walk you to your room."

you start off by throwing away any reminders of him, whether it's the jacket with a humiliating history or the stupid bear he won to fool you, it's all gone. you don't want anything of him left behind.

you can still recognize him by touch, by his unique scent that if it was to whisk past your nose, you would immediately know who it belongs to. sometimes your heart would skip a beat when there's a knock at the door or when your phone goes off with a notification because you're so afraid by chance, it just might be him.

truth is, regardless of anything, thoughts of san will always linger like a bad headache but you just figure it might make it easier.

you focus on refining your drafts and old works, and even started taking more interests in other classes unrelated to your major. as long as your mind is occupied, you won't have time to think about him.

mingi and yunho are busy with their own schedules which you're grateful for in your own callous ways because then, you get to procrastinate on telling them.

before you know it, your routine has reverted back to its old way of tedious school assignments, your job, and long periods of seclusion, it doesn't seem like you're talking to anybody these days.

when you finally decide to leave the dorm for a change of scene, not much options on the list besides the nearby cafe as you send the workers from before a shy smile and head nod, trailing to the usual table at the back.

"this seat taken?" that familiar voice makes you pick your head up from digging through your backpack.

yeosang stands tall and has his own bag hanging over his shoulder, one eyebrow quirking when he meets your gaze.

"no. i just sat as well."

he nods and takes the seat across, throwing his bag to the side before asking, "you feeling any better?"

you blink a few times before shrugging and answering, "i'm okay."

granted it's only been a couple of days, he isn't expecting a world of changes, but just that you're feeling better even if little by little.

"have you talked to mingi or yunho at all ever since?"

"small conversations, mostly texts but haven't really gotten the time to sit down with them and hang out or anything. they're busy."

"i see. haven't really got the time with yunho as well. the guy i work for, he had to run somewhere so the shop was closed early and i just thought i'd pass by."

you hum at his words, reaching for your laptop but yeosang continues on, "by the way, i didn't see you at all in any of the major classes. did you finally took my advice? or am i just pushing it?"

a genuine chuckle makes your mouth burst until your face calms into a smile because thinking of it, it's actually been so long since you've properly spoken to yeosang if not counting the one from days ago.

so many things have happened since then, notably the fall from grace of yours and san's 'relationship' and all the highs and the lows. it's been a while.

most of your past encounters with yeosang was because you two shared the same class, but it's harder now given the circumstances. you haven't even had the chance to tell him he was the one who persuaded you to follow your passion (in the making).

"yeah, i dropped that stupid major so long ago much thanks to you."

"tskk," he scoffs, both flattered and offended because technology is in his blood. "geez, one class and you already sworn off the entire field. funny, because that was actually one of the easier classes."

you have to reframe from an eye roll but give in when a smirk so confidently paints his expression.

"i just found out it wasn't for me the hard way. better now than later."

"and that's okay," he switches from the playful tone to a more stern one, "so, you went into writing after all?"

"yeah..."

"and how are you liking it so far?"

"a lot better," you chuckle lightly and even he returns one, "but i'm still exploring... trying to find my style and who i am when it comes to writing."

there's been times where you felt envious of the students in your class just seeing the average scores on papers and thinking to yourself how is it possible for someone to get such a perfect mark or to be so sure of themselves and who they are when enaging in discussions.

you wish to be that certain of yourself and your abilities.

"that's good. you still have a lot of time so don't rush it."

you don't know what it is, but in the darkest of times and when you're in need of comfort the most, yeosang is always there as the light at the end of the tunnel.

he isn't always around but will show at the right time, and perhaps it's a bit dramatic but it's as if he's your guardian angel--always aware of what to say and do to make you feel better.

you're grateful to have him... especially when he becomes the only thing keeping you sane within the next few days--something to look forward to so you're not stuck dissecting another dream and what it means.

it only takes some desperate appearances at the cafe and some pitiful day-to-day life stories for yeosang to offer you his number, saying you can call or text anytime and he'll respond when he can.

the exchange makes you so happy and honestly is the first feeling of joy in a while that before you know it, you're growing even closer to yeosang and it's almost hysterical thinking back to the first meeting.

some days and nights are easier than others, sometimes able to go the entirety without thinking of san too much or letting that wave of anxiety and doom consume you. and some nights... both of these things would strike hard making you turn and toss until you're staring at the wall lifelessly.

you're not even sure if writing it down will make it any better. you haven't touched that notebook in forever and can't recall the last time you actually wrote in it.

at this point in time, it appears to be just one more reminder of him.

you didn't think anybody would take notice to your behavior, not that there's a plethora of people you know anyways. but aside from mingi and yunho, the only other person who would possibly give a shit about you is your own roommate.

and for as little credits as you tend to give her sometimes, yuna notices, asking out of the blue one sudden morning if you're okay.

it's so abrupt, you have to blink a few times before assuring her you're fine, but she doesn't look convinced in the slightest.

"you've been looking troubled these past few days. sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night and you're awake, staring at the ceiling, wall, or on your phone," she says with distress, getting up from her bed to sit at the edge of yours and locking eyes concernedly.

"i know i'm hardly ever around, but if anything's bothering you... you can tell me. i mean, if you want to, of course..."

because you and yuna may hold a lot of differences down to personalities, interests, lifestyle, but she is still a girl. you're a girl. if there's anyone in your life who would be able to relate to stupid boy dramas and getting your heart torn apart by one, it's her.

"it's uh... it's about san," you admit, even his name on your lips already triggering, but maybe telling one more person might rid some of the guilt for not telling mingi and yunho, yet.

"ooh..." she thinks of the name for a second but is quick to remember. "the guy from the party."

"yeah..."

"i could tell he liked you then, but you didn't seem very happy when i brought him up again so i just assumed you guys had something going on but it ended for some reason."

"we had a... thing, i guess you can call it. it was on and off, and mostly stupid. but it's over now and i'm just having a hard time..." you don't finish the sentence, unable to find the words you're looking for.

"being away from him?" yuna adds, a short staring contest ensuing before you nod.

"yeah."

when he becomes a part of your routine, most of your waking moments spent in the presence of him, everything suddenly feels so wrong when he's not by your side.

"sorry to hear," another apologetic tone falls from her. "i can't offer much, but if you need someone or something, i'm here."

you send a gentle smile her way, nodding.

"you listening is enough."

yuna is a good friend and a good person and you can finally appreciate all of it now that you're not so stuck chasing something else.

she buys some treats for you on the way back from her usual rendezvous and although you tell her she didn't have to, you also make sure she knows you appreciate the kind gesture.

you had subtly dropped the hint that she cannot, in any way, let it slip to mingi or yunho--if she by chance ever crosses path with them which you don't doubt could happen considering the proximity in which you live within each other.

but the fact she knows proves to be just about the last push you need to muster up the courage to tell both mingi and yunho.

you think you've held it for long enough and it doesn't seem fair that yeosang and yuna got to know it before them, the ones you swore an oath to only to break it.

the day you plan to fess up, you send a short text to yeosang if he's available to meet at the usual place.

"so you're really going to do it?" is his immediate response to the announcement.

"yeah. i don't know for how much longer i can keep it from them. it's killing me."

"have you thought of how you're going to do it?"

you shake your head, every possible scenario you already thought of not at all satisfying or fitting.

"no, but... i want to tell them in person and be as truthful as possible, down to every last lie."

he nods, a sympathetic look on him but understanding that this is a matter between only the three of you.

"let me know how it turns out. they might be upset for a while but they're still your friends."

for the longest time, you grew up without any form of love or affection from those around you, always falling behind the other kids and feeling as if you didn't belong anywhere.

all of your primary and middle school years spent alone because you were shy and timid and didn't know how to talk to anyone.

mingi was the first to break the ice after noticing one too many times the way you'd always look so lost sitting under that oak tree by yourself, and being a barely fourteen year old social butterfly who at the time didn't understand some circumstances are not by choice, he felt the need to befriend you.

it took a lot of pestering and embarrassing himself to get you to open up, but eventually, you knew he and yunho were people you could trust.

so you didn't only went behind your friends back, but you lied to mingi and yunho, two of the only people to ever show you love and affection.

anything is possible at this point and you believe betrayal is a very reasonable reaction.

you text them when they're off work and likely able to spare some time, asking if they can drop by because you want to talk.

"if you really miss me, you know could've just cal--"

mingi's figure halfway through the crack of the door stops when he meets yunho's equally perplexed glare, both of them unknowing to the fact the other was gonna be showing up.

"what? is this some kind of surprise because we haven't hung out in so long?" he closes the door and stands before you and yunho, who shrugs in response.

"i just got here as well."

while the two continues jokingly theorizing the reason you called them here, your body is tense the entire time because they really are in front of you now and you're so nervous about their reactions it sounds like their voices have muffled into a commotion matching your heartbeat until you're blurting out, "i've been seeing san behind your guys back all this time."

the silence after is so deadly, from the way the small talk immediately stops to the fall of their expressions as the room grows uneasy.

"you're kidding me," yunho is the first of the two to say something.

"i'm being serious, and i know what i did is awful," you go on because you told yourself you wouldn't stop until everything is out, but it proves to be more of a struggle than predicted despite the preparation because of the two, the person you expected to have the most compassion, looks the angriest right now.

"i don't expect you guys to--"

but your words are cut short when mingi just turns around and leave the room instead, your sight starting to blur as you fight back the tears.

yunho deflates with a sigh of his chest and shake his head at you, disappointment all over his face that crushes your soul because letting your friends down actually feels so much worse.

"when? why? and for how long?" he interrogates.

"around the beginning of summer? i-i promise, i did tried to stay away at first but then he came into my room and--"

"--jesus christ, y/n. that's almost what? four, five months?"

"i know." and you just start bawling then, absolutely guilty and wrong and ashamed.

"he didn't force anything on you, did he? because i swear, i will knock his fucking teeth out."

"he didn't," you deny weakly, a silence hanging in the air as yunho's at loss for words, honestly still so many questions running through his mind.

and then you tell him everything. from the night san busted into your room to the secret meetups, the carnival date, the trip, the parties, and down till the last second where he 'dumped' you pathetically.

he's not taking it very well but he's taking it a lot better than you expected, and is surprisingly the least upset of the two. said you can still reach out to him but he's going to need some time.

you don't hear from mingi for the next four days. he doesn't answer to any of your calls or messages.

it's rare and unusual to see him genuinely upset, you could probably count on one hand the amount of time something really pissed him off.

you hurt him and is now suffering from the consequences.

once yunho starts coming around, he replies to one of your texts regarding mingi and said for you to also give him time. that sooner or later, he will most likely want to talk to you about it. tell him what you told yunho but know that you lied and broke their trusts in some form.

in the midst of dealing with your friends not speaking to you, yeosang keeps you company for most days.

he entertains you by telling stories of his day-to-day job working at a computer repair shop, most of the time spent assembling customized gaming pcs, that if you're to ever stop by, he can teach you a thing or two (if you're interested).

"the guy that owns the shop, he's chill. but on slow days, i use the time to do most of my school works," he tells you.

and time passes by like that until mingi's ready to talk.

he makes an appearance by paying a surprise visit one unsuspecting evening, a knock at your door to a sullen look on him.

"hey," you awkwardly greet, attempting to lessen the tension with a light smile after.

"let's talk."

he walks himself in, flopping on the edge of your bed as he pats the spot beside for you to take a seat.

there's no prolonging or beating around the bush, and you're honestly glad for it, dying to address and settle everything to savor the few things you still have.

"i want to know, how long exactly after that conversation we had did you start seeing him again?"

the serious, sullen look on him never leaves, and it only intensifies when he asks that question. you try the best digging into scraps of your memories for accuracy but truthfully, the timeline is a little hazy.

but from mingi and yunho telling you to stay away from san to the day you relasped, it must've been a month at least.

"i did mean what i said at the time, i swear."

because you don't want him to think that the lies already started then; only giving him what he wanted to hear, if that's why he's asking you the question.

"i didn't text or call him, and if he did, i ignored him. i was spending most of my time inside or at the cafe and i was fortunate enough yeosang was there sometimes to accompany me. he even showed up drunk one time but i kicked him out."

you tell him the things you did right first, because you know you're about to disappoint him.

"then he came again one day, and i just... gave in. that must've been about a month after the conversation."

the manner in which mingi's shoulders drop the same time he heaves out irritatedly is expected, only watching in silence as he rakes his hair in frustration.

"what pains me the most is not that you lied to me, but that you would willingly hurt yourself."

he's had time to come to terms with the fact although it bugged him greatly because it just wasn't you... to lie countless times, and over a guy. but to some extent, he can let it slide depending on the circumstances.

but what he can't get around to is you going back to san, knowing one-hundred percent in the deepest of your heart whether you want to deny it or not, that he won't be able to give you what you want.

that you will get hurt, you are going to get hurt.

he tries his best to protect you without all the coddling or cradling, afraid of coming off overbearing but it is so disheartening to watch you do this to yourself.

it must take a level of low self-esteem and self-hatred, and... he really just feel so fucking sorry for you.

"and the worst part was that he actually tried ending things sooner and i was the one to seek him out for the last time," you unveil because he's right and the only thing you know how to do when guilty is to fess up.

"he said maybe someday, he could see himself with me... but not right now."

sympathy is quick to take over mingi, because in spite of it all, he will always hold a soft spot for you.

"and you're not thinking he actually means what he said, now do you?"

because san's a dickhead and could be using that as leverage for the last time; give you false hope and feed ideas into your gullible mind that there's a chance; a maybe in the future.

"the first part? no." you chuckle bitterly. "i won't ever be the one for him and i don't wish for anything more between us from now on."

"good. because fuck that guy. i hope for nothing but only the worst for him."

and for all your fuck-ups and downfalls, you don't know if you're ever deserving of mingi whose only punishments is the four days of silent treatments, and that for the next two months, he's going to be wrecking your wallet because you're now responsible for treating him and yunho.

it's as if getting a slap on the wrist for what you did, you will be eternally grateful.

he also tells you--in light of trying to find the positives in a rather fucked-up situation, that in some sick and messed up way, at least you experienced what it's like to love someone.

that you may feel san left you hanging, but him running you off is closure. it is as much of an ending as it can be.

a week and a half after you talked to mingi, mostly everything went back to normal.

you had been so scared confessing your sins to your two best friends, deathly afraid they wouldn't forgive you only for yunho to start speaking to you again not even a day later.

a repetitive routine, tedious school works and job; you're all too used to it by now, going on most days like there still isn't a lasting sadness always present and your heart still isn't healing.

you're better, but not completely okay.

mingi notices as he always does, spewing something about the best way to get over a broken heart is to have some fun, joining hands with your roommate behind your back in order to drag you to some club-restaurant.

you had put on exactly what she suggested: a black silk dress that hugs your frame perfectly, heels you can barely walk in--plus she even did your hair and makeup.

"come on, y/n. you look totally hot," yuna assures, after you told the both of them 'to get over someone is to go under someone else' isn't gonna work and you're not gonna start shaking ass on some random stranger.

"yeah, lighten up a little. but we're not only here to pimp you out, we're also here to feast and to officially say: fuck that son of a bitch, choi san, he can--"

"--oh my gosh, can you be any louder?" you hiss, flustered by the volume.

"actually, i can. he's so lucky to have his balls still intact because the urge to cut them off."

"can't believe i thought he was nice," yuna joins.

"that's how it all starts, honey."

you dismiss the chattering and switch focus to the dance floor that's actually quite empty, but mingi had made a point about more people turning up later. and truthfully, the place kind of scares you just as every loud and obnoxious settings do.

"no but forreal y/n, don't worry if you're unable to find anyone. we got just the perfect person for you."

you don't think too much of what he said, disregarding it like you do to all things mingi, only for yunho to show with none other than yeosang not even ten minutes later.

you were wondering where he was.

"sit your fucking asses down, i'm starving," mingi urges the two boys who finally sits after a few comments under their breath, and of course, yeosang is in the middle and facing you.

"hi, i'm yuna. you must be yeosang," your roommate introduces herself. it would be their first time meeting.

he nods and ushers her a thin smile, muttering out a "nice to meet you."

"so what are we getting? any suggestions?" yunho speaks.

"margarita, anyone?" mingi says, sloppily flipping through the menu.

"okay, at least one of us needs to stay sober to keep eyes on the rest just so nobody does anything stupid."

mingi blows, mocking the idea.

"no, fuck that. we're here to have fun and are taking cabs back anyway. might as well go all out."

"and by nobody, i mean you," yunho rebuts.

"i'm great at handling my alcohol, right, y/n?" he looks to you but you only brush it off with a chuckle because if there's anyone to do something stupid under the influence, it's definitely mingi.

"i'll just take a pepsi," yeosang chips in, offering to be that person. "i'm not great with alcohol."

you stare at him momentarily before agreeing, "yeah, me too. i'll take lemonade."

"geez, it's like i'm out with my grandparents," mingi snarks, you and yeosang locking eyes briefly before giggling quietly.

after some time and a lot of quarrelling, you guys decide on a pepperoni pizza and some hot wings, mingi pressuring the two boys next to him to go up and order.

they're barely a feet away from the table when your friend and roommate already start sticking their noses up your business.

"so..." the both of them echo together, it's scary how in sync they are. mingi being the one to eventually finish it off.

"what do you think of yeosang?" he hasn't even blinked at all.

"he's... cool." you shrug, the answer making both of them roll their eyes.

"cool? bitch please."

"he is totally cute, though," yuna adds.

"right. and smart, and totally one-hundred percent approved by us, and was there for y/n when chicken boy san fucked her over even though she was bitching about him at first."

"enemies to lovers?"

"that's what i'm saying!"

"you guys are so dramatic," you squeak, annoyed, "and i'm not gonna use yeosang just to get over him. that would be unfair to yeosang."

the both of them hum and nod, actually in agreement.

"you're right. yeosang shouldn't be a rebound. he's a keeper, that means after you get your shit together--"

he stops when he can hear the two making their way back to the table, passing a knowing glare to both you and yuna before dropping the topic.

and just when you think they would forget about it--too busy chewing your own food and listening to the chitters and music, you completely miss the exchange between your friend and roommate as they smirk mischievously and mumbles something inaudibly to each other.

"i'm full, anyone up for some dancing?" yuna picks her head your direction, the food in your mouth not even fully swallowed when she snatches your wrist and hauls it to the dance floor, "let's dance, y/n."

in the midst of your protest, you can hear yeosang in the background as mingi drags him along.

yunho is unable to do anything except laugh because it was so obvious what the two was trying to do, having caught the act himself.

"yuna, i don't know how to dance," you tell her, eyeing the people around you up and down as they grind against each other.

"you don't need to know how. just have fun!" she playfully pushes you by the shoulder, rocking her head to the beat of the song playing.

and just as you start loosening up a little, someone crashes into your back... rather purposely.

"oop, sorry. didn't see you there," mingi apologizes for yeosang who was the one to bump into you because he was pushing the boy through the crowd like a ragdoll.

you already know where this is going and they're so annoying for it.

there's a second where you and yeosang meet eyes, but are quickly taken away when yuna speaks again.

"well dang, i think i drank a little too much. gonna head to the restroom."

"yeah, me too. that margarita, man," mingi exaggerates, and just like that, they're both scuttling away. leaving you on the dance floor with yeosang.

you're livid at your friends for setting you up, but once you turn to yeosang and sees the soft look in his eyes, some of the rage dissipates.

"well, uh... you look good," he starts by complimenting your outfit, because he's never seen you in that style before. it suits you, he thinks.

"thanks, i guess." you chuckle it off, because yes, you meet him occasionally in the cafe, but this setting is so different and so is the vibe right now. "it all belongs to yuna."

"still looks good on you."

and you're thankful for the dark lightings in here as a blush run across your cheeks.

"i don't know how to dance at all," you confess again out of thin air, bringing a laughter from him.

"me too. this is my first time at a place like this. it's... interesting."

he looks around, and so do you, able to see through the open spaces and spot annoying ass mingi and yuna just off to the side and watching the two of you like hawks.

"if you--" you're cut short when someone elbows you from behind, losing your footing only to fall onto yeosang's chest exactly like a scene from some soap opera.

he balances you out by catching your hips, staring down at you and asking, "you okay?"

you nod, pushing yourself back up.

the night was interesting for sure, and if not for the fact you actually ended up having plenty of fun on the floor even though you could barely dance to save your life, you would never let mingi and yuna live this one off.

yeosang was better than you of course, but it was kind of amusing watching him and yourself try it for the first time.

the rest are drunk enough when it's time to head back, you and yeosang are the only ones still right in the mind.

you take the bills as promised but yeosang offers for the other half, and even in mingi's drunken state, you can clearly hear him passing a comment and telling the both of you to get a room.

halfway into october, things start looking more promising, and again, you feel a little better. not completely okay, just always better than the last time.

your periods of isolation or with yeosang at the cafe were quick to turn into group hangouts when mingi and yunho would join, and occasionally, yuna.

you grow closer with the other two and in a long time, finally allow yourself to make space for someone else besides just mingi and yunho.

by the end of the month, almost every last remnants of san is gone.

it first began during a conversation you were having with mingi, when he casually threw in the revelation that he's no longer friends with wooyoung.

you had felt so guilty at first, feeling like it was your fault. mingi and wooyoung had clicked immediately and were so compatible together. but because you were stupid and ignored all warnings, you ruined a perfectly good friendship.

but mingi had assure you that it was his choice. he no longer wanted to be friends with someone who still associated with san. people come and go, and wooyoung won't be the last, no matter how good of a friend he was.

there was no fight, really, he said. he confronted wooyoung and he just offered to move out. wooyoung must've felt bad about it, but there was no use in dwelling.

mingi has a new roommate now and though they didn't click as fast as he did with wooyoung, he will learn to get along with him.

and in your last attempt to rid all reminders of san, it ended with you quitting your job. the job you got because of him.

it was definitely a risky move considering your age and lack of experience, but you thought long and hard about it, finally pulling the trigger when yeosang told you he might be able to talk to his boss into opening up another position if you're interested.

but whether you get the job or not, you feel you made the right decision.

fortunately, when november comes around, yeosang breaks the news that you got the job. it would be a cleaning position considering the guy is rarely ever around and he needs someone to tidy up the shop when yeosang's too busy running it.

by mid november, mingi brings up the idea that you should join a book club, later supported by yunho and yeosang when you ask for their thoughts.

he said it's a great way for you to meet other like-minded people who mostly likely share a similar passion for writing. that you can learn a thing or two by exposing yourself to just more than your classes.

you were unsure initially because the semester is already coming to an end, but yeosang had convinced you there's still many more to come and was worth giving it a try.

you find the head of the club's email after lurking on the school website and she gives you all informations needed and tells you to be there this friday, the one weekday they usually meet.

said you can come and see for yourself first before she puts you on the official roster.

when friday arrives, you look for the room number she had given but didn't have to look far because it's obvious by the amount of people lining up outside.

you merely have just gotten in line, observing each and every of their faces to hopefully see someone you recognize but to no luck, turning to the sound of incoming footsteps instead, and much to your shock and irony, you see someone you haven't in forever.

popping in with his dark hair and wide smile, he recognizes you as well, waving in the air with a hint of surprise in his eye.

"hey!" he stops in front of you.

"hey hongjoong. wow... it's been so long," you can't help but to comment the obvious which he returns with a short chuckle.

"yeah it has. what are you doing here? haven't seen you around at all."

you give him a shy smile before replying, "i took on your advice and started writing a little... so my friends thought it would be good if i joined the club to expand my interest."

"really?" he looks genuinely taken aback, "that's great! creative writing as well?"

"yeah." you nod. "i thought you didn't go to our school."

"oh, i don't. but i just like hanging around, also because the campus is close to mine and the discussions here are quite compelling so i usually drop by."

"i see." you smile.

"you'll like it, don't worry."

there's so many things you wish to ask hongjoong, given the time he's been away and the heaps of events that has happened since. you did say so yourself that if you meet him again, you would want to hear his story.

“that’s a first. but thanks. if you told me a couple years ago that i’d end up choosing writing, i wouldn’t believe it either. it was never really something i was ever into or cared too much for growing up.” he pauses briefly.

“but there was a tough period in my life, and to deal with it, i kind of just started journaling and writing my thoughts down onto whatever paper or notebooks i could find, and it made me feel a little better afterward.”

hongjoong may not know it, but for someone who's hardly ever in your life, he has quite an indirect impact with just what he said at that party alone.

you feel in some way, hongjoong is your other half, though loosely: long, lost tortured souls who pours their miseries out onto papers and write their feelings away.

but just as you open your mouth to say something, the door swings open and the students start rushing inside. you figure you will ask him after.

you sit in the back and watch the entire time as the group of students ramble on about the book they all read for the week, hongjoong just slightly off at the side and listening to the discussion but will provide inputs from time to time.

after an hour, and after everyone agreed on a new book, you tell the head of the club to put you on the roster, figuring it's something you want to partake in, but you won't admit hongjoong's addition also played a role in the decision.

you thought you were gonna have to run and catch up, but thankfully, he was waiting at the door for you.

"what did you think?" he asks on the walk together.

"it was interesting for sure. fun to see everyone's take on it."

"oh, yeah." he snickers.

it's then that you debate whether you should ask, fearful of coming off intrusive but you also may never get the chance again.

"hey hongjoong..." you kick off, making him spin his head slightly to face you, one eyebrow quirking attentively.

"yes?"

"back at the party, you talked about going through a tough period. i was just wondering if you're comfortable enough to share what it was? no pressure though, just thought i'd take the chance."

he goes blank for a second and you're thinking you might've crossed the line, but your chest drop in relief once a warm smile coats his lips.

"i don't mind. if it will help."

because he also gets the feeling that in some ways, you're like him.

"it was freshman year of high school and i was stupid just as every other boys my age was, and had the bright idea of sneaking into our school's pool at night because it sounded fun and rebellious, and it made us felt cool."

you can tell where the story is heading, but hongjoong doesn't look fazed by it at all. he keeps going.

"it was me and two of my other friends at the time. none of us knew how to swim, and amidst all the fucking around, pushing and pulling, one of my friends fell into the ten feet pool. at first i thought he was messing with us, but it got obvious pretty quickly that all of us were idiots and he really was drowning."

"my other friend went after him. he wasn't a great swimmer but he was the most athletic out of us and i remember at the time, i felt so freaking scared and helpless, i didn't know what to do. what if he couldn't find him as well? what if something happen to the both of them?"

"i'm so sorry... did your friends make it out okay?"

he nods.

"yeah. but the first one was blue in the face when my other friend found him. we honestly weren't sure he was gonna make it. he's fine now. they're both fine. but i don't think i've ever felt that much fear in my life before. it fucked me up for years after... that's when i started journaling."

"oh..."

if you didn't know, you never would have guessed someone like hongjoong, always so kind and lively, went through something so horrible.

now, it's as if he's an entirely new person. nothing to show that he was the traumatized boy in the story at all. you wonder how he does it.

"how did you overcome the trauma? you seem... so much better now."

he dryly chuckles.

"well, it wasn't easy. i thought i could overcome it on my own as well, but when i was becoming merely a shell of the person i once was, not getting out of my room or interacting with anybody, my mother took matters into her own hand and took me to therapy."

"therapy?" you repeat, mostly talking under your breath but hongjoong hears it nonetheless.

"yes. it's now why i'm able to talk about the situation somewhat without breaking down or reliving it all over again. you may think that over time, it will pass and one day, you won't even think of it anymore. but you close your eyes and it comes back to haunt you, you can't get it out of your head, and then you realize... it will continue happening unless you get help. in therapy, i've not only developed coping skills, but i've also learned to heal from my past."

you don't say anything, but are listening so keenly, every of his words ingrained like you can recite them for yourself.

"the lady i saw, she was really good. i still keep in contact with her to this day. if you want, i can give you the address of their office."

he don't have to ask because he just knows, that you two really are long, lost tortured souls who pours their miseries out onto papers and write their feelings away.

and if he's correct, you will need just as much help as he did.

when you finally bring it up to mingi, he thinks it's the greatest idea ever. so great that he can't believe he didn't think of it himself, being a psychology major and all.

the only problem he had at first was that you heard it from hongjoong, a friend of wooyoung, and knowing all too well who that ties back to, you had to assure him that hongjoong is good.

but you have expressed doubts regarding seeking therapy, that it would be beneficial but would take up so much time and not to mention, money. but mingi is adamant about it, that no matter the time or money, it would be worth it for your mental health.

"no, bitch. you need therapy," he would say.

and after a couple more pushes from your other friends, you cave and make the first phone call to the office, a sweet lady answering on the other side as you give her your name and information and the reasons why you would like to schedule an appointment.

she tells you that within the next few days, the therapist will call you again for a more in-depth discussion before she can meet you in-person at the office for the first session.

and though initially doubtful and hesitant, the one-on-one conversation with the therapist over the phone makes you so hopeful that this is gonna work out because she sounded so sweet and understanding, just like how hongjoong described her.

mingi offers to come along for the first in-person appointment, reassuring you through the nervous, shaken hands and pounding heart, that when you walk out of that building today, you are gonna feel so much better.

you want for him to be right, that the efforts put in so far are gonna be worth it. and the minute you walk into the therapist's office, a middle aged lady with a welcoming smile that could warm the entire room, you for some reason just knew then, it's gonna work out.

you start off by telling her about your upbringing. mainly your parents, how your mom accidentally got pregnant at a young age and how she never failed to remind you of it, most of your adolescents were of you being passed around when one parent got too tired.

then you move onto your aunt and uncle, that you started living with them after your mom dropped you off one sudden day and ran away with another man, as told by your aunt. to this day, you have no idea what your father's up to, but you know he doesn't want you.

if he did, he would've came back for you so long ago.

and lastly, the romantic partners in your life; men, who most likely fucked up your view of love forever, or at least for a very long time, which is why you're here in hope to reverse that.

learn to love again, and that just because some pretty boy with dimples and broad shoulders lied to you one too many times and broke your heart, it's not the end of the world.

you are gonna be okay without him, no matter how good he used to make you feel or how strong the butterflies were when he was around.

you are gonna learn to be okay.

dr. hwang, as she tells you to call her by, said she took notes of everything you have told her so far and has a plan for what would be the best type of treatment for you but you'll have to come back for another session just to make sure.

by end of the appointment, taking the elevator back to the first floor, mingi pries away from the magazine he was reading and runs to you immediately.

"how was it?"

you smile at him, something hopeful and optimistic in your eyes.

"good. i think it's going to work."

# last entry

it's been a while since i've written in this thing, and honestly, i was losing my motivation to return because a lot have happened since... and this notebook really does hold so many memories of him. but this was where it all started so it's only fair i give it a proper goodbye. but i've officially made up my mind and will no longer be writing in this notebook anymore. i still have a passion for writing and i realize it is something i want to commit to, but i just won't be doing it here. my life's gone through a few changes and i just wish to leave a some things behind, this being one of them. but one day when i become a much better writer (hopefully), i can come back and laugh at this silly little journal. i have no idea what the next few years have in store or if therapy's going to fix me entirely, but i hope to become someone my current present self can look up to

sincerely, y/n

next // series m.list

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @sannwa @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa @frankenstein852 @yujispinkhair @mermaid17venus @nolxverlikeme @writersun @kkayfan @wooyoungjpg @galaxypox @byunniebaekhyunnie @vixensss @interweab @svintsandghosts @moonchele

#i had major memory loss #writing this chapter #so if u see any retcons or contradictions #spare me pls #ateez angst #ateez x reader #san x reader #choi san x reader #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang x reader #san angst #ateez series #fic: broken

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year

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The Perfect Team | Arthur Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @peakypolly

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader

Summary: Arthur's ability to reason with (Y/N)'s child has them realizing that they work rather well together.

Warnings: mentions of minor character death

Word Count: 2280

A/N: sorry this one’s a bit late. I’ve just gotten home from a play and wanted to make sure that I uploaded. This is a shorter one, but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you will like it as well. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

(Y/N) felt like she was ready to rip her hair out. Ava, her three year old daughter, would not listen for anything today, and she felt like she was at the end of her rope. She'd only turned there four months ago, how could the 'terrible threes' settle in that fast?

Everything was a fight today. Getting her out of bed, picking out her outfit, giving her breakfast, and the list continued from there. She wanted to challenge every and anything that (Y/N) was saying.

The day dragged on because of this. (Y/N) felt like she was ready to crash the second the sun started to set. And she didn't even attempt to do a reading lesson with Ava today...that's just what kind of day it was. She didn't even want to think of how much more exhausted she'd be had she given that a try.

But now it was time for the toughest part of the day: getting Ava to bed. (Y/N) was dreading it from the second she woke her daughter up because she knew that it'd be a much more challenging task today with the mood that Ava was in.

Despite her hoping that the day would just fast forward through the hard part, bedtime came. Ava was coloring in the front sitting room (at peace for once) when (Y/N) entered from the kitchen. She almost wanted to let her be...she finally was doing what she was supposed to. But (Y/N) knew that she had to get her to go to bed.

So she approached her cautiously, wanting to smack herself for treating her three year old child like she was some wild animal. "Ava, sweetie..." she started, trying to get her daughter's attention. The girl dropped her utensil and turned around, looking at her mother with expecting eyes. (Y/N) smiled at her before she continued, "it's time for us to get ready for bed."

A sour look formed on Ava's face the second the 'b word' was mentioned. "Mumma, no," she huffed, her eyebrows scrunching together to show her anger at the situation.

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows in response to the pushback. "This is not a matter that is up for discussion, missy. It is your bedtime," she insisted, her hands falling onto her hips.

"I'm not tired!" Ava exclaimed, sticking her nose in the air and squeezing her eyes shut as she spoke. It was obvious that she wasn't going to back down without a fight.

After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly so that she could stay composed, (Y/N) attempted another route of persuasion, "if we go to bed now, we can read two stories together." She thought that Ava might go for that suggestion because she <loved> to read stories.

But of course Ava wasn't going for any of (Y/N)'s suggestions today. "NO!" she screamed, her voice even louder now than before, "I don't wanna read stories, I wanna keep drawing!"

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak but couldn't get a word out because the door to the house opened and shut and footsteps sounded off the hardwood shortly after.

"Arfer!" Ava exclaimed, hopping up from her spot by the coffee table to run past her mother to the archway. Usually (Y/N) would smile at her daughter's pronunciation of her partner's name, but she'd been worn down so much tonight that she couldn't muster it up.

(Y/N) turned around in time to see Arthur crouching down to give the little girl a hug. "Hey, kiddo," he greeted her, glancing up at (Y/N) to see the unhappy expression she had. He immediately knew that he couldn't go over the top in greeting the child in his arms. Things didn’t seem to be going so well. "What's goin’ on here, eh?" he asked after he ended their hug.

"I'm drawing a picture; just like you showed me how to! Come, look!" she exclaimed, a wide smile on her face as she reached up to take hold of his hand so that she could lead him over to the table she had everything set up on.

"We were getting ready to do something else, weren't we, Ava?" (Y/N) asked the child before she could get into showing Arthur her artwork.

"Mumma!" Ava exclaimed, a pout forming on her face as she slipped right back into the defiant act she was putting on before.

"Ava," (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her voice monotone. She did not want to go back into this cycle of arguing that they'd been going in and out of all day.

Ava held the glare on her mother for a moment longer before she switched it up to a pout to show to Arthur. She was hoping that he'd be on her side in this; he always had a soft spot for her and she knew it...she often played off of it. "Can you draw with me, Arfer?" she asked him, puppy dog eyes in full display.

Arthur glanced over at (Y/N) then, silently checking if she was going to jump in and diffuse this or if he was going to be the one to mediate the situation. Her exasperated look told him everything: she needed his help. "I'd love to draw with you, kiddo, but it's your bedtime. We don't wanna go against your mum, do we?" he posed a question, crouching down to her level as he spoke.

Ava looked at Arthur for a moment before looking at her mother. (Y/N) kept her lips pursed, secretly hoping that Arthur's attempt would do the trick. She didn't think she had anymore gas left in the tank to deal with a defiant three year old.

A frown formed on the little girl's face as she realized that the situation was not going to go in her favor. She now needed to accept that it was in fact bedtime. "No, we should listen to mumma," she admitted in a defeated tone, slumping her shoulders.

"That's a good choice," Arthur agreed with what Ava said, a smile forming on his face.

"Can you read me a story, Arfer?" she asked him, a hopeful look on her face. (Y/N) was about ready to scoff at it because she was claiming that she didn't want to read stories just moments ago.

"Sure, kiddo," he nodded before continuing, "why don't you go up and let your mum get you changed and then I'll be up to read with you?" he suggested, his eyebrows raised.

"Ok!" Ava promptly agreed, a smile on her face as she bounced over to (Y/N)'s side. (Y/N) sent her a soft smile and began to walk to the steps with her. She stopped before they were able to ascend the steps, "can we read the one about the princess and the dragon?" she excitedly asked Arthur.

"Sure we can," Arthur nodded, sending a smile to (Y/N) then, who now had a relieved look on her face.

Ava made a little sound of glee before she turned and began walking up the steps with (Y/N) following close behind.

—

Ava was adamant that she only wanted Arthur to read the story to her, so (Y/N) happily stepped out of the little girl's bedroom once she was finished helping her get ready for bed. She decided to go downstairs and work on cleaning up the living room so that it would look orderly again. Once she was finished, she sat down on the couch and tipped her head back onto the cushion.

She heard Arthur's footsteps descending the stairs not long after she got comfy. "Long day?" he asked her, making her raise her head to see his crooked smile.

"Precisely," she answered, a tired smile forming on her face as he came over to the couch. She sat up and scooted over so that he could sit next to her. "Are you staying tonight?" she asked him once he was situated.

"You want me to?" Arthur raised his eyebrows as he looked over at her. It was her house after all, and even though they'd been together for just about two years now, he still didn't want it to seem like he was overstaying his welcome.

"Of course," she smiled at him, scooting over on the couch so that she could hug him. He responded to her embrace by squeezing the shoulder of the arm that she'd draped over his torso before turning his head to the side and kissing her temple. (Y/N) relaxed against his body, finally able to take a moment to herself without worrying about what Ava might need or be doing.

She was lucky to have Arthur in her life. They met just over two and a half years ago. (Y/N) was coming out from the church she belonged to and Arthur was finding his way in. She thought it was odd for him to be entering it, especially after the service had just ended. So she followed him back in and stuck around, watching from a few pews back as he slumped down on the bench and just stared at the altar. After letting him be for some time, she just had to go up and see if he was alright.

She was a kind-hearted person, and Arthur quickly realized that. He found it easy to convey his muddied thoughts to her, and she found it easy to see the man underneath all of the things he'd done. It wasn't a surprise to either of them when they found that they couldn't get the other off their mind. Arthur asked her to dinner after one of their conversations, and the rest was history.

Arthur loved (Y/N)'s daughter, Ava, as if she were his own daughter. She wasn't though. Her father, (Y/N)'s husband, died in a terrible accident only a few months after Ava was born. It hurt (Y/N)'s heart to know that Ava wouldn't be able to meet her father, but she was thankful that she now had Arthur in her life. They took to each other right away. (Y/N) won't ever forget the fact that one of Ava's first smiles came when she was in Arthur's arms. It's no secret that they've got a sweet spot for each other. Oftentimes, like this night, she didn't know what she'd do without him.

"I think I'm going to make myself some tea to have before bed," (Y/N) stated, breaking the silence as she finally let go of Arthur so that she could stand from the couch. "Do you want anything?" she turned to ask him.

"I'm fine, love. Thank you," Arthur responded, a smile gracing his lips as he looked up at her. She nodded before turning and walking to the kitchen area. "Was she defiant all day?" Arthur asked as she went about putting the kettle of water on the stove.

"Pretty much," (Y/N) responded, going about getting herself a cup, "everything was a challenge...she wanted nothing to do with what I was saying to her," she sighed, shaking her head. It was days like today where she felt like she was failing at the whole mother thing.

Silence fell in the room as she waited for the water to boil. It did after a short while, and she carefully poured it into her cup so that she could mix the tea in with it. "I'd probably still be fighting with her had you not come in," she commented with a slight scoff as she moved the kettle off of the stove and grabbed her cup.

She then turned and began walking back to the couch. When she looked up, she saw Arthur sitting with his arms draped over the back of the couch; looking at her with a closed-mouth smile on his face. "What?" she asked him, smiling as she felt warmth spread through her body under his gaze.

"Nothin'," he answered her, shaking his head slightly as his smile widened.

She knew better than that though. "You're thinking of something, Arthur...what is it?" she called him out, her one eyebrow raised as she stopped a few feet from the couch. She wasn't going to sit until she found out what was on his mind. It was silly, and she knew that, but she was stubborn in that sense...no wonder Ava was the way she was sometimes.

Arthur chuckled at her statement, finding her defiance rather adorable. He looked her over before his smile returned. "We make a pretty good team, don't you think?" he asked her then, tipping his head to the side slightly.

The warmth inside of her grew when she heard his question, and she couldn't stop the butterflies from doing their happy dance in her stomach. She didn't expect him to say something along these lines. But she knew the answer in an instant. "We do," she agreed with him before she walked the rest of the way to the couch he was on. She carefully sat down so as to not spill the tea she had. Once she was comfortable, she turned and smiled over at Arthur. "We definitely make a good team," she repeated her sentiment, a smile on her face as Arthur leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

"Wouldn't wanna be on a team with anyone else, love," he grinned at her, and in that moment all of the stresses that had been built up within her over the day faded away.

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mgcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @cilliansangel @areyenotfondofmelobster @just-a-blackhole @anotherblinder @christinasyellowflowers @insanitybyanothername @daisyblinder @wotcherpeak

MASTERLIST

#arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby x y/n #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby one shot #arthur shelby oneshot #arthur shelby fanfic #arthur shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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keehlmyself · 4 months

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late night christmas headcanons with (some) the death note cast!

this post will include: light, l lawliet, misa, matsuda, near, mello, matt & sayu.

— ' its the most wonderful time of the year ! '

LIGHT YAGAMI ★ [pre/no-kira!]

unsurprisingly, light is a very considerate gift giver. on one hand he tries to get gifts that will be more beneficial in the long run! at the same time he attempts to get something that he knows the person will like.

i can imagine light would be the kind of person to end up scouring the store for something affordable, useful and still likable. (spoiler! he fails to find items that fall into all three categories)

his gift-wrapping is neat. his mother, sachiko, taught him how to wrap gifts at the ripe age of 7. ever since then, he helps her every christmas :)

most items on wish list are stationary, up until little specific things — like a certain keychain or an expensive book.

one of his favourite things about christmas is the cookies that his mom makes. his favourites are (of course) the classic chocolate chip and simple vanilla biscuits.

he used to believe in santa when he was younger until the illusion and magic was ruined for him. as a result, while sayu was still young, he made sure that she'd continue to believe and have something to look forward to every christmas.

one time, he got L for a secret santa activity. he was fully aware that L was already rich. he could have anything he wanted! and so, he decided to make his own gift (with misa's assistance).

L LAWLIET ★

when he was younger, christmas was quite bleak at wammy's. other kids seemed to have fun but he just found himself incredibly uninterested in the holiday.

still, watari would get him gifts — and secretly? he felt appreciated.

years later, the kira task force would somehow find themselves discussing their holiday plans. L had decided to allow everyone to take a few days off (as pushed by his mentor, watari) to celebrate christmas with their families.

matsuda (bless his soul) decides to go ahead and suggest an office christmas party! at first, L is hesitant..

but he accepts. obviously.

with their basically infinite budget, the food is to die for. cakes, ice cream, meats, a few traditional meals from across the world..

secretly, this was L's quiet way of showing his own appreciation to everyone.

now you're probably wondering, 'what are his gifts like?' ... honestly lame. it depends; but for the most part, his gifts rely on practicality.

misa gave him shampoo for christmas once. and deodorant. and slippers. she wasn't trying to be mean, she just thought L didn't know those things existed and she wanted to guide him..

if you aren't upfront on what you want for christmas, he'll give you stationary, socks, utensils, etc.

MISA AMANE ★

misa is serving absolute cunt in that outfit she's wearing. she went all out - went shopping just for this. she's the type to wear little cute scarves, arm warmers, beanies.. and she looks good in them.

her gift giving abilities are god-like for the most part. she shops in advance and asks people for their wish lists

cute gift wrappers!! candy print, little cats, reindeer, hearts, etc. definitely for lights gift: she'd wrap it in hearts! (he did not reciprocate..)

at times, she worries she won't be able to spend christmas with her family (mostly just the task force) due to her modelling and acting career. she has to constantly do photoshoots, film commercials, and it stresses her out.

to make up for it: she drinks hot chocolate. and her hot chocolate is always the cutest. cute mugs, cute marshmallows, etc. but it still tastes good.

she taught sayu how to do her hot chocolate recipe! (it was barely her own recipe, she just adds alot of cute little etuff)

she's the type of gift wrapper to put ribbons on her gifts.

when asked about what she wanted for christmas, she said something cheesy like; 'anything as long as lights there'

TOUTA MATSUDA ★

christmas party planner 4everrrr

buys gifts a few months too early, our considerate king.

draws/doodles on the gift tags! (taught by misa)

he nagged watari to teach him to make cookies. he wanted to make some christmas cookies for L, in hopes that he'd win his apprpval.

wears ugly christmas sweaters a few days before christmas.

and so, this conversation ensued;

L: 'that sweater looks rather old.' Matsu: 'what? no, its barely been used' L: 'ah. it mustve been rotting in your closet.'

loves the concept of santa claus. has tried to make watari dress up as santa.

when he was younger, his parents brought him to talk to santa! by this time, matsuda already new santa claus wasnt real.

and so, he had an existential crisis the moment he realized that there was infact a white haired-white bearded man, clad in red.. and may be his childhood hero.

he liked rudolph alot and for one Halloween, he dressed up as him

NEAR ★

christmas at wammys was especially tiring for him. the children screaming, the sound of wrapping paper ripping being heard throughout the entire orphanage.. wasn't for him!

he didn't have many friends so he never really received any gifts.

his first ever gift was from linda — it meant alot to him. it was a little paper origami doll of him. it was taped horribly.

his family before the orphanage? he couldn't really remember, so along with that, he couldn't remember the christmases they had.

near gives gifts when he can.. by that, when or if he remembers.

his gifts range from socks to an entire mansion. he's not very responsible with his money.

HATES the mistletoe. one time he was under it the same time as mello. did they kiss? no, but mello did chase him around.

now sorta looks forward to christmas because of eggnog and all the toys he gets out of it. he gets ALOT of toys.

he dislikes carollers. he thinks they're too noisy. one time, he and a few other kids were forced to perform a sonf infront of everyone as part of the wammy's christmas party..

he was stood still and stayed quiet the entire time.

MELLO ★

he had alot of items on his wish list. most predominantly; accessories, clothes and of course.. chocolate.

mello is given a LOT of chocolate every christmas — with the exception of near who gave him a toothbrush out of mild concern.

his gifts are the best. by that, he just gets whatever the person wants (but at times gets everything)

mello just wants to be better than everyone when it comes to the gifts. and everything. there's a reasoning behind it, being; from a young age he always thought that if he gave the most and got the most, it would mean that everyone would like him.

there's a secret mostly one sided competition between near, matt and mello every year over who gives and receives the most gifts.

he gets into multiple fights with near, which results in him dumping a glass of eggnog down near's back.

near was not happy with the disgusting feel of wet clothes stuck to his skin. insert him literally SCREAMING

the closest person of authority in the area was giving mello a look of, 'make him stop or so help me'

wears all black to a christmas party with the exception of a red christmas hat

MATT ★

his wishlist is a little expensive, mostly 'cause it's all video game related — and clothes. did he list the clothes? no, mello did, 'cause matt's clothes are starting to fall apart at the seams.

he and mello think the christmas games are lame but they participate anyway. matts always helping mello win.

matt absolutely half asses his gifts! unless you're someone he likes or has a crush on.

lowkey pigs out during the christmas feast. he has fast metabolism so it doesn't really affect his body, but he does receive these wide-eyed looks from mello like 'holy shit you're gonna eat ALL of that?'

sings christmas songs to annoy everyone. definitely.

when he was younger, he wasn't really able to celebrate christmas properly with his family. i headcanon that he got into wammy's at a really young age and that he was there when near first arrived too.

he might not seem like it but he was one of the people (like linda) to try and make christmas a little more happy and sweet for the newcomers/the younger kids in the orphanage. he didn't want them to experience the same dissappointment and upset he felt every christmas when he was still with his family.

matt plays holiday pranks on everyone.

this is contradictory to the headcanon i made before the last, but he once told a random kid on the street santa claus wasn't real and it started crying.

SAYU YAGAMI ★

when she was younger, she'd save up all her allowance so she could buy her family gifts. admittedly — sayu's gifts never really aligned much with whatever was on their christmas lists. but she was so sweet, how could they reject?

sayu once got her and light matching slippers. hers were bunny slippers and his was dog slippers. (based off of this)

she believed santa was real up until the age of 15. she got a little angsty around those years..

her wishlist is mostly things like nail polish, certain percume, journaling books, clothes — but one year she wanted a pet mouse.. so she wrote down mouse.

well, sachiko wasn't a big fan of rodents. so instead she got her a computer mouse. and a new PC to go along with it. sayu liked it! she did want a computer too, yes..

she was salty about the pet mouse thing for the next 2 weeks though.

can't wrap gifts to save her life. she's the gift giver who puts her gifts into those paperbags and puts a ribbon sticker.

sayu loves to bake cookies with her mom. even after the events (yes, when she was traumatized to all hell by mello and the mafia) of death note, she continued to bake with her every christmas.

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